Chapter Twelve
The battalion moved out and entrained at Salisbury railway station and set off for the crossing destinations the majority of the Battalion would cross for France by way of Folkestone-Boulogne. However our platoon had been volunteered to accompany the Battalion transport which was going via Southampton-Le Havre so once again after a trip on the G.W.R. railway we found ourselves back at Southampton where we joined the transport ship ‘Archimedes’. We sailed for France and arrived at Le Havre in the early hours of the following morning we then had to wait to dock and this was achieved just after first light. The ship was unloaded and we helped the signaller’s stretcher bearer’s office staff and machine gunners who usually along with the service troops accompanied the Btn transport. We found ourselves unloading allsorts of kit as well as the animal’s horses, mules, then there were limbers and the field kitchens along with all the rest of the supplies and kit we would need. We lined up in ranks dressing off under the watchful eyes of the Provost Corpsmen our transport had already set off making for the railway station a Rail Transport Officer rode up on his horse. He spoke to Captain Melstone who was in charge and told him to move us off at that moment a horse coming past on the opposite side slipped on the wet cobbles and shied this in turn upset his horse and it took him all his time to control the beast and stop himself being unseated. This cheered us up and we were still laughing when we marched off down the quay there were few locals around here but there were certainly plenty of British and Empire soldiers around.
We marched through the town making for the railway station and marshalling yards I had no idea why we did this as trains could pull up right on the quay. As we marched through the town there were a few girls who seemed glad to see us and the lads didn’t need much encouragement to respond. There were however a few Frenchmen who being exempt from military service by reason of having reserved occupations seemed to take exception at this and began to shout at us as we marched by. Marching on we passed other groups old men and children and women dressed all in black looking like a coven of ravens watching us as we went by they had pinched and sallow faces and looked like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. They looked at us as though to say you are as much to blame as the Germans for what is happening to our country. For in this second year of the war France was being bled dry of its manpower and a lot of these young women were widows already and they certainly wouldn’t be the last by a long way. We arrived at the station and Captain Melstone went off to find a RTO we stood in our ranks with our kit piled and were given permission to stand easy and smoke if we wished. Bert said. “Did you see the faces on some of those women bloody hell their stares were colder than a polar bears chuff I could well do without that when I have come here to help them.” Frank looked at him and replied. “You would probably feel the same if you had lost your husband at their age it is no bloody joke. George turned to me saying. “Your quite Billy Boy what do you think about yon women?” I turned to him and said. “I don’t give a shit they can please themselves they are not the only ones that have lost loved ones in this war and they certainly won’t be the last.” Everyone went quite as this sank in I don’t know why I was being such a bastard with my mates just that my groin wound was playing up and I was running a slight fever. I had some asprin from the medics who were also travelling with us and I now washed a couple down with some water from my bottle.
After about a quarter of an hour Captain Melstone came back with a rather harassed looking RTO and Colour Sergeant Wallace shouted. “Attention, listen to what the Captain has to say and keep it quite”, he saluted the Captain and stepped back. Captain Melstone said. “Thank you Colour Sergeant Wallace. Right lads what’s happening is this there is no transport for us today”, he shot a rather withering look at the young Lieutenant in charge of transport. He continued saying. “We will spending the night under canvas at a camp on the esplanade at the top of the town and a train will be here tomorrow to take us and other troops further on so we wont have long to wait.” There was a groan from the ranks and the Captain looked round us all then said. “This is not all the RTO’s fault we received the wrong orders in England because we should have been at a large base at Entaples for two weeks training. Instead we are here but the good news is that the Battalion is needed at the front right away and because of our experience at Gallipoli it has been deemed that we do not need the training and so we will move directly to the front”, at this news a cheer went up from the ranks which was soon quietened by the NCOs. The Captain turned to a Lieutenant by the name of Sullivan and said. “Right lets get the chaps on their way and get them bedded down for the night and make sure they also get a hot meal inside them.” I thought thank god for Officers of the calibre of Captain Melstone who always thought about the men. We formed up again in three ranks and we were soon on our way to the nights bivouac and we sang as we marched along. We spent a very pleasant night under canvas well apart from the wind and rain that is but the hot meal we received left us all in high spirits. A few of the lad’s were off in the dark kissing some of the local girls who had climbed the hill and the wire to see our boys. We could hear them giggling and talking pretty late into the night as could the Provost Company soldiers who quickly kicked the girls out of the camp. I am sure they would have charged our lads with something had we not been going to the front tomorrow and had not Captain Melstone stepped in and said he would take care of things.
