What the "Boys" Did Over There / By "Themselves"

by Unknown

THREE YEARS AND TWO MONTHS IN FRANCE

BY LANCE CORPORAL EDMUND HALL, 2ND SCOTTISH RIFLES, B.E.F.

AFTER being in the army eleven years and with one year to go to finish my time as a regular soldier of the British Army, for which period I had signed on, I was beginning to think that I would be unfortunate enough to finish my soldiering without seeing active service, but after all I was not to be disappointed and I saw more active service than ever I bargained for.

At the time Great Britain declared war on Germany I was stationed with the British garrison at Malta, an island fortress in the Mediterranean Sea, where in peace time a garrison is kept consisting of five regiments of infantry and several batteries of artillery. On the 4th of August we received orders to proceed from barracks to take up positions in the land entrenchments and redoubts, as an attack was expected from part of the German fleet, the Goeben and Breslau at the time being somewhere in the vicinity.

LANCE CORP. EDMOND HALL

The attack which we expected did not materialize, as the German ships ran for cover to the Golden Horn and Constantinople, and were afforded shelter by the Turks. In this respect they were as fortunate as their sister ships who had the protection of the Kiel Canal. We were now waiting for the territorial battalions which were to relieve us so that we could take our place on the western front and fight with the regulars who were stemming the German tide in Flanders. On the 17th of September our relief arrived, and the ships which brought them to Malta took us to England, and we were camped for a time at Winchester while our division was being mobilized. This division, the 8th, was made up of regulars from foreign service and included regiments from Gibraltar, Egypt, India, and our own from Malta. The average service of the men of the Scottish Rifles was seven years and we were in the best of training, having just finished maneuvers. It was this training, excellent shooting and individual initiative which earned for us the praise of the Germans, who said that every British regular was a trained non-commissioned officer. We landed in France on the 5th of November, 1914, and entrained for the railhead nearest the Neuve Eglise and Massines front. This front at the time was being taken over from the French and we relieved one of their regiments in the front line of trenches. At this time of the campaign, trench warfare was just beginning, as the fighting previously at Mons, Marne and the Aisne was a retreat or an advance and was mostly field warfare. The Germans having failed in their terrific drive for the Channel Ports during the first battle of Ypres, where the flower of the Prussian Guard had been destroyed by our 7th Division, decided to dig themselves in and to wait for the spring before opening another offensive on a large scale. Consequently, when we relieved the French the trenches were little better than ditches, and we had not even sandbagged parapets erected or barbed wire entanglements thrown out in front. It was the surprise of my life when our platoon officer informed us that the particular part of the ditch which we were in was a trench, and was to be our home for the next few days. A local attack from the Germans was expected at any time, as they were anxious to get command of the Messines Ridge, ground which they coveted for observation purposes. The French had warned us to be particularly on the lookout this night, and advised us not to post extra sentries, and it was very fortunate that we heeded their warning, because about two hours after the sentries shouted from the listening posts that the Germans were coming. The company commander gave us instructions not to fire until he blew the whistle, and this he did as soon as he could see the gray mass of figures advancing across No Man's Land in the weird light of a misty moon. The Germans received a very warm welcome from our particular part of the "Contemptible Little Army," and must have also had a rude awakening when we opened up with rapid fire with our Lee-Enfield rifles. They evidently thought the French were in front of them, until they heard our fire, but as they heard the rapid fire of the Lee-Enfields on previous occasions, it didn't take them long to know that the hated British were on the spot. "The Britishers' Mad Minute," was the name the Germans gave our rapid fire when they first experienced it at Mons, because they were astonished that infantry could average thirty rounds a minute per man. This speed could not be equaled by any other army at the time, the French being equipped with the Lebel rifle, which did not have a clip loading action, and the Germans, who relied more on their machine gun fire to break up infantry attacks, were amateurs in comparison to our army, where rifles were concerned.

The Germans were mowed down before they reached us, and although they made two further attacks during the night, we had not the opportunity to use the bayonet, the Germans being all killed or wounded before reaching our trench or ditch. The Germans gave up the attempt for the Messines Ridge and during the terrible winter campaign of 1914 and 1915 we did trench duty, three days in the front line and then three days in the reserve.

