three months of war april to july 1915 6th battalion of the durham light infantry [dli] was, at the...

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THREE MONTHS OF WAR

APRIL TO JULY 1915

by Percy Hugh Beverley Lyon

Compiled in 1916

Second Lieutenant PHB Lyon, 6th Battalion, Durham Light

Infantry

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1. Preparation

The 6th Battalion of the Durham Light Infantry [DLI] was, at the beginning of

April 1915, billeted in that peculiarly unattractive suburb of Newcastle which is

known as Bensham. In this unsavoury district of dingy streets and drab houses

we had been training assiduously for five months, ever since the first rains of a

wet and windy winter had driven us out of our camp at Ravensworth. The men

were certainly fortunate in having the best schools of the town to live in, some

views of which given opposite. Of the officers’ billets the less said the better;

even in this area, where the ideal of a home could not have been very high, the

two houses which were allotted to us had not found tenants for some years. As

a result the sick list was, as late as March, very considerable, and I was not the

only one to visit the Newcastle infirmary. But we managed to recover

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with celerity when it was at last announced that we were to leave for France on

April 19th. After a long period of intensive training over familiar ground, after

weeks of waiting, enlivened only by rumours and counter-rumours, which had

reduced us all to a state of passive incredulity, the official news came as a

tremendous relief. The last days were spent in an orgy of packing; the

inevitable abandonment of many cherished articles. To conform to the minimum

of 35lbs per officer occupied much thought and many searchings of heart. The

men, who for months had been perforce content with old and worn out

equipment, suddenly discovered that there was enough and to spare of ‘new

parts’ waiting for them. This unprecedented liberality of the Quartermaster

general convinced the last doubter that this time we were really ‘for it’.







As mention will be made from time to time of various officers with the battalion, I

attach here a list of those, by companies, who started with


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us for France, with details of their fortunes up to the date of writing (February

1916).

Colonel Watson (in command): Invalided home, suffering from shock, April 30th.

Captain Jeffreys (adjutant), from 2nd DLI: Commanded the battalion from

beginning of May till our amalgamation with the 8th Battalion in June [1915],

with one break; again from August 16th till December 22nd, when he was

wounded near Hooge.

Lieutenant and Quartermaster Hope: Still with battalion.

Major Mackay, Royal Army Medical Corps: Wounded April 26th.

Major Howden (second in command): With the battalion till 2nd August, when

he returned home sick.

A Company

Captain Cummins: Wounded, April 28th.

† Captain Parke: Wounded, April 28th.

Lieutenant Thorpe: Wounded, April 26th. Rejoined first line January 1916

Lieutenant Bircham (Transport Officer): Still with battalion.

Second Lieutenant Blenkinsop: Invalided, October 1915.

Second Lieutenant Leighton: Wounded, April 26th.

† Killed in April 1918

[This may refer to Captain Robert Douglas Park who was injured on 28 April

1914, but was not killed during the war]








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B Company

Major Badcock: Wounded & missing, believed killed, April 26th.

Captain Welch: Invalided home, May 16th.

Lieutenant AB Hare: Wounded, April 29th.

Lieutenant Haythornthwaite: Wounded, June 17th.

Lieutenant Badcock: Wounded, April 26th. Returned to duty May 17th, still with

battalion.

Second Lieutenant Howe: Still with battalion.

C Company

Captain Monkhouse: Killed in action, April 26th.

Captain Devey: Wounded, April 26th.

Lieutenant Heslop: Invalided home, January 1916.

Lieutenant RV Hare: Invalided home, August 13th.

Second Lieutenant Nicholson: Wounded, April 26th. Returned to first line,

January 1916.

Second Lieutenant Angus: Still with battalion.

D Company

Captain Townend: Returned home, suffering from shock, April 29th.

Captain Walton: Wounded, April 26th. Returned to first line, January 1916.

Lieutenant Gill (Machine Gun Officer): Invalided home, June, returned January

1916.


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Second Lieutenant Kynoch: Killed in action, April 26th.

† Second Lieutenant Kirkhouse: Wounded, April 26th.







Second Lieutenant Lyon: Invalided, December 15th.

Second Lieutenant Favell: Transferred to Royal Engineers, September.

† Killed in April 1918

At the date of embarkation the battalion had reached a pitch of efficiency, in the

opinion of independent critics, which, while still lacking that absolute sureness

which only comes with long years of training or with experience of active

service, was considerably higher than most of us had expected when first we

joined. The discipline and steadiness acquired were in very large part due to

our adjutant, our only “Regular“ officer and to our regimental sergeant major,

who added to an imposing presence and the prestige of 33 years’ service in the

line a very considerable power over men. These two were destined to guide us

through many vicissitudes with the same zeal which they had displayed in our

training. But even


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their power and energy might have been in vain had not they found to their

hand such splendid material. The miners of Durham are some of the finest

fighters the country possesses. Slow of intellect, rough in manner, they yet

possess a power of endurance and a courageous spirit, very admirable in

adversity.

The departure of the Transport on the 17th April was the signal for considerable

enthusiasm on the part of the crowd, and reminded us that it was time we said

our farewells, as we were nearing the morning of our own departure. Some

views of the transport moving out of billets are shown opposite.

This, then, was the overture. How many of us strained eager eyes for scenes

that the rising curtain should disclose!







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2. From Newcastle to Ypres.

It was about 8.15 on the morning of April 19th 1915 when we left Newcastle

station, with cheers and counter-cheers and much waving of hats and

handkerchiefs. We were in great spirits, which even a 12 hours train journey

could not damp. At Folkestone we embarked with speed and an almost officious

orderliness, and started on what must have been the first journey across sea for

most of the men. Fortunately it was a calm night. The presence of a lean silent

destroyer which accompanied us like a shadow all the way brought a thrill of

adventure into the peaceful expedition. And so, late at night, we landed at

Boulogne, and marched up to the camp above the town, with laughing

demoiselles practising their English on us from top windows. When we had

solved the problem of including all the men in an impossibly small number of

tents we turned in ourselves, weary but content.


