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6th July 1917
Anxious to enjoy our newly found freedom and with the promise of a hot sunny day we were out and about at 7:45am only to find that classes did not start until 9:45am. The instructor, Sergeant Roberts, dealt adequately with the elementary map reading, conventional signs, scales, co-ordination, contours, etc - all of which we smoothly regarded as schoolboy stuff. Lessons ceased at 12:30 for lunch, to be resumed at 2:15. At 4pm we were issued with 10 francs pay and dismissed for the rest of the day.
That night Jerry paid a visit to Divisional H.Q. and dropped four bombs. Little damage was done but we on the course took a sneaking delight in the momentary discomfort of the Brass Hats – how mean one can become!
Rose 7:45am.
Course started.
Map reading - conventional signs, scales, co-ordination, etc. 9:15-12:30 and 2:15-4pm.
Paid 10 francs.
Air raid. 4 bombs.
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That night Jerry paid a visit to Divisional H.Q. and dropped four bombs. Little damage was done but we on the course took a sneaking delight in the momentary discomfort of the Brass Hats – how mean one can become!
Rose 7:45am.
Course started.
Map reading - conventional signs, scales, co-ordination, etc. 9:15-12:30 and 2:15-4pm.
Paid 10 francs.
Air raid. 4 bombs.
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| Original journal notes |
5th July 1917
Rose at 8am.
At 11am in clean fatigues we paraded for rifle inspection by Sergeant Roberts of the London Scottish after which we were left to our own devices for the rest of the day. It soon became evident that discipline in the strict army sense was not taken seriously and even lowly riflemen were treated as honoured guests. With the battlefield only 20 miles away the peace and atmosphere of unhurried calm was difficult to believe.
Rose at 8am.
Clean fatigue rifle inspected by Sergeant Roberts, London Scottish at 11am.
Finis! Dismissed for day.
Divisional canteen posh.
At 11am in clean fatigues we paraded for rifle inspection by Sergeant Roberts of the London Scottish after which we were left to our own devices for the rest of the day. It soon became evident that discipline in the strict army sense was not taken seriously and even lowly riflemen were treated as honoured guests. With the battlefield only 20 miles away the peace and atmosphere of unhurried calm was difficult to believe.
Rose at 8am.
Clean fatigue rifle inspected by Sergeant Roberts, London Scottish at 11am.
Finis! Dismissed for day.
Divisional canteen posh.
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4th July 1917
The MO never had a chance to say anything, even before reveille and foregoing breakfast Bradley and I were on our way, later to be joined by two D Company men also nominated for the course.
Divisional Headquarters, seat of the mighty, was to a couple of riflemen just heaven. It is true we saw the Brass Hats from a distance only but that arrangement was no doubt mutually satisfactory to all concerned. Our billets were situated in a delightful orchard and the select company on the course enjoyed the pleasure of sleeping on blankets for the first time for several months. The classrooms and mess were nearby and the Divisional canteen provided luxuries which the average soldier had forgotten existed. Work was not even mentioned on that first day.
Left Sus-Saint-Léger with Bradley and two D Company men for Divisional Observers' Course at Le Cauroy (2 km away).
Billet in hut in orchard. Posh.
Russian offensive.
Google Maps entry for The Château du Cauroy here
(assumed to be location of divisional HQ)
Divisional Headquarters, seat of the mighty, was to a couple of riflemen just heaven. It is true we saw the Brass Hats from a distance only but that arrangement was no doubt mutually satisfactory to all concerned. Our billets were situated in a delightful orchard and the select company on the course enjoyed the pleasure of sleeping on blankets for the first time for several months. The classrooms and mess were nearby and the Divisional canteen provided luxuries which the average soldier had forgotten existed. Work was not even mentioned on that first day.
Left Sus-Saint-Léger with Bradley and two D Company men for Divisional Observers' Course at Le Cauroy (2 km away).
Billet in hut in orchard. Posh.
Russian offensive.