This awful monotonous life under the worst climatic conditions and living in a sea of mud was only brightened by one incident during the rest of the winter. The Germans hung up Chinese lanterns on Christmas Eve and sang carols, and both sides refrained from firing. During Christmas day some of the bolder spirits of the German regiment opposite stood up on the parapet, and as none of our men would fire on them, an unofficial armistice was therefore on. Our men did likewise, and not a shot was fired, both sides believing in the old saying, "Peace and good will to all men on Christmas Day." This was the only time throughout the war that such an incident happened, as we received strict instructions not to fraternize with the enemy on account of their despicable and treacherous acts in bringing machine guns up under cover of stretcher bearers on several occasions when armistices were allowed to bury the dead shortly before Christmas.

When spring arrived, we were on tiptoe with excitement for the coming offensive, as we were fed up with the trenches and mud and wanted to get the Germans in the open.

The first offensive of the year 1915 was made by the British at Neuve Chapelle on March 10th, and several divisions, including our own, were massed in the vicinity a few days beforehand. Batteries of artillery to the number of five hundred guns were masked and hidden until they opened up for the preliminary bombardment. The Germans had no inkling of the coming attack, and the surprise it caused was a nasty knock to their boasted secret service and civilian spies, who were placed throughout Flanders years before the war, and who posed as Belgian and French farmers. They devised many schemes for informing the enemy what was happening, and on previous occasions they had been able to supply the Germans with accurate information by their windmill and other tricks. This time they were fooled, and when the bombardment commenced at 6.30 A.M. the Germans were at breakfast, according to the statements which the prisoners made when they were captured.

We had taken our positions in the front line trenches the night before and had erected trench climbing ladders for jumping over the parapets.

At 7 A.M. we went "Over the Top" in the first offensive our army made since trench warfare first began after the battle of the Aisne the previous October. At this time I was acting as company stretcher bearer, and therefore had to follow the company as they advanced across No Man's Land.

Although we had a large number of guns, we were very deficient in heavy artillery and howitzers, the majority being 18 pounder field guns and which proved a failure as a means to blast away the barbed wire and parapets of the German trenches and redoubts.

On part of the line where we attacked, the barbed wire was not destroyed and consequently we were held up and suffered terrible losses from machine gun fire. At last, some of our men broke through the wire by breaching it with wire clippers and then jumping in the trenches bayoneted German after German, from traverse to traverse until they were all accounted for in that part of the line.

Our losses were appalling during the few minutes it took to cut the wire, our casualties totaling over 750 men out of the thousand engaged. A young subaltern was the only officer who got through the engagement, the colonel, major, adjutant and company commanders all being killed while leading the attack.

Our officers had all been in the army for a number of years and were excellent soldiers. We could ill afford to lose such men, as there were none who could fill their places, and we noticed a remarkable difference when the reinforcements arrived, the new officers being hastily trained and the ink stains not yet off their fingers.

The remnants of the battalion reached the German third line of trenches and there waited for reinforcements. For two days I carried the stretcher without a rest until at last I collapsed under the strain and had to rest for a few hours. How many men I carried I do not know, and the last few hours seemed like a dream, broken with the cries of the wounded.

My clothes were saturated with the blood of the men I bandaged and carried, and when I was finally relieved, I had to get a new suit from the quartermaster stores.

On the first night of the offensive, the Germans made a counter attack in a vain endeavor to recapture the redoubt, and the line of trenches called Port Arthur. During the attack, I was in the front line attending to wounded men who needed attention, and so I had a good view of the Germans as they were advancing.

They advanced, as was their custom, in close order, or mass formation. Our reinforcements, who had come up just after dark, had brought several machine guns, so we were quite prepared to give the Germans a fight to a finish. Our officers, knowing that the Germans could not break through our wire under the terrific hail of lead we would send over, gave strict orders not to fire until the Germans were up to the entanglements. Thus, at that short range, the slaughter would be much greater, and fewer Germans would reach back to their own lines during their consequent retreat.

There was not enough room on the parquet or firing platform for all our men, and the unlucky ones who were left standing at the bottom of the trench dragged some of the men on the parquets, so that they could get a few rounds off, and so settle "old scores" with "Fritz." Under the rapid fire of our machine guns and rifles the Germans were mowed down almost to a man, very few of even their swiftest runners making a home run.

I was in the trenches at Neuve Chapelle for a few more days until the remnants of our battalion were taken to the rear to be re-formed when the drafts arrived. After six days' rest we were again on trench duty, and this continued until May 9th, when our division was moved to Fromelles to participate in the offensive on that sector.

During the first part of this offensive our battalion acted as supports to the London Rifles, whose objective was the German third line of trenches. When this objective was reached we received the order to advance in open formation. German machine guns opened up fire on us as we advanced, and men were soon dropping like flies.