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The chief characteristics of the next day were, as far as I can remember, a very

cold wind and a disturbing uncertainty. There were many novelties to distract

our leisure moments – the field service postcard, the canteen, and the Boulogne

orange-women, adding touches of colour among the khaki, and exchanging

compliments with the soldiers, which were none the worse received for not

being understood. But kit inspections, which were the only form of military

exercise we could indulge in, are not in themselves entertaining and baffling

uncertainties aided by indiscriminate rumours, as to our immediate fate, made

us all somewhat irritable. We were all glad when we were at length marched

off, not to Boulogne, but inland, to a desolate military station called ‘Pont de

Briques’, some three miles away. After waiting there for some time, we were







taken off at about 6 o’clock by a slow moving string of cattle trucks, each of

which accommodated 44 men. The officers were

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allowed the comparative luxury of very dingy passenger compartments. In this

train we stayed 4 hours, being eventually shot out at Cassel, which we had

reached by the most circuitous of routes. A most unaccountable delay followed;

hardly anybody seemed to know where we were going, and even those who did

know seemed ignorant of the best route to travel. At length, somewhere

between 2am and 5.30am on the morning of Wednesday, April 21st 1915, we

marched eight miles to the minute village of Hardifort, where we were left to our

own devices in the matter of lodgement. Poor old D Company was, as usual,

left till the last. But in the end I found good accommodation for over 100 men in

a small farm about ½ mile out of the village. Once everyone was under cover

we abandoned ourselves to sleep... Breakfast was served about noon.

The rest of the day was spent in cleaning up and taking stock of our

surroundings.


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I found that I had over half the company in my farm, most of the rest being with

Favell in another farm some 50 yards away. The rest of the company officers

had rooms in the little village itself and, except on official occasions, I saw very

little of them. I had my time fully occupied, having to act as interpreter, and often

as mediator, between the men and Madame Colpaert, who was hospitable but

on occasion very jealous of her rights. ‘In the country of the blind, the one-eyed

man is king’, and my French proved sufficient for all purposes. I had a large

comfortable bed, which occupied more than half of the very small room which







held it; and Madame’s eggs and coffee were incomparable. A tariff was drawn

up, and the men dealt largely in the farm produce; their chief want at this time

was cigarettes. Except for the inevitable and unending inspections, they were

comfortable and happy. Their attitude towards the French people was one of

amused tolerance; ‘the


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people here do speak a funny language, and we get many good laughs at

them’, was the comment of one of them in a letter home, letters which were at

first most conscientiously censored, but were afterwards generally skimmed

somewhat hastily.

We were now within sound of the guns, but the village and countryside were as

peaceful as any English hamlet. The farms were picturesque as only French

farms can be, with long low barns, whose roofs held and reflected all colours of

the sun. One of the most ancient formed our orderly room.

Here we remained till the morning of Friday, April 23rd 1915. Then, just as we

had finished our morning manoeuvres, Jeffreys galloped round and ordered an

alarm parade in half an hour. The reason was as yet concealed by some higher

authority, and the rendezvous was appointed at a village some four miles away.

We consumed hasty dinners, and lumbered away about one o’clock to an

unknown destination.


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We went someway further Eastwood than we had expected, before halting for

any considerable time, at length, about 4 o’clock, we came to Steenvoorde, on

the outskirts of Belgium; here we joined the rest of the Brigade, who were







resting in a large field beyond the town, the original occupant of which, an

immense sow, seemed completely undisturbed by the incursion of 4000 men

into her domain. We had now come suddenly into the vortex of activity. The

day before – though we did not know it at the time – the Germans had broken

the Allied line North of Ypres by the unexpected use of gas, and the road from

Steenvoorde was choked by reinforcements hurrying up to make good the loss.

Every variety of conveyance, containing troops of all nations, rushed past us.

We waited our turn, the men employed alternately in devouring their rations and

making their wills! Here we stayed till dusk.

About seven o’clock a long line of grey-painted motor-omnibuses, lately taken

from the streets of


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London, drew up by the field, and one after another battalions filed into them, 25

men to a bus. In these we jolted along through Abele and Poperinghe, arriving

very late this side of Vlamertinghe, where we disembussed and marched on still

further to a moonlit colony of wooden huts, in which we attempted to house all

the men. D Company were, as usual, left till last, and a number of them slept in

the open. One hut was left for the officers, and about 25 of us made the best of

the floor accommodation. We were all tired and hungry, and none of us in the

best of tempers. For me it was the first of many almost sleepless nights. By

now the guns sounded unpleasantly loud, and the star shells fired from the

trenches all round the Ypres Salient seemed very close; we had by now heard

some details of the gas attack, which did not help to relieve the general

depression. We could see Ypres on fire some four miles away.








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The next morning [24 April 1915] was fine, and after a wash (of a somewhat

superficial character) and a shave I felt better. There was still heavy firing, but

we were not called upon during the day, which we spent in anxious discussion

of the latest rumours. At 6.30pm we were paraded, and with a splendid sunset

behind us we marched singing along the road towards Ypres, which we reached

after dark.

Of all the experiences which attended these weeks there is not one of which I

have so vivid a recollection as that march through the perishing city. For three

days it had suffered an intense bombardment. A shell came shrieking into it as

we went through (how our hearts jumped at this first experience), and several

rumbled over our heads after we had passed out beyond. There were ruins

along every street, fresh, gaping holes and the roads were choked with debris.

We moved in a thin serpent-line through the confusion, adjusting


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our ideas of war as best we could to this shattered reality, which lay about our

path, clear-cut in the bright moon. By the muttered exclamations of the men I

judged the sight had a very profound effect upon them.

We marched straight on along the road towards Zonnebeke; the star shells

were now on three sides of us, and we had entered the most pronounced

salient of the line. Through Potijze we went, and moved at length into some

roughly dug trenches this side of Verlorenhoek. One or two shells came over

us, without doing any harm. The reserve trenches we occupied were quite

unprovided with dug outs. The night was pretty quiet, with occasional shelling,

but very wet, and we were all covered with clay before the morning.







Thus, in six days, we had come from England into the very centre of the most

troubled area of the great trench system of Europe.

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3. A Week’s Campaigning

When dawn broke a very heavy engagement commenced to the north of us,

about St Julien. As we were at that time still uncertain as to the nature of our

salient, it seemed surprising that the battle should be somewhat in rear of our

trench, whereas in all well-conducted battles the enemy is situated, so we

understood, in front of the defensive position. However we turned about

obediently and took stock of our surroundings. The wounded and stragglers

from the trenches began to file past us soon, and the enemy shelled the road

which cut our trench close to us pretty heavily during the morning. The

Northumberland Brigade, which was one of the three brigades in our division,

was sent up to reinforce the part of the line which was most seriously

threatened, and the remainder of the division was held in readiness. Later on

the York and Durham Brigade and the 8th DLI out of our brigade were sent to


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the assistance of the front line battalions, which were being subjected now, as

at all times during the Second battle of Ypres, to attacks by far more numerous

troops, backed by a much superior artillery.

