Clive Ward - Trench 31

My Darling Charlotte,

I hope you had a good Christmas my dear, I would have loved to see little Archie opening his presents. I hope I don’t miss any more Christmases, it’s unbearable.

Today we are safely back in camp after spending Christmas on the front line. The weather is terrible, cold with high winds. No Christmas truce for us, the command promised hard punishment for any soldier caught fraternizing with the enemy. Where’s their Christmas spirit? But we did get some fraternize because a singing competition broke out. At first light the Hun started to sing the German version of Silent Night, it wasn’t long before we all joined in, it was I must say an emotional moment.

It was a quiet day and night patrols were cancelled, probably a good job as we all felt very merry. We had an excellent trench Christmas dinner, turkey, Christmas pudding, mince pies, fruit and lots of rum. But we were still kept on our toes. Bertie had prepared some special presents for the Germans if they did decide to pop over. He spent hours painting holly and Christmas trees and Santa Claus figures on our hand grenades. Well, it is Christmas.

So, no pretty lights, mistletoe, sharing food, party games or a visit from Santa Claus for us, but at least we stopped trying to kill each other long enough to enjoy our Christmas meal.

Great news, your brother David has been promoted to Lance Corporal. He had to report to the Company Commander expecting to be disciplined for something silly he did a few days earlier. And guess what? He came out the Company Commander’s office promoted, your father will be very pleased, but of course that does mean he can now order us about on a daily basis. What’s new?

Still no news on leave. Everyone else is fine. David and Bertie send their love.

If only I could just put my arms around you, if only for a minute I should be happy, but as that cannot be dear, I must be content with the happy memories of days gone by. God bless you my dear.

Until I write again. Have a wonderful New Year and I hope to see you and Archie very soon.

Miss and love you dearly. God Bless.

All efforts were made to provide a suitable dinner for the men on Christmas Day. The loved ones waiting at home were encouraged to send Christmas gift boxes to the front, to ensure that the ones they loved knew they hadn’t been forgotten by them, or their country. After an informal truce, stretcher bearers on both sides went out into No Man’s Land to collect the dead. However, it didn’t take long for things to get back to normal, it was business as usual the next day.

Dear Diary,

This damn German shelling, the noise is deafening and now I’ve started to have really bad headaches and spells of dizziness. I think I might have mild shell shock. It’s a waste of time telling anyone. I’m definitely not going to report sick, all I need is a few day’s rest. I think you just learn to live with it. I know I’m not the only one suffering, I only have to look around me to know that.

When we arrived here, our battalion was around eight-hundred strong, we seem to be losing around eighty men a month, either killed or injured. Replacements arrive every few days.

Trench life is just a steady trickle of death and maiming if you ask me. A poor chap next to me had part of his skull blown away, a sniper got him, we could do nothing for the poor chap. The horror of it, why did it take him an age to die? I've had a belly full of it.

After a few days of rest, C Company found themselves back on the front line again. David had been given a task by the Platoon Sergeant and so he went to look for his best friend, Bertie, to help him. He found Bertram sitting in his dugout.

‘Come on Bertie, I need you to give me a hand, come on, out you get!’

‘Go away David, I’m not on watch yet.’

‘I seem to remember when we arrived here you said you would never crawl into one of those dugouts, you said it was like digging your own grave. Now look at you, we can never get you out of there, come on out.’

‘Well, things change David, so clear off.’

‘You can’t spend the entire war in there Bertie,’ David said as he pulled aside the sacking that covered the entrance of the dugout.

‘Shut that blinking door! There's a hell of a draft in here! Give me one reason why I would want to get out my dugout. No, I’m quite comfortable in here with my friendly rat friends thank you.’

‘Fresh rations?’ proffered David.

Bertram was soon out of his dugout.

‘Did someone say fresh rations?’ Bertie asked.

‘Grab your rifle Bertie, we’ve been sent to fetch the fresh rations by the Platoon Sergeant.’

‘Yes, Lance Corporal Manning, three bags full Lance Corporal Manning.’

David just laughed.

Thousands of ‘dugouts’ were created in the trench walls, to protect the men from the shell fire and bad weather.

Getting decent hot food from the field kitchens to the front line trenches often proved impossible. Everyone in the trenches cooked for themselves most of the time, adding whatever they could buy or get from home, to the basic list. During rest or reserve the company cooks would do the cooking. Occasionally, meat, vegetables and bacon were cooked and sent up to the line by the ‘steely eyed dealers of death’ otherwise known as the ACC (Army Catering Corps)

On the 6 thof January the 10 thSherwood Foresters were relieved and travelled by train to Houlle and Moulle, where they rested and trained till the 8 thof February.

The men were ready for a period of rest, especially Bertram, who needed the time to get himself in better mental shape. Some of the men hadn’t had a bath for weeks and it was profoundly evident. The air was fouled with the odour of dried sweat, smelly feet, creosol, chloride of lime, cordite, poison gases, rotting sandbags, stagnant mud and cigarette smoke. The putrid smell of rotting corpses in No Man’s Land provided no relief. The stench of war was awful but the men became used to it after a while.

My Darling Charlotte,

The other day we got relieved by another division and we’ve been sent a few miles back from the front to a quieter place for a well-earned rest, or so we thought. On arrival we had the rest of the day off. Most of it was spent sleeping, then the next morning we were woken up early for a spot of physical drill and a run before breakfast.

The rest of the morning was spent doing platoon drill, musketry drills and can you believe it, after dinner we spent the afternoon on a route march. Don’t they know there’s a war on?

Thanks for the cigarettes and chocolate and yes, they are feeding us well. As well as can be anyway. On a usual day we get half a loaf of bread, bacon and tea for breakfast, Bully beef and biscuits for dinner, bread and jam for tea and bread and cheese for supper. Lime juice is served four times per week, and we get a rum ration twice a week. It could be better, but it will do for me. I should think it’s more than the Hun get. In a few days after resting and training we’re heading back to the front.

I’ve noticed Bertram is suffering with his nerves. Hopefully this break will help him recover. David and I have tried to talk to him about it, but he’ll have none of it. He hasn’t lost his sense of humour though! The other day he made a crude sign to stick in our parapet which read. ‘OPEN ALL YEAR HUNTING SEASON, NO PERMIT REQUIRED.’

But don’t you worry my love, the line is a bit quieter lately and only now and again do we get a shelling, I’m getting used to it now anyway. And as long as we all keep our heads down, we are comparatively safe.

I’m hoping soon we’ll be told our leave dates, we’ve been here nearly five months now, so we stand a good chance. I am so looking forward to seeing our son Archie junior again. I bet he takes up all your time, give him a big kiss from Daddy. By the way your brother David and Bertram send their love. Well, I must now conclude…