We were down at the railway station early the following morning we had breakfast around five and marched down to the station about six and then we spent the next three hours waiting for the train to arrive. Eventually into the station pulled the longest train I or most of the lads had ever seen it was huge in length. There must have been about thirty odd wagons of different types making up the train and the Battalion transport was loaded on board the train stopped and we were shown our transport and you could hear the groans all over the place. For the Officers as usual got to ride in the luxury of first class carriages while we would have to pile aboard cattle trucks with a little straw scattered on the floor. Captain Melstone came along with Lieutenant Sullivan so Nobby Clarke said. “Same deal as in Egypt then Sir some people travel in comfort while the rest of us get to act as cattle again”, he was only saying what everyone else was thinking but I thought bloody hell Nobby you will be on a fizzer for this. But to give the Captain and Lieutenant their due they looked most embarrassed and sheepish about the situation as the Captain said. “Sorry about this lad’s but you have been in the army long enough now to know how things work.” He grinned at us as he continued saying. “Anyway come along now get on board were due to depart soon and we don’t want to be holding up the war after all it’s taken us a long time to get here.” Frank said. “Just a minute Sir the train’s only part full, aren’t we going to fill it up before we leave?” The Captain replied. “We will fill the train further up the line where I may say even now large numbers of men and equipment are waiting for us to turn up so chop, chop lets get on board and get moving.”
The Officers set off for their comfortable carriages while we piled on board the cattle trucks leaving the doors open at the moment for fresh air and so we could see the countryside. When we sat down we found out that the floor of the trucks under the straw was made up of planks set about an inch apart. This must have been so they could sluice them out after they had transported the cattle however for us they posed the problem of letting draughts blow up through them. We countered this by spreading our groundsheets over the floor thus cutting the draughts down to a minimum. With the clashing together of the couplings and buffers and a couple of jerks that rattled the trucks then a loud hiss of escaping steam as an accompaniment we set off for the front. As we pulled away the grins on the lads faces said everything this is where we wanted to be this is what most of us had joined up for not to fight the Turks but to fight the Germans who had started this war. The train rolled on out of the station and we hung out of the doors trying to get our first look at the French countryside that we had come to fight for. As the train thundered on it would stop every now and again to pick up men and supplies we were travelling through Upper Normandy which was a low lying region of France. Frank looked out and then said. “Of course we have been here before.” Both Bert and George shouted. “What the bloody hell are you on about none of us has ever set foot in France let alone here.” Frank turned and looked at them with a pained expression on his face saying. “I didn’t mean us personally I mean the English because this is where the ‘Hundred Years War’ was fought.” Gorge said. “You meant to say they had a war that lasted a hundred years”, his face looked a picture of disbelief as he said this. Frank laughed and then went on. “I take it that you have never heard of ‘Agincourt’ you know Henry V”, George just looked at him puzzled with his mouth open like the village idiot. It was Bert who replied. “Of course I’ve heard of it so that was round here was it?” Frank turned to him saying. “A bit further on actually but it was part of the ‘Hundred Years War’ that I just mentioned.” Bert persisted with his questions. “Did we invade this place or what?” Frank by this time was getting a little exasperated at our lack of historical knowledge so he just said. “Yes we invaded France and stuck around for quite a while and we are passing through a part of France that the armies where in does that satisfy you?” Things went quite after this and I am sure Frank was sorry he had opened his mouth we chugged along and we looked out on fields with flax and cereals growing in them. There were lots of cow herds about and the soil looked rich and the grass lush and sweet there were forests and some quite steep wide ravines as we passed by them but we were not destined to rattle along for much longer.