We remained in these trenches for the whole of this day [25 April 1915], being

only troubled by the attention of large enemy guns which were searching the

ground for our artillery. Three men were slightly wounded in our battalion,

during the morning, but the fighting grew less severe in the afternoon, and

except for the incessant attentions of enemy aeroplanes we were left in peace.







That night we paraded on the main road, and marched Eastwood to

Verlorenhoek. There was, I remember, a very fine moon again, and for a long

time we waited by the side of the road; there were some cavalry horses being

exercised near us, as movement during

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the day was almost impossible. At last we were turned into a field by a farm,

and told to sleep. Which we did to the best of our ability; but it was intensely

cold, and I don’t think many of us got much rest.

[26-27 April 1915] We were woken hurriedly at 4am; our adjutant happened to

notice the general commanding another brigade (whose name I will not divulge)

running up to some of our men, and telling them to wake up as the Germans

had broken through and would be on them at any moment. So he not

unnaturally was somewhat urgent in his rousing of the rest of us. We bundled

out sleepily, and marched further up the road, just in rear of another system of

trenches. Here we were told to dig ourselves into the ditch on each side of the

road, and wait till we were wanted. Apparently the enemy had attacked once

more in great force, this time near the Gravenstafel ridge. There was very little

shelling just now, but just sufficient to make

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us keep to our ditch fairly conscientiously.

At about 10 o’clock came the order to advance. As far as can be gathered, our

instructions were vague in the extreme. No information was given us of any

troops in front of us, and from what the Brigadier had told our colonel he

understood there were none. The direction of advance was indicated by a wave







of the hand, and the final objective was completely unknown. As far as I can

make out, we were really intended to advance into reserve positions, in

readiness to reinforce our front line in the event of another attack.

We advanced roughly in two lines of companies, in extended order. As soon as

we showed ourselves the German batteries opened a very heavy fire on us,

which was maintained for some time. Almost at once central control, difficult at

all times with so broad a formation, was completely lost. I myself with my

platoon was on the extreme right of the second

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line. I saw the whole line to my left swinging more and more to the left, and

finally facing almost at right angles from our original direction of advance.

Thinking, naturally, that the various company commanders had orders to that

effect, I began to conform. However, hearing a shout, I looked round, and saw

Colonel Watson signalling to me to maintain the original direction. I did so, as

far as was in my power; but whistle and voice would not carry far in the

confusion, and so only about ⅔ of my platoon heard me and corrected their line

of march. At this point I lost touch with the remainder of the company, who did

not see the colonel’s signal.

All this was taking place under a consistent fire from all manner of shells, and

later on bullets began to whizz past us in a less than comfortable manner.

Eventually, finding touch with the right hand company of the first line, we

established ourselves on their left, and dug ourselves in, still

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under a continued, though less violent, shellfire. Of the men who went with me

none suffered a more severe casualty than accidents to caps or clothing; a

piece of good fortune which quite amazed our adjutant, when he visited us later.

The greater part of the battalion came under a very severe machine gun fire

and lost heavily. During this day Captain Monkhouse and Lieutenant Kynoch

were killed, and Major Badcock was severely wounded and never heard of

again. In wounded we lost Captain Devey and Captain Walton, Lieutenants

Thorpe, Leighton, Badcock [Lieutenant] (slightly), Nicholson, and Kirkhouse and

our doctor, Major Mackay. The death – for there is I fear no doubt but that Major

Badcock died on the field – of our two most competent and popular company

commanders was a very severe blow to us all, individually and as a battalion.

My own sensations were very confused, I felt then, as I have ever since, which I

believe is a very common experience, that as long as I was moving and

occupied the shells and bullets were little

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cause of fear; I only know that I spent all my energies and the last remnants of

my voice in trying to keep my men in line and properly distanced. At first I

remember watching a shrapnel burst just above my head, and a ‘dud’ dive into

the ground between me and another man (which we found a matter for mutual

congratulation). But later the shrapnel smoke became a subject of

photography, (though I was too busy actually to get a specimen picture, being

interrupted by a fresh order the only time I had my camera ready for use). That

my indifference was simply a matter of concentration on other matters I learnt

soon enough afterwards, when we had to endure shelling in a state of inaction. I

am certain that that form of entertainment is the least to be sought after.







During the afternoon, while we were lying low, I was visited by Captain Jeffreys,

who seemed quite surprised to see me, as he had heard I had been killed.

(This rumour, spread by a man who had mistaken

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poor Kynoch for me, was assiduously spread all over the battalion, and even

got back to the second line [of 6th Battalion] in Durham). Towards night, as

many of us as could be collected were assembled by Zevenkote Farm close to

the main road. A large part of the battalion had reached the front trenches, and

could not be withdrawn till nightfall. (I may say, in parenthesis, that these

detachments behaved in a most gallant fashion under a withering fire, and

earned the praise of many ‘regulars’ who watched our whole advance). The

only other officer of my company there was Captain Townend, who had already

begun to show signs of nervous shock, and so much of the command

developed upon me. And our adventures were by no means at an end. We now

had orders to reinforce the front line under cover of darkness. We reached a

road along a high ridge fairly safely. Then we advanced still further Eastwood,

and eventually came to a kind of no man’s land. Here we were handed over to

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a regular Colonel, who seemed to have assumed command of all detachments

in the vicinity. One company (B) was sent up to occupy a gap in the front line.

The remainder of A and D Companies, we were about 90 in all, were left at this

colonel’s disposal. At this time no one knew exactly where our line was, or

where the Germans were. A sudden increase of activity to the North made the

colonel think that there was a massed attack about to pierce our line at this

point, and we were lined along a hedge with fixed bayonets and told to expect

the Hun at any minute. I confess that now for the first time I completely gave up







speculating on my chances of getting out alive, and made up my mind to die

with some distinction. Perhaps it was this determination which made me see all

that followed in a humorous light.

As the attack failed to take place, the colonel (whose name I never learnt)

suddenly came to the


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conclusion that he didn’t want us, and washed his hands of us completely. At

which we suddenly discovered that we didn’t know where to go. After waking

up the detachment (who had fallen fast asleep as they lay waiting for the main

attack with fixed bayonets!) and being reinforced by a party of C Company

under Angus, who was returning from a most adventurous expedition with the

rations, we decided to try and find our way back. In single file we trailed slowly

over the country. From where we were the star shells, marking the salient,

formed almost a complete circle round us, so that it was not a little difficult to

decide which way would bring us back to the Ypres road. But before dawn we

found ourselves back at Zevenkote Farm, and eventually came to a halt in a

field, honeycombed with ditches, which we were assured was a favourite

German target. After trying to induce my dog-tired platoon to take some better

shelter than that afforded by their greatcoats,


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I chose the deepest, wettest ditch, and went to sleep sitting, crouched up on two

sandbags.

