We did three tours of ‘Wipers’,* and the Division left the front when I was on the Course. But that October the fourth ‘Do’ [battle of Broodseinde] I shall never forget. Our Bat. lost so heavily during the third from shell fire whilst lying in reserve preparatory to going over the following morning that we could not attempt our job and consequently we remained in support till the attack was over.
Perhaps you would like to know something of the spirit of the men out here now. Well, the truth is (and as I said before I’d be shot if anyone of importance collared this missive) every man Jack is fed up almost past bearing, and not a single one has an ounce of what we call patriotism left in him. No one cares a rap whether Germany has Alsace, Belgium or France too for that matter. All that every man desires now is to get done with it and go home. Now that’s the honest truth, and any man who has been out within the last few months will tell you the same. In fact, and this is no exaggeration, the greatest hope of a great majority of the men is that rioting and revolt at home will force the government to pack in on any terms. Now you’ve got the real state of affairs ‘right from the horse’s mouth’ as it were.
I may add that I too have lost pretty nearly all the patriotism I had left, it’s just the thought of you all over there, you who love and trust me to do my share in the job that is necessary for your safety and freedom. It’s just that that keeps me going and enables me to ‘stick it’. As for religion, God forgive us all, it hasn’t a place in one out of a million of the thoughts that hourly occupy men’s minds. The Padres, and it’s anything but pleasant to say so, they absolutely fail to keep up a shred of their Church’s reputation. Nay, behind the line every man, and it’s almost without exception, relies solely on drink for his relaxation, amusement, pleasure – everything.
Aye girlie, it’s ghastly, but thank God for those dear ones at home who love true and trust absolutely in the strength, the courage and the fidelity of those who are far away midst danger and death. These are my mainstays, and thoughts of them always come to stay me and buck me up when I feel like chucking it all up and letting things slide. God bless you darling, and all those I love and who love me, for without their love and trust I would faint and fall. But don’t worry dear heart o’ mine, for I shall carry on to the end be it bitter or sweet, with my loved ones ever my first thought and care, my guide, inspiration and spur.
Au revoir my own sweetheart and God will keep you safe till the storm’s over, with all my heart’s deepest love.
Your own loving
Laurie
In spring 1918, the German forces on the Western Front launched a series of offensives widely known as the Spring Offensives, utilising troops suddenly available as a result of the peace on the Eastern Front. Fully aware that their only chance of victory was a major onslaught before the arrival of US troops in large numbers, the sheer force of the offensive resulted in many hasty Allied retreats. These proved to be a strategic failure when the Germans failed to follow up the gains they initially made. However, as recalled in a letter to his wife, Major Thomas Horatio Westmacott of the 1st Cavalry Division witnessed the chaos of the 5th Army’s retreat on 21 March 1918.
The Queens made a heroic stand at Le Verguier only falling back in perfect order when their flanks were left in the air owing to other units giving way. German officers told me long after that the losses inflicted on them by the Queens were enormous.
I told Rudge to move back to Vendelles if the shelling got very bad, and then I rode back to my third post at Vermand. When I reached the village I saw a lot of shells falling in it and a stream of wounded men coming up hill in some confusion. I left Golden Rod outside the village and went down to the bridge, where I learned that the enemy had got right on top of the 1st North Staffords in the fog and wiped them out. There was also an ugly story of two companies of the 3rd Rifle Brigade having put up their hands.
Anyhow, the enemy had broken through as far as Maissemy (one of my traffic control men was wounded here) and was pouring on Villecholles, a mile from the bridge. Col Green of the Middlesex with a few men was digging in south of the bridge. I stood in the middle of the bridge and held up the fugitives (mainly Gunners) with my revolver and lined the bank north of the bridge and made them dig in, but the moment I went back to the bridge they bolted…
At 4am, on the 23rd March, GSO1 sent for me and said that the position was most critical and that I must get all the wheels across St Christ bridge. The fact that I had spent over 6 months in this part of the country with the 4th Cavalry Division in 1917 was of great help to me in controlling traffic…
I now began to realise how utterly inadequate the 5th Army’s preparations had been to provide for a possible retreat. Not one tree was felled across the road; not a single crossroad was blown up. St Christ bridge itself was not destroyed though there was ample time to do it, and it was eventually by this bridge that the enemy crossed the Somme. Our huts, ammunition dumps, canteens and railways were all left for the enemy to take over as they stood. What trenches had been dug were 6 inch scratches (as if dog-tired men could be expected to deepen them!). The whole thing was a great contrast to the thoroughness of the German preparations for their retreat in the spring of 1917…
Hedley Payne who had written to his parents to inform them proudly of his DCM award in 1916 was wounded in action and taken prisoner in the fighting against the Germans during the 1918 Spring Offensives. A compatriot in his unit sent the following letter to Payne’s mother while he himself was recuperating in hospital. For many parents, wives and sweethearts, letters such as this were the only way they received any additional information about how their loved one had been killed or taken prisoner.