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(assumed to be location of divisional HQ)
3rd July 1917
At 2pm the trek was continued for a further 9 miles to the pleasant village of Sus-Saint-Léger. The day was again hot and the estaminets undoubtedly suffered from lack of custom. I was not feeling too good in the boiling heat and turned my head to seek moral support from Bradley on my left only to find he was in a worse condition. With chin resting on his chest, body drooped, legs faltering; he began to stagger like a drunk. Murmuring a few words, I know not what, he departed at a tangent. My last glimpse was the soles of his boots protruding from a hedge at the side of the road. Overcoming a strong inclination to join him I gathered my resources and struggled on, having first discounted the pleasant idea that lorries might be provided by a thoughtful RSM to gather in the fallen. By 6:30pm in the evening the main body reached the billets in Sus St Leger which were home for the next days. In the brokendown cowshed with pigsty adjoining we dropped to the floor, every man too exhausted to remove his 95lb pack. I spent the next few minutes marvelling at the fact that the mileage performed in the two days exactly coincided with the extreme limit of my powers of endurance. I said nothing on earth could make me take another step. I was quite wrong of course. Nemesis with the three stripes on his sleeves appeared with notebook in hand and within minutes I was “jumped to it” on cookhouse fatigue. Bradley rolled in later in the evening thoroughly dejected as a result of his performance.
The excitements of the day were not yet over. With some apprehension Bradley and I reported at Company Office to which we had been peremptorily summoned. There was always the chance that some peccadillo contravening King’s Regulations had been spotted but after much heart searching we judged ourselves blameless. To our great relief we were instructed to proceed to Divisional Headquarters Le Cauroy some two kilometres away to undergo an observers course. This was indeed a gift from heaven. True, the Battalion was now ‘at rest’ and expected to remain so for several weeks, but as every soldier knew, ‘rest period’ was a misnomer. Moreover, the Colonel, having taken a very dim view of the Battalion’s poor showing on trek had ordered route marches with full pack on every evening for the next seven days. Instructions from Company Office were to travel light under our own steam immediately after first parade on the following day. One final inspection by the Sergeant and he pounced. Pointing to a small sore spot on my face he said “Impetigo”, unless you get that treated it will spread all over your face in no time. “Sick parade for you tomorrow morning my lad and we’ll see what the MO has to say.”
On trek again 2pm-6:30pm.
About 9 miles to Sus-Saint-Léger.
Billeted in old barn. Wire Beds.
Dozens drop out.
Fearful heat.
Google Maps entry for Sus-Saint-Léger here
Google Maps entry for Le Cauroy (Berlencourt-le-Cauroy) here
The excitements of the day were not yet over. With some apprehension Bradley and I reported at Company Office to which we had been peremptorily summoned. There was always the chance that some peccadillo contravening King’s Regulations had been spotted but after much heart searching we judged ourselves blameless. To our great relief we were instructed to proceed to Divisional Headquarters Le Cauroy some two kilometres away to undergo an observers course. This was indeed a gift from heaven. True, the Battalion was now ‘at rest’ and expected to remain so for several weeks, but as every soldier knew, ‘rest period’ was a misnomer. Moreover, the Colonel, having taken a very dim view of the Battalion’s poor showing on trek had ordered route marches with full pack on every evening for the next seven days. Instructions from Company Office were to travel light under our own steam immediately after first parade on the following day. One final inspection by the Sergeant and he pounced. Pointing to a small sore spot on my face he said “Impetigo”, unless you get that treated it will spread all over your face in no time. “Sick parade for you tomorrow morning my lad and we’ll see what the MO has to say.”
On trek again 2pm-6:30pm.
About 9 miles to Sus-Saint-Léger.
Billeted in old barn. Wire Beds.
Dozens drop out.
Fearful heat.
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| Original journal notes |
"On July 2nd the Battalion marched, via Wailly, Beaumetz and Monchiet, to Gouy en Artois, and on the following day, via Barly and Sambrin, to Sus St. Leger. The weather was exceedingly hot and a good many ment fell out on the march. This could not be tolerated in a Battalion which had always prided itself on its march discipline; and the men who had fallen out, most of whom belonged to a large draft which had recently arrived, were sent for a series of route marches during the hours when the estaminets were open. This proved a most effective cure for bad marching, but it must not be thought that the estaminets had been in any way responsible for the men falling out."
