Chapter 11 Back to Ypres

1917

‘D’ Company was sent up to the Ypres area again and given further training as the skills required for open warfare had been gradually lost due to the constant influx of new men. In February Jack partook an Infantry Course in Poperinghe. The course covered new technologies which developed rapidly, and the tactics of so-called ‘assault training’, an offensive approach.

‘Pops’ as the British soldiers called it, was a gateway to the battlefields of the northern Ypres Salient. It was an important rail centre behind the front line and was used for the distribution of supplies, for billeting and training  troops, for casualty clearing stations and for troops at rest from duty. 

After arriving in Pops, Jack found time to write home.

“My Dearest Folks at Home,

“It was great to receive your letter and know you are all fine. It’s a great consolation to know that you are all well and managing as best you can. My news is that we’ve just arrived back in Ypres. We were surprised to see there are mine dugouts in the trenches here. I had thought that impossible in Belgium with its high water table. They’re shallow shafts mined just below the surface, providing good shelter and accommodation. We need not be in the mud all the time!

“I still have to tell you what happened as we were leaving France. On being relieved, we had to hand over things to those coming in our place. I had given various handing-over duties to the sergeants, that of gumboots to Sgt. Owen. The next day in camp, the Colonel called for me to explain the absence of a receipt for fifty gumboots. I called in Sgt. Owen and he denied my order of handing them over and getting the receipt. The Colonel said, “Both of you go back and get that receipt, or I will charge you with neglect of duty.” 

“After breakfast the next day, we hitch-hiked on limbers back to where we had come from. We walked out to the support trench where we were pinned down by a heavy German bombardment. By the time we got to the store, it was dark and raining and, on going in to the store, we saw not one gumboot remained. The hard-headed Sergeant Major refused to give a receipt without proof. The only solution was to count those boots on the feet of the men, as they did their various duties. We toured the entire length of the trench; entered no-man’s-land to wiring parties and their advance guards; sought working and carrying parties, till wet to the skin, cold and hungry, tired with mud-slogging. At the end of our hunt we could only muster forty-six pairs. Still the Sgt. Major would not sign for fifty, though we assured him there were many more. What a job we had scrounging those last four pairs! We dug them out of the mud; we searched in holes and corners finding a single boot here and one there. Dawn was breaking when we achieved the fifty and got the receipt. Hitch-hiking back, I handed the receipt to the Quartermaster, and all was well. The joke was on us, for the entire battalion had spent that day at ease, on rest and recuperation. Such is army life!”

“Love, Jack XX”

Those early 1917 months were the worst winter could conjure up. Snow lay on the ground for weeks and the bottom fell out of the thermometer. Movement in the slippy conditions was exhausting, with falls and sprained ankles adding to the casualties. Trench feet and frost-bite were common and one man froze to death at his post. Handling the cold metal of the rifle was like touching red-hot metal, and the morning rum ration sent a tingling infusion right down to one’s feet. Moving back for a rest in reserve near Poperinghe, with the snow on the ground and a bitter north wind blowing, they occupied a camp of wooden huts. There was no heating in the huts as there was only enough coal for the cookers. Anyone stealing coal would be court-martialled, so the men had to hunt for faggots. 

On one particular event during a fierce period of fighting, the Germans had been driven back by heavy shelling, and, as the guns and done their work, the enemy trenches were found almost empty. However, Second Luitenant Colley was reported missing. Jack made up a party to go and find him in the dark and under serious fire. They returned without finding him. After three more attempts they had to give up. Colley was later found dead. The loss of Colley meant more promotions and Jack was made Company Sergeant Major, now commanding 200 men.

By July the troops had been prepared for the Battle of Passchendaele. Jack and his men were allotted to a hill called Railway Wood. There was no trace of a wood, for it had long been bombed away. To Jack’s surprise, the train took them to just behind the trenches. It took place at night with a specially prepared engine, with the footplate blacked-out and a shielding plate over the funnel so that sparks weren’t visible. No smoking and silence were essential, so close they were to the enemy. 

On the 31st July, the opening phase of the great battle started, to finish the war – as was thought. Jack described the event in his diary.

“The attack was to start at the first light of dawn, but under a nimbus cloud, with the rain pouring down, it was  ‘black as night’. The tense, ominous hours spent during the night waiting for zero hour, caused some men to pray, others to curse, and some to think and talk of home and loved ones, but I had a splitting headache, which, with the fear, put me to sleep. 

“Awakened for the final ‘stand-to’, one is oppressed by the deathly silence that proceeds a battle. The calm before the storm. Even the enemy seemed to save his ammunition for the imminent cataclysm. We wait, tense, resigned, each and every one of us, to meet his end or whatever pain and anguish fate holds in store for him.”

“One gun breaks the heavy silence and in a split second comes ear-splitting thunder, as thousands of our guns fire simultaneously. The battalion went forward in four waves, but first we had to get through our own barbed wire. During the night, parties had gone out and cut lanes through the wire, laying white tapes for the men to follow. The first wave ran forward on zero, the second wave went half a minute after, then over the parapet I climbed leading the Company H.Q.; the other waves followed at half-minute intervals. As I followed the white tape, it horrified me to find myself tangled up in our own wire. Knowing from experience the enemy would rain a deluge of blasting shells on our front line within three minutes, I frantically tore myself through the obstructing wire, hurrying forward out of the most dangerous area. When clear I looked about me, but in the darkness could see no one. There was no sign of those who should have been following me.

