Letters From the Trenches: A Soldier of the Great War (9 page)

Harry, after a month or so in Flanders, will be beginning to understand the reality of trench warfare and will have acquired the essential survival techniques. He will be learning to deal with
the severe environment of the front line. He has experienced the intense fear that comes with ‘going over the top’ (without any rum, too). In short, he is becoming a battle-hardened
soldier.

An animated map of the front line close to Ypres for the two years from June 1915 would have shown it wriggling backwards and forwards a few hundred yards this way and that, but, overall, hardly
moving at all. By the summer of 1917, however, the whole area would be devastated by the shelling and by the operations of war: trench works, strongpoints, supply roads, gun lines, ammunition
dumps, fuel depots, and so on. An enormous proportion of the dead would simply be left where they fell, to be buried by shell blast or exhumed by the same process. There would be no great incentive
to risk life and limb to recover the body of someone who was beyond help. On the Menin Gate Memorial at Ypres are the names of nearly 55,000 British, Dominion and Imperial soldiers whose final
resting place is unknown. The memorial arbitrarily records only those killed up to mid-August 1917; a further 34,984 names are recorded on the Memorial to the Missing at Tyne Cot cemetery near
Passchendaele, and many soldiers from New Zealand and Newfoundland are honoured on separate memorials. These monuments show the scale of the losses at Ypres. The traumatic effect of all this on a
conscript from a small town in England can only be imagined.

The initial success of any attack at this stage of the war brought its own problems, contributing to the static nature of trench warfare. The beaten defenders would be forced back into
relatively ‘clean’ ground where they could re-establish their defences. They would be bringing up supplies through the intact communication systems to their rear. If, as at Messines,
they had lost only their front line, their second line of defence, reserve trenches and wire entanglements would still be in place. The attackers, however, would be trying to supply their troops
and to consolidate their defences by bringing materials, weapons, food and men over the totally devastated battlefield. The ‘Bite and Hold’ strategy of which Plumer was an advocate, in
which infantry would advance to take an objective behind an intense artillery barrage, then consolidate their positions and allow the enemy to exhaust himself with counter-attacks, was not so much
a strategy as a necessity.

Plumer’s troops stopped at the Messines Ridge. Progressing beyond the initial objective would have been suicidal and was only briefly considered by the General Staff. For more than seven
weeks, the trenches on the ridge were modified and ‘turned around’ to defend against attacks from the east. Fresh wire entanglements were put in place and the supporting infrastructure,
artillery and logistical support were moved forward to reflect the position of the new front line.

There was, however, a body of opinion which held that it might have been better to have continued with the momentum from that first attack and immediately pressed on while the Germans were in
disarray, with their morale badly dented. It was realized, however, that the problems associated with a rapid advance might have brought disaster, perhaps even leading to the loss of any gains made
so far.

After the success of Messines, the troops were in the ‘hold’ phase of the ‘bite-and-hold’ operation. Plumer had asked for a two-week delay before the next phase of the
offensive east of Ypres in order to consolidate the positions. Haig gave responsibility for the next operation to Lieutenant-General Sir Hubert Gough and his Fifth Army (which, until October 1916,
had been the Reserve Army). The transfer of troops and logistics stretched the requested two-week pause to nearly eight weeks.

All was in place on 31 July when the new offensive started. Field-Marshal Haig, determined to build on the success of the Battle of Messines by driving the Germans from the Ypres sector
altogether, had set the final objective as the small village of Passchendaele, about seven miles (11km) east-north-east of Ypres. And then it started to rain.

It is, I think, sensible to insert a short interlude here, to try to show the tactical rationale behind the Battle of Passchendaele, or, to give it its proper name, the Third
Battle of Ypres. The village of Passchendaele (Passendal) was of no great military significance in itself, but it stands on the slightly higher ground to the north-east of Ypres. Once it was taken,
and apart from the advantages of having driven the enemy from the high ground that overlooked the Salient, there would be the enormous psychological boost of being able to see beyond the
battlefields, across the green unspoiled plains of Belgium. Haig also hoped that if he broke through the German lines here, he could wheel left towards the Channel ports, disrupt the German U-boat
operations from captured bases in Belgium, and change the course of the war in the Allies’ favour. Not for the first time in that war, the mentality that considered that one more costly
sacrifice would prove decisive came into play.

The battle itself, which lasted from 31 July to 10 November, actually consisted of a series of linked offensives, each one designed to wrest another piece of territory from the Germans. Messines
was the precursor action that secured the high ground to the south and south-east of Ypres, and it was followed by the Battles of Pilckem Ridge, Langemarck, Menin Road, Polygon Wood, Broodseinde,
Poelcappelle, and the First and Second Battles of Passchendaele. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers on both sides died, and the very name ‘Passchendaele’ became a byword for the
senseless waste of human life in a ruined landscape of mud and shell holes.