Even as we watched we were shunted off into a siding to let ammunition trains clank and screech pat us so we used this time to stretch our legs and take care of any latrine needs we had. The closer to the front we got the more hold ups we encountered so at some o these stops we would gather wood and build fires shoving billy cans on them and brewing up. We even warmed our food up over them which made a real change to the dry rations we had been eating. It was cold as we rolled along with the doors open but if we shut them the air soon got foul with tobacco smoke and the smell of unwashed and wet uniforms and bodies. Of course we had no stoves in our cattle trucks unlike the Officers who were in warm comfortable carriages. We carried on towards Picardy we had already passed through Harfleur and followed the Seine valley towards Rouen. We pulled in here and Frank informed us that it was one of the busiest of the French river ports and we could see a lot of the ocean going vessels already building up here. Once again we were shunted into a siding and as we were stood around smoking a French wheel tapper came along testing the wheels so we asked him if he spoke English and he told us a little so we asked him what Rouen was famous for and he replied. “Why the Cathedral Monsieur it is truly a gothic representation of magnificence I would advise you to visit it if you have the time.” We laughed at this for we knew that we wouldn’t have the time and might move off at any minute. Nobby Clarke said. “Is that it a bloody Cathedral?” The Frenchman replied. “Oui is that not enough what more would you have?” Nobby even more exasperated shook his head saying. “That’s not what I mean how does your town make a living and don’t tell me through the bloody Cathedral?” The wheel tapper shrugged and said. “Ah we make the best clothing, textiles and paper in France Monsieur’s.” We would have liked to have heard more about the place but he went on his way tapping the wheels on every wagon and carriage. When the train could eventually move we did near enough a right angle turn and joined the railway heading further into Picardy we passed through Forges-le-Eaux on our way to Amiens and the Somme area. On and on we travelled and we were still shunted into sidings when the ammunition trains came along. The landscape of Picardy was different from Normandy and the train slowed down to nearly a crawl so to counter the boredom we played cards and crown and anchor by candlelight when the doors were closed.
At other times we would sing our favourite songs until our throats were sore ‘Dolly Grey’, ‘Pack up your troubles’, ‘If you were the only girl in the world’, ‘Tipperary’ and ‘Keep the home fires burning, the good songs that we knew by heart. We tried to sleep or just dozed packed together like puppies in a litter leaning on each other or lying down across each others calves or thighs tired and bone weary from the journey. On and on the train went the rattle clack of its wheels lulling us into a trance like state until the old engine came to an incline or hill and then it would wheeze and snort like an old asthmatic. Our train pulled into a siding again this time to let a hospital train thunder by we could see little of the injured as it passed because the blinds were pulled down but we knew what kind of suffering would be going on behind them. We had jumped down stretching our legs and getting some air and we all stood there scratching like a pack of hound dogs. George said. “What the hells going on I can’t stop scratching?” Ted Wallace replied. “Lice and fleas old son that’s why you’re scratching the straw in the wagons is full of the little perishers.” He was absolutely right every wagon was lousy and in turn every one of us was as well Ted said. “If I was you I would kill them now while their young otherwise they will be inviting their relatives along to dine on you as well”, and he moved off chuckling to check on the other lads. Bert remarked “This is a bag of shit cooped up in these wagons going nowhere fast and now we have to put up with being eaten alive. Meanwhile the Officers drink Champaign sitting nice and pretty in first class accommodation it’s enough to make you weep.” As we moved north the weather became colder and there was sleet and snow flying about outside, and the wagon doors were closed most of the time now as we huddled together inside to keep warm. There were more hold ups and every time we moved off again the buffers would crash together hard enough to rattle your teeth and make your ears ring and the coupling chains would jangle and clank as they swayed when the engine pulled off. Then as we got going the wheels would start their steady thrumming as the speed of the train picked up moving ever onwards to our final destination.
