Love and the Loveless

by Henry Williamson

  To O.C. 286 M, Battle H.Q. 16 August 1.30 p.m.

  Sir, 21t Bright parading with 16 reserve gunners forthwith.

  Your G437 of 9.35 a.m. 14 Aug. states ‘Rations tonight will be as last night’. 18 bags of 5 (i.e. 90 rations) went up last night (plus 8 officer rations). Will bring this amount at 6 p.m. tonight unless I hear by messenger to the contrary. You do not say RUM, I shall bring it nevertheless. Sergeant Rivett has reported for duty from the Base.

  P. S. T. Maddison

  lt, 286 M.

  Behind the Salient many stories began to pass among the soldiers who, after relief, slouched in utter exhaustion through the Grand’ Place. Phillip, ever curious to know more of the war, ever a little apart from his fellows, because he was always remote from himself, made many notes of what he heard. How the South Irish division had advanced beside the Ulster division—Shamrock with Bloody Hand—both so thinly shaken out into line as to look like raiding parties. The South Irish, let down by their own artillery, fought until all were killed or over-run by the Eingreif division which appeared out of nowhere: for a man was less then two metres high, often no more than a metre indeed, as he went forward upright, striving to carry high above the mud his bayonet and rifle. And how the South Irish had not enough men to act as moppers-up, so that the Spandau machine guns in Potsdam, Vampir, and Borry Farms—almost solidified by concrete—turned round, after waiting to surrender, and shot them in the back, before the sparse survivors, clogged and staggering, returned after almost reaching the Green Line. Others, together with isolated Ulstermen, hung on in shell craters while the main counter-attacks passed beyond them. The British defensive barrage dropped where they lay, so that they had it both ways. And how the 56th Londoners were caught by a curtain of high-explosive shell from behind the Gheluvelt plateau as soon as they advanced among the unburied dead of many similar assaults. They got into the splinter and root heaps of Polygon Wood and Nonne Bosschen, but were surrounded, while the Germans set up machine guns in the northern edge of the Nuns’ Wood and enfiladed a brigade of the 8th Division, which was shot to pieces on the very ground on which it had been shot to pieces on July 31, and from the same woods. The Divisional General before the attack had protested that the woods on the south-west of the Gheluvelt plateau must be cleared and held before the second northern assault could advance, but his protest was over-ruled, though endorsed and forwarded by the Corps Commander to Army; and so 8th Division history was repeated in the same place.

  *

  A strange remark was made to Phillip about this time. There was a sort of soldier tramp who lived in a cellar under the ruins of the Prison at Ypres. He was a cook, attached to the gunners. He had a grey beard, and wore a Belgian peaked black cap with sabots, ragged khaki tunic and trousers, and a greatcoat lined with sandbags. He muttered to himself and seemed to be mad, and what he said was, “We’ll never get back to the bright side of the moon; no, never again, never again.” Yes, Phillip thought, we are on the dark side of the moon, our living is utterly unknown to the people at home.

  17 Fri Fine weather at last. Drying wind. Pinnegar said attack to be done over again. Rivett took duck-board fatigue.

  18 Sat Sunny. New moon rose over Passchendaele like a thin gold spider-leg holding black bag of eggs. Rivett again on fatigue all day; I took pack mules all night.

  The news from St. Julien, via Teddy Pinnegar, about the attack on 16 August wasn’t too bad. The Au Bon Gîte, an estaminet made almost solid with concrete, which had held up the advance on July 31, at last had been captured by a really clever idea. An aeroplane had been sent to fly over it and machine-gun it exactly one minute before zero hour, while two specially trained companies of Green Jackets got close up to it and isolated it with smoke bombs. The garrison of one officer and fifty men surrendered to the next wave, said Pinnegar, without having fired, otherwise not a man jack of them would have got away alive.

  “You know, Phil, I never thought much of Guardees”—(what does he know about them, thought Phillip)—“but I must hand it to Cavan, who although he’s a lord seems to have some brains. He had the bright idea to establish armourers’ shops just behind the tapes, all ready to clean rifles and Lewis guns, and then pass them on to the front lines, in exchange for clogged ones. Have you seen the latest type of prisoner? Most of them are mere kids, it’s like robbing an incubator. They either surrender, or clear off as soon as they’re fired at.”

