Chapter 10 The Somme

1916

There was more news from the home front.

“Our Dearest Jack,

“We’re awfully glad to know that you’re doing well and have now moved away from that terrible Belgian front. The news we hear is that there have been many losses and we can only be thankful to God that you are well.

“Our glorious news is that we now have a grandson! Annie has given birth to a healthy boy, Reggie. We’re so pleased that mother and child are doing well. Annie has extra rations so we should be able to manage.

“Mary and Mabel are now putting in extra hours to help the war effort. Mabel’s company now provides supplies for the warships that come to Liverpool to stock up. Mary goes to the ammunition factory at weekends, much to your father’s displeasure, but she wants to do her bit too. Commercial ships are now being converted to ships-of-war, so Father has been asked to help with the carpentry work. He has declined, of course, and says that he only does work for God’s grace and that the cathedral and churches are a place for solace for those men coming back from the war. Joe has started his motor mechanic apprenticeship and his garage helps out with repairing military vehicles and other machines. So we’re all doing our best on this front too.”

The letter prompted Jack to reply straightaway. 

“Dear Loved Ones,

“My sincere congratulations to Annie & George for the birth of Reggie. Annie, you must be overjoyed. I wish you both the very best. Good to hear that everyone is putting in an extra effort to help us all win this war. Here at the front we feel your support, both in mind and heart.”

“For a change of scene, we have taken over the French trenches along the River Somme, and were amazed at what we found. Entering the last village nearest the front, we found the streets teeming with ‘poilus’. Guides directed us to the trenches, which to our amazement were empty. The Frenchmen had evacuated them before our arrival, leaving a gap for the enemy to walk into had they known. We British always remain in position till our relief has occupied the trench and not till then do we move out. 

“At dawn we found ourselves on a slight hill looking down on a French village surrounded by trees, through which we could see a German sentry on guard outside a house and others moving about. Nobody bothered, everything was very pastoral and peaceful. It seems here that trench warfare is a kind of truce, to be played as happily as possible.

“I hope to come home on leave before long. I’m dying to see you all and little Reggie.”

“All my Love, Jack XX”

In June, the Company moved to the rear of the firing line to prepare for the Battle of Guillemont. Each day, after a very early breakfast, they marched to the training zone, where they partook in manoeuvres designed for the Battle, had a snack, and marched back to camp. 

Jack recorded, “the route was along the valley of the Somme which could be seen across the fields. In the dry, hot sultry weather we marched in clouds of dust from the roads, and sweltered in the heat. How lovely a dip in that river would be! So, I suggested to the Captain that we had a bathing parade. He allowed me to collect volunteers. The company moved off and we scampered across the fields for the river. The first man in was Sgt. McMaster, a noted Merseyside long-distance swimmer, who immediately stood still in the water. ‘What’s it like Mac?’ I shouted. He did not answer. In I went, diving, but on surfacing, I did as he had done. The river ran fast, in the shade of rows of trees and the water was icy. In my heated state, the shock took my breath away, and my legs felt as if gripped in a contracting iceberg. I knew then why Mac had not answered. Getting tempered to the water, we eventually enjoyed the cool cleanliness of the plunge.”

They were to advance at noon the next day and hold the captured position for two days, when new troops would relieve them. They needed to first collect more rations, so parties were formed to go to the dump during the night. Jack went with his party at 2 am. In his diary he wrote,  “We had not gone far down the communication trench with the Germans shelling it heavily, when we caught up with another party who were waiting for clearance of a blockage. The news was passed, that the H.Q. party had been hit by a shell and all killed or wounded and the trench blown in. Time was short to get to that dump for our rations, which was sited near the spot where we had turned off the main road. I decided to go in a bee-line across country, visualising that, guided by the shells falling on the fields, we would strike the Longueval-Flers road, near the site of the ration dump.” 

“Over the top, boys,” Jack shouted. One or two demurred, but all followed, and they stumbled away in the darkness, with the shells falling about them. The venture paid off, as they arrived only a few yards from the dump. 

Jack wrote further, “On loading up with our sacks of rations, I realised that, with the first faint glimmer of dawn visible in the east, the other parties could not make it; so I picked up an extra jar of rum to boot. We returned the same way successfully and were the only party to ‘deliver the goods’. My triumph had to be celebrated, and I opened that jar of rum, and found — lime juice! Observation, resource and daring were very disappointingly rewarded.”

At noon the battle started, and all hell let loose. He writes about the noise, “So terrific was the din that one could not hear oneself shout. Over the top we went. We ran into devastating fire and men in front of us began to disappear. I noticed that five or six had bunched up together, which they should not have done. Out of the sky a black speck dropped amongst them; the earth spouted up, and when I reached the spot, not a man remained alive.”

“By this time, there was no sign of men in front and I decided this was too hot. On my right I saw a trench running in my direction, an ex-German communication trench, so I dropped into it. Others followed me and I found myself in the leading position. Up that trench I went towards the enemy, with what remained of our company following. Just as I was about to reach a sunken road, the order was passed up, “Halt, and make way for the battalion bombers.” I was angered and disgusted, but obeyed the order in the spirit of ‘Well, let them get on with it and take the main risk’.”