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]
Google Maps entry for Sus-Saint-Léger here
Google Maps entry for Le Cauroy (Berlencourt-le-Cauroy) here
2nd July 1917
At 3pm the Battalion was on the march bound for Gouy-en-Artois which we reached at 7pm. The trek of some 10 miles with full pack in fearful heat was too much for the faint of heart and many fell by the wayside. Most were genuine casualties but others, unaware that the NCOs were following in the rear as ‘moppers up’, were allowed no time in which to finish their beer in the occasional wayside estaminet. The rest of the Company was comfortably billeted in elephant huts by the time the stragglers arrived.
Left Achicourt for Gouy-en-Artois.
On trek 3pm - 7pm. About 10 miles.
Large number drop.
Google Maps entry for Gouy-en-Artois here
Left Achicourt for Gouy-en-Artois.
On trek 3pm - 7pm. About 10 miles.
Large number drop.
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1st July 1917 (Sunday)
Church parade - memorial service.
Lt Ivison "only officer survived".
Visited Arras. The cathedral. Hotel de Ville, etc.
Lt Ivison "only officer survived".
Visited Arras. The cathedral. Hotel de Ville, etc.
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30th June 1917
7am physical.
Sniping.
Walking along a contour line.
German badges, etc.
Afternoon off.
Sniping.
Walking along a contour line.
German badges, etc.
Afternoon off.
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29th June 1917
7am physical.
Sniping under Mr Chilton. Judging distance.
No afternoon parade.
Posh parade "Fire picket".
Divisional General present.
Sniping under Mr Chilton. Judging distance.
No afternoon parade.
Posh parade "Fire picket".
Divisional General present.
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28th June 1917
From 7am the usual round of P.T., bayonet work on the sacks and ‘bombing’ continued for five hours without a break. The throwing of hand grenades was a cunningly planned exercise guaranteed to provide the necessary incentive to maximise effort. Two teams faced each other at a carefully judged distance of thirty yards. At the word of command everyone let fly at their opposite numbers. There were no rules to the game and thereafter it was every man for himself. The heavy missiles flew through the air at all angles. Self-preservation demanded a quick eye and fleetness of foot and a fighting spirit. Fortunately the grenades were not live otherwise the damage to personnel would have been great, as it was we thoroughly enjoyed it.
In front of the ruins of the Town Hall of Achicourt the Battalion , dressed in clean fatigue, was drawn up on parade. Spit and polish was called for and the presence in the Square of the large Foden Steam Wagon, together with several ancillary boilers on wheels had the troops puzzled until, with one accord, they were ordered to strip – ‘Operation De-louse’ had commenced. In happier times the sight of several hundred bodies lined up in a complete state of nature would have been a fantastic spectacle for the worthy citizens of their ancient and, no doubt, dignified town but they had long since departed and we, if not they, were spared much embarrassment.
Every stitch of clothing was removed and each bundle tied with string to which were attached our identity discs. The bundles were then thrown into the steam chambers and, cold and miserable, we waited interminably for the Army Launderette to discharge our particular consignment. However it was all in a good cause and we consoled ourselves with the prospect of being clean and wholesome once again. We opened our bundles joyfully anticipating the sight of massive slaughter. The treatment must have been intense for the moulded black buttons on crumpled uniform jackets had not only lost all trace of the regimental crest but were misshapen lumps of ebonite. The coarse woollen vest and pants were examined but there were no corpses. The families which had attended on us for their food and lodging over the past months were still with us, a little excited perhaps and hungry, otherwise they appeared as happy as Larry and thereafter continued to thrive.
7am physical, musketry, etc.
Bombing - 30 yards.
Afternoon, clothes fumigated by Foden tractor.
In front of the ruins of the Town Hall of Achicourt the Battalion , dressed in clean fatigue, was drawn up on parade. Spit and polish was called for and the presence in the Square of the large Foden Steam Wagon, together with several ancillary boilers on wheels had the troops puzzled until, with one accord, they were ordered to strip – ‘Operation De-louse’ had commenced. In happier times the sight of several hundred bodies lined up in a complete state of nature would have been a fantastic spectacle for the worthy citizens of their ancient and, no doubt, dignified town but they had long since departed and we, if not they, were spared much embarrassment.