Further and further we moved through Picardy and we could now see lots of ponds and low lying rivers with reeds and willow growing in them and the dyke’s criss crossed the landscape. Also we began to see women working in the fields of potatoes and beetroot, they were dressed in black skirts tucked up showing there petticoats and bare legs. This got more than a few cheers from the lads when the doors were opened for our obligatory fresh air break there were also a fair amount of lewd comments that I don’t think would have gone down well if the women knew what they meant. The faces of the older women looked brown in the winter sun and these wore thick woollen stockings and big boots as they worked in the fields. The train took us past rows of poplars that stood like sentries on the wayside lanes and grass covered canal banks as we moved towards the Somme River. Once again the landscape changed and we began to see cottages and farmhouses that had been shelled and sometimes we would pass entire villages that had been devastated. We saw roofs that had been blown in or sometimes there would only be a couple of outside walls left standing there looking like rotted teeth in the landscape. The trees were the same vast swathes had been cut through woods and forests as though a scythe had been used to cut its way into them. All that was left was the stumps or shattered trunks of the trees leaving an eerie looking landscape that did not look very inviting. Eventually we detrained at Amiens the provincial capital of Picardy that also had a famous Cathedreral, at the moment there were no orders for us and so we ended up spending the night sleeping on the streets with the Battalion transport with hundreds of other soldiers who were waiting for orders as well.
The following morning we moved through the city carrying our kit and marching behind the transport you could feel a buzz of excitement around the city that seemed to get to you. Also the place was packed and not just with soldiers there were sleek good looking women on the streets and large bosomed country women selling their produce. There were businessmen some of who were shady to say the least and farmers with faces like nutmegs from a lifetime of working in the open air and sun walking about. We watched the British and French soldiers who passed us and French Generals covered in gold braid all milling about and waiting like the rest of us. There were more Staff Officers then I had ever seen in one place and who came in all sots of shapes and sizes. But all of them were well fed and riding sleek horses and they were accompanied by cavalry troopers immaculately attired right down to the polished ammunition bandoliers that were strapped across their chests. The more senior would have staff cars and you could tell the ones at the very top because they would be driven around in Rolls Royce’s. We moved on and we could now see the spire of the Cathedral upright above the uneven roof tops around it lifting itself up to heaven as though pointing the way. We had our breakfast at a field kitchen that had been set up in a square near the Cathedral and then we qued up to wash and shave at a communal pump on the other side of the square attached to a horse trough. The building round here were all sandbagged and some of them looked like they had taken a fair amount of punishment over time. Our transport was parked with other horse drawn wagons under the trees and we watched as the horses pawed the ground nervously. There were lorries and cavalry big guns and small guns supplies and men all moving through Amiens on their way to the front or supply dumps behind the front lines. Always though you could hear the tramping of boots, the rattle of curb chains, the creak of harness and the clatter and rumble of wheels that never stopped day or night.
As we waited for our orders to move a large contingent of cavalry rode by row after row of sleek well fed horses with the cavalrymen looking down on us from on high. We could see their rifles hanging down from the rear of their saddles encased in holsters and their scabbard sabres hanging down the front near their knees waiting to be drawn when they charged. Behind these came a large phalanx of Indian lancers with their lances pointing at the sky like fingers and with their pennants gaily fluttering in the breeze their heads were covered by khaki turbans. As we watched them ride past Bert said. “What good are the bloody cavalry fucking set of bum boy’s the only things they are good for is chasing bloody foxes their useless for modern warfare.” Gorge asked. “Well what the hell are they doing here then?” A voice shouted. “Because all the senior Generals in charge are all ex cavalrymen and that includes Haig now you know why the horse soldiers are here.”
Our orders finally came through and at last we marched off on the long road to Albert the Battalion transport following us and the rain teeming down. As we got further along the road the rain petered out and so we stopped in a little village and ate our dry rations. We looked the village over as we munched our meal we could see how popular we were by the way the villagers locked themselves away in their houses. We marched on for most of the day and at times we were forced to halt so that convoys of artillery pieces and horse drawn supply wagons could pass us on their way to the front. At times we would have to stop to let the cavalry leap-frog us on their way forward and we would show what we thought of them by jeering as we stood beside the road trying to ease the aches and pains in our arms and legs. I noticed that the road was a kaleidoscope of the British Empire for along it marched units of Australians, South Africans, New Zealanders and Canadians as well as Indian troops and many more who had enlisted to defend the Mother Country. Then there were the British units Irish, Scots and Welsh men from every county Lancashire, Yorkshire, Northumberland the Midlands and Home Counties and the PALS Battalions like ours all on their way to the front. As we marched along we could see in the fields on the side of the road lots of men and tents these were the cavalry lines they would move closer to the front when the attack was ready to start.
