Same scene of Pas-en-Artois, France in 2008 on Google Streetview
5th June 1917
6:50am parade.
Bayonets and musketry.
Hottest day yet.
Half day off.
Bayonets and musketry.
Hottest day yet.
Half day off.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
4th June 1917
Sniping
“Clarence” was a distinguished member of the battalion whose battle-scarred features were beloved by every Westminster. At the date of our introduction he was obviously war-weary and with the passing of the long drawn out trench warfare of the earlier years his usefulness as a front line combatant was on the wane. His iron frame was creaking at the joints and his wooden head bore the holes of many an encounter with the enemy. True, the holes had been skilfully patched but it seemed doubtful whether he would again take up his post in the line.
The newcomers had no opportunity of making use of “Clarence’s” services but his modus operandi in action was explained to the sniping squad. “Clarence” would lurk below the parapet until such time as our enemy snipers became troublesome. By a mechanical contrivance the poor lad was then slowly raised until his head was exposed and Jerry gleefully notched up another victim. He was casually lowered, a compass bearing taken through the hole in his head and duly marked on the trench map on which his new position was already located. “Clarence” was then hurried several hundred feet along the trench, his martyrdom repeated and the second compass bearing duly recorded on the map. At the point of intersection of the two bearings the map showed the exact position of the enemy sniper and the range could be measured. The rest was in the hands of the British mortars.
Although we never made use of “Clarence” we did have the company of the Stoke’s Mortar boys (1) in the trenches at Arras. We hated their activities. Having pooped off half a dozen rounds in quick time they would hastily depart.
Soaked to the skin, weary and dirty, I returned to the billet wondering why I had volunteered to be a sniper. The rest of my billet companions, having been excused afternoon and evening parades, were already bedded down for the night; their raillery did nothing to improve my ill humour. My dishevelled appearance could easily pass muster on the morrow but the rifle was a different matter. Something has to be done quickly. With considerable distaste I peered down the barrel of the “soldier’s best friend”. Out from the butt came oil bottle, pull-through, wire gauze and a piece of flannel “4x2”. Innumerable times I went through the barrel, all to no purpose. It remained as dirty as when I had started and worse still, the first signs of rust were evident. Then came the brilliant idea. Carefully arranging a broken matchstick inside the gauze and flannel in order to provide more resistance I got to work again, but the improvisation resulted in disaster. When halfway through the pull-through stuck and refused to budge another inch. Immediately above my head were the rafters of the barn and, tying the pull-through to the crossbeam, I hung on to the rifle and grimly raised my feet – the pull-though cord broke halfway through the barrel.
It was now getting late and outside the billet all was quiet and deserted. Scouting around in the semi-darkness, dodging the sentries, I at length came upon a small hut with the forbidding words “Armourer Sergeant” in large, white letters on the door. With trepidation I knocked and entered. A polite voice said “Good Evening”. Speechless I handed over the offending weapon. By manipulation of a long instrument made to fit the rifling of the barrel, Sergeant A G Fulton (2), Armourer Sergeant and King’s Prize man, screwed out the obstruction in a matter of minutes. Slowly unravelling the gauze and the flannel the matchstick came into view. Holding up the offending object he waggled his finger at me, that was the full extent of his admonition. Escorting me to the door he said goodnight and a very chastened, but grateful, rifleman crept quietly back to his billet with a clean rifle and a brand new pull-through.
(1) Wikipedia entry for Stoke's Mortars here.
(2) More on the famous Fulton family here.
On the range.
Scores - 20 (group), 11 (application), 24 (10 rounds rapid fire), 6 (gas).
Map reading. Squared maps, etc.
Half day off.
Air raid on Duissans CCS. 14 killed.
1st Target – Enemy snipers
Continuous observation necessary for any movement. Look for flash of rifle, gas from rifle, dust raised by firing, relief of enemy snipers – usually very early morning, use of dummy figure and periscope, direction of bullet holes in sand.
2nd Target – Enemy loopholes (usually numerous)
Fire to be withheld unless the presence of a sniper behind loophole is a certainty. Armour piercing bullets.