My chum, who was carrying the other end of the stretcher, was riddled with machine gun bullets. It so happened that he was caught by the group shots from one gun. It was lucky for me that the German machine gunner was grouping his shots, and not using the traverse system, or I would have been hit also.

I was then left to carry the stretcher alone, and while advancing further saw our new colonel fall wounded, so I rushed to his assistance. The bone of his leg was smashed by a bullet, and as I went up to him he ordered me away, and told me to take cover or I would be killed, as the bullets by this time were flying around in hundreds. I walked a few paces and returned for another attempt to bandage him, but he again ordered me to take cover, so I said to him, "Well, if you don't want help, there are plenty around who do." This officer was Colonel Vandeleur, who was captured during the retreat of Mons, while in command of the Cheshire Regiment.

He escaped from the German prison camp, owing to the fact that he could speak the German language like a native, and when he reached London by way of Holland, he was granted an audience with the King, as he was the first Britisher to escape from Germany. After having a rest, he was again sent to France, and took command of our battalion.

Having lost my chum, I had to work single-handed, and this meant carrying wounded on my back. We remained at Fromelles for three days and were under bombardment all the time, the Germans being heavily supplied with "Heavies" and a plentiful supply of "Jack Johnsons" and "Coal Boxes."

Our attack at Fromelles was not as successful as we had anticipated, owing to insufficient artillery support, and we were at a disadvantage during the year 1915 on account of the shortage in heavy artillery. The Germans, who had prepared for so many years beforehand, were plentifully supplied with all kinds of artillery from 77 M. to 17-inch Skoda howitzers and for every shell we fired they fired ten.

Shortly after the Fromelles affair, I was wounded while in the front line, and remained in the hospital for three months. When I returned to the battalion, they were doing trench duty at Fleurbaix, and with only two minor engagements I suffered the agonies of trench warfare once more, this time for several months, including the winter of 1915 and 1916.

On the first of July, 1916, an offensive on the Somme was started and our division was now in the thick of it. This was a change from the previous engagements, as our munition and armament factories in Britain had been working at top pressure for months and we had ample supplies of guns and ammunition and could give "Fritz" shell for shell.

I had left the stretcher bearers and during the Somme offensive I was fighting in the ranks and went "Over the Top," this time with rifle and bayonet. After severe fighting, we took Friecourt, our first objective, and after entering the village the prisoners were collected, and I was detailed to escort prisoners to the cages, and to remain as one of the sentries until relieved. One of the prisoners who could speak English asked me if the men of our regiment were sailors, because at this time we wore the Scotch Balmoral Blach hats, and he evidently mistook them for sailors' hats, as they are not unlike the headgear of the British Navy, and it must have been the first time he had seen them, as most of the Scottish troops were the Glengarrys.

I quickly informed him that we were the famous Scottish Rifles, the old 90th of Foot who had made a reputation in previous wars, and who intended to keep up the reputation made by knocking Hell out of the Germans on every possible occasion. He was different than the rest of the prisoners, the majority of them being morose and sullen, so I kept up a conversation with him, and it was interesting at the time to listen to a German prisoner who could speak English, and who wished to tell me of the things that had happened to him. He had been a steward on one of the Hamburg-American Line boats plying between Germany and New York, and he had learned to speak English by talking to passengers. He said that he was glad to be captured, and for this information I handed him a few cigarettes.

Shortly after, I was again sent back to the front line, and during the next two weeks we advanced twenty miles, capturing Combles and other towns.

The battle of the Somme was the biggest offensive during 1916. Considerable ground was retaken, and thousands of Germans captured. We were sent to the Bethune front, which was at the time a quiet sector in comparison to the Somme, and there we did trench duty for six weeks before being returned once again to the Somme.

On the 23rd of October we again attacked and gained more ground. By this time the Somme battlefield was a land of shell-holes and mud. The hardships we had to undergo were terrible. The bombardments never ceased, and sometimes it increased to drum fire. For the next few months we remained on this front, this being my third winter in the trenches, I was beginning to be "fed up" with the whole thing.

I had had one seven days' leave to England at the end of 1915, and in November, 1916, I was granted one month's furlough on account of having completed my term as a time serving man.

The Conscription Act coming into force kept me on for the duration of the war, but in consideration of my long service, having completed my thirteenth year, as stipulated on my attestation, this special leave was granted. What a relief it was to know that for the next four weeks I would not hear the shells or stumble along in the mud up to my knees, and, sometimes, up to the waist.