The road to Albert was now as straight as a dye and was packed with allsorts of transport there were horse drawn supply wagons and Crossley lorries all jammed nose to tail and waiting to move a few yards further forward. We saw the Indian muleteers again with their charges huge strings of mules loaded with supplies moving ever forward as on the opposite side of the road empty mule trains returned to the supply dumps to pick up more loads we could see that their bellies and legs were caked with the white chalky mud of this region. In the fields we passed now there was Battery after Battery of artillery both light and heavy and near then huge piles of shells were being stacked in dumps. Now the countryside changed there were green and brown hills in the distance on top of which little copses of trees grew we also noticed that the houses and villages along this stretch had not been touched by the war. The site of the trenches we were heading for hadn’t changed much since 1914 and stretched from Switzerland to the North Sea coast where we faced the Germans across a small strip of No Mans Land or a salient that pushed forward in a bulge into the opposite territory. Later on we reached Albert and we marched into it under a railway arch that led into the town the further in we got the more we could see that it had taken a real pasting from artillery fire. There were smashed buildings everywhere and broken red brick chimney stacks reached like pointing fingers to the sky nearly the whole of the town had been demolished houses shops schools everything destroyed. The ruined tower of the Basilica of Notre Dame de Brebiéres stood out like a sentry and a hundred feet above our heads the Madonna or ‘Lady of the Limp’ as she was known held out her precious child over the square and devastation below as though to say look what you are doing. We heard that a shell had hit the tower in 1915 and that French engineers had secured the statue at right angles to the building and the blessed virgin looked as though she would come crashing down to earth at any moment. There was a superstition that claimed if the Madonna fell then the war would be lost but as long as she stayed in place up there then we would be granted victory.
We marched on past more desolation factories and more dwellings were just piles of rubble with weeds and splintered wood sticking out of them. Out of the town we went under the blind gaze of the Madonna and child then we took the northern road that led onto the Rue de Bapaume. Just north of this it was joined by a road from the south we marched on bowed by the weight of our equipment and with sweat running down our faces and backs. Our khaki uniforms were stained where our straps had rubbed them and the entrenching tools had chaffed our skin raw where they hung down. We moved along through the ruins of Albert then out over the railway line on the far side of the town and as we marched along we saw the transport move another couple of inches. Marching on we passed through Querriue a small village on one of the River Somme’s tributaries this was a base for the Staff and packed with troops and equipment but we soon left this behind as went on our way. As we progressed through the countryside Dispatch Riders roared up and down thee road and verges carrying their all important orders and messages on their motorcycles. As dusk and then finally dark fell the Military Police with shaded torches chivvied everyone along like demented sheepdogs. This was where the new 4th Army had set up its stall and we wound up a hill and past Aveluy Woods as we marched along the mud and dung filled road. The wind and rain blowing and coming down soaking us and by this time we were all tired and hungry and more than a little pissed off. We passed through villages shut up tight for the night where not even a cat or dog stirred and were the silence was an almost a visible thing in the dark night.
