Post by Dave Homewood on Jun 16, 2012 1:33:18 GMT 12
Another great first hand insight into life in WWI, from Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXXX, Issue 3569, 4 August 1916, Page 2
OUR BOYS IN FRANCE.
LIFE IN THE TRENCHES
The following letter from an Akaroa boy from "Somewhere in France" dated June 9th is of great interest.
"We have been back some days now from our first spell in the trenches and are at present engaged on what is sarcastically termed a "rest cure." We went in on May 23rd for ten days and came out none the worse for it, except that we have a considerable amount of arrears to make up in the way of sleep, which in the trenches is reduced to a minimum. I got along much better than I had expected; a couple of days there and I felt quite accustomed to the shriek of the shells and the rack of the bullets.
What helped a great deal, no doubt, to preserve our calm was that the parapets were fairly high and not even I had to go about with a perpetual stoop which caution led some to adopt.
Our position was in an orchard, in the support trenches about 100 yards from the first line. The remains of an orchard it was, rather, for Otto holding the opinion that a battery was concealed behind it, made it a particularly warm corner, and kept the trees pruned close to the ground.
Our daily routine commenced at 2 a.m. when we were awakened to "stand to" till 3, in anticipation of a German attack just before dawn. Rather a "hopeless dawn" it was for us standing there in the bays alternately, shivering and yawning for an hour. This part of the day was invariably very quiet for the machine-gun and rifle fire which continued throughout the night had necessarily to stop when it became light enough for the German snipers and observers to pick out objects distinctly.
From 3 till breakfast time at 7 we slept (when our feet were not too cold) the quietest time of the whole day Avas from 5 to 7, even the German sniper seemed to respect these hours and only very occasionally could the 'ping' of his rifle be heard. This extreme quiet in contrast to the noise of the day was very restful.
From breakfast till dinner time fatigues were mostly on the go, sand bagging and building parapets, carrying water, etc. This part of the day was usually enlivened by shell fire, our batteries seemed to have the unhappy knack of pestering the Germans all day long, but we being close to the first line luckily heard most of the shells go right over our heads.
Work kept us going till tea time—at 9 we again 'stood to' till 10 then betook ourselves to the dug-out to sleep, unless perchance drawing rations claimed our attention for a few minutes. Rather an extensive programme, isn't it, but we managed to survive it alright, as you see.
When working in daytime great care was needed to keep out of sight, especially if observation balloons were up, for no sooner would Fritz, spy a working party than it was all up— no more work' that day. A few "whizz-bangs" would do the trick.
The German sniper we could treat with contempt, machineguns at night only slightly annoyed us, but "whizz-bangs" at any time made us duck- for our lives into the nearest dug-out. The wicked part about them is that you can't hear them coming, their velocity is so great; the shell has burst near you before you hear the report from the gun. Just say whiz-z-z bang bang as quickly as you can and you may get some idea of their unexpectedness.
Our lieutenant (the big kid you know) was in the front line peeping through a periscope at the trench opposite and commenting on the way our artillery was blowing up the German front line, when over came a "whizz bang" precipitating him on his rear portion at the bottom of the trench. "My word, I didn't hear that coming" he said, no-the silly-of course he didn't, it made his heart jump some and he immediately sought his dug-out for the rest of the day.
Otto, just across the way is a very cunning bird, a favourite time of his for sending over a few souvenirs is at meal times when he thinks to catch us napping. We got quite accustomed to Fritz's little spasms, no sooner would they be over than out of our dug-outs we would crawl and, search for 'souvenirs', nose-caps and shell fragments. I had quite a miniature museum before I left.
Just to show how cute he is, one of our observation balloons broke away and was drifting over the German lines. The observers therefore had to adopt the expedient of descending by means of parachutes naturally we were 'all eyes' so to speak, watching the success of this manoeuvre, everyone was not gazing at this little bit of side-play, when whiz-bang whizz-bang and in a moment not a soul was to be seen. He caught a few napping this time.
One of the engineers was saying that we were subjected to the heaviest bombardment that had taken place in our sector of the line for about fourteen months, they 'strafed' us for about an hour and a quarter, and what strikes you in a big artillery fire like this is the remarkably few lives lost to the number of shells sent over. The high explosives, unless they chance to hit your dug-out, only, shake you up and the concussion of the explosion makes you think the top of your head has said good-bye to you. The rush of air is just as if some one slapped your face and too much of it is apt to affect the nerves, I can quite I believe.
At night the star shells make a brilliant display, but if on fatigue within the range of fire you can't stand and gaze admiringly at them, but must bend double every time one goes up. The German, star shells, usually superior to ours, are sometimes real beauties; ascending" with a shower of sparks they burst into flame and descend slowly to earth as from a parachute, making the place as bright as day. They are usually followed by 'parapet joe'—the machine gun that plays along the top of our parapets.