How my mouth watered when I realized that I would get a change of diet from the everlasting bully beef and biscuits, commonly known as "hard tack." How pleasant to know that the "cooties" would soon be off me and a new change of clothing on my back. One can only appreciate good food and clean clothes after months of horror experienced by eating bully and biscuits and being tormented by "cooties," or, as we called them, "Wee Scunners."

During the month's furlough I spent in London, I had the time of my life, but as all good days have to end at some time or other, I was soon back in the trenches, and to make things worse, we were on the Somme.

Christmas day I again spent in the trenches, but this time there was no fraternizing, both sides being very bitter and for any of us to show a head above the parapet meant death from a German sniper.

We could never forget the Zeppelin raids, the sinking of the Lusitania, and the despicable treachery of the enemy on every occasion, wherever they got a chance. The Germans proved themselves worse than the lowest savages, and Lord Kitchener said that they were worse than the Dervishes of the Soudan, the fanatics of the desert. Never will a British soldier forget the incident where British soldiers were burned alive, by the orders of Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, and the crucifying of the Canadians at Ypres.

In the spring of 1917 the Germans retreated to a new line of defense, and for three weeks we advanced under cover of the night, throwing out patrols, to try and get in touch with the Germans. This was a welcome change, as there was no firing, and as we were on the move it was less monotonous than being in the trenches. The Germans had destroyed everything in their retreat, farm houses being blown up, orchards cut down, cross roads destroyed, and every trick, the Germans who are past masters in this kind of thing, knew so well how to do. The countryside was laid waste, and I saw hundreds of dead men who had been left behind by the Germans, unburied, and left to rot; most of them had been mangled by shell-fire and it was sights such as these that make men think of the terrible folly of war, and why such things should be.

We have one consolation, and that is, the men of the Allies who were killed did not die in vain, as the objects for which we entered the war have been achieved and the wrongs will be righted.

At last we got in touch with the Germans and dug ourselves in, and then we had another spell of trench duty, until taken away from the Somme and moved up to Belgium to participate in the Paschendale offensive in June, 1917. Of all the fronts I was ever on, Paschendale was the worst. The front included the Ypres salient where fighting had been going on almost incessantly from October, 1914. Neither side made much progress, and during these three years the ground had changed hands many times and was mostly shell-holes. In fact, for miles it was difficult to find a few square yards untouched by shells, and I think that more men were killed in the Ypres salient than any other place of its size in the world. It was impossible to build trenches on this front, and the system of defense was to fortify shell-holes with sand bags, two or three men to a shell-hole. I was in one advance which we made under cover of the biggest barrage thrown over at that time, and when our objective was reached, we manned the shell-holes until relieved.

In September, 1917, I was sent to a bombing school, and went through a course which I passed, and was then qualified to act as a bombing instructor when I arrived back to the battalion. The course lasted one month, and in that time I learned all there was to know about bombs, especially the deadly Mills bomb, with its three and a half to five seconds time fuse. I found bombing more interesting than any other kind of warfare I had yet taken up, and the fact that it was possible to kill or wound a number of Germans with one well-aimed bomb greatly appealed to me. When I returned to the line my rifle was placed as second favorite, the bombs always holding first place in my estimation.

When I arrived back to the battalion, they were at Ploegstreet, or "Plug-street," as we called it, and this front being rather quick, we had a picnic, in comparison to some of the previous places. The trenches at Ploegstreet were well constructed, and fairly dry, and were always considered the best on the British front.

The Germans were 1,300 yards away and a small river ran between their lines and ours. Owing to the great distance between the lines, patrols were always out at night, so as to prevent a surprise attack. Our patrols consisted of a non-commissioned officer and two men, but sometimes a fighting patrol of ten men with a Lewis gun were sent out.

As the Germans always had patrols out as well, this was a ticklish business, as it was quite common for the patrols to meet and then there would be a little dirty work. On these occasions I always had a good supply of bombs, and one night when near a bridge of planks, which crossed the river, I heard the creaking and knew that a German patrol was crossing. The night being pitch dark, made it impossible for me to see them, so I whispered to the two privates to creep back to the bushes, which were a few yards away, and there we would wait for them. This we did in a few seconds. I could hear the German patrol walking through the grass toward us, and when I judged they were about twenty-five yards away I quickly removed the safety pin from the bomb and threw it in their direction.