We lurched along now weighed down with our equipment our rifles slung by our sides and our boots echoing off the pave. It was pitch black and you had to keep your eye on the man in front of you or you would collide with the pack on his back when we came to a halt. Around us we could hear the creaking of harness and the rattle of curb chains and smell the horsey smell that marked either s supply of artillery unit that had stopped beside the road. Every now and again we would see a shielded light were some exasperated Officer tried to check his map and find out where his unit was. As we continued forward we could see light flickering on the horizon and on the wind we could hear the crump of shells exploding and we knew we were getting close to the front line. We could also see a few shell holes in the ground around us and a cottage on our right was just a shell of a building with a collapsed roof. On and on we progressed closer to the front the dark and the fatigue now beginning to affect us all so that you just put one foot in front of the other and hoped that soon we would stop. I hooked my thumbs into the sixty pound pack I was carrying and eased my poor aching shoulders and the muscles that were now burning and sore from the rubbing of the straps. As we marched along we could see other poor buggers who hadn’t made it collapsed on the side of the road led not moving from sheer exhaustion. If they were lucky a mate would come back and find them and show them the way when they recovered if not then they would be by themselves lost and this could be very dangerous for if you went the wrong way you could leave yourself open to a charge and would be Picked up by the Military Police or the Provost. We were laden with equipment like the mule trains that plied the road whoever said it was donkey work in the Army was right because it bloody was. Beside the sixty pound pack we carried our rifles and ammunition pouches, rolled up greatcoat, entrenching tool, waterproof groundsheet as well as countless other bits and pieces of equipment. I eased my rifle from my shoulder and swapped arms this weapon was my pride and joy but now it seemed to weigh a ton and as I walked along I swore at it under my breath berating it for being so awkward and heavy.
We kept on going and I couldn’t believe that we had further to go I had to keep repeating to myself not far now there can’t be far to go now and I staggered along with my jaw clenched tight shut so that my teeth nearly shattered. My feet like everyone else’s were blood raw and as I marched along I could feel the blister popping and filling my socks with their blood mucus and liquid. As we continued this journey to purgatory my shoulders felt like they would break and I felt like saying fuck it and sitting down on the side of the road for five minutes just to rest my weary bones. But then the old spirit would kick in and I would place one foot in front of the other and carry on marching down the road not wanting to let my friends down. As the night seemed to get darker we halted in a lane a short way from the front line and I thought bloody good show just let me sit down. As we looked further down the lane we could see a cottage that had been hit by shellfire and was now being used as an aid station and we could just make out the stretchers inside and laid outside. We watched as Senior Staff Officers drove the opposite way in their Staff Cars asleep and looking comfortable and rested and not at all bothered by the misery all round them. As I watched them I thought to myself what about us what about the ‘Poor Bloody Infantry’ but as far as that lot were concerned we could all go to hell. Again we came to an abrupt halt and I for one was not the only one that was glad because I don’t think we could have made it much further. We were waved into a field by and MP who stood at the gate here the rest of the Battalion was quartered for as long as the Staff deemed it necessary. As we looked round we saw that our area was set out in a Picardy farmstead we walked around and found a dilapidated barn. Although a bit worst for wear we commandeered it as most of it was fairly weatherproof it was warm and comfortable with straw stored in it so we took it as our sleeping place. The straw was a bit rotten in places and it was lousy but that made no difference to us as we carried enough lice of our own so if they wanted to invite their relatives then they could. We settled down in the barn and we had just time to shrug our equipment off when every one of us fell down in a fatigue induced sleep. I don’t think we would have woken up even if it had been Judgement Day and even the Germans if they had attacked would have been lucky to stir us. Everything we had been through since arriving the forced marches the fatigue and bone weariness had caught up to us and we slept the sleep of the dead.
Later that morning it was drizzling steadily as we went over towards the farmhouse were the field kitchens had been set up by the wall of another barn now that they had arrived by the Battalion cooks? We walked past Captains’ Melstone and Thornley who had maps and lists in their hands which they were comparing and studying intently we saluted them but they never even noticed so they must have been studying something important. Frank said. “Smell that bacon frying is there anything in the world that smells better than that when your guts think they have been cut out of you?” I replied. “Your right and having nothing to eat yesterday is enough for your brain to think your throats been cut.” As we walked over to where the cooks were dishing up breakfast our mouths ran with saliva like a lock gate in full spate and our stomachs rumbled like a cannibals drums at a feast. We stood there waiting and noticed that we were not the only ones to have smelled the bacon as the queue stretched nearly back to the barn we had occupied. People hobbled up on blistered feet and worn out legs tantalised by the smell of the cooking even though the march yesterday had taken everything out of them. The aroma that drifted over the farmstead had gotten the most die hard sleepers up and about and you could see small smiles breaking out over their weary lined faces at the thought of a hot meal. These were the ones that back in camp would miss breakfast for an extra half hour in bed but not here and as we handed our mess tins over to be filled we could hea