I went up into the front line one night to fire a shot or two —just to say I'd fired of course, for you can never see a thing to fire at. One of our snipers who had been on duty throughout the ten days told me that he hadn't even seen a German much less hit one, but I am glad to say that the others had better luck.
It is rather uncomfortable having to keep your clothes on for such a long time, washes were necessarily a luxury, but we had a bath and change of clothing immediately we returned to Armentieres. Eric Julius is working at the baths so I see him every time I go there.
The 'rest cure' we undergo during our period out of the trenches is occupied in making up fatigues at night, so much so that with new reading matter I shall welcome another stay in the trenches.. For three nights running we have left our billet at 8 for trench fatigue, an hour's walk takes to the beginning of the communication trench—some distance up that we start sandbagging. We arrive back at our billet at about 11.30 or 2, just before the break' of dawn very weary and quite ready for bed till about 11 o'clock.
One night in particular it began to rain and that made it very miserable messing about with wet clay, and the trip down the trench in pitch darkness, where to misstep off the boards was to sink in mud to the knees, was a nightmare.
Although the novelty of seeing aeroplanes has worn off they still provide us with exciting sights, especially was that so early one morning when one of our planes took a trip right across the German lines and back again. It was fired at the whole time with shrapnel and high explosive, and someone who had more time than I took to counting the shots, and it seems that 375 shells were expended in vain over that one plane. My heart was in my mouth at seeing the shells bursting all about him, yet none near enough to force him to descend; that man deserved a medal if ever one did.
I have come to the conclusion that it is a remarkably difficult thing to strike an aeroplane in a vital part if it is flying at a fair altitude, for every evening, without exception one of our planes used to parade the lines observing for artillery, much to, the annoyance of Otto across thej way, who vainly wasted his shells I upon it.
I must not forget to mention that I received a mail in the trenches, a letter from you all— it was very welcome, also were the parcels I got when I came out. The "Glaxo" I can't find much use for under present circumstances but everything else is handy. The puddings are enjoyed to the utmost, the sugar is useful, the lollies very much more so, and the books are a real God-send. I would like you to thank those who have given me anything in case time doesn't permit me to write, especially Mr J. Armstrong. One of my friends just back from leave in England has brought me two books I'm hoping now that we won't shift to another portion of the line for these two books -and the last two you sent I wouldn't like to part with."
OUR BOYS IN FRANCE.
LIFE IN THE TRENCHES
The following letter from an Akaroa boy from "Somewhere in France" dated June 9th is of great interest.
"We have been back some days now from our first spell in the trenches and are at present engaged on what is sarcastically termed a "rest cure." We went in on May 23rd for ten days and came out none the worse for it, except that we have a considerable amount of arrears to make up in the way of sleep, which in the trenches is reduced to a minimum. I got along much better than I had expected; a couple of days there and I felt quite accustomed to the shriek of the shells and the rack of the bullets.
What helped a great deal, no doubt, to preserve our calm was that the parapets were fairly high and not even I had to go about with a perpetual stoop which caution led some to adopt.
Our position was in an orchard, in the support trenches about 100 yards from the first line. The remains of an orchard it was, rather, for Otto holding the opinion that a battery was concealed behind it, made it a particularly warm corner, and kept the trees pruned close to the ground.
Our daily routine commenced at 2 a.m. when we were awakened to "stand to" till 3, in anticipation of a German attack just before dawn. Rather a "hopeless dawn" it was for us standing there in the bays alternately, shivering and yawning for an hour. This part of the day was invariably very quiet for the machine-gun and rifle fire which continued throughout the night had necessarily to stop when it became light enough for the German snipers and observers to pick out objects distinctly.
From 3 till breakfast time at 7 we slept (when our feet were not too cold) the quietest time of the whole day Avas from 5 to 7, even the German sniper seemed to respect these hours and only very occasionally could the 'ping' of his rifle be heard. This extreme quiet in contrast to the noise of the day was very restful.
From breakfast till dinner time fatigues were mostly on the go, sand bagging and building parapets, carrying water, etc. This part of the day was usually enlivened by shell fire, our batteries seemed to have the unhappy knack of pestering the Germans all day long, but we being close to the first line luckily heard most of the shells go right over our heads.
Work kept us going till tea time—at 9 we again 'stood to' till 10 then betook ourselves to the dug-out to sleep, unless perchance drawing rations claimed our attention for a few minutes. Rather an extensive programme, isn't it, but we managed to survive it alright, as you see.
When working in daytime great care was needed to keep out of sight, especially if observation balloons were up, for no sooner would Fritz, spy a working party than it was all up— no more work' that day. A few "whizz-bangs" would do the trick.