By the time the first one burst, I had the pin removed from another one, and as the place was lit up by the flash of the bomb, I had a good view of the German fighting patrol, and so consequently the second bomb which I threw fell in the middle of them, as they were beating it for the bridge, and evidently some of them were hit, as they squealed like most Germans do when wounded. Knowing that the survivors would open fire in our direction as soon as they were over the bridge, we ran for cover to a bunch of trees, and there lay down for a few minutes until the firing had died down.

Telling my two chums to remain under cover until I returned, I crawled back to see if the Germans had returned for any of their wounded. Carefully maneuvering, I could hear the low moans of a wounded German, so I went to see what damage I had done. One German was dead and the other who was moaning was severely wounded in the legs, several pieces of the bomb hitting him in different places.

Seeing that he needed immediate assistance, and wishing to get him back to our lines for information purposes, I crawled back to my chums and told them to come back with me to the wounded German. When we reached him I told one of them to go down to the bridge and watch in case the Germans would return. The first thing I did was to kick the German's rifle out of the way, in case he wanted to use it when our backs were turned, and then proceeded to bandage his wounds. Then walking down to the bridge, I told my chum that everything was ready to carry the prisoner back, and after stumbling and carrying him for over a thousand yards, we reached our lines, and then handed him over to the stretcher bearers, who took him to the dressing station.

After a few weeks at Ploegstreet, we were again shifted to Passchendale, and as the winter was now on, things were much worse than on our previous visit. The first time we went to the front line we experienced on this occasion something new. Previously, in the trenches, we always had ration parties go back to the rear at night for supplies, and always received rations daily and a lot of rum in the morning.

The shell-fire being so bad made it too costly at Passchendale to send men back every night, so before we went up the line, we were served with three days' rations and a gasoline can full of water. In addition to this, every man had to carry 250 rounds of ammunition, several bombs, gas mask, trench coat and waterproof sheet, rifle, bayonet and grubber, sand bags, trench helmet and a shovel. I shall never forget the six miles march up to the front line with all the equipment. The shovel which I had tied to the middle of my back kept banging against my legs, and I was always scared of losing my can of water. Several men, while crossing the duck-boards fell off, and went up to their necks in mud, and if curses would have killed the Kaiser, he would have died that night.

At last we reached the front line and relieved the Devons, who had been up there three days—three days in a shell-hole, half full of water, bully beef, biscuits and cold water, tainted with gasoline for our rations, shell-fire continuously and occasionally a cloud of gas.

I do not think it possible for a person who has never experienced it to have the slightest imagination what suffering and torture we had to undergo on the Passchendale front. Many a wounded man, while staggering back over the duck-board, slipped off and was drowned, not having the strength to pull himself out of the mud.

Fatigue parties were working every night to keep the duck-board paths in repair, as shells were continuously hitting them, and every hit meant a few duck-boards smashed to splinters. The dump where new supplies of duck-boards were kept was five miles from the front line, and if new ones were required it meant a five-mile hike with a duck-board on our shoulders, and a five-mile hike back. We lost thirty men out of a fatigue party one night by shell-fire, and the casualties were so heavy that there was a continuous stream of motor ambulances along the roads in the rear.

This was my fourth winter in the trenches, and the constant strain was beginning to tell on me, and I fell sick with pneumonia and developed trench feet. This time I was sent to England, and when I came out of the hospital I obtained convalescent leave to see my people, who were living in Winnipeg, Canada.

My health not improving, I was discharged from the army in May, 1918, after having served fifteen years as a regular soldier and was three years and two months in France.

Transcriber's Note

All original spellings, including names of people and places, have been retained. Hyphenation has been made consistent except that the use of both water-proof and waterproof has been retained.

The illustration on page [147] was oriented vertically in the original but is oriented horizontally here.

Minor punctuation errors corrected on pages [5], [110], and [119]. The following typographical errors were corrected:

Page [3], "Dardenelles" changed to "Dardanelles." (The "Dardanelles" Campaign)

Page [8], "Shell-shock" changed to "Shell-shocked." (Shell-shocked and gassed at Chateau-Thierry.)

Page [11], "EXERIENCE" changed to "EXPERIENCE." (MY EXPERIENCE AS A DISPATCHER)

Page [80], "stay" changed to "say." (I might say that was in the month...)

Page [88], "litle" changed to "little." (After having a little battle...)

Page [103], "commision" changed to "commission." (...shoulder put out of commission.)

Page [116], "starve" changed to "starved." (...none of them looked starved to death.)

Page [146], "litle" changed to "little." (...tell of one or two little experiences...)

Page [173], "strecher" changed to "stretcher." (...carrying the other end of the stretcher...)