Every stitch of clothing was removed and each bundle tied with string to which were attached our identity discs. The bundles were then thrown into the steam chambers and, cold and miserable, we waited interminably for the Army Launderette to discharge our particular consignment. However it was all in a good cause and we consoled ourselves with the prospect of being clean and wholesome once again. We opened our bundles joyfully anticipating the sight of massive slaughter. The treatment must have been intense for the moulded black buttons on crumpled uniform jackets had not only lost all trace of the regimental crest but were misshapen lumps of ebonite. The coarse woollen vest and pants were examined but there were no corpses. The families which had attended on us for their food and lodging over the past months were still with us, a little excited perhaps and hungry, otherwise they appeared as happy as Larry and thereafter continued to thrive.
7am physical, musketry, etc.
Bombing - 30 yards.
Afternoon, clothes fumigated by Foden tractor.
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27th June 1917
7am physical, bayonets and musketry.
Afternoon kip.
Afternoon kip.
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26th June 1917
The evening was dry and a session on the range was welcomed by the snipers of B Company but not by the markers assigned for duty fiddling with paste pot and little pieces of paper whilst others had the fun of an attractive pastime. The exercise became even more arduous when the Lewis Gun team held a practice shoot because there was always the chance of ricochets. The weather being fine the Officers of B Company strolled up to watch and also to pop off a few shots with their Webleys.
At the end of our shoot the markers were relieved of their duties and the snipers moved down to the butts, a degrading duty we thought for specialists of our calibre but the man on the next target to mine was quite pleased with the opportunity unexpectedly presented. He was a truculent individual and it was apparent that his rebellious attitude to Army discipline had not gone unnoticed in the past. The Officers produced their Webleys and a running commentary by my friend on the right went somewhat as follows. “Who’s this – it’s that old bastard X, got an ‘inner’ has he – I’ll give him an ‘outer’. Here comes Lieutenant Y – first one an ‘outer’ - nice fellow Lieutenant Y – I’ll give him a ‘bull’ – no, mustn’t overdo it – give him an ‘inner’.” ‘Rebellious’ continued in the same strain for all his customers and at the finish he was eminently satisfied having blasted several reputations in the Mess and provided a minor boost to the morale of the less competent.
7am physical fatigue dismantling German wire.
On range. 32 points. 2 - 6pm.
At the end of our shoot the markers were relieved of their duties and the snipers moved down to the butts, a degrading duty we thought for specialists of our calibre but the man on the next target to mine was quite pleased with the opportunity unexpectedly presented. He was a truculent individual and it was apparent that his rebellious attitude to Army discipline had not gone unnoticed in the past. The Officers produced their Webleys and a running commentary by my friend on the right went somewhat as follows. “Who’s this – it’s that old bastard X, got an ‘inner’ has he – I’ll give him an ‘outer’. Here comes Lieutenant Y – first one an ‘outer’ - nice fellow Lieutenant Y – I’ll give him a ‘bull’ – no, mustn’t overdo it – give him an ‘inner’.” ‘Rebellious’ continued in the same strain for all his customers and at the finish he was eminently satisfied having blasted several reputations in the Mess and provided a minor boost to the morale of the less competent.
7am physical fatigue dismantling German wire.
On range. 32 points. 2 - 6pm.
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25th June 1917 - Postcard
Postcard home to Mum ...
The photograph on the postcard is of Arras, France
25th June 1917
Company parade.
7am physical, squad and extended order.
Gas helmets tested.
Fire picket.
7am physical, squad and extended order.
Gas helmets tested.
Fire picket.
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24th June 1917 (Sunday)
The Battalion was now completely ‘at rest’. Not even Church Parade with its inevitable regimentation. Unfortunately the day was spoilt for me when detailed as mess orderly. A duty all detested, although if the cooks were in a good mood it had its compensations. The worst part of cookhouse fatigue was the cleansing of innumerable pots, bins and other utensils without the aid of either hot water or cleansing materials. Gritty earth and newspaper had to suffice for the removal of half an inch of cold, solid grease and the Sergeant expected miracles. The only bright spot of the day was cheerful music played on the bayonet course by the Divisional Band from 2 until 4:30 pm.