  *

  Orders were given, after the almost total failure of the attack of 16 August (except at Langemarck) for certain positions, at least, to be captured, with a view to a further general advance at the earliest possible moment by the Shamrock and Bloody Hand divisions. The brigadiers protested that their brigades, reduced to hardly more than a battalion in numbers, were exhausted; the Divisional Generals agreed; the Corps General told the Fox that he was unable to carry out the attacks ordered.

  19 Sun Passed 7 tanks outside St. Julien, now quarter-mile from German line.

  20 Mon Rode into Pop for a bath 10 a.m. and saw Westy, who said that tanks I saw last night had succeeded this morning at first light in capturing 4 pillboxes beside Poelcapelle road. First tanks to do proper job since 31 July. Tactics:—tank approach was hidden by smoke and right under creeping barrage (shrapnel) while heavies fired ahead of them. Gaultshires and others immediately behind captured Hillock Farm, the Cockcroft, Owl’s House, and Triangle Farm. Tanks fired 6-lb. shells into letter-box slits in pillboxes, holding up garrisons until infantry went in and killed, or shot them as they ran out. German officer found hanged by his own men in the Cockcroft, before the garrison ran away. 5 out of 7 tanks got back. No prisoners could be taken, as sometimes surrendered Germans resume fight when Eingreif troops arrive. 200 killed from 4 pillboxes. Our losses 1 officer and 2 men killed.

  21 Tue Z day tomorrow. Fatigues all day. Drivers were exhausted when we set off again with eleven mule packs. Zero hour 4.45 a.m. Rained. Pinn said attack went well, advance 400 yds on wide front. We are now within 200 yds of Langemarck–Zonnebeke road, but not yet up to Green line. P. said D. had been up only once to visit sections in line since 31 J. Also Alleyman covers pillboxes with fresh mud every night.

  23 Thu Went up line in morning by myself. Saw many tramlines and all sorts of tracks and wooden walks. Dreary desolation everywhere. A great dump of steel rails, gravel, and sand lies near remains of Langemarck station. Visited the sections with Pinnegar. Got back at 5 p.m. Slept 2 hours, went up again.

  These brief entries gave hardly more than a hint of the nightly transport hell, in rain and mud, mules scrambling for duck-walks, breaking the wooden treads, kicking and floundering amidst uptilted sections, cursed and screamed at by the infantry, whose walks they were. The teak and beech-wood roads were afloat in some places, crashed by shells in others, while cries of wounded in the liquid morass under the Brock’s Benefit (as it was called ironically) of SOS coloured rockets came with whimpering shell fragments. In his diary were no references to the wincing, sweating pulses of fear, the electric adder running down the side of his head, to the bottle of whiskey by day, the rum shared with the muleteers at night, the pictures in the brain of himself regrowing the woods, of levelling the banks of the brooks and in clear water seeing roach moving in droves over waving water-weeds, white flowers of crow’s-foot on long bines, the green tresses of Sabrina fair: the black rotting pictures of himself fitting arms and legs to dismembered trunks, broken-pink-vested: or raising the dead among the larks and the peewits, or to the fancy that the ghost of Cranmer was helping him, of Percy Pickering and Peter and Nimmo and David Wallace, all differences forgotten, come together again; of Albert Hawkins in new butterfly tie smiling at him behind the garden fence, all the misunderstanding of blood and weeping resolved in sunshine … black sunshine, rotting away the world.

  24 Sat Renewed attack for today cancelled. Rode into Pop at 11 a.m. and got new trench coat from Dados, old one was left in shell-hole I fell into on 23. Saw Westy. He has been up the line eve
ry day, for special reports to G.H.Q. He said attack against Inverness Copse, below Gheluvelt plateau, on 22nd went forward until met by Eingreif counter-attacks. We held bits of it at first, but not enough infantry to press home.

  Alleyman attacked Inverness Copse again yesterday with flame throwers and drove us back, we counter-attacked, drove them back, then our artillery shelled our infantry there all the morning. So they withdrew. Alleyman holds wood again. Said Moonshiner went to Plum at Cassel yesterday afternoon. Draw own conclusions, he said.

  26 Sun Rained hard at night. Limbers, horses, and mules bestrew the verges of board road to St. Julien. Took up, for 1 and 2 sections, small elephant iron shelters. Another attack tomorrow down south (? Inverness Copse and Glencorse Wood again).

