New Recruits - "
I felt restless, excited and eager to do something desperate
for the cause of England. And then the impulse came, sending the blood tingling
all over my body: why not join the Army now? What a great and glorious
suggestion! It might not be too late. Girls smiled at me, men looked at me with
respect, the bus drivers wished me luck and refused to take money for my fare,
and everybody made way for me."
Gas Attack - "Our eyes now began to feel irritated. I heard several men complain about the pain in their eyes, some even complained of going blind; one by one these fellows made their way to the First Aid Dressing Station. The stream of men increased, those who could see led the way while the others formed a line behind, each one placing his hands on the shoulders of his predecessor for guidance...
The symptoms were as follows: blindness, deafness, loss of voice, inability to swallow, weakness, high fever, burns on exposed and delicate parts of the anatomy, choking cough, difficult breathing.”
The symptoms were as follows: blindness, deafness, loss of voice, inability to swallow, weakness, high fever, burns on exposed and delicate parts of the anatomy, choking cough, difficult breathing.”
Night Patrol- " As soon as the dusk is sufficiently dark, we get out into the front of the trenches by climbing up on to the parapet and tumbling over as rapidly as possible so as not to be silhouetted against the last traces of the sunset. No man feels afraid for we have grown accustomed to this thing now, but every man knows that he has probably seen his last sunset, for this is the most dangerous thing in war. Out we walk through the barbed wire entanglement zone through which an approaching enemy must climb, but we have a zigzag path through the 30 yards or so of prickly unpleasantness; this path is only known to a few. The night has become horribly dark already, and the stillness of the night is broken only by the croaking of many frogs, the hoot of an owl and the boom of distant guns in the south. The adventure has commenced.
We lie down in the long grass and listen. Nothin' doin'. I arrange my men in pairs - one to go in front and one to either flank, the corporal and myself remaining in rear, but the whole party is quite close together, practically within whispering distance of one another. We all advance slowly and carefully, wriggling along through the long grass for 100 yards or so, past the two lines of willow trees and across the stream, now practically dry. There we lie and wait and listen. One pair goes out another 50 yards or so, nearly to the German wire to see if there is anything about. Nothing is discernible, so they return, and for another hour we lie in absolute silence like spiders waiting for flies. It is a weary game and extremely trying to one's nerves, for every sense especially hearing and sight are strained to the utmost. Tiny noises are magnified a hundredfold - a rat nibbling at the growing corn or a rabbit scuttling along give us all the jumps until we learn to differentiate the different sounds. In the German trenches we hear the faint hum of conversation. Nothing is to be heard near us, but there is a very ominous sign - no shots are being fired from the trenches in front of us, no flares are being sent up and there is no working party out. This points to only one thing and that is that they also have a patrol out. There is no other conclusion.
Suddenly quite close to the corporal and myself there is a heavy rustling in the long grass on the right. Now, if never before, I know the meaning of - is it fear? My heart thumps so heavily that they surely must hear it, my face is covered with a cold perspiration, my revolver hammer goes back with a sharp click and my hand trembles. Do they know we are here? How many are there? Are they armed with bombs like most German patrols? However, our queries remain unanswered, for quite abruptly they change their direction and make off to the right where to follow them would be only courting certain disaster.
So with great caution we come in and breathe again when we are safely inside the trench.
We lie down in the long grass and listen. Nothin' doin'. I arrange my men in pairs - one to go in front and one to either flank, the corporal and myself remaining in rear, but the whole party is quite close together, practically within whispering distance of one another. We all advance slowly and carefully, wriggling along through the long grass for 100 yards or so, past the two lines of willow trees and across the stream, now practically dry. There we lie and wait and listen. One pair goes out another 50 yards or so, nearly to the German wire to see if there is anything about. Nothing is discernible, so they return, and for another hour we lie in absolute silence like spiders waiting for flies. It is a weary game and extremely trying to one's nerves, for every sense especially hearing and sight are strained to the utmost. Tiny noises are magnified a hundredfold - a rat nibbling at the growing corn or a rabbit scuttling along give us all the jumps until we learn to differentiate the different sounds. In the German trenches we hear the faint hum of conversation. Nothing is to be heard near us, but there is a very ominous sign - no shots are being fired from the trenches in front of us, no flares are being sent up and there is no working party out. This points to only one thing and that is that they also have a patrol out. There is no other conclusion.
Suddenly quite close to the corporal and myself there is a heavy rustling in the long grass on the right. Now, if never before, I know the meaning of - is it fear? My heart thumps so heavily that they surely must hear it, my face is covered with a cold perspiration, my revolver hammer goes back with a sharp click and my hand trembles. Do they know we are here? How many are there? Are they armed with bombs like most German patrols? However, our queries remain unanswered, for quite abruptly they change their direction and make off to the right where to follow them would be only courting certain disaster.
So with great caution we come in and breathe again when we are safely inside the trench.
Watch the following video about a soldier's uniform and the food they ate - A Soldier's Kit
Trench Life - "If you're nearly frozen,
they keep quiet: as soon as you warm up those blasted lice start to bite like
the devil. It's horrible. I often think it is one of the worst things we have
to endure out here. Getting along a trench is not as easy as you think. For one
thing it is not straight for more than four yards (it is 'traversed' to prevent
crossfire and shell fire having much effect). Then there are all sorts of odd
off-turns, to officers' dugouts, or other lines of trenches: at other places
there are steps down and other unknown steps up where a piece of parapet has
been blown in, or some walls of a traverse have collapsed. In these mazes where
we have fought each other so often and each side has held the ground in turn,
you can never be quite sure whether a trench won't lead you straight to the
German lines. In more than one place in our present line we actually do have
communication trenches connecting our and their lines."
Over the top - "It is utterly impossible
to describe one's feelings during the hours of waiting for 'zero hour' - the
mind is full of wild thoughts and fancies etc which are utterly beyond control.
Recollections of friends and dear ones, places we have seen and known and
different phases of life all seem to pass in review before one's eyes and one
is recalled to the bitter realities of the moment by the officer's voice:
'Fifteen minutes to go, boys, get ready.' Immediately there is a great stir and
excitement, a final setting of equipment etc and examination of arms and then a
handshake with one or two dear comrades. 6.45 am, 'Over you go, boys,' and we
are away on that strange journey across 'No-Man's Land'."