Mess orderly.
No church parade.
Divisional Band 2-4:30pm. "The Broken Doll" (1)
(1) 'A Broken Doll' - a song popular during World War 1. Written by Clifford Harris and composed by Jas W. Tate. 1916.
Mess orderly.
No church parade.
Divisional Band 2-4:30pm. "The Broken Doll" (1)
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| Original journal notes |
(1) 'A Broken Doll' - a song popular during World War 1. Written by Clifford Harris and composed by Jas W. Tate. 1916.
23rd June 1917
We were now due for a quiet spell away from the line. The half trained men who filled the gap after the slaughter of Easter Monday were good enough to man the trenches in the Arras sector during the lull after the storm. Apart from casual parades for inspection, a bath of sorts and the issue of clean underwear, the only event of any importance was the arrival of a fresh draft from Redhill. I was glad to welcome many old friends from D Company including rotund and jovial Tolliday who, alas, failed to make the return journey.
Rifle inspection and bath and change.
New draft joins.
Tolliday and Murphy of D Company (Redhill).
Rifle inspection and bath and change.
New draft joins.
Tolliday and Murphy of D Company (Redhill).
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22nd June 1917
Morning came and the problem of the puttees was quickly solved by winding them on inside out. If the M.O. had been present he would probably have diagnosed elephantiasis but to the casual observer I had the cleanest pair of puttees on parade. Unfortunately the R.S.M. himself decided to take the parade that morning and ‘Spiky’ with the waxed moustaches was a fearsome being to the lowly rifleman. He, with Sergeant Partridge in attendance, passed slowly along the ranks – “Do that button up” – “Take that muck out of your pocket” – “Put your belly in” – and similar remarks dear to the hearts of all sergeant majors. At last he was level with me – a quick glance up and down, a slight hesitation and the great man himself bent down and quickly turned down one fold of a puttee. He said exactly what one would expect. For some unaccountable reason Sergeant Partridge found difficulty with his notebook and by the time his pencil was poised the R.S.M. had moved on several yards. In a quiet voice ‘Birdie’ spoke, “I know your name, you’re Polkinghorne" and hastily scribbled something in his book. Needless to say the mythical Polkinghorne never appeared on a charge but he spent the rest of the day removing all traces of mud from his person.
Rifle inspection - and kit inspection.
Pay day.
Afternoon sleep.
Rifle inspection - and kit inspection.
Pay day.
Afternoon sleep.
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21st June 1917
Not until 9am on the morning of the 21st did we reach the ruins of Achicourt, formerly a small town a mile or so to the west of Arras. It was here we were told that the QWR had suffered heavy casualties when a surprise bombardment during the battle of Arras reduced the whole side to a shambles. The Battalion losses were particularly heavy in the Town Hall and a QWR cemetery was sited outside the town. Apart from the rifle and kit inspection there were no parades but we all attended a memorial service at a French Protestant church.
Kit inspection was the usual pantomime as performed, no doubt, by the British soldier throughout the ages and we have it on good authority that the time honoured practice still exists. In two ranks facing, each man displayed his kit on the ground before him whilst the platoon commander with NCO in attendance gave individual attention to the articles set out for inspection. Since few men could produce their full quota of army issue, especially after a spell in the line, it was necessary to employ a little ingenuity if beer money was not to be wasted in making up discrepancies. At the commencement of operations frantic signals passed from one rank to the other after which socks, brushes, cutlery and other miscellaneous articles flew through the air to the other side. On the return journey of the inspecting officer down the other rank the borrowed articles were returned in like manner, together with any additional articles requested by sign language. The whole blatant exercise was carried out with much joyous abandon. It seemed impossible that the inspecting officer and NCO were not aware of the farce being performed under their very noses. There can only be one possible explanation.