After day break [28 April 1915] shelling ceased for a time, and gradually the

whole battalion came together. I found Favell and the rest of the company, and,







what was much more important, something to eat. We had nothing but a few

biscuits for two days, and were hungry! A Company was then sent up to assist

B in front trenches. C was sent to a small fort nearby, and our company

remained near Zevenkote farm. The shelters we made were most primitive, and

the area was heavily shelled at intervals, but up to the time of our leaving this

district our company suffered no further casualties.

About this time Colonel Watson, who had behaved with great distinction during

the action, broke down, and was sent home. He was followed by Captain

Townend, whose nerves had given way completely. D Company was thus left in

charge of Favell and myself.

I felt rather weak at this time, but enforced


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rest (we were shelled if we showed ourselves) soon gave me strength again.

The battalion was now placed under the command of Captain Jeffreys, whose

energy and courage were invaluable. Food was plentiful, and we were

becoming inured to shells, so that we had time for reflection.

On the evening of April 29th 1915 we were moved back a little further, to

Verlorenhoek, and then dug ourselves in in a ploughed field, which (like all

fields in the salient) was a quite usual target for the enemy’s guns. After this

was completed, the men had a further three hours fatigue digging. Our routine

here remained the same for a few days. During the day we lay low and slept

and cleaned our equipment, etc. At night we generally spent most of the time

digging or wiring the new line of defence near Verlorenhoek, to which the whole

line retreated on May 3rd. A small ruined schoolhouse near at hand was made

our headquarters.








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Here we were joined, on May 1st 1915, by the remnants of the two companies

who had been in the front line. They had had a most unpleasant time, and had

lost about ⅓ their strength in killed and wounded. Cummins and Parke had

both been severely wounded; Welch, who had been in command, had had great

difficulty in holding his position, and was afterwards awarded the MC [Military

Cross] for his gallantry, they had had no rations or water for two days, and were

shelled continuously. AB Hare was slightly wounded in the same company.

This half of the battalion afterwards received the special congratulations of the

brigadier for their conduct.

On May 1st and 2nd, the Germans directed further assaults on our line, north of

the Zonnebeke road. On both occasions we had orders to ‘stand by’ but were

not actually called upon.

At length, on May 2nd 1915, at 10.30pm we marched back through Ypres to

some huts close to Brielen. Our first week of campaigning was

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over, and we had lost, killed, wounded and sick, 16 officers and about 300 rank

and file. But this consideration, I think, was not so much with the survivors, as

the surprise which each of us felt at coming away from that salient alive. The

next night the eastern half of the salient was very wisely sacrificed, and the

whole British force retired to the new lines about Verlorenhoek.

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4. The Merry Month of May

I have dwelt at some length on our experiences during the first week of active

service, because that was, perhaps, the most strenuous of our engagements,

and also because it is very typical of the fortunes of ourselves and other

regiments near Ypres all through the following month, until the Second attempt

of the Germans to reach Calais was finally checked. Nothing was certain; we

were so outnumbered then, in men and guns, that every available battalion had

to be kept in a state of constant readiness. And every time we were called upon

to move, there was the same hesitation and indecision of command. Our

brigade was at this time detached from our division, and attached again in turn

to several others, so that at no time were we quite certain to whom we were to

look for our command.

We arrived, then, as I have said, at the Brielen huts on the night of May 2nd.

The next day we spent in much needed rest, and again that evening moved


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further westward. We understood we were to be taken back some way for a

rest. At length, about 2am [4 May 1915], we arrived at the tiny village of Sint-

Jan-ter-Biezen, three miles the other side of Poperinghe. Here we found that

the billeting arrangements had been in some way mismanaged, and my platoon

was allotted a barn already allotted to the 9th Battalion. Fortunately we were the

firstcomers, so for the remainder of that night at any rate we took possession.

The officers had no separate billets, and for the night we slept on the very dirty

floor of the inn.

The next morning we managed to make ourselves more comfortable; Favell

discovered a clean little house (the only one) and in the parlour of it we rigged

up a couple of mattresses. It was very small, but it served, though the various







accompaniments of eating, shaving, and correspondence tended to get mixed

up with official records, as the room had to be our company office as well. Later

in the day we were honoured by an address from Sir John French in person,


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who thanked us for and complimented us on the behaviour of the battalion

during the last week. We all felt rather pleased with ourselves, and the routine

of eternal inspections and refitting seemed somewhat unworthy tasks for the

saviours of the British Empire.

Sint-Jan-ter-Biezen, a very small village, was filled to overcrowding with

refugees before we descended upon it. And while we were there, more

refugees streamed in from Poperinghe, which was again being shelled. So

there was not too much room. We stayed here for six days. Favell went sick

after a day or two, and for a time I had all the affairs of the company on my

hands. However, reinforcements arrived before long, in the shape of eight

officers from the second line. These were Captains Morgan, Barkas, Livesay,

and Second Lieutenants Hansell, Cook, Stuart, Brock, and Warwick. Captain

Livesay took over command of the company, and Brock took charge of No.16

platoon.

On Sunday [9 May 1915] we were again marched east


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ward, after an open air service with an excellent sermon from our chaplain

(Reverend HG Shaddick), and a Communion service in a barn in the village.

The guns had commenced with greater vigour than ever, and our hopes of

along rest were dashed aside. However, it seems we were not wanted yet, and







were accordingly marched into a large wood near Oosthoek, north of

Vlamertinghe. Here we made ourselves bivouac and temporary shelters, and,

in case of being located by the enemy’s big guns, dug a strong trench on the

front edge of the wood. Here we stayed two days; and for most of us I think the

time was one of great pleasure. The existence was peaceful, and the wood

itself most beautiful, exulting in its new foliage. Inspections occupied the best

part of the day, and we managed to keep warm of nights by purchasing large

quantities of straw from a neighbouring farm.

The chief object of interest was a 9.2" gun which was situated in a little wood

just


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in front of ours. It fired three shots the first evening, making a tremendous

report. The next night it was taken to pieces and conveyed elsewhere. My

platoon was commandeered to assist in its removal, which it did willingly.