3rd Target – Enemy exposed
End of communication trenches, cooking places, low parts on parapets.
Best time for targets -
Meal times (reliefs), misty weather (carelessness), after heavy rain or bombardment (parapets exposed).
Snipers in attack -
Smash enemy periscopes during bombardment and aim for enemy exposing himself. Advance with attack and establish an OP in shell-hole about 100 yards in front of line (this in case of a creeping barrage only). In an ordinary barrage snipers to go forward and take up their positions before the attack starts.
Duties are –
Cover bombers in attack.
Snipe enemy bombers (‘stick’ bombers easily expose themselves).
Prevent rear or flank attacks.
Pick off enemy snipers, officers on reconnaissance, runners.
Special targets should be watched and independent action taken.
No rapid fire should be used.
Continuous observation necessary for any movement. Look for flash of rifle, gas from rifle, dust raised by firing, relief of enemy snipers – usually very early morning, use of dummy figure and periscope, direction of bullet holes in sand.
2nd Target – Enemy loopholes (usually numerous)
Fire to be withheld unless the presence of a sniper behind loophole is a certainty. Armour piercing bullets.
3rd Target – Enemy exposed
End of communication trenches, cooking places, low parts on parapets.
Best time for targets -
Meal times (reliefs), misty weather (carelessness), after heavy rain or bombardment (parapets exposed).
Snipers in attack -
Smash enemy periscopes during bombardment and aim for enemy exposing himself. Advance with attack and establish an OP in shell-hole about 100 yards in front of line (this in case of a creeping barrage only). In an ordinary barrage snipers to go forward and take up their positions before the attack starts.
Duties are –
Cover bombers in attack.
Snipe enemy bombers (‘stick’ bombers easily expose themselves).
Prevent rear or flank attacks.
Pick off enemy snipers, officers on reconnaissance, runners.
Special targets should be watched and independent action taken.
No rapid fire should be used.
“Clarence” was a distinguished member of the battalion whose battle-scarred features were beloved by every Westminster. At the date of our introduction he was obviously war-weary and with the passing of the long drawn out trench warfare of the earlier years his usefulness as a front line combatant was on the wane. His iron frame was creaking at the joints and his wooden head bore the holes of many an encounter with the enemy. True, the holes had been skilfully patched but it seemed doubtful whether he would again take up his post in the line.
The newcomers had no opportunity of making use of “Clarence’s” services but his modus operandi in action was explained to the sniping squad. “Clarence” would lurk below the parapet until such time as our enemy snipers became troublesome. By a mechanical contrivance the poor lad was then slowly raised until his head was exposed and Jerry gleefully notched up another victim. He was casually lowered, a compass bearing taken through the hole in his head and duly marked on the trench map on which his new position was already located. “Clarence” was then hurried several hundred feet along the trench, his martyrdom repeated and the second compass bearing duly recorded on the map. At the point of intersection of the two bearings the map showed the exact position of the enemy sniper and the range could be measured. The rest was in the hands of the British mortars.
Although we never made use of “Clarence” we did have the company of the Stoke’s Mortar boys (1) in the trenches at Arras. We hated their activities. Having pooped off half a dozen rounds in quick time they would hastily depart.
Soaked to the skin, weary and dirty, I returned to the billet wondering why I had volunteered to be a sniper. The rest of my billet companions, having been excused afternoon and evening parades, were already bedded down for the night; their raillery did nothing to improve my ill humour. My dishevelled appearance could easily pass muster on the morrow but the rifle was a different matter. Something has to be done quickly. With considerable distaste I peered down the barrel of the “soldier’s best friend”. Out from the butt came oil bottle, pull-through, wire gauze and a piece of flannel “4x2”. Innumerable times I went through the barrel, all to no purpose. It remained as dirty as when I had started and worse still, the first signs of rust were evident. Then came the brilliant idea. Carefully arranging a broken matchstick inside the gauze and flannel in order to provide more resistance I got to work again, but the improvisation resulted in disaster. When halfway through the pull-through stuck and refused to budge another inch. Immediately above my head were the rafters of the barn and, tying the pull-through to the crossbeam, I hung on to the rifle and grimly raised my feet – the pull-though cord broke halfway through the barrel.