This period must have been a strange interval for the battalion. In late June, and during July and August, the 9th York and Lancasters saw little of the intense action that was continuing on the
Ypres battlefield. The war diary gives an account of a unit moving from location to location behind the front line. They used the training areas and rifle ranges and, evidently, parade grounds.
They marched, or were transported by lorries and trains. They stayed in billets, in tents and, at times, slept in the open.

Harry’s story resumes on 10 June 1917, at the rest camp known as Scottish Lines, a relatively safe location about six miles (10km) behind the front lines.

The stay in ‘the Lines’ was only for a couple of days. On the 12th they had a short march to nearby Meteren, another hutted camp. Also about six miles behind the front line, Meteren
at this time was a dedicated training area, with all the normal facilities – rifle ranges, assault courses and parade grounds, and for the next two weeks the battalion made good use of them.
This was a rare opportunity to settle in and establish a comfortable billet. Captain A. W. Sykes, whom we will come across later, joined the battalion.

The end of June brings a chilling reminder of the reality of warfare. For the last four days of the month the 9th were back in the line at a location known as Hedge Street. The war diary simply
indicates the location, relative to the line, of each of the four companies (Harry’s C Company is in reserve.) An entry from that period concludes with: ‘Situation normal. Casualties,
officers – 2 officers killed, one wounded. O.R. 2 killed, 1 died of wounds, 12 wounded.’ There is no mention of any raid or attack, by either side. ‘Situation normal’
– this was, simply, the casualty rate for four days in the front line. Casualties might result from shelling, sniper fire or maybe as a result of patrols or working parties venturing into no
man’s land. Harry will make a brief mention of these working parties in a letter to Kate in mid-July: ‘we have had a rough time this last week or two going on working parties at
night.’ Clearly, being on one of these details was not a happy occupation.

Out of the line early in July, the battalion moved back to another training camp known as Micmac (the name of a Native American tribe), close to the modern village of Dikkebus (Dickebusch to the
British in 1917), for more training and some reorganization. More than 260 new soldiers joined the battalion, replacing most of the 280 or so casualties incurred at Messines. Rugeley and the other
training camps at home were delivering the goods.

There were occasional breaks in the routine of military life, as the war diary entry records, although the routine was soon re-established:

This location in the village of Zillebeke, about a mile (1.6km) from the front line, would have been as close to the trenches as the King’s advisers would have allowed him to go. When
first I came across this entry in the war diary I was surprised that Harry hadn’t mentioned the event in one of his letters. He would surely have remembered seeing King George V and been keen
to tell about it. But a more careful reading of the entry explains what must have happened. Harry missed the King because he was sent off to work in the line with most of C and all of B Company.
Battersea Farm would have been quite familiar territory, less than a mile from the starting point for the Messines Ridge attack.

Harry sent a couple of letters to sister Kate in July, and then they simply stopped for quite a while. Some followers of the blog became quite concerned that he might have met with
misfortune.

On the following day, the war diary records: ‘7th July The Bn less Bn HQ moved to the line on the night of 10/11th to work under supervision of the R.E.s [Royal Engineers] completing the
work on the night of 12/13th.’ For troops on the Western Front, a normal part of active service was to provide the labour for developing, strengthening or repairing the trench system. The
soldiers would move up through the communication trenches to the front line (and sometimes beyond), work through the night as instructed by the Royal Engineers, and return before the dawn
‘hate’. As has been said, for obvious reasons most activities in and about the trenches took place at night.

War diary, 14 July: ‘The Battalion moved to billets in the STEENVOORDE area by motor lorry arriving in billets about 5 p.m.’ Steenvoorde is about fifteen miles (24km) from the front
line. Despite its Flemish-sounding name, it lies just over the border in France, a couple of miles west of Boescheppe, and, being so far from the fighting, would have been a haven after the last
few weeks spent in and just behind the front line. There, the sound of the guns would have been only a distant rumble. On arriving, Harry wrote another letter to Kate.

Evidently, the parcel contained some welcome food.

After that cheerful note to Kate there were no more letters from Harry until September. This led me to believe that he had been allowed leave at some time between the middle of July and the
start of September. I had no ‘hard’ evidence, however, and it wasn’t mentioned in any letter. But the circumstantial evidence was quite strong. In theory, soldiers were entitled
to two weeks’ leave each year. When and if it actually happened was something of a lottery, though, and very much depended upon the operational demands and the administrative efficiency of a
soldier’s unit.