The German sniper we could treat with contempt, machineguns at night only slightly annoyed us, but "whizz-bangs" at any time made us duck- for our lives into the nearest dug-out. The wicked part about them is that you can't hear them coming, their velocity is so great; the shell has burst near you before you hear the report from the gun. Just say whiz-z-z bang bang as quickly as you can and you may get some idea of their unexpectedness.
Our lieutenant (the big kid you know) was in the front line peeping through a periscope at the trench opposite and commenting on the way our artillery was blowing up the German front line, when over came a "whizz bang" precipitating him on his rear portion at the bottom of the trench. "My word, I didn't hear that coming" he said, no-the silly-of course he didn't, it made his heart jump some and he immediately sought his dug-out for the rest of the day.
Otto, just across the way is a very cunning bird, a favourite time of his for sending over a few souvenirs is at meal times when he thinks to catch us napping. We got quite accustomed to Fritz's little spasms, no sooner would they be over than out of our dug-outs we would crawl and, search for 'souvenirs', nose-caps and shell fragments. I had quite a miniature museum before I left.
Just to show how cute he is, one of our observation balloons broke away and was drifting over the German lines. The observers therefore had to adopt the expedient of descending by means of parachutes naturally we were 'all eyes' so to speak, watching the success of this manoeuvre, everyone was not gazing at this little bit of side-play, when whiz-bang whizz-bang and in a moment not a soul was to be seen. He caught a few napping this time.
One of the engineers was saying that we were subjected to the heaviest bombardment that had taken place in our sector of the line for about fourteen months, they 'strafed' us for about an hour and a quarter, and what strikes you in a big artillery fire like this is the remarkably few lives lost to the number of shells sent over. The high explosives, unless they chance to hit your dug-out, only, shake you up and the concussion of the explosion makes you think the top of your head has said good-bye to you. The rush of air is just as if some one slapped your face and too much of it is apt to affect the nerves, I can quite I believe.
At night the star shells make a brilliant display, but if on fatigue within the range of fire you can't stand and gaze admiringly at them, but must bend double every time one goes up. The German, star shells, usually superior to ours, are sometimes real beauties; ascending" with a shower of sparks they burst into flame and descend slowly to earth as from a parachute, making the place as bright as day. They are usually followed by 'parapet joe'—the machine gun that plays along the top of our parapets.
I went up into the front line one night to fire a shot or two —just to say I'd fired of course, for you can never see a thing to fire at. One of our snipers who had been on duty throughout the ten days told me that he hadn't even seen a German much less hit one, but I am glad to say that the others had better luck.
It is rather uncomfortable having to keep your clothes on for such a long time, washes were necessarily a luxury, but we had a bath and change of clothing immediately we returned to Armentieres. Eric Julius is working at the baths so I see him every time I go there.
The 'rest cure' we undergo during our period out of the trenches is occupied in making up fatigues at night, so much so that with new reading matter I shall welcome another stay in the trenches.. For three nights running we have left our billet at 8 for trench fatigue, an hour's walk takes to the beginning of the communication trench—some distance up that we start sandbagging. We arrive back at our billet at about 11.30 or 2, just before the break' of dawn very weary and quite ready for bed till about 11 o'clock.
One night in particular it began to rain and that made it very miserable messing about with wet clay, and the trip down the trench in pitch darkness, where to misstep off the boards was to sink in mud to the knees, was a nightmare.
Although the novelty of seeing aeroplanes has worn off they still provide us with exciting sights, especially was that so early one morning when one of our planes took a trip right across the German lines and back again. It was fired at the whole time with shrapnel and high explosive, and someone who had more time than I took to counting the shots, and it seems that 375 shells were expended in vain over that one plane. My heart was in my mouth at seeing the shells bursting all about him, yet none near enough to force him to descend; that man deserved a medal if ever one did.
I have come to the conclusion that it is a remarkably difficult thing to strike an aeroplane in a vital part if it is flying at a fair altitude, for every evening, without exception one of our planes used to parade the lines observing for artillery, much to, the annoyance of Otto across thej way, who vainly wasted his shells I upon it.
I must not forget to mention that I received a mail in the trenches, a letter from you all— it was very welcome, also were the parcels I got when I came out. The "Glaxo" I can't find much use for under present circumstances but everything else is handy. The puddings are enjoyed to the utmost, the sugar is useful, the lollies very much more so, and the books are a real God-send. I would like you to thank those who have given me anything in case time doesn't permit me to write, especially Mr J. Armstrong. One of my friends just back from leave in England has brought me two books I'm hoping now that we won't shift to another portion of the line for these two books -and the last two you sent I wouldn't like to part with."