It was now getting late and outside the billet all was quiet and deserted. Scouting around in the semi-darkness, dodging the sentries, I at length came upon a small hut with the forbidding words “Armourer Sergeant” in large, white letters on the door. With trepidation I knocked and entered. A polite voice said “Good Evening”. Speechless I handed over the offending weapon. By manipulation of a long instrument made to fit the rifling of the barrel, Sergeant A G Fulton (2), Armourer Sergeant and King’s Prize man, screwed out the obstruction in a matter of minutes. Slowly unravelling the gauze and the flannel the matchstick came into view. Holding up the offending object he waggled his finger at me, that was the full extent of his admonition. Escorting me to the door he said goodnight and a very chastened, but grateful, rifleman crept quietly back to his billet with a clean rifle and a brand new pull-through.
(1) Wikipedia entry for Stoke's Mortars here.
(2) More on the famous Fulton family here.
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On the range.
Scores - 20 (group), 11 (application), 24 (10 rounds rapid fire), 6 (gas).
Map reading. Squared maps, etc.
Half day off.
Air raid on Duissans CCS. 14 killed.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
3rd June 1917 (Sunday)
The Church service on the parade ground was, I decided, sufficient religion for the day but Bradley had other ideas about my spiritual welfare.
As we strolled along lanes together on a perfect June evening, we came to a little green meadow surrounded by the ubiquitous poplars. There we settled down comfortably by a running stream. The setting was idyllic and away from the motley. I felt at peace with the world - so much so that when Bradley told me that the little green field was the venue for a Wesleyan service that evening I readily stayed.
The small congregation of Wesleyan faith and others sat around on the grass. We heard no sermon; the padre just chatted and encouraged us to talk. In so doing we found ourselves in complete harmony with one who fully understood our problems and heartaches and one who would not spare himself on our behalf. He closed the meeting by inviting every man to help himself from the vast pile of literature suitable to every taste which he presumably carried around with him.
The Rev. Tiplady CF was a great man.*
Church parade on battalion parade ground.
Wesleyan service in evening in the field by the stream.
As we strolled along lanes together on a perfect June evening, we came to a little green meadow surrounded by the ubiquitous poplars. There we settled down comfortably by a running stream. The setting was idyllic and away from the motley. I felt at peace with the world - so much so that when Bradley told me that the little green field was the venue for a Wesleyan service that evening I readily stayed.
The small congregation of Wesleyan faith and others sat around on the grass. We heard no sermon; the padre just chatted and encouraged us to talk. In so doing we found ourselves in complete harmony with one who fully understood our problems and heartaches and one who would not spare himself on our behalf. He closed the meeting by inviting every man to help himself from the vast pile of literature suitable to every taste which he presumably carried around with him.
The Rev. Tiplady CF was a great man.*
* "In World War I, Rev. Tiplady was a chaplain with the Queen’s Westminster Rifles in the Somme and Arras campaigns in France. There he caught “trench fever,” which laid him up for some time; after recovery, he was stationed at Abbeville until the war’s end.
Following the war, he conducted a five month speaking tour in America. Upon return to England, he was appointed to the Buxton Road Church in Huddersfield, then became Superintendent of the Lambeth Mission in London in 1922, and was there 32 years.
In addition to writing over 250 hymns, Tiplady pioneered the use of films in evangelism, helping found the Religious Film Society of London. In 1931, he visited America as a delegate to the Ecumenical Conference of Methodism in Atlanta, Georgia ..."
http://www.hymntime.com/tch/bio/t/i/p/tiplady_t.htm
Following the war, he conducted a five month speaking tour in America. Upon return to England, he was appointed to the Buxton Road Church in Huddersfield, then became Superintendent of the Lambeth Mission in London in 1922, and was there 32 years.
