[We were] in
various positions in front of YPRES – these days with Head “Q[uarters] 25th
[Brigade].
The Battery returned
each night to a field off the main road, things were very quiet, but for
occasional shelling.
On the night of 10th,
I waited at the 25th [Brigade], for my horse to be brought over.
After some time, George came and told me it was impossible to get over with
horses, [so] we walked across to where the horses were, and [then] started to
find the Battery. After travelling some good way we knew we were lost, it was
very dark, and the road was being shelled. On coming to a deserted farm, where
some Infantry were, we decided to anchor till morning - by a friendly straw
stack. We got some food and tea from the infantry - with some straw from the
stack and blanket from our horse, we had the best bed we had had for some time.
We found the Battery next morning and there had been the usual speculation that
we had got nipped.
On the night of 12th
we came through the most severe storm I have ever experienced. I was simply blinded by the fierce rain and
wind, [and I] had no cap. We were simply like drowned rats, [and] we had an
awful march in the pitch darkness.
[In the] storm I could not open my eyes, [so]
I simply held on the saddle and let my old charger follow the rest.
We were too wet to
sleep in mud and rain that night, and after a deal of skirmishing, George,
Collins and I got into a deserted estaminet[1]
and remained there till morning. [i]
It was a horrible
night and the shelter we got was acceptable. It took me two days to get dry – I
would have given a deal to had [sic] sit before a fire in dry clothes.
Nov. 13th
One section of the
Btty [Battery] was in action near ZONNEBEKE, I went with [the] other two
Sections to a position by a small wood –
about 3 or 4 miles
NE of YPRES.
We did a little
firing, and towards evening I ran a line to K Battery R.H.A. to get into
communication with the trenches. It was very wet, and everywhere was bog and
mud.
I was beside a
railway embankment [and] the CO K Battery and I had high words about the
communication. He promised to get me 5 years or shot – I told him to get on
with it, etc.; he treated me quite differently next morning.
Another night in
the rain, could not lie down, had a wet “standing up sleep” by the embankment.
Nov. 14th
Went with left Section
and positioned beside 51st Battery, [which was] on a ridge a
thousand yards in rear of the trenches. We could see the German fire trench -
and watch our own lyddite[2]
burst. [It was] a very near position, and we had hardly began to fire when they
had us spotted.
That day the
Prussian Guard made a big attack,[but] our guns with the 51st did
great slaughter, and from the trenches, the ground was covered with dead
Germans and many of our chaps.
During the morning
they peppered us, but we kept on replying, and the 51st with the
quick-firing 18 pounder did grand work keeping up a wall of fire on the German
foremost trench. [ii]
Early in the
afternoon we had to desert our guns, for it was suicide to stay. We took cover
in some small trenches about 30 yards behind the guns. About every twenty
minutes, [we would] run up to the guns, loosed off a couple of rounds gun fire,
and back to cover. The 51st rushed up and let go six rounds gun fire
in grand style, and ran back to cover.
I was with the 51st
at this period, [and] we had been two days almost without a drink of any
description and my thirst was troubling me more than the shell and bullets.
When running from the guns, I came across the Officers’ cook in a dugout, about
50 yds in rear of the guns, and he gave me a mug of rather dirty water, but it
tasted grand.
I went back to the
guns with the Sergt Major of the 51st, and a shell dropped within 10
yards of us. The concussion rather shook us and we immediately fell down and
dodged splinters. On getting up we were both surprised to find that the other was
not hurt - the shell cut down a tree, which fell across my overcoat, which was
lying close by.
We kept up firing
until dark.
George, Collins
and I were beside a wagon getting something to eat, when the enemy’s infantry
attacked, and the bullets rained over.
We ran to the guns for shelter of the shield when Collins pushed me a
little aside, a few seconds later [he] got a bullet in the foot – the thick
boot, luckily diverting its course. Had he not pushed me, I should have caught
it, and with perhaps not such lucky result.
After a while
George and I managed to get into a small trench, he had dug during the day.
The attack dropped
off, but they shelled us throughout the night. We had a good sleep [even though] it was cold
and wet, but we were strictly exhausted and slept. [iii]
In the morning the
ground all around was peppered with shell-holes and we were indeed fortunate
that one did not drop in our little trench, for quite a few were very near.
Nov. 15th
The section
continued firing during the morning – we were shelled a little, but nothing in
comparison with previous day - I went over to the 51st Btty, to get
my telephone, which I had left in a dugout the day before when we had to leave
the guns - but found that a shell had dropped plumb into the dugout and
destroyed the instrument - there was two other telephonists with me the
previous day and had we not run when we did - undoubtedly we should have all
shared the fate of our instruments.
I went back to the
Section and about noon we had orders to take up position with our right Section
-[while] the 51st Bty remained and had it as bad, or even worse than
the previous days. Two guns were put out of action, and their casualties were
heavy. One shell killed five and while they were being buried, another dropped
among the burial party killing four more.
We reached our
right Section in the afternoon and I remained with the wagon line, and was in
PIEGUAT – very wet and cold, shelling all night.