On the evening of Tuesday, May 11th 1915, we again moved up to the

trenches. This time, as Ypres was in flames, and being shelled without

cessation we had to move to our posts in single file along the railway which

skirts the city on the south. We had to man second line trenches on either side

of the Menin Road; D Company were perhaps worst situated, as our position

consisted of a very muddy ditch (originally a very bad communication trench)

just north of ‘Shrapnel Corner’. The whole line was a notoriously bad one, as it

was ill-constructed and frequently shelled. We were destined to carry away

many memories of it before the month was over.

After interminable delay we got into position just before dawn. The only shell

which came near us








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fell just on the cross road as the head of our company passed over it; some of

us were blown over, but no one was wounded.

The next day was a fairly quiet one for us, with occasional shelling. But there

was considerable liveliness in the line in front of us, and we were told we might

be needed up there at any time. Meanwhile we made our trench as comfortable

and as fightable as possible. At night we were taken out to dig close to the front

line.

Thursday, May 13th 1915, will be remembered by many of us as the most

continuously unpleasant we have ever experienced. From 3.30am to 6pm the

Germans treated our front and reserve trenches east of Ypres to what Sir John

French afterwards called one of the most violent bombardments of the war. We

kept low in our improvised trench all day, yet so exactly had the range been

found by the Germans, that two shells fell actually into the trench and exploded

there. One of them

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wounded five men just beyond me. The company lost altogether two killed and

16 wounded. The two killed were two of our best non-commissioned officers

[NCOs], Sergeant Coates and Corporal Bell. Sergeant Coates was my platoon

sergeant, and had been my right-hand man all the time he had held that

position; he was a most competent and much respected man and was a great

loss to us all.

As soon as the bombardment ceased, we began to recover our spirits. I learnt

that night that I had been deputed to attend a course in bombing the next day at







Vlamertinghe; I was to represent the brigade, with a view to my instructing

others later. However, in spite of my necessarily early move the next day, I was

unable to get much rest, as a ‘strong as possible’ digging fatigue was ordered

for that night. We were taken up to a point somewhere in advance of our front

line, and told to dig a new trench to cover a small gap the enemy had made

during the day. The star

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shells were burst pretty close to us, and there seemed a good deal of stray

shooting. But it was not until the digging was over and we had returned to our

dugouts, that our Commanding Officer was informed by the Royal Engineers

Officer that we had had Germans about 150 yards away on three sides all the

time. Fortunately for us, the Germans are extremely unenterprising in

reconnaissance work, and had sent out no patrols in our direction.

We arrived back from this fatigue at about 3am [14 May 1915], and at 6 I

started on my tramp to Vlamertinghe. I think I inspired some suspicion in the

minds of the military police of Ypres, who were not accustomed to seeing

Second Lieutenants walking along by themselves in full marching order,

covered with clay from head to foot! At Vlamertinghe I managed to wash myself

in a deserted house, and after some trouble found the farm where I was to find

the bomb instructor. There I had a much needed breakfast before proceeding to

business.

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The instruction given was of the shortest. I was introduced to the three bombs

then in constant use, (No.1 GS, Hale’s No.2, and the ‘Jam-Tin’) two of them

exploding on percussion and one being of the ‘time-fuse’ variety. The use and







nature of these of these were briefly explained, and the manner of attacking

along a trench. Then we saw a few bombs being thrown, and that was all. In

my later days as Brigade Bomber I was rather proud of my own amplifications of

that ¾ hour lecture!

The rest of the day I spent in sleep and an attempt to get clean; at sunset, I

returned to the trenches on a Red Cross Van, and reported progress at Brigade

headquarters. I had fortunately arrived too late to attend that night’s fatigue

digging, and so had some more sleep, as the shelling was now only occasional.

The next day (May 15th) I returned to Vlamertinghe and brought back some

specimen bombs, with


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which to instruct all who might wish to learn. On the way back I seized the

occasion to take a few photographs of Ypres. I was fortunate in being able to

be present at the blowing up of a house for the purpose of a gun-emplacement,

and I secured a photograph of the explosion. That night we were employed in

one more fatigue, and then marched back to the huts, for another short rest.

This time we had only two days in the huts, sufficient however for the wash and

change which most of us badly needed. The first day I began giving lectures on

the bombs and their use to officers and NCOs of our battalion and the 8th

[Battalion] who were then in the huts with us. The next day [18 May 1915] (after

a 12 hour sleep) it rained hard, and continued to rain during our march up to the

trenches.

[18-23 May 1915] This time we occupied a different part of the same reserve

line. We were now close to








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Potijze. The trench, though slightly better than our last, was very wet and

sticky, and it was some time before we could get all the men under cover. We

had received fresh reinforcements of officers but had lost Captains Welch,

Morgan and Barkas and Second Lieutenant Brock through sickness. The new

ones were Second Lieutenants M Hare and Ridley, in our company, Second

Lieutenant Robertson in A Company, Second Lieutenant Peberdy in B

Company and Second Lieutenant Peacock in C Company. Also Badcock (the

younger) had recovered of his wounds received on April 26th, and was with us

again. The routine continued to be one of inaction by day and digging at night.

We were only occasionally shelled, though always with great accuracy. We had

much improvement to make to the trenches, and various other work of our own

to do, so we were kept busy.

The front line at this point was about 1000 yards in front of our trenches, with no

communication trench of any kind connecting the two, until a very wet and

muddy one was reached about 30 yards behind the front trench. This line was

temporarily occupied

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by a cavalry division, to which we were for the time attached. It was decided to

send up certain of our platoons for instruction in front line duties, one platoon

from each company to be attached to each cavalry brigade. After a personal

visit during the daytime (it was quite safe for single men to walk between the

lines during the day, as the snipers were only active at night) to the 20th

Hussars (to whom my platoon was to be attached for 30 hours), it was arranged

that I should take the men up as soon as it was dark; the route to be followed

was carefully reconnoitred by daylight.







That night, accordingly, we moved up in single file; an old enemy sniper in the

wood gave us some trouble, but we arrived safely. My platoon had, I think come

to the conclusion that they were about to come to close quarters with the

Germans, and had spent most of the day sharpening their bayonets. They were

somewhat disgusted when they found they had come to trenches at no place

less than


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knee deep in liquid mud, with the German lines out of sight, and with more work

to do than they had yet dreamt of. For the rest of that night they were kept hard

at work draining the trench and building a dugout under the direction of the

cavalry men, who were only too pleased to have someone to assist them at

their uncongenial task. At dawn they took over a part of trench and did sentry

duty all day, the ‘reliefs’ being commandeered for further drainage and revetting

purposes. When night fell again they were still kept on sentry duty, with the

avowed purpose that they should see what it was like; and once again when not

actually looking over the parapet they were set to various fatigues. At dawn we

were relieved by No.15 Platoon under Max Hare, and stumbled away very

sleepy just before it became light enough to be dangerous. I have vague

recollections of receiving the cavalry major’s congratulations on our work,

drinking a large cup of Oxo, and then strolling back after

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my platoon, aroused halfway over from my lethargy by some quite creditable

long distance shots at me from a homing sniper. Then I scrambled into the

trench, undressed, scraped the worst mud off with a tin opener (the only sharp

article handy) put out my clothes to dry in a most blessed sun, and fell asleep,

with the most lurid threats to anyone who should attempt to wake me.