In addition to writing over 250 hymns, Tiplady pioneered the use of films in evangelism, helping found the Religious Film Society of London. In 1931, he visited America as a delegate to the Ecumenical Conference of Methodism in Atlanta, Georgia ..."
http://www.hymntime.com/tch/bio/t/i/p/tiplady_t.htm
Church parade on battalion parade ground.
Wesleyan service in evening in the field by the stream.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
2nd June 1917
Squad physical, bayonets, bombing, etc.
Half day off.
Half day off.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
1st June 1917
Squad, etc.
Map reading and taking bearings by compass, etc.
Half day.
Range in evening. 8 inch group, 3 bulls, 2 inners.
Map reading and taking bearings by compass, etc.
Half day.
Range in evening. 8 inch group, 3 bulls, 2 inners.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
31st May 1917
Squad, physical, games, bayonets.
Tested box respirators by tear gas.
Tested box respirators by tear gas.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
30th May 1917
Physical, games, etc under Lt Chilton.
Pay - 15 francs.
Evening on range. 8 inch group, 2 bulls, 2 inners, 1 outer - 150 yards.
Pay - 15 francs.
Evening on range. 8 inch group, 2 bulls, 2 inners, 1 outer - 150 yards.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
29th May 1917
The silent enemy legions struck suddenly as we three lazed in the long grass minding our own business. Bradley was deeply absorbed in a book but in the hot atmosphere Forster and I were content to sit and ruminate. Jackets were removed and then shirts. Forster said “I’ve got prickly heat”. It was in fact something more tangible and he and I spent the next hour probing the hundreds of lice comfortably ensconced in the cells of the thick, grey woollen vests so thoughtfully provided by the army. The camouflage was perfect and it was only those who had partaken of their fill that could be readily identified by the contents of their little semi-transparent bellies.
Bradley was disgusted and said so in no uncertain terms. How could fellows of decent upbringing allow their bodies to become so filthy – cleanliness being next to Godliness, etc. With mutual understanding Forster and I listened to his diatribe in silence and at length abandoned the exercise for the day. Bradley stoutly refused to admit to harbouring lice, fleas, bugs or any other form of parasite but just to satisfy our curiosity he removed his clothing. We returned from tea in about an hour to find poor Bradley still searching busily!
So far as the infantryman was concerned lice were his blood brothers. True we had an occasional “bath” usually by means of primitive contraptions consisting of horizontal pipes irregularly spouting drips of boiling and ice cold water onto the heads of the naked bodies underneath. We dried ourselves feeling moderately refreshed and more often than not re-clothed with the same lousy undergarments we had taken off.
The billets and dusty, straw “beds” which had been occupied by thousands of men who had passed that way before were the main breeding grounds but no man could pretend that he himself made no contribution to the grey battalions!
My mother, aware of the disgusting state of her son, sent out many preparations guaranteed to exterminate all kinds of vermin. I remember “Harrison’s Pomade” which certainly helped but one would have needed a gallon jar to do the job properly and besides, it was very messy. On one occasion I received from home a large cardboard box which contained, according to the accompanying letter, one home-made cake together with a large packet of insecticide. I opened the box expectantly to find a mixture of cake, currants, and carbolic. The most effective weapon against lice proved to be the lighted candle along the seams of the garments but even that method had its limitations.
Squad drill and lecture by Mr Hayes.
Bayonets, etc.
Bow Bells concert party - Harry Brandon.
New rifle (sniping).
* This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighbouring rights and is being made available under the Creative Commons, Public Domain Mark. The Wellcome Library.
Bradley was disgusted and said so in no uncertain terms. How could fellows of decent upbringing allow their bodies to become so filthy – cleanliness being next to Godliness, etc. With mutual understanding Forster and I listened to his diatribe in silence and at length abandoned the exercise for the day. Bradley stoutly refused to admit to harbouring lice, fleas, bugs or any other form of parasite but just to satisfy our curiosity he removed his clothing. We returned from tea in about an hour to find poor Bradley still searching busily!
So far as the infantryman was concerned lice were his blood brothers. True we had an occasional “bath” usually by means of primitive contraptions consisting of horizontal pipes irregularly spouting drips of boiling and ice cold water onto the heads of the naked bodies underneath. We dried ourselves feeling moderately refreshed and more often than not re-clothed with the same lousy undergarments we had taken off.