“As far as I could make out I was alone, but I continued forward, till I fell, tripped up by the German wire. As I plunged into the mud several rifle shots flashed and cracked from the enemy trench just in front of me. The bullets whizzed past my head. My rifle was useless, choked with mud. Pulling out a hand grenade, I released the lever and lobbed it as near as I could to the area from which the shots came. I bobbed up to see the explosion, and saw several heads silhouetted against the flash. I had aimed well. At that moment one of our Lewis machine gun teams came up and I led them into the German trench, where, in the half light of dawn, we found only one badly wounded Hun. 

“I had to find Jasper Farm and set up company H.Q.. It was a case of plodding through shell-holes and round small earth mounds. Skirting one mound, I came into full view of Jasper Farm. It was an enormous cube of bare concrete with gun slits – a pill-box. Stark and bare, it looked grotesque, our bombardments having blown away the earth which had concealed it. I was surprised to see six Germans lined up in front of it. They immediately put up their hands in surrender. Pointing my useless rifle at them, I released an arm to wave them forward towards the British lines. On reaching the old German front line I handed them over to one of my sergeants for escorting to captivity. 

“On returning to Jasper Farm I waited for the other members of Company H.Q. to appear, but only one or two reported. They too had been caught on our own wire and by the German shells. Ultimately, it transpired that Company H.Q. was virtually wiped out, because they lost valuable time getting through the wire. What I had feared happened, and I had escaped, by what, premonition or experience? I searched about for any other man who should have come to the Company H.Q., and particularly for an officer to take charge of the company, for there had been four lieutenants when we started. As no officer could be found, I set about locating the troops of my company and setting them to work.”

This done, Jack prepared the reports for battalion H.Q., reporting known killed and wounded, the number of active men, amount of weapons and that they had occupied their objective. He was about to sign it when a young 2nd lieutenant arrived in a demented state. “Look what I’ve got?” he said, showing Jack a collection of German helmets. Jack thought the man has gone ‘crackers!’ Should I get him to sign the report? If I sign, the honours will be mine. But then he would have to explain his absence with serious consequences. Jack took the more honourable, unselfish action, and said, “Never mind those, sign this report for H.Q..” The officer signed, without reading and knowing what he was authorising. 

Jack continued his diary with the events that followed.

“The day wore on with the enemy raining explosive shells on us under a leaden sky and in a steady downpour. The mud was appalling, the shell-holes and trenches filled with water, adding discomfort to continuous danger. Fortunately, I was able to enjoy the comparative comfort of the concrete pill-box, but whenever an alarm of enemy counter-attack was signalled, we had to dash out and man a newly dug support trench, which was nearly waist deep in water. It was like jumping into a bath, a very cold bath, in which we had to stand for hours.

“After two days and nights, they withdrew us from battle. On marching back behind Ypres, Brigadier Duncan, that hard, stern soldier whom we feared, stood by the roadside taking the salute. “March to attention”, rang out the order; then “Eyes right” and as we turned our heads, we saw the brigadier standing erect, his right arm raised in the ‘salute’ and – tears streaming down his face. It was a sorry brigade he saluted that day for barely a quarter of his men returned.”

There was rest and recuperation for a few days, then training started again for the next ‘show’. New drafts of men arrived to re-enforce the Company. During this period Jackie Shaw (a school friend of Jack’s sister Mabel) turned up. He had been a very good-looking, jovial character but had changed character completely — changed from happy, carefree ways to worrying, sad and morose. He made no secret of his premonition that he was doomed in the coming battle. It proved prophetic, for he did not return from the battalion’s second action.

Once again, a decimated battalion said “Goodbye” to Ypres and moved to France where the unit was rebuilt around the survivors. 

Relief came for Jack in November when he went home to ‘Blighty’ on leave. Jack took the opportunity to visit to the art school to see if it was still open and to speak to friends. On arrival, he was glad to see the school was still functioning and that Miss Grime was around.

“Miss Grime, how wonderful to see you here. How are you?”

“Hello Jack, I’m well. Are you here to start lessons again?” Miss Grime asked.

“Ah, no, I’m back home on leave for a few days so can’t come to class,” Jack explained. “Are you still taking evening classes?”

“No, evening classes have stopped because of a lack of funding for lighting, and, most of us prefer to stay at home after dark. The blackouts make it unpleasant to travel to school and back.”

“Which courses are you now on?” Jack asked to keep the conversation going.

“I do four lessons a week, Design for Manufacturing, Embroidery, Jewellery and Cloisonné. I wanted to do Life Drawing but there’s a shortage of coke for the heating so the classrooms get very cold. Nude models got too cold so their classes were cancelled,” Miss Grime said with a giggle and Jack laughed.

She continued, “Some of the other classes have been cancelled because male teachers have been enlisted to the army.  There are extra classes for injured ex-servicemen. It’s good for their convalescence. I must go to my class now. Will you be back later?”

“No, I’m due back to the barracks tomorrow. See you next time,” Jack said and departed thinking, Perhaps she comes to art school as a way to ignore the war and avoid pressure to go to work in the ammunition factory.

While at home Jack heard the news of General Byng’s tank attack at St Quentin on the radio. It was the first mass attack of tanks of the war. It was a great and unexpected success, but abortive, as there were not enough troops to move in to the gap made in the enemy defences. A few days later, the Germans attacked the British line, and broke through the defences. When Jack returned from leave, he had a terrible shock. He found himself a sergeant, not of a platoon of fifty men, but of only nine. The Germans had captured the entire company in his absence, only one man escaping. The other eight had been either on leave, sick, or attached to working parties behind the line. He thanked his lucky stars that he had been away on leave!

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