Clive Ward - Trench 31

’I’m not sad, I made it back, some didn’t. I’m happy we took the position and proud I was part of it.’

At daybreak the next morning there was a lull in the shelling that had been going on all night. Out across No Man’s Land, the wood, which they had so bravely taken the night before, had been obliterated. All that remained now were isolated stumps to indicate where the trees had once stood. The ground itself was scarred and pitted, a cemetery for the unburied dead.

‘Well, we made it Archie, we made it.’ Bertram shook as he spoke.

‘We sure did mate,’ affirmed Archie.

‘Would you just look at that.’ Bertram indicated what remained of the wood.

‘It’s a bloody good job we got out of there when we did, or we’d have been mincemeat,’ Archie replied.

‘I’ve never claimed to be anything of a sprinter, but I bet I set a new record for three-hundred yards last night!’ proclaimed Bertram.

‘I wasn’t far behind you. At least we all made it, us Derby fellas are a tough old bunch,’ David added.

‘David, you’re bleeding,’ Bertram said, sounding alarmed.

David’s left arm had been cut open, down to the bone. Blood flowed down his arm and dripped off his fingertips.

‘It’s nothing, just a bit of shrapnel that’s all.’

‘All the same, you need to see the medic and get it cleaned,’ Archie advised him.

‘I wouldn’t mind a few days billeted with those lovely nurses,’ Bertram said.

‘I’ll not bother them yet. They’ll be busy seeing to last night’s injured.’

‘Stop being a bloody hero, you daft sod. Go and get yourself treated,’ Archie replied.

‘How many did we lose?’ David asked.

It was always a tense moment in the trenches when the roll call was made after such a charge. The number of missing men was revealed by the absence of their voices. C Company had lost fourteen men and a further thirty-two were injured. David left the platoon later that day to get treatment for his shrapnel wound.

A few days later, some of the men had to wear respirators because of the awful stench that came from the decaying bodies strewn across No Man’s Land.

The following night it was their turn to be attacked. Sanctuary wood was heavily shelled again on the 29th September and a large mine was exploded by the enemy on their immediate left, followed by a small infantry attack, which was repelled. That same evening the battalion was relieved by troops of the 3rd Division and they withdrew to Reninghest camp. On their way back, they marched past the stretchered wounded and medics giving water to the wounded German soldiers. There was no malice. Amongst all this, sat the Chaplain, writing a postcard to the family of a badly injured lad.

The Bombers remained behind and were tasked to take part in a counter attack on the mine crater.

Dear Diary,

The place we have just vacated was beyond description. The dead lay in all directions, some from our regiment, some from the previous regiment who passed over this ground before us and the Germans. But the main thing is, all three of us are still here and safe. It has been a tough few days, the worst so far. David took shrapnel in his left arm and didn’t tell a soul until I spotted it, he’s either stupid or brave. I think it would be both in his case. I wish I was as brave as he though, he has no fear.

We are losing men at a rate of ten a week now. But that rate should slow down for now because today we are at Reninghest camp, for a well earned rest.

On our way back, we walked through a row of stretchers at the side of the road, on them lay their suffering burdens and it was the most moving experience for me. The enemy wounded lay alongside our boys. You would think after having passed through the ordeal of battle they would hate each other but neither bore any malice. I suppose both parties were only too happy to come out of it with their lives.

We’ve only been in the trenches a few months now, I haven’t told anyone, but the strain is tremendous on one’s nerves. When the shelling starts I shake just as much as the ground around me. At the moment I can hide it, I don’t want to be seen as weak. Hopefully it will go away soon like the bloody Germans.

Between the 2 ndand 4 thOctober, ‘B’ and ‘C’ Companies were used as reserve troops to the 51 stBrigade in the vicinity of Verbrandenmolen. David returned from the field hospital and re-joined the Platoon after recovering from his injury.

‘David, you’re back,’ Archie said, pleased to see his friend.

‘Yes, they were going to soft billet me for a week until I told them I was fine. I looked for the medical officer and asked him if I could be transferred back to my battalion. He just stared at me for a minute, I couldn’t understand why.’

‘I can, I bet he thought you were mad!◦– Soft billet◦– you turned down a soft billet!’ Archie couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘You know what they’re going to put on your gravestone if you don’t make it out of here.

David Manning… he liked it here that much he never came home,’ Bertram said, shaking his head.

David laughed out loud at his friend’s comment.

Dearest Charlotte,

The parcel arrived safely, many thanks indeed for both letter and parcel. I’ve eaten the cakes already and the ham looks beautiful I shall have that for tea as there is enough to share with David and Bertie. I didn’t tell them about the cakes.

Since I wrote my last letter, we have been busy. Do not worry, there hasn’t been much fighting it’s been fairly quiet. There is nothing very exciting to tell you apart from the fact we have all been working with the pick shovel day and night. I have blisters on top of blisters. We are only getting about four or five hours sleep a day. Last night we went out working with the engineers on work parties. My God those guys can work.

We have new lads turning up every day. When they first arrive, they don’t have a clue how much danger they are in. One of them made a remark the other day that made us all laugh, he said ‘Bloody hell it’s boring here nothing happens, we just dig trenches all day. I’ve seen more action on a Saturday night.’ He will soon change his mind. Now I must close, having no more to say at present, good night and God bless my dear.

In the trenches, waiting around for something to happen was probably the most fearful time. With not much to do other than guard and watch, the men had time to think about their loved ones back home and whether they would ever make it back there alive or even make it to their next leave date. Bertram was on guard while Archie and David were trying to sleep nearby.

‘I’ll tell you what, the architects of this dugout have got it spot on, apart from the fact that there’s no door, but that can be overlooked. Just look at this roomy lounge area. No drawing room or parlour, but I’m sure the Germans can arrange the renovations during their next barrage. We haven’t enough furniture to furnish it anyway. What really lets this property down though is the foot of sludge and the rats.’

‘Will you be quiet Bertie, I’m trying to get forty winks here,’ Archie pleaded.

‘Yeah, give it a rest Bertie,’ David added.

‘No sense of humour you lot. I’m bored, bored, bored.’ continued Bertie.

‘Why don’t you pop over to the German lines and ask them if they have any furniture they can spare,’ David joked.

‘I hate this place. I’m going to tell Sergeant Johnson that I’ve had enough and I want to go home,’ Bertie carried on.

‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll be understanding and put in a good word for you with the firing squad,’ Archie replied sarcastically.