 Jack had been careful to peep round each block, making sure the next traverse was clear of the enemy, before he entered it. The bombers came forward and walked straight into the next traverse, and two were shot by a wounded Hun who was trapped by an earth-fall. On learning the trapped German had shot the officer and sergeant, both loved and respected characters, Jack was tempted to shoot him. But he could not shoot a defenceless, trapped man, so instead put a rifleman on guard over him saying, “If he makes a move, take no chances, shoot him first.”

Eventually, they all got into the sunken road, but only by keeping very low and diving quickly over as the Germans had a sniper trained on it.

Jack recalled two further incidents in his diary.

“Before we attacked, making an inspection of the men, just prior to ‘going over the top’, I found a newcomer leaning against the back of the trench instead of taking protection by keeping close up to the front wall. Ordering him to move forward, he did so sullenly and reluctantly. On my return from the far end of the trench, I found him back again in danger of shrapnel bullets, but this time he was slumping, bleeding helplessly from a bullet through his neck artery. He had committed suicide by his action in his despondency and fear of going forward to meet the enemy for his first time. Without a shred of hope, he had courted the very fate he feared.”

“The other most unfortunate case was that of my dearest friend, whom I met at the Liverpool School of Art, a sculptor, from Norton-on-Tees, Jimmy Armstrong, whom I had persuaded to join the ‘Terriers’ shortly after I did in 1912. We had been together since then. He was a sniper, went over with the first wave that was wiped out going up the valley and got wounded in a foot. For two nights and days, he lay out there, gangrene set in and his foot had to be amputated. Had I only known I would willingly have risked everything to recover him and his foot might have been saved.”

“With the losses from this battle, very few of the original battalion that we knew in peacetime were left, and after receiving reinforcements, the physique and character was completely changed. Originally, the average height was five foot nine to ten. I was a midget at five foot eight but now I became a giant amongst pygmies.”

The second night Jack and his men were relieved. The few who had survived marched out and back behind the battle zone, so ending their share in the Great Somme Offensive. In August the Company was replenished with new soldiers and Jack was promoted to Assistant Company Sergeant Major, commanding 50 men.

Later that Summer he was allowed his first leave home, for a brief 10 days, since arriving in France in February 1914. After being away for so long, he was glad to leave the destruction behind, and, on seeing the cliffs of Dover, white as snow in the bright sun, he felt joyful to be back on his home turf.

The train journey to Liverpool took all day and on arrival there was no-one to meet him for he could not write in time. He took the electric tram to Barrington Road. Just before getting off, he remembered the family had moved to Langdale Road in his absence, which was the next stop. His mother opened the door. It surprised her to see a man with a moustache and in uniform . For a split-second she wondered, Who’s this?

 She was over-joyed to see Jack safe and sound, My dear son looks brown but tired and thin. He needs a good rest and some hearty meals. “Oh, Jack, I’m so glad to see you,” she exclaimed, and they hugged. “Come in and I’ll get you some tea and biscuits. The others will be home soon. Would you like a wash and a change of clothes, you’ve got bits of mud all over you?”

Jack’s brother, Joe, came in first, saying, “Hello Jack. So, our war hero is back home”. 

“I’m only here for a few days but long enough to catch up,” Jack said. “How are you getting on at the garage?”

“I’m learning a lot. There are so many different types of vehicles coming in for repair, that there’s something new every day. What do you see in the way of motorised vehicles at the front?” Joe asked.

“All our transport is done using horses,” Jack answered. “Horses are not only used by the Horse Guards but also for pulling the guns, ambulances, munition carts, rations, everything. Occasionally a motor car passes with a high-ranking person and his driver.”

“You probably saw a Vauxhall D-Type. It has a 4-cylinder, 4 litre engine that generates 25 horsepower and can take five passengers to 60 miles an hour. An amazing machine. We had one in the garage the other week,” Joe explained passionately.

Father came home next. “Hello Jack, It’s good to see you back. God has answered our prayers and kept you safe, we must be truly thankful.”

“I’ve been lucky. Many others have been less lucky. Even though we’re well-trained and use our wits, luck plays a big part. It’s easy to be in the wrong spot at the wrong moment,” Jack replied.

“How long can you stay with us?” Father asked.

“I’m expected back at Dover in five days’ time. That will give me time to rest, speak to you all and some friends. It’s such a pleasure to be here, even in this dull November weather,” Jack said.

Jack noted in his diary, “The first night I got into bed I couldn’t sleep. After so long in spartan sleeping quarters, the bed felt strange, so soft. In the morning, Mother brought me a cup of tea and found me asleep on the floor.”

“I’m happy to be back from the trenches, but it’s not like it was when I left two years ago. There is hardly anyone on the streets of Liverpool. In the pubs there are only old men, men over forty who aren’t in the army. There are a few younger men who have refused to enlist but I have no inclination to join their company. None of my mates are around. I went in to work to say hello, but saw few faces I remembered, and most of the new ones were women.”

After a good rest Jack made his way back to Folkestone, with mixed feelings. Being at home hadn’t been as he’d expected so he didn’t mind leaving, but he dreaded the thought of what was waiting for him in France.

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