The billets and dusty, straw “beds” which had been occupied by thousands of men who had passed that way before were the main breeding grounds but no man could pretend that he himself made no contribution to the grey battalions!
My mother, aware of the disgusting state of her son, sent out many preparations guaranteed to exterminate all kinds of vermin. I remember “Harrison’s Pomade” which certainly helped but one would have needed a gallon jar to do the job properly and besides, it was very messy. On one occasion I received from home a large cardboard box which contained, according to the accompanying letter, one home-made cake together with a large packet of insecticide. I opened the box expectantly to find a mixture of cake, currants, and carbolic. The most effective weapon against lice proved to be the lighted candle along the seams of the garments but even that method had its limitations.
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| Harrison's Pomade advert |
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| The Bow Bells Concert Party* (see diary entry below) |
Squad drill and lecture by Mr Hayes.
Bayonets, etc.
Bow Bells concert party - Harry Brandon.
New rifle (sniping).
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
* This work has been identified as being free of known restrictions under copyright law, including all related and neighbouring rights and is being made available under the Creative Commons, Public Domain Mark. The Wellcome Library.
28th May 1917
The allocation into sections of the men of the new draft in their respective platoons was now essential and B Company was paraded with all the officers present.
Snipers required special qualifications and were chosen first. Volunteers were called for – “Any marksmen?” – there were none. “First class shots?” – I looked at Bradley and raised my eyebrows. He responded by whispering - “No fatigues!”. Simultaneously we took one step forward and were thereupon nominated as Platoon Snipers.
Poor Forster was nowhere in the running when it came to shooting and gloomily foresaw the break-up of the trio. I am glad it did not work out that way.
6:55am parades.
Detailed sniper with Bradley.
Map reading, contour lines, etc.
Air raids.
Half day off.
On the range in evening.
Snipers required special qualifications and were chosen first. Volunteers were called for – “Any marksmen?” – there were none. “First class shots?” – I looked at Bradley and raised my eyebrows. He responded by whispering - “No fatigues!”. Simultaneously we took one step forward and were thereupon nominated as Platoon Snipers.
Poor Forster was nowhere in the running when it came to shooting and gloomily foresaw the break-up of the trio. I am glad it did not work out that way.
6:55am parades.
Detailed sniper with Bradley.
Map reading, contour lines, etc.
Air raids.
Half day off.
On the range in evening.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
27th May 1917 (Whit Sunday)
Drumhead service on the football ground was a change from the exertions of the previous day although to me the regimentation of the Church service smacked of religion by numbers. Standing at attention in the boiling sun I could not attune myself to the pious attitude the occasion demanded nor enter wholeheartedly in the many appeals to the Almighty to bless our cause and our arms. The ceremony failed to provide the necessary uplift which the spirit demanded and I became depressed and ashamed of my heretical outlook.
In the weeks that followed I learnt to know the meaning of Christianity without frills from all those men with whom I spent every hour of every day. I owe them much.
Church parade.
Divine service on football ground.
4:30am air raid.
In the weeks that followed I learnt to know the meaning of Christianity without frills from all those men with whom I spent every hour of every day. I owe them much.
Church parade.
Divine service on football ground.
4:30am air raid.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
26th May 1917
The general was late – a prerogative exercised by the top brass. From an early hour the company were hard at it - squad drill, rifle drill, more squad drill, rifle drill, marching and wheeling in formation interminably until officers and men were sick and weary with the continuous performance. Lunch would be late. Platoons were detached for individual squad drill and Lieutenant Smith manoeuvred No. 8 into a secluded position at the rim of the perimeter. Here we continued our labours until Smith, in desperation, said “Hold it – I’m fed up with this lark let’s play strap-ass”.