  About 2 a.m. on way home, passed many troops on duck-walks going in. If they got to tapes at, say, 4 a.m. they wd have either to stand in 2 ft. of mud for 10 hours or lie down in it, zero being 1.55 p.m.

  Mine is really a cushy life. I am warm while walking (sometimes boiling hot) and warmth is life; and I can sleep when I get back.

  27 Mon Rained 1.30 p.m., wind driving & very cold. At night heard that infantry were unable to light smoke candles (each had 3) for self-protection à la tanks on Poelcapelle Road a week ago. Lost barrage and remained stuck in mud. Allcyman, waiting to surrender, took pot shots at them.

  28 Tue Gale blowing heavy rains across Salient. Clouds dragging. Coy relieved at 11 p.m. Arrived Proven 9 p.m. completely done in.

  29 Wed Broncho Bill reported arrested, & taken down to Base for court-martial.

  PROVEN

  30 August

  Confidential

  FROM Lt. P. S. T. Maddison

  TO O.C. 286 M

  Sir

  I have to report that this morning L/Cpl (unpaid) S. Nolan came to me requesting that he might see the O.C. Coy. Reason he gave was desire to revert to rank of driver. I asked why.

  He replied that Sgt Rivett appeared very dissatisfied with his work, and that as he (Nolan) was of junior rank he could not reply. L/Cpl (unpaid) Nolan said that Sgt Rivett “made the remark to him that things had been a complete box-up during his (Sgt Rivett’s) absence at the Base”.

  I spoke to Sgt Rivett, who said that “from what (he) could see, things had been going from bad to worse during (his) absence”. I reminded him that he was not in command of the Section, and that his allegation reflected directly on me.

  I then called L/Cpl (unpaid) Nolan and he too appeared very dissatisfied, and still wished to revert.

  I thereupon told both N.C.O.s that I would have to refer the matter to the C.O.

  During the absence of Sgt Rivett (sick) L/Cpl (unpaid) Nolan has been of the greatest assistance to me. I gave him a programme of work, which was carried out in all details. He has splendid control over the drivers, and I believe they obey his orders with the greatest willingness.

  If, through this trifling matter, L/Cpl (unpaid) Nolan is allowed to revert, the Section will suffer, as the men will know the reason, and it will not help the spirit of cameraderie which is essential in the difficult and wasting circumstances we have gone through recently, and presumably will go through again in the near future. I should, as a personal matter, be extremely sorry to lose L/Cpl (unpaid) Nolan. He is an old Regular Soldier of the 2nd Gaultshires, and was out with the Seventh Division in 1914. He has three good conduct stripes, and a Marksman’s Certificate.

  With all due respect, Sir, I ask that his acting rank be confirmed to full Corporal (paid) so that he can in future have the just reward for his work, which will be mainly up the line. He will be indispensable if I become a casualty. I must add that Sgt Rivett is also good in his sphere, which is that of senior N.C.O. in charge of the Transport personnel and equipment generally.

  I have the honour to be,

  Sir,

  Your most obedient Servant

  P. S. T. Maddison

  lt, Gaultshire Regt attd. M.G.C.

  When after a day this letter was apparently ignored Phillip went to see Major Downham.

  While he stood to attention, his C.O. said, “Sergeant Rivett has asked to be allowed to hand in his stripes. I have refused to consider it. I note that you sign yourself as belonging to the Gaultshire Regiment, while in fact you have already been transferred to the Machine Gun Corps. Far be it from me to do anything to stand in your way, if you prefer the infantry, as apparently you do. Now will you hand over your Section to Mr. Pinnegar, and the Orderly Room sergeant will give you your warrant to proceed to the course you’ve already been warned for, at No. 3 Infantry Base Depot, Etaples, tomorrow morning.”

  *

  “I’ll leave my gramophone here, I think. If I don’t come back, would you like to keep it, and the case of records, Teddy?”

  “Of course you’ll come back, old man!”

  *

  “Thank God I’ve seen the last of that horrible little one-eyed dorp!” exclaimed a captain opposite Phillip, as the train clanked and jerked out of Poperinghe station. Looking across, he said, “Don’t I know your face? Weren’t you with the London Highlanders in September ’14? I thought so! I’m on my way to Blighty. With any luck I’ll have a job in England for the duration. Ministry of Information, Whitehall. Extra pay and allowances and green tabs! Where are you going? Etaples? My God, I don’t envy you! I’d rather be in the line than instructing at an I.B.D., any old day!”