Nov. 16th
I removed some
wagons into an adjacent wood for aeroplane cover.
While going to a
ruined farm nearby, a bullet hit a wooden gate post as I was passing. I dodged
behind the post, for I thought a sniper had me, but it must have been a spare
bullet, for nothing else came near me. During my look round the farm - I got
some water, a few potatoes, and a couple of onions. On returning to the wagon
line, [upon] getting a tin of “bully” prepared a dinner, which I had not had
for a considerable time. [iv]
I had just got it
nicely on the go, when I was sent for from the guns, and was ordered to run a
line to the reserve trenches.
George and I ran the line and I remained with
a borrowed instrument from a Sergeant of the R.E’s in a dugout with a Gordon
named Bruce (whom I afterwards learned was the famous runner).
I was warned by
him to keep low, as snipers were pretty busy – and almost as he spoke a fellow
coming towards me got a bullet in the chest - the bullet just missed me, so I
took his word and kept low.
It was terribly
cold – he gave me some bread and cheese, which I gratefully took. I sent the
orders to the guns until after midnight, and things seem to quite down.
I pitied Bruce in his bare legs and kilt, but
he slept sound, but I could not sleep a minute for the cold, and was glad when morning came.
I was stiff with cold, and dared the snipers in running up and down for a few
minutes to [undecipherable] warm myself.
Nov. 17th
I was under the
direction of Major Baird,[v]
Gordon Highlanders, to send the orders for our guns to cover the trenches, as
much as possible.
Shortly after
dawn, the enemy made a big attack and considering the small number of men in
the trenches, it was marvelous that the enemy didn’t break through. About 9
o’clock they started to shell us. The first shell went into a dugout a few
yards in front of me and killed a Lieut. Colonel and his servant, [while]
another fell 10 yards to my right, and killed or wounded 3 officers, who were
buried – they were hastily dug out, and presented a pitiful sight. Many were
wounded during these first few minutes. [vi]
An Artillery Officer and a man rode up and
dismounted. The man jumped into my dugout, hitching the two horses to a tree
about one yard away. Almost immediately a shell burst right over - [and] killed
the two horses, one of whom fell dead, right on top of the dugout - the blood
running in.
Then the shells
came in terrific force – all the Gordons had to run, for it was murderous – I
felt like running – but could not leave my instrument, as the guns would not be
firing.
So I stuck [while]
they all ran, bar Bruce. He asked me if I was going to stop, I said yes, and he
answered – “If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me” as he stopped
with me. In the run, a chap passing got a splinter in the leg and a bullet in
the arm. I dragged him in and we bandaged him up; he was with us throughout the
day.
Two more attacks
took place, and every available man was pressed forward – and that was very
few.
During the day
Bruce was telling me that of the 1400 hundred in the regiment who left Plymouth
in September – all that remained of the number was 34, and he was one of them.
They had had some terrible times, he said, but this is worse than any of them.
I fully believed him, for I was sick with the smell of powder and blood.
Bruce very
pluckily ran to and from where Major Baird and the rest were in trenches
outside the wood, to take messages from me, and to bring the orders for the
guns.
All day the enemy
kept up the fierce bombardment.
Old George came
and relieved me that night, for I was fairly done and felt bad, [because] four
nights out of six I had had no sleep and very little food. I was absolutely
more like a sponge than a man, and on reaching the guns, Collins took on the
instrument and I got my two blankets. They were wet – it was snowing and
freezing hard, but I slept like a top, and in the morning [I] felt a little
better and quite able to carry on with the business. [vii]
Nov. 15th
– 21st
I remained with
the guns and George with the Gordons. We did considerable firing, but [with
only] an occasional shell coming over, it was peace compared with the previous
17th.
We were informed
that we were to[be] relieved by the French. [We] were to be withdrawn and to
have a rest, to refit and get made up in horses and men.
I was also told that the Centre Section had
had a warm time. Hodges[3],
my lube offman, was killed. Taylor[4],
Farmer and several others wounded.
We were elated at
the idea of a rest, and a change from the ceaseless scrapping of the last weeks
– and we sadly needed a rest.
Nov. 22nd
Left our position
at dawn and marched to YPRES, the whole country was in a terrible condition,
not a farm was standing – and the town itself was ruined. The beautiful
buildings destroyed, how different when we marched through less than a month
before. We got safely through the town and marched all day. It was very cold,
[and] I walked most of the time, for my old charger could not keep his legs on
the slippery roads.
We arrived at night and billeted at a farm a
few miles from MERRISS, where we were to stop and rest. How strange it seemed
to be away from the ceaseless roar of gun fire, etc. The sheds, barns,
cow-houses in which we slept seemed to us like mansions. [viii]
[1]
Estaminet: a small and simple café, bar, or bistro.
[2] Lyddite: British explosive used for filling
artillery shells in World War One. Actually molten and cast picric acid.
[4] Corporal Frank
W Taylor 54212 rpt wounded 8/12/14 – killed
in action
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