Clive Ward - Trench 31

‘Why don’t you do what that lad from B company did, he worked his ticket alright,’ David suggested.

‘Oh yes, I heard about that, but he had really lost his mind.’ Archie said.

‘Why, what did he do?’ Bertram was intrigued.

‘He was only caught by the Platoon Commander shaking hands with a dismembered arm embedded in the wall of the trench and talking to an imaginary German,’ Archie informed him.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, what’s the arm in that?’ David and Archie started to laugh.

‘Not funny David, you need to see someone,’ said Bertram, who was not amused by his friend’s sick joke.

Fear, boredom and the horror of the situation that the fighting men were in often bought out dark humour.

On 6 thOctober, the whole Battalion moved into billets in Eecke and Caestre, having initially been told they would move down to Loos, but that move was cancelled. On October 21 st, the Battalion was sent back to Sanctuary Wood for a third time, this time to occupy ‘B’ trenches. Apart from an annoying machine gunner, the main enemy was the infamous mud.

By now the men were familiar with the despicable Flanders mud. The trenches were full of sludge, sometimes as high as their gum boots. Some of them tried to scoop it over the parapets but it was no use, it was there to stay. The walls of the trenches fell in constantly and had to be repaired.

‘How can they expect men to live in this, it’s getting impossible to walk, let alone fight, in this mud bath,’ Archie said, wading along carrying two mugs of tea.

‘Let’s all bugger off. The Hun can have this shit hole. Where’s Bertram gone?’ David asked.

‘Sentry duty I believe,’ Archie replied.

‘What the fuck is this Archie?’ David looked suspiciously at the mug of tea he held.

‘Tea, Flanders special, drink up,’ Archie said.

‘It’s got half of No Man’s Land floating in it.’

They both looked out over No Man’s Land, it was getting dark. There was only occasional shell fire and an annoying German machine gunner that let off a burst every now and again.

‘Looks like there’s a mist dropping, I wouldn’t want to be going over the top tonight,’ Archie said.

‘Do you know something I don’t? Nah, there won’t be anything happening tonight, unless the Hun has other ideas of course,’ David replied.

‘No Man’s Land is just a harvest for the grim reaper that’s what that is. I wouldn’t want to try my luck again. It’s hard to understand what makes a man just leave the safety of the trenches and go forward into the sheer hell of gun fire,’ said Archie, shaking his head as he spoke.

‘Because we are fucking crazy, and the other reason we do it is because we’d be lined up in front of a firing squad if we refused.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

‘Yes, I do,’ David said firmly.

‘I think it’s just scare mongering that’s what it is.’ Archie didn’t believe the stories they had heard about men facing firing squads for refusing to fight.

Three-hundred and six soldiers from the Commonwealth were executed for cowardice or desertion during World War One, many of those were suffering from what is now called shell shock.

In another part of the trench, Bertram was lying down whilst on sentry duty. His job was to keep a look out for the Hun, in case they suddenly attacked. If he heard them or saw them coming he was supposed to fire a few quick shots to alert the men behind. However, instead of being wide awake, Bertram had fallen asleep. The big give away was when Bertram started to snore loudly, alerting the Platoon Sergeant who went rushing over to wake him up.

‘Wake up Ward! And don’t tell me you weren’t asleep, I could hear your snoring over the bloody Hun shell fire!’

Bertram looked worried as the Platoon Sergeant moved closer to him.

‘Do you know you could be shot for falling asleep at your post young Bertram? You were endangering the whole platoon.’

‘Sorry Sergeant it won’t happen again.’

Sergeant Johnson was a good chap and had no wish to put him on a charge. He also knew that the men had had very little sleep, food or drink. But he knew that he had to dish out some form of punishment to prevent a repeat performance.

‘Go on, get off with you. Go and get some rest, but before you do, the latrines need cleaning.’

‘But Sergeant,’ groaned Bertram. Cleaning the latrines was one job all soldiers detested.

‘On your way or I’ll find something else for you to do.’

Later, after cleaning the latrines, Bertram rejoined his friends.

‘Christ, what’s that smell, is that you Bertie?’ David asked.

‘No, it bloody isn’t. I’ll tell you what though, the Hun must have blown up the local gas mains in the town, it stinks. I seriously need to bring it to Sergeant Johnson’s attention.’

‘What are you talking about Bertram?’ asked David, looking confused.

‘I’ve had to clean the latrines. Sergeant Johnson caught me sleeping. Well, I wasn’t actually asleep, I merely had my eyes closed.’

‘I can just see you now Bertie, with your Grandson on your knee,’ Archie began. ‘What did you do in the Great War, Granddad?’ ‘Well my lad, I dug latrines for other men,’ Archie couldn’t contain his laughter as he spoke.

‘I hope you’ve left some of that tea for me,’ Bertram said, noticing the mugs they both held.

David handed Bertram his mug of half drunk tea, as another burst from the machine gunner came whistling over the trench. The gunning went on for the next few hours.

As midnight approached, some of the men tried to snatch a brief rest, whilst others stood guard and fought to stay awake and vigilant as they observed to their front. David couldn’t sleep, so he joined the men on guard just as the usual midnight barrage began.

‘I hope they are our bombs dropping,’ Bertram mumbled, still half asleep.

‘Relax, they are ours alright,’ Archie answered.

‘That’s ok then,’ Bertram yawned and turned over.

Then came yet another burst from the German machine gunner.

‘I wish somebody would shut that machine gunner up. I don’t know what the bloody hell he’s firing at, he can’t see anything. There’s no moon and it’s foggy out there,’ Archie said.

Bertram sat up, the constant sound of machine gun fire was getting on his nerves too. He glanced around at the men nearby and noticed that David was missing.

‘Where’s David? Has anyone seen David?’

‘His weapon is still here so he can’t be far away,’ Archie replied.

Archie was right, David wasn’t far away. Bertram, having given up any hope of sleep, looked out at No Man’s Land and could just make out a crouched figure receding into the mist.

‘Is that David?’ asked Bertram anxiously. ‘He’s just gone over the parapet and is on his way towards the enemy trenches. David come back you fool, what the hell are you doing!’ Bertram called out.

David had grabbed his bayonet and begun his one man mission. There was no light, apart from the flashes of the German machine gun. David was now only a hundred yards away from the machine gunner’s post. He moved from crater to crater, foot by foot until he was sidelong of the German machine gunner, who illuminated himself every time he pulled the trigger.

‘I hope to God, he comes back alive,’ Bertram said as he stared out across No Man’s Land.

Archie stood beside Bertram, troubled by his brother-in-law’s actions. Very soon they heard a noise, a squeal, a similar sound to the one they had heard from the wood back in England, when David had dispatched Shirley the pig. The machine gun firing stopped. Five minutes later, a figure emerged out of the darkness. David and Archie both held their rifles tightly, just in case.