That night we went back to the huts, and got clean and rested again. These

huts, of which there are about 12 little colonies all about Vlamertinghe, are quite

serviceable resting places, though well within range and occasionally shelled.

But as they are close to all the guns, they can hardly be termed quiet. In fine

weather they are all that could be desired, but they have been known to leak

when it is wet. We had three days’ rest here, and I made rapid strides with my

bomb instruction, even going to be length of


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digging practise trenches and making ‘dummy’ bombs to throw. We now had a

new Commanding Officer, Major Taylor, of the York and Lancaster Regiment,

and Jeffreys reverted to his original position as adjutant.

I remember the evening of Sunday, May 23rd 1915, with great distinctness. It

was a lovely calm starlit night, and we were all in a most peaceful frame of

mind. I had had a game of bridge with some friends, including I remember Max

Hare, and we had all come to the conclusion that the Germans had abandoned

their offensive for the time, and that we were destined to have a somewhat less

troubled time in future. And so we ‘shut up in infinite content’.

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5. Whit Monday and after

At about 3am on the morning of Monday, May 24th 1915, we were all woken by

a faint but pungent smell together with a most fierce bombardment by all the

guns in our vicinity. It was some time before the idea of ‘gas’ came into our

minds, but once it came it was a certainty. Nothing else could make our eyes

smart and water with such malignity, or cause such unpleasantness in breathing

– and this was some four miles behind the trenches. At about 4.30 it became







so violent that the whole battalion, with respirators attached was moved to some

higher ground a little distance away. Then we prepared for a hasty move, as it

was fairly evident that the Hun had been preparing another of his little surprises

for our benefit. Breakfasts were eaten in record time, and we then packed

ourselves with revolver ammunition and continued to assure each other that it

wasn’t really gas after all.


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At about 7 o’clock the order came to support our line at Potijze, which was

about the centre of the German attack. By now the effect of the gas had largely

worn off, and the shelling was being concentrated on to our trenches, so that

our march through Ypres was not as troubled as it would have been a little

earlier in the day, or a little later, when ‘feu de barrage’ [barrage of fire] was

once more opened on the supporting roads. Our battalion was placed in

concealed positions in rear of our second line trenches, which we were to

occupy later on. Unfortunately the position allotted to our company was the

north east corner of Potijze wood, one of the most unhealthy of the many

notorious woods around Ypres. The only dugouts available were rendered

untenable by gas fumes, and so we had to make the best of the scanty shelter

afforded by shell holes and various excavations, all half full of water. As soon

as we were established there, the Germans began conscientiously

bombarding it with gas shells, and for two


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hours we lay on our faces and wondered how soon we should be hit; another

sergeant in my platoon and a private were killed and buried by one shell, and

two or three were wounded. I tried to distract my mind by the scientific bullying

of worms. In the hole next to me was a private of our company, who would look







anxiously over the dividing wall after each unusually near one to see if I was still

alive; the effort to make my reassuring replies cheery and nonchalant in tone

needed considerable self-possession!

At length we were instructed to move into the reserve trench; here the shelling

was less violent and there was a certain amount of protection. We found several

evidences of the last occupants having left in some haste, and some of their

leavings were most welcome to us: a bag of slightly gassed but still eatable

biscuits, and some water were done full justice to, and I remember retrieving a

saucepan, which I carried about for some days. We had

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been told that we were to carry out a counter-attack to recover a position of the

trenches by Railway Wood. Eventually another brigade was given the job but it

was done too late to have any success. Altogether the confusion and indecision

which marked that day’s operations were rather more in evidence then than

they had been before; it seems we had all grown careless of attack, though it

was only ten days since a brilliant yeomanry charge had saved Ypres.

Later in the day, when the violence of the fighting had very sensibly decreased,

we returned to the wood and awaited developments. Max Hare was found to be

missing, and it was not till three days afterwards that he was found, killed by a

shell, in a corner of the wood. Our new Commanding Officer had been

wounded, and so Jeffreys again assumed command. Except for persistent

sniping, the day remained quiet, and we slept in some comfort that night in

some new dugouts away from the








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wood; Favell and I shared an extensive one.

From what we knew of the Germans, we had all expected a renewal of their

attacks at dawn, especially as the previous day’s fighting had gone largely in

their favour; but for some reason this liveliness of theirs ceased as abruptly as it

had begun. Whether they had received, as many eyewitnesses averred, very

heavy damages in their attacks the day before, or whether their reserves were

then needed more elsewhere, is uncertain. But, whatever the reason, the next

morning broke [25 May 1915] beautiful and untroubled, with the north east wind

blowing fresh and unalloyed. It was dangerous to move, so we spent most of

the day under cover. At night, we were told, we were needed for rather

advanced digging work; so we got all the rest we could.

As soon as it was dark we paraded ‘as strong as possible’ and wound our way

in single file up to our front line. Our object was to dig a trench to connect our

original second line just by

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Railway Wood with the front line which faced east. This had been made

necessary by the occupation of the front line in Railway wood by the Germans

on Whit Monday. The battalion of the Buffs [East Kent Regiment] which was to

occupy this trench was in waiting when we came; the fact that we were

commandeered to dig their trench was a distinct complement to our digging

qualities. An attack was expected by dawn, and so this new trench had to be

made defensible in time for it; so the men dug as even they, hardened miners

though they were, had never dug before. Possibly the desirability of our being

able to return to our own trench before it grew too light may have added a spur

to their energies!







With the exception of a few snipers we were not troubled by the enemy, though

he must have been at some points very close to us. And it was not until the

work had been finished, to the complete satisfaction of everyone concerned,

that any trouble arose. Then, in a fit of nervousness,

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someone on the right opened on the German trenches with a machine gun: the

alarm appeared to spread. The Germans caught the infection and sent up star

shells, which revealed us. A hail of bullets followed, but we and the Buffs were

by now low down in the new dug trench, and we lost only one man, who was

shot through the heart. Fortunately the firing died down as quickly as it had

begun, and we made our way back to the trenches with only the usual

attentions from the snipers.

