Clive Ward - Trench 31

Bertie wandered over to David. Archie saw the two men exchange a few words and then Bertie rejoined Archie.

‘So, what is it, what’s wrong with him?’ Archie asked.

‘Nothing you fool. He’s upset because he’s just dropped his weapon in the mud after spending the last hour cleaning it,’ replied Bertie.

Dear Diary,

We moved back to the Bluff today. I wish my battle was only with the Hun and not my body as well, which has now reached a severe level which I can’t hide anymore. If I don’t improve soon I shall have to go sick.

There is the constant smell of death about and the feeling that we are going to get bombed again at any minute. The Hun has been very accurate with their shelling today. It is a really horrible sight, seeing so many men die in just a few seconds. They are sending these young men, some of them mere boys, ‘over the top’ to face near certain death. There will be a very unpleasant smell here in the summer. I only hope we are not here then.

The posters in the town at the outbreak of this war were nothing but lies, I wish we were all at home where we belong, with our families and not in this wretched place. I can feel it’s about to get much worse. When my time comes to cop it, may it be quick and merciful. I could always refuse to go over the top and end up getting shot for insubordination or Cowardice. Surely that’s an easier way to go. Perhaps the real cowards are the Generals who designed this war. I wish I had never joined the army, we are like lambs being led to slaughter.

In 1917, ‘shell-shock’ was banned as a diagnosis in the British Army and any reference to it was censored in medical journals. There were so many men suffering from shell-shock that nineteen British Military hospitals were devoted to the treatment of the condition. Ten years after the First World War, sixty-five thousand veterans were still receiving treatment for it in Britain. The treatment of chronic shell-shock varied widely, depending on the symptoms, the views of the doctors involved, and sadly also the rank and class of the patient.

On the morning of the 14 thFebruary the division was subjected to several heavy bombardments from German artillery and from mid afternoon the shelling increased. The Hun was really laying it on thick and everything was going off at once. The bombardment went on for another two hours, then all communications with the front lines were cut. Artillery retaliation was requested but proved to be inadequate.

‘Are you alright Bertie?’ Archie asked.

Bertram was crouched down, rocking backwards and forwards repeatedly.

‘What the hell is happening? Surely this can’t go on forever,’ Bertram groaned. He was crouched down with his back to the trench as shrapnel hit the earth all around him. ‘I wish our boys would get their act together and give it them back, it’s all one way.’

‘I reckon they are about to attack any minute so get yourself up here Bertie, we’ll look after you,’ David said.

Bertram joined his friends and adopted his firing position. He shivered in the cold air, as he leaned over the parapet and stared out at No Man’s Land through his tired and bloodshot eyes.

‘Prepare yourselves men!’ the Platoon Sergeant called out. ‘The Platoon Commander said he will give you a whole shilling for every dead German!’

From the other side of the divide, through the gun smoke, emerged a suicidal charge in mass formation, which astonished them all.

‘Crikey!’ shouted Bertram.

‘Well, you can tell the Platoon Commander, there’s a few hundred pounds worth coming at us’ David shouted out to the Sergeant.

The German troops advanced closer, fully intact, until they came within range of the rifles and machine guns of C Company.

‘Here they come boys, give them hell!’ David shouted out to those around him.

That was as far as the Germans got, it was sheep to the slaughter, they were simply wiped out. The first wave of German soldiers didn’t stand a chance and neither did the subsequent surge of sacrificial men who were massacred by the overwhelming firepower that met them. The men of the Sherwood Foresters had delivered a knockout blow to the Germans.

The British Army was armed with the Short Magazine Lee–Enfield Mk III(SMLE Mk III), which featured a bolt-action and large magazinecapacity that enabled a trained rifleman to fire between twenty to thirty aimed rounds a minute. Eye witness accounts from World War I, tell of British troops repelling German attackers, who then reported that they had encountered machine guns, when in fact it was simply a group of trained riflemen armed with SMLEs.

The enemy infantry assaults had ceased but the bombardment continued. Any remaining soldiers from the attacking German troops took cover in No Man’s Land or retreated back to their own lines, only to be picked off, one by one, by the British snipers and machine guns. The battle was short but it resulted in a scene of death and utter desolation.

‘Well done men,’ the Platoon Sergeant said. ‘Stay alert, they’ll be back, that’s for sure.’

‘They’ll have to come with more than that to take this place,’ Archie said.

‘Did you see that? They were being killed by their own shells.’ Bertram was shaking uncontrollably as he spoke.

‘Yes, and shells that were probably made by their mothers and sisters back home,’ Archie replied grimly.

The Platoon Sergeant was right, the gunning began again in earnest. What came next proved even more destructive. A continuous torrent of shells exploded and the men of C Company expected another attack any minute. Then it happened. At five-forty-five that afternoon, German tunnellers detonated three mines, one under the Bluff (which buried a platoon of the 10 thLancashire Fusiliers sheltering in an old tunnel) and two mines further north, under the 10 thSherwood Foresters positions in Trench 31. The result was utter carnage, the blasts had carved out a massive crater and destroyed most of the line in that area.

Archie lay in the open air, looking up at the cloudless blue sky. It was a hot August summer evening and he was back in the field at Parkers Piece. However, this time Charlotte wasn’t there, no one was there. Am I dead, he thought, then something obscured his vision. With the sun in his eyes, he couldn’t make out what it was. Then he saw a locket and chain swinging above his head… his precious locket and chain. Archie tried to sit up and take the locket in his hands. Then he realised where he was. He was lying on the rotten, swampy ground, badly injured but alive. He could hear a familiar, reassuring voice.

‘It’s me, David, lay down Archie, you’re in a bad way but I’m here now and I’ll look after you, you’re going to be fine.’

‘Am I dead David, are we in heaven?’

‘No Archie, you’re very much alive. Look, I found your locket it must have come off in the blast.’

‘Blast, what blast?’

Archie’s body was broken, he was out of the fight. He’d been blown sky high, as had his comrades, and landed on open ground. Archie was concussed, he had broken bones and a deep gash on his right thigh. Blood ran from both his ears. He’d also lost his tin helmet and most of his uniform had been blown off in the explosion, he was in a bad way. David was one of the luckier ones, he had only minor injuries, a cut to his right eye and a broken nose.

‘Come on Archie I need to get you away from here.’

Crouching down, David reached out and grabbed Archie by the shoulders and dragged him for fifty yards away from what was left of Trench 31, then he set about patching Archie up with field dressings, that was all he could do.

‘Archie stay here, I’m off to find Bertie.’

David had an impossible task because most of the company had perished. It was a horrific scene, body parts lay everywhere, but most of the men had been buried when the mine exploded. David needed to find his best friend. He began calling out.