Chapter 12 Givenchy

1918

After building ‘D’ Company back up to strength once again, Jack was in a company of entirely unfamiliar men.  In the winter they were ordered back to France to prepare for another major offensive. In between training, the men had a chance to catch up with correspondence. Jack first read the latest letter from Liverpool.

“Dear Jack,

“Every day we look out for your letters, and when they come, we’re deeply relieved to read all is well. It’s now three years since you first crossed to France and so many dreadful things have happened around you. You’ve lost pals too. We constantly hear of friends and neighbours losing their young men, it’s so saddening. There seems to be no end to this war, although we keep hearing that the final battle is coming.

“Let’s hope the Americans will help us finish the war. They are arriving here in Liverpool in massive numbers, ships arrive at the docks full of troops who are taken to camps at Knotty Ash. We see them going down Queens Drive and we’re surprised by the number of motorised lorries of all sorts and sizes. It’s all very impressive in scale and modernity. Have you seen Americans where you are?

“The Government has now introduced further rationing. Not only for sugar but also meat, cheese, butter and margarine. Per person, per week we’re allowed 4oz butter, 4oz margarine, 8oz meat, and 1½oz tea. Milk first goes to nursing mothers, invalids and children.

“No food is to be thrown away. They prosecuted a restaurant owner for wasting bread by having the crusts cut off toast and thrown in a bin. Some people just don’t think. A woman was brought before the courts for hoarding 64lb of sugar!”

“Annie has applied for extra milk for Reggie. He’s doing well. He runs around all over the place. We have to watch him otherwise he’ll run off before we notice and then have to go and find him. He loves playing games, especially hide and seek.”

“We all keep saying it’s time we saw you again, you must be in need of a break.

Take care and God bless you, Mother XX”

“Dear Loved Ones,

“Thanks for your letters. I’m glad to read about how well little Reggie is doing. He certainly seems to be full of life as he explores his surroundings. I hope to come home before long so that I can play with him, and see you all, of course. 

“We’re now in France again, in Givenchy, on a canal, across which we can see the pit-heads and slag heaps of the coal mines.

“The other morning, when I was shaving, the Captain suddenly appeared ordering me to go at once with him to reconnoitre battle positions just behind the front line.

“‘No time to finish shaving,’ he said, so I quickly wiped my face, one half clean, the other bristly, dressed fully and stepped into the farm yard around which we were billeted in the barns. He stood by two horses. Indicating the bigger one, a massive brute, he said, ‘This is yours.’ ‘But I can’t ride,’ I said, and got the reply, ‘You will this morning, I’ll give you a leg up.’ 

“We walked down the road, I in front, over the bridge, turned right down the towpath at a trot, to which I managed to adjust myself, becoming quite happy and confident. Shortly, we crossed a level plank bridge over an entrance to a small dock. The planks moved and creaked, the horse took fright, and away we went at the gallop. I could not rein him in, but so easy was his action that I quite enjoyed the ‘rocking chair’ movement, my only concern being that he might run me into the German lines. 

“He later broke into a jog-trot, a more difficult problem for me, as the four corners of the beast seemed to bob up and down unevenly, to which I could not adjust myself and I began to slip over on the canal side. Every frantic effort to regain balance was useless. I slipped further and further till just as I was about to fall off and possibly slide down the canal bank into the barbed wire infested water, the Captain rode alongside and righted me, just as we reached the support trench. Tethering the horses, we walked back to a small wood where we mapped out possible reserve battle positions. 

“The ride back was uneventful, and I succeeded in keeping my seat, though the whole event was a memorable experience and interlude from war.”

“My dears, as you see, life here has its pleasant sides which are dearly cherished as this war drags on while we carry on in another winter in an unsightly black country with its still pit-head wheels and ugly slag heaps.”

“You may have heard that troops in France are suffering from ‘la grippe’. Doctors call it the 3-day fever because it only lasts 3 days. It’s highly infectious but I haven’t had it. I do my best to eat well, sleep well and keep fit.”

“Hope to see you all soon,

“Love and affections, Jack XX”

There was an air of tension and expectancy in those early days of March 1918. There were rumours the British were making underground tunnels leading to the front line. Something was in the wind. A German attack was feared, foretold by their heavy artillery bombardments. After the heavy fighting Jack had survived in the Somme and twice in Ypres, he wasn’t looking forward to being in a fourth, so-called ‘final’ battle. 

Jack wrote in his diary, “I now begin to feel war weary. My nerves are so depreciated that I need a break.”

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