Chapter 9 Hill 60

1915

Spring was on its way as demonstrated by the wild flowers in the hedgerows and fields, and the chirping of birds. The days were getting warmer and drier, the mud was less evident, and the wind less piercing.

On the completion of their ‘seasoning’, ‘D’ Company was eventually entrusted with the sole occupation of a frontline trench, as Jack described.

“On a dark and stormy night in April we relieved the Dorsets and took over No. 38 trench, which ran out from the main line, like a sap up to just below the summit of Hill 60, only fifteen yards from the German trench, on the very crest of the hill. We were so close we could lob hand grenades into each other’s trench.”

“The Huns had visual command from their higher position, so nothing on our side could move in daylight without observation and the fire from German arms. They had unlimited supplies of ammunition, apparently, as their use of it was continuous.”

Hill 60, being 60 metres high, was a strategically important location. The force holding it could control the area down to Ypres, visible on the horizon. In order to take hold of Hill 60, British mining engineers were tunnelling under the hill from the end of Jack’s trench. He and his pals helped by pumping in fresh air and carrying away heavy sandbags of earth that had been removed, all in the darkest of nights. Everything was done in silence so as not to alert the Germans on top of the hill.

“Rumour had it that Hill 60 was being blown up by us, which proved correct for the next day, 17th April, at about noon, the great explosion took place, and we saw the erupting earth rise in the sky over the tree tops. Then the fun started. The Huns laid down a heavy artillery barrage on the hill and adjoining trenches, including ours. We had many casualties, the first death being that of our Machine Gun Sergeant. Near me, in the middle of the trench, a young rifleman went berserk with shell-shock, foaming at the mouth, moaning and groaning on his hands and knees, trying with his hands to burrow into the earth. A pitiable sight!”

The battle on the hill continued for a few days, and ended with ‘D’ Company in command of the German trench on the very crest of the hill. Still manning the trench on the 23rd April, the men heard a heavy bombardment on their left from beyond Hill 60. 

“We smelt a strange odour in the air, like a mix of pineapple and pepper, and the news filtered through that the Canadians and Algerians had been gassed off Pilkem Ridge. The Huns poured through the gas-made gap and advanced to within a thousand yards of Ypres. Here they were held up by support reinforcements of officers’ servants, cooks, stores-men, engineers, signallers, the ‘scrapings of the barrel’, pending major support from troops further afield.”

 “Our position was precarious in the extreme, for if the enemy reached Ypres we would be cut off with only a narrow escape area to the south of the town, which could easily be closed, or would come under close and direct fire. We were advised of our plight, ordered to dump valises, and, in light marching order only, keep on the alert for the word ‘Every man for himself’, when we were to get out as well as we individually could. Several tense days and nights were spent in this nerve-racking state, till we heard that, at long last, the Hun had been driven back.”

Night after night, there were rumours of being relieved for a well-earned rest, but it was wishful thinking. After 19 days of severe tension in the muddy trench, with a shortage of food and ammunition, Jack and his Company were at last relieved.

“It was dark, cold and raining, as we moved back across the fields to the side of Ypres all night till at about 5 a.m. when we reached a small wood which had been shattered by bombardment. All the shelters were destroyed, so we set-to remaking cover from the rain in the hope of rest and sleep. I had just completed a rough hideout from scraps of corrugated iron that were lying about, when at 6 a.m. the order ‘Orderly Corporals’ rang out. I was the one for our platoon and ordered to get a ration party together. We collected breakfast, bacon and bread! What a joy after three weeks on bully beef and dog biscuits. I shared out the food, after first putting my own portion to one side, and was about to eat it after I thought all had been served, when two late arrivals turned up. I gave them mine. No breakfast for me!”

Exhausted and almost starved, Jack and his men arrived back to their billets in Ypres. They now had occasion to read and write letters to their families, grateful to have survived the battle on Hill 60. Jack took time to write a letter, choosing his words carefully and writing neatly on the military paper provided. It turned out to be a lengthy note, part of which follows. 

“Thanks for your letters and the news. I’m glad you are all well despite the turmoil. I can understand why people are ransacking German shops, although I don’t agree with it. The threat of limited food supplies and rationing must have been part of the reason it happened.

“It’s gorgeous sunny weather here in Ypres and they have given us a few days off to recuperate from three weeks at the front. That explains why I haven’t been able to put pen to paper earlier. I hope you’ve not worried about me because of the lack of word, worry not, I’m well and so are my men.

“We hear little about the progress of the war in general, you probably know more than I. We’re fully occupied with our daily duties and only know what’s happening in our vicinity. You may have heard that the Hun have used a mysterious gas against us. Fortunately, we only smelt a whiff of it and have no casualties. Next time we’ll know what to do if we smell it again.

“Thank you for the package you sent a few weeks ago. I truly appreciated the tobacco because the Belgian stuff is filthy. Please send some more when you have the opportunity.”

The gas used by the Germans caught the British Forces defenceless, ignorant and unprepared. It was the soldiers’ greatest dread. They were instructed how to recognise the gas by its smell and pale green colour, to then urinate on their handkerchief and hold it over mouth and nose, and to hasten away from the cloud which moved with the wind.

After a three day break, the Company went marching back to Hill 60 to bury the dead. Only the darkness of the night provided any cover as they carried out this macabre duty. At all times they were in danger of sporadic shell fire and bullets. Their constant confrontation with death had made them callous and their humour reflected it.

In his diary, Jack noted an incident in which he and his men found some morbid humour.

“Two brothers (I think twins) named Smith were given the job of burying a dead Hun. He was an enormous fellow, swollen up with internal gas and had, on being dragged by the feet to a shell-hole for internment, got impaled on a stump. They asked my help and putting my hand under his body, I found his jacket hem rucked up against the stump, thus holding him firmly. He lay with arms outstretched behind him on his back. I lifted one over, got hold of his wrist, took a firm stance and said, ‘One on each leg, when I lift him, pull.’ Giving a mighty pull on his arm, he sat up all too quickly and quite unexpectedly; the remaining outstretched arm fell over with a thwack, a light shot into the air, revealing his blanched face, his head fell forward and he gave a husky groan. The Smiths dropped his legs and scattered in alarm, later objecting to return to the body. I got two other men to finish the job. Of course, it was the escaping internal gas, after four or five days lying in the heat of the sun, that had caused the groan.”

On 5^th May they were relieved from the front. In action at Ypres, many peacetime comrades had been killed or wounded. Outstanding personalities had left to take up commissions, therefore rapid promotion came to those left behind. So it came about that Jack rose to Sergeant, Machine Gun Sergeant, and was sent to Bailleul for machine gun training as he knew little about them.

Back from training he shared a lean-to shelter behind the trench, with the Company Sergeant Major, a rather elderly man, that is, elderly for war service, about forty years old. Jack wrote in his diary about how the C.S.M. taught him to play chess.

“At the time we occupied a trench subjected to heavy ‘minenwerfer’ bombardment i.e. huge bombs that exploded cavities in the sodden soil, big enough to engulf a London bus. During one concentrated bombardment, the C.S.M. suggested chess to divert our mortal anxiety. As he taught me, we played many times with the earth trembling and the light dimmed with smoke and showers of exploding earth. It helped to keep us sane, but concentration on the game was all too often shattered by near misses. It was indeed — chess on the edge of eternity.”

The fighting settled down to trench warfare of a more static kind on the Ypres Salient for the next few months. Later, what remained of ‘D’ Company was withdrawn. Now regarded as experienced troops, they were moved south to the Somme in France and formed into the 55th (West) Lancashire Territorial Division.

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