“‘B’ Company had come provided with all kinds of supplies—firewood in abundance—and tied on to most of the packs was a ‘grand pain.’ Though man may live on bread alone I defy him to live solely on Army biscuit. We certainly thought we had reached the limit as beasts of burden, but as we waited at the first communication trench, some Guardsmen passed by. Instead of our modest bundles of firewood, they carried enormous tree branches. Half of them possessed frying pans or braziers, and many of them carried a pair of rubber trench boots so hung round the neck that it looked as if they were carrying on their shoulders a limp individual whose head and trunk were missing. When I add that they also carried picks and shovels, you will understand if we were inclined to regard them as a race of supermen as they filed past us in the setting sun.”
An important event was the taking-over by the whole Battalion, on the 13th of April, of a sector of the line—the real thing at last! Here, indeed, was an event to set the many scribes of the Battalion busy. Of all the experiences of the war, probably none made such a vivid and lasting impression on all ranks in the Regiment, and certainly none was more fully written up by the members as this first tour in the firing line of a Battalion of the Civil Service Rifles. In the light of after events in the war, it was a very quiet and peaceful tour, and probably much the same as the initial experience of many other Battalions, but it was none the less the realisation of all that these men had been training for since the outbreak of war, so it is small wonder that no detail was omitted, so far as the censorship regulations allowed, from the hundreds of descriptive letters sent home at this time. Probably all of them described how the Battalion paraded in Bethune (the names of places are included here, though they were doubtless suitably disguised in those letters home) in full marching order, wearing greatcoats, on the afternoon of April 13th, 1915, and marched via the village of Beuvry to the La Bassée Canal, the latter part of the march being by platoons at 100 yards distance. Here was the old familiar “artillery formation” in real life at last!
Even the landmarks along the side of the Canal received their share of attention, and mention is made of the two pontoon bridges, between which at one point the stiff hind legs of a horse stuck out of the water, of the broken telegraph wires along the Canal bank, and of the ruined buildings just short of Windy Corner, where the mile-long, narrow, winding, brick-paved communication trenches were entered. These had homely names—“Cheyne Walk,” “Battersea Road,” “City Road,” and the dug-outs had such names as “St. Albans Villa,” “Le Petit Riche,” “Funland,” and so on.
Of the many trying journeys of an infantry battalion, none is worse than the “hesitation march” along a communication trench. The floor of the trench is uneven and is full of holes, there are numerous obstructions across the top, causing the weary soldier to go down almost on all fours; there are numerous momentary halts for no apparent reason, and whenever the party does seem to get moving, sure enough the cry will come along, “lost touch in rear.” A few muttered curses as the troops sink down on the bottom of the trench to await the word “all up in rear” when another start is made. It is now found that they have lost touch in front, and the leading men are going “all out” to catch up.
The communication trench leading to the front line at Givenchy was apparently no exception to the rule, as will be gathered from the following account:
“It takes half an hour to trudge up to the firing line, and, if in rear of the platoon, it is exceedingly difficult to keep in touch. No matter how desperately you strive to catch up, the pack of the man in front is always just on the point of disappearing round the corner. Stray shots whizz past from time to time....”
The perspiring troops, having negotiated the communication trench, arrived at last in the front line at Givenchy, and the Battalion relieved the 1st Herts Regiment in the sector known officially as B1, but better known as the Duck’s Bill.
The frontage held was about 400 yards, and the front line was about half a mile in front of Battalion Headquarters and the Battalion Reserve.
Two Companies, “B” and “D,” occupied the front line, and “A” and “C” were in reserve in the ruined houses of Givenchy on both sides of the canal. The village post office was used as Battalion Headquarters with the Signal Station in the cellar.
The tour was a distinctly peaceful and uneventful one, which later on would scarcely have been mentioned in a letter home, but the regimental diary describes it in detail and tells how, after a quiet day, things livened up at night and in the reserve billets “a curious sound is heard every few seconds—smack, smack, as bullets spend themselves on the walls around. These are probably fired by the Germans at our fellows in the trenches, and, going high, hit the houses at a height of perhaps ten feet from the ground. Others, however, are probably fired from fixed rifles at gaps where we are supposed to pass frequently—along the bridge and other places, and a lucky shot might catch one of us. At nine o’clock we are startled by a tremendous explosion. It is one of our big guns, nicknamed ‘Little Willie,’ on a railway mounting. It moves along the railway by the canal, and after firing four or five rounds it wisely goes home.”