Clive Ward - Trench 31

The officers and men went off in two batches, to spend some precious time with their loved ones. Archie would see his new baby boy after all. For most, this leave would be their last. Surprisingly, there wasn’t one absentee when reporting back.

The battalion paraded to board the trains which departed for Folkestone, via Southampton. Once on board ship, the men were waved off by patriotic civilians as they set sail to Boulogne in France. Most of the men had never been on a boat before. Every soldier was given a pay book, along with a message from Lord Kitchener, reminding them to be ‘courteous, considerate and kind’ to the locals and allied soldiers, and an unlikely request to ‘avoid the temptations of wine and women.’

They docked the next morning and marched to a camp called St Martins, situated on a hill near the town. They rested and ate a meal there before they moved on again. Soon, these men would engage in one of the deadliest, most gruelling human conflicts in history. After their meal the men had to send home their first Service postcards to inform their loved ones they had arrived safely. It was mandatory.

‘I must say these postcard things are delightful, don’t you think? A sort of lazy man’s letter, even you can write home now David’ Bertram said.

‘You can keep your bloody lazy man’s letter writing, all that malarkey is not for me thanks, and anyway what is there to write about yet?’ David replied.

‘Why do we need all this bloody equipment, a few months ago we didn’t have enough, now we have too much. The Infantry man is just something to hang things on,’ complained Bertram.

That afternoon the Battalion were back on the march, heading for Pont de Briques Station. Many of the men insisted on marching on the left side of the road, which they were accustomed to doing.

‘Get over to your right, you lot, this is France remember!’ shouted Sergeant Johnson.

‘Aren’t we supposed to be marching on the other side of the road?’ Archie asked, confused by the order.

‘No Archie, here in France they drive on the right, in fact they do everything differently here, they even eat frogs and horses,’ informed Bertram.

‘Horses? That’s disgusting!’ Archie grimaced as he spoke.

‘They also eat privates, if they find any squashed in the road by oncoming horse drawn guns. Now get in file!’ the Platoon Sergeant ordered. ‘Sort your men out Corporal Robinson.’

The platoon had to move off the road completely to allow an endless stream of fully laden supply wagons to go past on one side of the road and the returning empty wagons to go by on the other.

They reached the station, boarded the train and headed for St. Omer, arriving there around midnight. The men then marched through the night to their billet in Zudausques. During the march they stopped at the roadside for a short smoking break.

‘I don’t know about you, but I’m fucked,’ exclaimed David, ‘my feet are killing me.’

‘Watch your swearing David,’ Archie reminded him.

‘Watch my swearing? I can fucking swear when I want.’

‘You’ll be in big trouble if the Platoon Commander hears you. You heard him say that any man will be severely punished if he hears them using bad language of any kind. He said the only time that one is allowed to use bad language is in the heat of battle. In other words, if the swearing is directed at the Hun, while they are trying to kill you,’ said Corporal Robinson.

‘Well, my feet are trying to fucking kill me so I’m directing my obscenities at those,’ retorted David.

‘Shush, can you hear that?’ said one of the men.

Dawn was breaking and for the first time they could hear the muffled sound of gunfire coming from miles away in the distance.

‘Wow! Isn’t that something, I can’t wait to get amongst it all,’ said Archie excitedly.

‘From the sound of that I’d rather be sitting and watching it all from a safe distance thanks,’ Bertram replied.

The battalion spent two days in Zudausques before moving on once again, to a village called Caestre. The march was a tough one. The heat of the day and the paved roads didn’t help, marching was difficult. The closer they got to Caestre the sound of the constant gunfire became louder and louder. On a clear evening the gunfire lit up the sky and the noise of it rumbled like an approaching storm that never arrived. Another sign that they were getting close to the front was the amount of discarded German ammunition boxes abandoned by the side of the road, where the Germans had been pushed back.

Apart from the routine inspections, the battalion did very little during their week at Caestre, just resting mostly… and waiting. Archie spent some of his time writing a letter to his young wife.

My Dearest Charlotte,

While I sit writing you this letter it seems strange we are so near the front. This country is so peaceful looking, it is hard to believe that the fighting is so close. To walk across the fields is just like taking a stroll over Parker’s Piece on a quiet Sunday afternoon. But the big guns are out there, we can hear them constantly now, they are not so many miles away.

This morning we had the best breakfast since landing here. We had fried eggs, bacon and tomatoes, tea, butter, strawberry jam, and bread. The bread was white bread too, I only wish I could have a breakfast like it every morning.

Well, I must close now. So goodbye to you my dearest Charlotte, you and little Archie are always uppermost in my thoughts you both mean the world to me.

It was an anxious time for the men who spent so much time just waiting to move forward to the front line and it frayed the nerves of many of them. Some soldiers were eager to fight for their king and country, but others began to truly fear the thought of what was to come.

‘Are we ever going to join this damn war? All it seems to be is hurry up and wait, we’ve now spent a whole week doing bugger all apart from taking part in these senseless inspections to keep the hierarchy happy,’ complained Archie.

‘Don’t worry your chance will come soon enough’ David replied.

It wasn’t long before Archie got his wish. On the 25 thof July, the Battalion was destined for the infamous Salient, where they would experience real trench warfare for the first time. They marched at night it wasn’t long before they could clearly see the lights on the front line. The men sang as they marched up the road, pumped full of courage and eager for the fight. The singing faltered when they saw the returning lorries on the other side of the road, all loaded with wounded soldiers, huddled together. Their faces told a thousand stories.

A message came down the line from a sensitive officer up front. ‘No smoking and no singing◦– pass it on.’

When they arrived at the Salient, each company was sent to a different location for their tour of instruction. A Company was sent to Sanctuary Wood, held by the 7 thBattalion Sherwood Foresters. B and C Companies went for instruction in the trenches held by 52 ndBrigade, near St Eloi. After twenty-four hours, the Battalion felt it was a complete waste of time because it became clear that the instructors knew little more about trench warfare than the men they were supposed to be instructing.

On the night of the 15 thAugust, the men saw action for the first time when they relieved the 7 thEast Yorkshires in trenches immediately south of Ypres, at a place called Comines canal.

At Ypres, the ground was very boggy and the water table very high, making it impossible to dig a proper trench, so the trenches were built up using sandbags and wood for support. They moved into the trenches under darkness, took up their positions and looked out at No Man’s Land. It was pitch black until a star shell was flung up between the trenches and flooded the whole area with light. Various types of illuminating projectile were used on the front. Rockets carrying parachutes, light ball shells, which blazed furiously for about a minute and light ball cartridges shot from a specific pistol.