The next morning [26 May 1915], the threatened attack having failed to take

place I strolled into Potijze wood and took some photographs, shown on

another page. There was more digging that night, this time close to our

dugouts. But the enigmatic and elusive sniper on the further side of Potijze

wood made the task anything but a sinecure. There was a fairly clear moon,

which showed up our figures well: I was discussing the sniper in rather a

patronising fashion with Ridley,

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when two shots went over with the deafening effect which always accompanies

particularly close ones. We continued our remarks in a horizontal position! It

was on this day that one of my men discovered that a ‘drain pipe’ at which he

had been cheerfully hammering with his shovel was an unexploded shell. He

stopped hammering and departed, somewhat scared, in search of a Royal







Engineers corporal, who was working nearby. Under his direction it was

extracted and carried with the utmost severance to the nearest pond.

The next morning [27 May 1915] the Brigade Major took me back from the

trenches to carry on with the Brigade bombing instruction. I handed over

command of my platoon, the command of which I was destined never to return,

and with McCrone, who had become my servant on Crawford’s going to hospital

earlier in the month, started back through Ypres, with all my worldly goods, not

forgetting the saucepan. With the slight incident of a twisted ankle at the


Page 107

[27-31 May 1915]

corner of the Menin road, which delayed me about 20 minutes at the most

popular German target, we arrived without mishap at the huts. I was then

attached officially to the 8th Battalion, and remained with them for about a

week.

From this day, May 27th, dates my real investiture with the dignities of Brigade

Bomb officer. As yet of course the science was with us in its infancy. I myself

was somewhat vague about the properties and danger areas of some of the

bombs. I was given to expound, and I fear my unscientific exposition of their

somewhat complicated mechanism left my hearers still more in the dark.

However in a few days I managed to get bombing sections in the 7th and 8th

Battalions, the only ones available at first, trained in the elementary things, and

accustomed to throw half-bricks and jam-tins till their arms ached. The 9th and

my own battalion were afterwards grounded in the same manner.








Page 109

[1-7 June 1915]

We had been five days at the huts, and had just completed a beautiful practise

trench, when we were moved back to Poperinghe. This was on June 1st. The

whole Brigade was now in a scattered area south-east of the town. With

indomitable energy we constructed more practise trenches the next day. I now

began to throw some live grenades, pour encourager les autres [to encourage

others]. I have often afterwards wondered why none of us were blown up in

those early times; the precautions we took were almost ridiculously inadequate,

and our throwing capacity considerably less than it became with practise

afterwards.

My life became now almost completely immersed in this pursuit. It was rather

hard at first to inspire the men with keenness, but the attractions of the intensely

interesting though equally brutal art soon drew them, and less people laughed

at us every day. Needless to say, as soon as our trenches were completed, we

were once more moved,


Page 111

this time to some huts and farms two miles south of Vlamertinghe. I rejoined my

battalion, but was too busy to undertake ordinary company duties, Regular

instructional parties had now been formed for bombing, and I gave a certain

time to each every day. Tests were instituted, and a badge promised for the

men who passed. The days were now very hot, and we worked in early morning

and after tea principally.

On June 8th 1915, after much discussion and unavailing protest, the 6th and

8th Battalions were temporarily amalgamated into one, under Colonel Turnbull

and Captain Stevens (as adjutant) of the 8th Battalion. This occasioned a

certain amount of rearrangement of officers. The 6th Battalion provided three







companies and the 8th one. Of our officers, Captain Jeffreys took over

temporarily the adjutancy to the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers Lieutenant Bircham,

Stuart, Peberdy, and Peacock went to the Base. About this time Lieutenant Gill

and Second Lieutenant Warwick went away sick. Favell became attached on

prob-


Page 113

-ation to a Royal Engineers company. The amalgamation was, I think,

distasteful to all parties, and not least to the men, who had been old rivals of

each other.

I now lived in a first storey barn with nine other officers. The period of rest

continued for some time, and was acceptable to us all. At length, one by one,

the battalions moved up to reserve trenches behind Hooge; I remained behind

with chosen parties of bombers, and on June 13th 1915 was taken on to the

Brigade Staff, living henceforward at Brigade Headquarters. Of the various

other members of the Staff I shall say more later. The change to me was

considerable, and I now entered on a life of luxury denied to my (in some ways)

less fortunate brethren.

On this night Vlamertinghe church was burnt down, and the village considerably

knocked about by shell fire. Shells fell, for the first time, quite close to our huts.

On the night of June 15th 1915 Brigade headquarters


Page 115

were moved further up. That night an assault was delivered on the enemy

position about Bellewarde Lake, with only moderate success. Meanwhile the







6/8th Battalion had moved into first line trenches at Hooge, where they had a

very disagreeable two days. There was nothing for me to do, and I passed a

very idle time while the rest were so busy.

On June 18th 1915 comes the news that we are to move to trenches in the

Kemmel area. The next morning we move back to our huts, where the Brigade

is collected. The next day we are to march south; the hearts of us all are a little

lighter at the thought of moving away from the ill-fated salient.


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6. Kemmel

Some time in the early afternoon of June 20th 1915 the 151st Brigade arrived at

Dranoutre village – a small collection of houses grouped round a church – and

proceeded to find itself a habitation. Brigade Headquarters was established

temporarily in the village – which was some four miles behind the front line

trenches – and I made haste to secure a small upper room in a neighbouring

estaminet, which boasted a large bed. The Mess was in a minute parlour which

would just hold the six of us. The battalions out of trenches were billeted in huts

and bivouacs on the West slope of the hill of Kemmel. The day we arrived I

accompanied the brigade bomber whom I was ‘relieving’ up to the trenches, and

inspected several bomb stores, besides gathering all information likely to assist

me in my work. Of the details of this work I will speak later: I was destined to

remain brigade bombing officer till the middle of August, and I think it will be

more coherent to review my career in that capacity as a whole.


Page 119

The trenches were, to us, unexpectedly elaborate. In the Ypres district the

continuous fighting made repairs and improvement of trenches an impossibility.







Here, however, the enemy was less active, and the front trench was of the

standard pattern. There was however, none of the system of easy

communication between one trench and another which we were to find further

south, and so a walk round the trenches took a distressingly long time, as I

found in my first visit. Also there was no regular line of support trenches, a

deficiency which we had to supply – and did supply in a very short time. The

main approaches to the front line in our sector was ‘Regent Street’, a long well-

paved and well-drained trench running back to the Kemmel - Neuve Eglise

road.