Strap-ass is a simple game. I have forgotten the precise rules but for the purpose of this chronicle the title itself is explanatory and all embracing. Briefly, the participants stand in a circle facing inwards. Each man in turn has the privilege of using a heavy leather belt, any man at the receiving end has to chase around the ring to avoid the buckle end and resume his position. We became thoroughly immersed in the enjoyable break from routine, not excluding the worthy Lieutenant himself who in the excitement of the chase was prancing around like a schoolboy and generally behaving in a manner unbecoming to an officer and a gentleman, at least on the parade ground.
No. 8 Platoon were having the time of their lives when a voice from the ring spoke. The Colonel, not only the Colonel but also the Brigadier, standing not many yards away were interested spectators. Whatever our distinguished visitors may have thought about our military antics No.8 Platoon and the officer responsible for them, Smith’s reaction to the unexpected and his demonstration of quick thinking should at least have earned him a few marks. After one, quick obscene exclamation he said, in effect, “Carry on with the strap-ass, we can’t stop now you’ve got into it and for God’s sake don’t let me down”. I am sure the Brigadier had never before seen such a rip-roaring display as we put on that day for his edification. To our great surprise the great man congratulated Lieutenant Smith on his enterprise and the men of No. 8 Platoon on their spirited exhibition.
The battalion was under strength and a further draft arrived in the afternoon.
GOC's inspections.
Half day off.
Draft arrives.
Strap-ass is a simple game. I have forgotten the precise rules but for the purpose of this chronicle the title itself is explanatory and all embracing. Briefly, the participants stand in a circle facing inwards. Each man in turn has the privilege of using a heavy leather belt, any man at the receiving end has to chase around the ring to avoid the buckle end and resume his position. We became thoroughly immersed in the enjoyable break from routine, not excluding the worthy Lieutenant himself who in the excitement of the chase was prancing around like a schoolboy and generally behaving in a manner unbecoming to an officer and a gentleman, at least on the parade ground.
No. 8 Platoon were having the time of their lives when a voice from the ring spoke. The Colonel, not only the Colonel but also the Brigadier, standing not many yards away were interested spectators. Whatever our distinguished visitors may have thought about our military antics No.8 Platoon and the officer responsible for them, Smith’s reaction to the unexpected and his demonstration of quick thinking should at least have earned him a few marks. After one, quick obscene exclamation he said, in effect, “Carry on with the strap-ass, we can’t stop now you’ve got into it and for God’s sake don’t let me down”. I am sure the Brigadier had never before seen such a rip-roaring display as we put on that day for his edification. To our great surprise the great man congratulated Lieutenant Smith on his enterprise and the men of No. 8 Platoon on their spirited exhibition.
The battalion was under strength and a further draft arrived in the afternoon.
GOC's inspections.
Half day off.
Draft arrives.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
"On May 26th, the G.O.C., 56th Division (Major-General Sir C.P.A.Hull) inspected the Battalion, and thanked and congratulated it on the part it had played in the Battles of Arras. In the course of his speech he impressed on all ranks the need for greater reliance on the rifle; and it is of interest to note that, in the fighting in the autumn and afterwards in the spring of 1918, the Battalion specially distinguished itself by the effective use it made of this weapon."
Excerpt from "The War History of the 1st Battalion Queen's Westminster Rifles 1914-1918" [ISBN 1-84342-610-2]
Excerpt from "The War History of the 1st Battalion Queen's Westminster Rifles 1914-1918" [ISBN 1-84342-610-2]
25th May 1917
‘Battalion Orders’ we rarely found exciting or amusing - except sometimes, as on the occasions when it was announced that the Colonel had for disposal at cost price a number of high class razors which could be purchased at the canteen.
However commercialism was forgotten and, in his best parade ground manner, the Colonel announced that on the following day the GOC himself would be undertaking an inspection of the regiment. There would be no formal parade since the great man had intimated that he preferred to see the Battalion actually in training according to the routine of the day. There followed a long harangue on the pride of the regiment renowned for its rifle drill and smartness on and off parade, etc. Any man found guilty of offending the code would, in army parlance, be ‘for the high jump’. The battalion toiled and sweated as it had never done before. We were not even permitted a good night’s rest. At 11pm and again at 4am heavy air raids on the casualty clearing stations at nearby Duisans disturbed our slumbers.