Brook Hospital
Shooters Hill
Woolwich
London
26 April 1918
Dear Mrs Payne,
I was more than pleased to have a letter from you and to learn that Hedley is still alive although it was very unfortunate that he has fallen into the hands of our enemy but I trust that he will soon get over his wound which I hope will not disable him in any way.
You must excuse me for not writing to you before this as I wanted to find out for certain what had really happened to Hedley, I met a Mr Irving in hospital but he did not know so as soon as I was able to write I dropped a line to the Battalion and am now waiting for an answer.
What Really Happened on the 24th of March was, Hedley went out with a few men to get in touch with the Battalion on our Right, looking in that direction some 5 to 10 minutes later I saw Hedley on the ground waving his left arm so I ran over to see what had happened and was sorry to learn that he had been hit by a ‘sniper’, the bullet leaving his body just behind the right arm and so it was impossible to get him away. I bandaged up the wound, my stay with him was very short as we moved forward so I knew that Hedley was pretty safe and hoped that some Stretcher Bearers would pick him up but before long I was hit in three places – arm, hand and leg and was unfortunate enough to lose the arm but I managed to get back – how is a miracle to me.
Hedley was loved by all officers and men in the Battalion and I am sure that one and all Regret to hear that he is a prisoner and wish him a speedy and safe return to his home.
His last words to me were ‘Please write and tell my Mother that I have done my Best’ and I hope you will excuse me for not doing so before as I wanted to find out for certain what had Really Happened to him.
If there is anything more I can do for you I am only too pleased to try my best.
I remain
Yours Sincerely,
Roland Brown
Another brother-in-arms also wrote to Payne’s mother to give further detail of what had happened in the action which saw him taken prisoner.
Torquay
S. Devon
29 April 1918
Dear Mrs Payne,
I was waiting to write as I hoped to get some definite news of your son. It is no use offering you false hopes, and I am very much afraid the
he must have been among the missing on March 24th. I have already written to the battalion, but am doing so again, and if I can hear anything I will let you know at once. But I am afraid there is very little hope. I wrote to Pickering who was in the same company and was hit that day, and is now at the 2nd Western General Hospital, Manchester, but he could give me no news of him. I believe you would certainly have heard if he had been in hospital anywhere.
On March 23rd the Germans attacked our line very heavily, but never got past our unit. Your son’s platoon was there in the front line, and he was slightly wounded in the chest. He refused to go away, saying that he could quite well carry on. That night I saw him, and insisted on his going to the doctor and having the wound dressed, which he did. The last time I saw him was the next afternoon, about 5pm when the Germans had got through our right and we were forced to retire about 200 yards. He was then with his platoon and I gave him an order to take some men out to one flank. I was hit myself at that moment, and when I had to leave [he] was busy in a flank, and I never saw him again.
I can only say that he behaved very gallantly, as I knew he would, and showed exceptional courage and devotion in not leaving the line the day before. I commanded ‘A’ Company while we were in Italy, and so knew your son very well. He was an exceedingly good officer, and looked after his men very well, and a very faithful friend, and as I have already said he behaved in an exceptionally gallant manner on March 23rd and 24th.
May I offer my very deep sympathy in your anxiety and grief, and my earnest hopes that you may soon hear some definite news.
I will let you know as soon as I can hear anything.
Yours sincerely,
A. Chichester
Although Hedley Payne was subsequently released from his POW camp he died of his wounds in February 1919.
Many soldiers had to face up to the fears of their own mortality throughout the duration of the war. The following is a touching farewell letter written by Colour Sergeant Major James ‘Jim’ Milne (1/5th Seaforth Highlanders, 51st Division) immediately prior to the Second Battle of the Marne, July 1918.
BEF
Sat 20th July
My own Beloved Wife,
I do not know how to start this letter or note. The circumstances are different from any under which I ever wrote before. I am not to post it but will leave it in my pocket and if anything happens to me someone will perhaps post it. We are going over the top this forenoon and only God in Heaven know who will come out of it alive. I am going into it now Dearest sure that I am in His hands and that whatever happens I look to Him, in this world and the world to come. If I am called my regret is that I leave you and my Bairns but I leave you all to His great mercy and goodness, knowing that He will look over you all and watch you. I trust in Him to bring me through but should He decree otherwise then though we do not know His reasons we know that it must be best. I go to Him with your dear face the last vision on earth I shall see and your name upon my lips, You, the best of women. You will look after my Darling Bairns for me and tell them how their Daddy died.
Oh! How I love you all and as I sit here waiting I wonder what you are doing at home. I must not do that. It is hard enough sitting and waiting. We may move at any minute. When this reaches you for me there will be no more war, only eternal peace and waiting for you. You must be brave my darling for my sake for I leave you the Bairns. It is a legacy of struggle for you but God will look after you and we shall meet again when there will be no-more parting. I am to write no-more Sweetheart, I know you will read my old letters and keep them for my sake and that you will love me or my memory till we meet again.
Kiss the Bairns for me once more. I dare not think of them, my Darlings.
Good Bye, you best of women and best of wives my beloved Sweetheart.
May God in his mercy look over you and bless you all till that day we shall meet again in His own good time.
May He in that same mercy preserve me today.