After another visit the next day, in which I communicated my new gained

knowledge to the various Battalion bomb officers, I paid our battalion, which

was now in the right half of the line, a 24 hour visit, partly for the sake of the

experience, and partly


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to organise a little active bomb work against the enemy. It was our first

experience in ordinary front line routine work, and we now learnt the main

principles of the occupation which was to be ours without a break till November.

After investigating the various rearrangements and plans made by battalion

bomb officers, I arranged with Saint (the bomb officer for the 6/8th Battalion) to

send out eight men from one of our advanced works (40 yards from the German

lines) with two bombs each. Angus, who was in command of the breastwork in

question, assisted us with rifle fire before and after the event, and with flares to

light up the objective. I will not guarantee that any Germans were killed, but I

think we may have woken some of them up! I then made up for my loss of

sleep by two breakfasts (at 4am and 9am respectively) and then returned the

4½ miles to headquarters.







The day before this expedition, I undertook a duty for the brigade; this consisted

in riding into Bailleul, and conducting a guard of 24 men from


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there to the waterworks in Mont Noir, a very beautifully wooded hill some eight

miles from the lines. The day was very fine, and the ride a pretty one, but with

my long abstinence from that form of exercise I became uncommonly stiff!

However my importance as a Brigade representative and rider of the general’s

spare horse was sufficient compensation.

The day of my return from the trenches, June 24th 1915, our headquarters

moved into Kemmel, a good deal nearer to the trenches, and from our point of

view far more convenient. Here we established ourselves in the chateau, a

large, handsome, and quite new building, hidden by trees from the East. For

some reason which we could never discover, it was hitherto almost untouched,

though only two miles from the German lines. And only twice while we were

there did they shoot at it – on neither occasion securing a direct hit. There was

then only one large hole through the staircase wall; but I believe that it has by


Page 125

now been reduced to a ruin. Among other attractions it possessed a moat, 25

bedrooms, a pianola and Soloman, a pet pigeon.

In my position as handyman of the brigade, I was detailed to take over stores

from the brigade we were relieving: a large part of these stores were bombs,

and so I was in my element. But it was a long business, and took me till late at

night, when I turned in in my new bed and slept very soundly.







I now proceeded to make arrangements for the training of the bombers of those

battalions which were for the time out of trenches. There was some difficulty at

first in finding a suitable field, and in the search of it I was for some time

carefully dogged by a suspicious lance corporal of the military police: however

my friendly reception by the colonel of the 9th Battalion seemed to satisfy him

as to my identity.

The field once found, I soon managed to


Page 127

keep myself and my disciples pretty busy. My routine was now: 7-8am:

Supervision of trench-digging and store-making. 9.30am-1pm: Training of

various squads of bombers. 2.30-5pm: Tests for throwing of dummy and live

grenades. The rest of the day was generally pretty well occupied with work in

the bomb store, censoring letters, etc. Twice or three times in the week I would

visit the trenches in the morning, leaving the battalion bomb officers to

supervise the training. And so the time passed.

I was now an accepted, though not red-hatted, member of the Brigade staff. At

the head of this staff was of course our Brigadier, General Martin, who was

destined to leave us early in July. He was a quiet likeable man, rather too old

for his job. Most of the work of the brigade was then done by Captain (now

Major) Clayton, the brigade-major, from the Oxford and Buckinghamshire Light

Infantry. A strange, taciturn, punctilious, man, he was a tremendous worker and

a very keen soldier. He had a sarcastic manner which made








Page 129

him somewhat unpopular, but he was always liked by those who knew him.

The staff-captain was WB Little, of the 9th Battalion, who eventually became a

great friend of mine. In peacetime he was an agricultural expert, lecturer in

botany to Durham University and the premier motorcyclist in Great Britain! In

France he won the hearts of all he had to deal with by his bluff cheeriness of

manner and appetite for work. The other permanent members of the staff were

Captain Bagnell, the signalling officer, and M. Lavoine, the interpreter. Bagnell

was a pleasant, peaceful, individual, a good man at his job. Lavoine was a

cultivated and entertaining Frenchman, with much sensibility as considerable

dislike for work!

The advent of our new brigadier, General Shea, from the 6th Division, was a

red-letter day for all of us. We found him a comparatively young man, with a

commanding personality and great organising power. He was immensely keen

on his work, and exacted a great deal from his subord-


Page 131

inates. But he was always considerate and sympathetic, and the Brigade

answered to his stimulus immediately. All who have ever worked with him or for

him are unanimous in his praise. Personally, I found in him a great adviser and

helper in my various difficulties and ignorances as bomb instructor, and my

days became more strenuous and more satisfying. It was by his exertions that I

obtained two trained NCO’s from the regular army to help me in my duties.

Those days at Kemmel were memorable to many of us. The country was quite

beautiful, in great contrast to the dreary plains north or south. The poppies and

the flax made the fields brilliant with colour. And the comparatively quiet time

was a great comfort after Ypres. So accustomed did we grow to the peaceful







surroundings, that it seemed quite natural to have a sentry detailed to the

Brigade strawberry bed! and I was specifically told off to pick flowers for

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the dining table, and to play the pianola after dinner! In the trenches

themselves, however, conditions were not ideal. The Germans were

everywhere on higher ground, and their snipers had obtained the initiative,

which made it dangerous to put one’s head up for more than a second at a time.

Second Lieutenant Robertson, of the 6th, was killed here, much to the distress

of all who knew him: and the rate of casualties remained fairly high.

So the battalions, at any rate, received with some pleasure the news that we

were to move to Armentieres on July 18th 1915. I, regarding it from the point

of view of bomber, was rather sad, as it meant starting afresh in many ways.

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Postscript – Written in June, 1978

From July 18th to Dec 8th 1915, when I was invalided as the result of an old

knee injury, I was for most of the time at Brigade HQ, leading a busy but

sheltered life as Brigade Bomb Officer, I did not think this period required a

detailed diary. Some time in November I went back to the battalion as Adjutant.

Subsequent history – at home, after a knee operation, partly with my reserve

battalion and partly at an Officer Cadet Battalion, until September 1917. In

Belgium September 1917 to January 1918: with Special Officer Training Unit,

Jan to March, On leave during first German offensive in March 1918. Wounded

(by falling timber in billet roof) at start of Second German offensive in April

1918. Taken prisoner at start of third German offensive (opened by the







heaviest bombardment in the war) near Chemin des Dames on May 27th 1918.

In German prison at Graudenz, repatriated in December 1918.





three months of war april to july 1915 6th battalion of the durham light infantry [dli] was, at the...

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