Paraded for GOC's inspection on Saturday.
Air raids - 11pm and 4am.
However commercialism was forgotten and, in his best parade ground manner, the Colonel announced that on the following day the GOC himself would be undertaking an inspection of the regiment. There would be no formal parade since the great man had intimated that he preferred to see the Battalion actually in training according to the routine of the day. There followed a long harangue on the pride of the regiment renowned for its rifle drill and smartness on and off parade, etc. Any man found guilty of offending the code would, in army parlance, be ‘for the high jump’. The battalion toiled and sweated as it had never done before. We were not even permitted a good night’s rest. At 11pm and again at 4am heavy air raids on the casualty clearing stations at nearby Duisans disturbed our slumbers.
Paraded for GOC's inspection on Saturday.
Air raids - 11pm and 4am.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
24th May 1917
We halted in front of the billet and on dismissal the usual scramble for the best places ensued. The quarters consisted of the usual barn but with a variation. Two tiers of bunks had been erected around the four walls and we slept on chicken wire instead of the cold stone floor to which we later became accustomed.
Since the lower tier was more easily accessible and had obvious advantages for manipulating equipment and other gear the first comers naturally took possession. I was in the first rush and immediately staked my claim by depositing pack, rifle and other impediments on the ground floor. My satisfaction was short lived. Uncles (his real name) was, at a guess, a well domesticated bachelor with an overwhelming passion for evening cocoa. Climbing into the upper bunk he neatly arranged all his goods and chattels; set up an abominable primus stove of sorts and balanced his mess tin precariously on the top. I lay on my back apprehensively watching events through the slackened chicken wire above my head. That was the one night Uncles went without his cocoa. A few extra stains on my uniform was not of great import but the full contents of one mess tin of boiling mixture on the chest was not to my liking.
Moved to Agnez(-lès-Duisans).
Wire beds, etc.
Google Maps entry for Agnez-lès-Duisans here
Since the lower tier was more easily accessible and had obvious advantages for manipulating equipment and other gear the first comers naturally took possession. I was in the first rush and immediately staked my claim by depositing pack, rifle and other impediments on the ground floor. My satisfaction was short lived. Uncles (his real name) was, at a guess, a well domesticated bachelor with an overwhelming passion for evening cocoa. Climbing into the upper bunk he neatly arranged all his goods and chattels; set up an abominable primus stove of sorts and balanced his mess tin precariously on the top. I lay on my back apprehensively watching events through the slackened chicken wire above my head. That was the one night Uncles went without his cocoa. A few extra stains on my uniform was not of great import but the full contents of one mess tin of boiling mixture on the chest was not to my liking.
Moved to Agnez(-lès-Duisans).
Wire beds, etc.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
23rd May 1917
Physical, games, squad, etc.
B Company complimented by Colonel.
Bombing lecture.
B Company complimented by Colonel.
Bombing lecture.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
22nd May 1917
Wet.
Detailed as bomber by 2nd Lt. Smith.
Service by Chaplain.
Detailed as bomber by 2nd Lt. Smith.
Service by Chaplain.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
20th May 1917 (Sunday) - Joining the Battalion at Duisans
Motor lorries to Duissans.
Joined Battalion, 8th Platoon, B Company, 1st QWRs.
Huts.
Google Maps entry for Saint-Pol-sur-Ternoise here
Google Maps entry for Duisans here
Joined Battalion, 8th Platoon, B Company, 1st QWRs.
Huts.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
"When the Battalion came out of the line after the Battles of Arras, it was very weak in numbers, and it had lost the majority of its officers; but nine officers and a large draft of men arrived at Duisans on May 20th. Shortly afterwards the Battalion was up to strength."
Excerpts from "The War History of the 1st Battalion Queen's Westminster Rifles 1914-1918" [ISBN 1-84342-610-2]
Google Maps entry for Saint-Pol-sur-Ternoise here
Google Maps entry for Duisans here
19th May 1917
FSMO (1) inspection, etc.
March to Bouquemaison.
(1) FSMO - Full Service Marching Order
March to Bouquemaison.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
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