Good Bye Meg.
Eternal love from Yours for Ever & Ever
Jim
Jim Milne survived the Second Battle of the Marne and the rest of the war.
Lieutenant P.R. Hampton served with No. 62 Squadron RAF flying a Bristol F2B. By the latter stages of the war aerial superiority had become increasingly important but fraught with dangers for the pilots. During an offensive patrol over Armentières in spring 1918 he was brought down by German anti-aircraft fire and taken prisoner. He sent the following letter to his mother back home in Canada from his hospital bed and was realistic about the fact that he was probably safer as a prisoner than patrolling the skies above the Western Front.
19 May 1918
My dearest Mother,
I am still in hospital in fact I expect to be here for a week or so yet. I am getting better but a little slower than I first expected. I have now recovered from the shock but the burns are not healed yet. My nose, which was knocked almost flat between my eyes and a little to one side, is now back in its normal position. It is very painful but that is the only pain I have. The doctor is fixing it well, probably it will be better looking than before. I had a very narrow escape with my right eye, I have a nasty cut between the eyeball and eyebrow but that is nearly alright. My burns are not serious, the big toe of the right and ankle of the left are slightly burnt and also my right thumb and arm, but nothing to worry about.
I think Lane, my observer, will be better before me. I am not in the same ward but I hear he is getting on well. It has now been ascertained that I was brought down by Archie fire, a thing I never expected or even contemplated. I don’t know how it set me on fire; of course the front petrol tank was burst but I don’t know what lighted the petrol. I believe my machine was burnt to nothing after I hit the ground, so I am lucky to have undone my belt.
I don’t yet know my address in Germany, I will have to wait till I get there… I have no idea where I will be sent to from here as there are a lot of camps in Germany. Being a prisoner, I don’t think I am entitled to a wound gratuity. I lose about £50 but will make sure of it. This happened at an unfortunate time as I was looking forward to some letters and the parcel you said you were sending me for my birthday. I am wondering have you moved yet, and if so, where. I will have to wait a long time until I hear. It is now summer, but I can hardly believe it. I don’t think you can send newspapers to a Prisoner of War but you can find out from the Red Cross. I am wondering how many days it was from the time you heard I was missing, until you heard that I was a prisoner. This must have been an anxious time for you. In case you don’t know, I was shot down on 3rd May. I suppose Harry knows by now. He used to write me every week. I hope that there is no limit as to the number of letters I can receive. I suppose I am lucky in one way to be a prisoner, because I am reasonably sure of seeing you all when the war is over, and I wasn’t before. Life as a prisoner will not be so bad once my letters and parcels start coming but that will take some time yet.
I must close now as I have no more news,
P.S. I have some books to read so I am alright in that respect. A German officer very kindly gave me cigarettes, but I long for sweets. I have just been moved to the officers’ quarters and Lane and myself have a nice room. We are very comfortable here.
Ultimately, however, the German Spring Offensives failed, partly because they failed to take advantage of the gains they had made, and also as a result of a successful Allied counter-offensive. The war dragged on into the autumn but the end was clearly in sight. On 11 November an armistice with Germany came into effect. Many could scarcely believe it, including the 27-year-old commanding officer of the 2/5th Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers, Colonel George Stanley Brighten DSO, although it is clear that hard fighting continued in some areas right up until the ceasefire.
BEF
13 November 1918
My dearest Father and Mother,
Well, isn’t it wonderful? I can’t realise it yet. We have not yet had the complete terms of the Armistice, but more or less kn
ow some of them. It is of course more or less unconditional surrender, an absolute abject defeat. Of course they have had their internal troubles, but it is the military defeat which has forced and won the situation.
Have been living during some wonderful days. After I last wrote, we remained some days in [the] same village and then commenced advancing again on our special job which was a flying column specially formed of all arms to chase the Hun, and we got three days of it before the Armistice. It was really most interesting. Very hard marching as we were the only infantry, and in addition to marching in the day and keeping up with cavalry, had to find out-posts … as well. The men were simply splendid, and not one fell out. Needless to say we were in action the last moments of the war, we should be, and had a rather hot time of it afternoon and night of the 10th. Early 11th: we entered a fairly large town amidst an enormous reception, cheering the whole way, and passed through to the XXXXXXXXXXX further side, and then heard armistice. It was a wonderful moment; I was able to announce it to the people of the town.
Later same day we billeted in this nice quiet little village (near the same town) where we are now. The same night, Brigade, who have a beautiful place in the town, gave a dance to the local inhabitants to which I went, a great show, almost historic.
We are expecting to be part of the forces to go forward and occupy but do not know yet when we go; probably not the first. During the advance we used to get the most wonderful receptions in the towns, the moment the Germans had gone, and we arrived, flags everywhere. The Batt [Battalion] looked like an army of flags. Received officially by the Mayors etc. We had the funeral of some of our men who were killed the last day, and the people here gave a wonderful show, they made the coffins, and all turned out with a band, heaps of flowers. The Bergomaster read a very nice little eulogy, chiefly about what England had done.
Letters from the Front: From the First World War to the Present Day Page 9