  At Hazebrouck the train stopped long enough for them to share a bottle of champagne at the E.F.C. Phillip felt better. He began to enjoy a copy of The B.E.F. Times, a local rag produced up the line, said his new acquaintance. Some blokes had scrounged type and a printing press from a shelled house in Ypres, way back in ’15, and had started The Wipers Times, which became The New Church Times when they moved to Neuve Eglise, then The Kemmel Times, then The Somme Times, and now The B.E.F. Times.

  Phillip said it was jolly good, and why hadn’t he seen it before; to be told that it was a Divisional paper only.

  “Why doesn’t someone at G.H.Q. get it printed and distributed all over the B.E.F.? I am sure it would go like hot cakes!”

  The B.E.F. Times had all sorts of queer bits of decorative printing on its pages, long curling thistle leaves, and other wigglywoggly bits. It was very funny reading too.

  CLOTH HALL, WIPERS

  Under Entirely New Management

  The ventilation of this Theatre has been entirely overhauled during the summer months.

  SPECIAL ATTRACTIONS

  Haig’s Company in a Stirring Drama, Entitled:

  PILCKEM’S PROGRESS.

  William’s TROUPE:—

  “THE COCKCHAFERS”

  in a humorous knockabout Scene.

  Book Early. Prices as Usual.

  EDITORIAL. We must apologise to all our subscribers for the delay since our last issue. What a lot has happened in the interim! Much to rejoice and plume ourselves about, but also many old chums to regret the loss of. That unfortunately must always be the way, but this time there seems to be more than a fair proportion of the old brigade. Much as we regret the loss of our old G.O.C. we cannot begrudge his departure and well-merited honours. Also the loss is tempered by the arrival, in his successor, of one of the ‘Cognoscenti’.

  H’m, thought Phillip. That must be Plumer. He was cognisant of the Salient, as Gough wasn’t.

  There has been so much to write about since our last issue that one is rather at a loss where to begin. Hindenburg has won a long series of victories (vide Official German news), and we have met with many repulses (vide occupants of many well-aired and commodious cages in the neighbourhood of Vimy, Messines, and Vlamertinghe). However the war goes on, and we are putting our faith on the journey of Ramsay Macdonald to Stockholm!!!

  The Editor has just returned from thirty days of the best and brightest. A lot of time he spent in London with the wind well up and a crick in the neck, but otherwise only filled with wonder at the barefaced robbery which is rife. We should imagine that there are many pe
ople who will be sorry when the war is over and they don’t all keep restaurants!

  He wondered how Eugene was getting on, and if he had hit it off with Mavis. Gene had not written since his return, although he had written twice to Gene. Perhaps he and Mavis—but it was unthinkable.

  GREAT LABOUR MEETING AT DICKEBUSH

  Flamsey MacBonald in the Chair

  Last night Flamsey MacBonald addressed a large and sympathetic audience at the Town Hall, Dickebush. Powerful support was given by Messrs. Grictor Vayson, Arthur Tenderson and a host of other hard (working) labourites. Mr. MacBonald commenced by saying that the war should be stopped (loud and unanimous cheering), and said that if only they would send him to Christiania he would see to it. (A heckler here suggested that sending him to hell might help matters.) He said that he had the interests of the working man at heart. (Loud and unanimous cheers from Grictor Vayson.) When asked, “Who the devil asked you to look after the working man, why not get on with the job yourself”, Mr. Flamsey only looked pained and surprised at the ingratitude of the working man who grudged him his self-appointed task of doing nothing in the House of Commons at four hundred a year … a whizz bang then fell within a couple of miles. As all present had every desire to avoid any harm happening to these modest delegates, a rush was made to the platform to safeguard them from danger. They, however, had already left, so that the citizens of Dickebush were prevented from wishing them Godspeed.

  He put down the paper. Father had got angry like that with Aunt Theodora, who had wanted the war to stop two years ago, and had been boo’d with others when she tried to make a speech from the plinth of Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square. He must write to her, and ask how she was getting on with the crèche for babies in the East End, organised by Sylvia Pankhurst.