8th Battalion was billeted in the ruins of an estaminet open to the sky which on the day was gloomy and depressing. On dismissal for the day our final injunction was to get “cleaned up”. I tackled the job with little enthusiasm. By the time rifle and sword were cleaned, boots dubbined and the assorted lumps of chalk from the Arras trenches, together with candle ends and other miscellaneous treasures, removed from the box respirator it was time to turn my attention to my puttees which were in a sorry state. Those night excursions to the river for water had resulted in a layer of dried mud a quarter of an inch thick and hard as iron. By this time the rest of my billet companions had given up their labours and were stretched out for the night on the hard stone floor. I quickly followed their example.
Arrived early morning Achicourt.
Rifle inspection only.
Service in French Protestant Church ruins.
Google Maps entry for Achicourt here
Kit inspection was the usual pantomime as performed, no doubt, by the British soldier throughout the ages and we have it on good authority that the time honoured practice still exists. In two ranks facing, each man displayed his kit on the ground before him whilst the platoon commander with NCO in attendance gave individual attention to the articles set out for inspection. Since few men could produce their full quota of army issue, especially after a spell in the line, it was necessary to employ a little ingenuity if beer money was not to be wasted in making up discrepancies. At the commencement of operations frantic signals passed from one rank to the other after which socks, brushes, cutlery and other miscellaneous articles flew through the air to the other side. On the return journey of the inspecting officer down the other rank the borrowed articles were returned in like manner, together with any additional articles requested by sign language. The whole blatant exercise was carried out with much joyous abandon. It seemed impossible that the inspecting officer and NCO were not aware of the farce being performed under their very noses. There can only be one possible explanation.
8th Battalion was billeted in the ruins of an estaminet open to the sky which on the day was gloomy and depressing. On dismissal for the day our final injunction was to get “cleaned up”. I tackled the job with little enthusiasm. By the time rifle and sword were cleaned, boots dubbined and the assorted lumps of chalk from the Arras trenches, together with candle ends and other miscellaneous treasures, removed from the box respirator it was time to turn my attention to my puttees which were in a sorry state. Those night excursions to the river for water had resulted in a layer of dried mud a quarter of an inch thick and hard as iron. By this time the rest of my billet companions had given up their labours and were stretched out for the night on the hard stone floor. I quickly followed their example.
Arrived early morning Achicourt.
Rifle inspection only.
Service in French Protestant Church ruins.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
20th June 1917
The day was quiet and as soon as darkness fell the QWRs were relieved by the Rangers and the London Scottish.
The whole of the area being a maze of deep trenches the way back was complicated and tiring. In single file we negotiated the contours of the communication trenches by walking along the parapets and parades, occasionally crossing over the six-foot drop between in order to cut off corners. Suddenly my foot caught in a section of telephone wires and I pitched headlong into a deep trench. I was not badly hurt but two nasty gashes were bleeding on forearm and hip. Cuts and wounds were a matter of daily occurrence, especially when handling the masses of German barbed wire which still created pitfalls for the unwary. No doubt we had to thank the abominable A.T. injections by RAMC for the fact that such untended mutilations of the flesh healed without any sign of festering.
We plodded on for hours but the awaited road in the back area, which would take us to food, rest and sleep, failed to materialise. B Company, Lieutenant May in command, was lost!
Fairly quiet.
Relieved at night by the Rangers and Scottish.
Back to Achicourt. Billet. Ruins of estaminet.
The whole of the area being a maze of deep trenches the way back was complicated and tiring. In single file we negotiated the contours of the communication trenches by walking along the parapets and parades, occasionally crossing over the six-foot drop between in order to cut off corners. Suddenly my foot caught in a section of telephone wires and I pitched headlong into a deep trench. I was not badly hurt but two nasty gashes were bleeding on forearm and hip. Cuts and wounds were a matter of daily occurrence, especially when handling the masses of German barbed wire which still created pitfalls for the unwary. No doubt we had to thank the abominable A.T. injections by RAMC for the fact that such untended mutilations of the flesh healed without any sign of festering.
We plodded on for hours but the awaited road in the back area, which would take us to food, rest and sleep, failed to materialise. B Company, Lieutenant May in command, was lost!
Fairly quiet.
Relieved at night by the Rangers and Scottish.
Back to Achicourt. Billet. Ruins of estaminet.
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| Original diary entry |
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| Original journal notes |
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