Ta ta’ the noo
Dearest love, Norman
25/7/16
Dear all
The great day is over and our examinations are finished. The final took place yesterday 24th July and now we are waiting for another General to inspect us (probably on Friday) and are then leaving here. The exam lasted about 4 hours and included Military Law, Military Organisation, Topography, Field engineering, interior economy, Infantry training, Trench warfare and musketry, so you see it covered a great deal of ground. Everything connected with it we had learnt in our own time. I have a very high percentage of marks throughout the course, about 80%. This is among the top dozen in the Company at least.
Since writing last I have changed my plans and am coming home first and not getting anything until I am gazetted, unless I am told to do so. I will wear mufti at home. Can you send me a decent leather bag to hold boots, shirts etc not too small.
I will probably send a parcel of things home this week.
I may be home for about 3 weeks. I will telegraph the day I leave which I think will be Saturday. Is Fred Chiverton at home yet? If so give him my kind regards.
I will be glad when I see the last of Lichfield.
Best love Norman
Editor: Perhaps because Norman was working so hard, perhaps because he was revising for exams, only 12 letters appear to have been written during officer training. Similarly, between receiving his commission and arrival in France there is a curious gap of some two months when letters were either not written or not kept.
Norman, a newly commissioned second lieutenant.
Norman
On August 16th 1916 I was commissioned at Whittington Barracks into the Seaforth Highlanders, after which I received official notification that I had been ‘appointed to a Commission in the 4th (Reserve) Seaforth Highlanders stationed at North Camp, Ripon, Yorks,’ being told to ‘report to the Adjutant of the above unit at once.’ I may have gone to Ripon first, although my memory is that on leaving Lichfield I went to Glasgow to buy my officer’s kit. I went with my friend Jock Henderson. We had both gone through the Cadet Battalion at Lichfield together and had been commissioned on the same day, Jock being posted to the Argylls. We did our shopping in Sauchiehall Street having been granted an allowance to buy our officer’s kilt, sporran and a claymore – although what we wanted a claymore for in the trenches I do not know. The kilt, however, I came to swear by, for that seven yards of cloth went round your waist and kept it warm. It was wonderful and in my opinion it was the best garment to have in the trenches. Later, when I was in France, and it was wet, I found that it was better to take the kilt off and put it around the shoulders before going into the line. Then, when you got up into the front line you wiped or scooped off all the mud and sweat from your thighs and put your kilt on, tightened it up and you were nice and snug and warm. Trousers and puttees became and stayed wet, it was impossible to get them dry, and trousers were very thin compared to the kilt, there was no comparison. Such insights were, however, learnt from experience, and I was still several weeks away from gaining such knowledge.
With my new uniform I left Scotland and returned to Ripon and waited until I was posted to France. In the meantime we were given refresher courses at the No1 School of Instruction in everything from tactical problem solving to advancing under artillery fire, from lectures on military law to the organisation of bombing parties. I was passing time until, in due course, I would be sent to fill up the vacancies left by those who were killed or had been wounded. Every person who went out as a replacement was fully aware of that. Even so, there was excitement, elation even. I was looking forward to the battle, even though I was a little bit afraid, naturally, not knowing what I was in for, but eager to get there too.
CHAPTER FIVE
Over the Pond
Norman
On October 18th 1916, I left Charing Cross Station to join the regiment in France. I was seen off by Fred Chiverton, my old friend from Hartlepool. He had been the last to see me off when I had changed trains at Newcastle Station, prior to my journey to Scotland and ultimate enlistment at Fort George. Now he was here again, and it was a gesture on his part that I greatly appreciated. He had come down to London especially, so to mark the occasion we popped into a photographer’s shop to have our picture taken together.
The Battle of the Somme was in full swing and there had been tremendous casualties.
The Highland regiments were combined into one Division, the 51st Highland Division, which was really reserved for battles. That might sound silly but some regiments did a lot of work in the trenches but did not take part in great battles. The Highland Division was the reverse; it trained for special battles as a rule and they were all Highland, Gordons, Black Watch, Seaforths, Camerons, Argylls and so forth, and we all trained together. We trained behind the lines and then, when we were ready, we entered the trenches and were told the Order of Battle.
Norman pictured with his good friend Fred Chiverton just hours before the former’s embarkation for France.
There was tremendous divisional pride. Oh, for years after the war I wore a gold ring with the Highland Division crest on it, which I had made for me specially. Was I scared? You can’t use terms like that. You knew the horrors of war, we knew that 60,000 men had become casualties on July 1st. We went not thinking we’d come out of it, we didn’t think we’d live. We hoped we’d live and we hoped we’d get a blighty wound more than anything, a wound that would sent us home.
I was on draft for France and I arrived at the base at Etaples and the Bull Ring where there was a severe form of training; there was no mincing matters there. It was really very cruel indeed for privates and NCOs. In the bayonet fighting, for instance, apart from sticking bayonets into sandbags, there were one or two skulls lying about to illustrate that a bayonet stuck into a bone was difficult to remove. A bayonet was thrust into a skull but could only be removed by sticking your foot on it and shortening your grip on the rifle. There was an object in showing this, of course, but it seemed to me a little bit too much. I have no idea from where these skulls had been acquired.
The Bull Ring at Etaples. Training here was hard and often brutal before the men were sent up the line.
I was only there a short time before I took a train which meandered slowly eastward for two days to go the sixty miles to the front line. It took an age, not least because the train was pushed constantly into sidings for a time to let more urgent traffic through. I had been commissioned into the 4th Battalion but I was being posted to the 6th because they were well below strength. Almost as soon as I got there, we were told we were going over the top and so we immediately started intensive training behind the line. We were to take the village of Beaumont Hamel. This village had been an objective on 1st July but the attack had failed and so four months later we were to be sent forward to take it. I know we were excited and, by not having been over the top before, were not particularly frightened. The bravest man is very often the one who has not yet seen action.
Editor: The autumn of 1916 was particularly miserable with wet and cold days punctuated by periods of hard frost and snow. In the line, mud became an almost overwhelming problem as the sides of trenches caved-in owing to inadequate revetments. Dugouts collapsed in several parts of the line near Beaumont Hamel, killing several unsuspecting occupants. It was with some relief that the 6th Battalion Seaforth Highlanders were able to leave the line on Saturday 21st October, proceeding to the village of Forceville, and a hutted encampment. It was from this village that Norman wrote his first letter from the front.
Oct 23/16
Dear all
…After leaving the base last Friday I was 40 hours in the train before arriving at the firing line. I met the Battalion coming out of the trenches after I had walked about 10 miles. We then marched or rather dragged ourselves to a little village consisting mostly of holes held together by a few bricks.
This is a rest for us. We shovel mud off the roads, drill etc about 1,0
00 metres from the Bosche. The artillery is well behind us and kick up an awful din, day and night. The sky is one blaze of light from the guns and we can hardly hear one another speak.
We do look guys in our ‘tin’ helmets. The mud is really awful. Even on the main roads it is up to our boot tops and off the road will drag a man’s boots off with puttees on. In the trenches it varies from ankle to almost waist deep and men have to be hauled out sometimes with ropes.
The weather is beastly and we are at present in an open field near a wood. The Bosche shelled the place the other day. The big shells make a noise like a railway train.
For miles behind the line there is a continuous stream of traffic, with only a few inches between each vehicle. One stream goes to and one from the trenches and motor cyclists etc dodge about or rather swim through the mud.
There are some huge guns here and one can hear them at the base.
Water is very scarce for either drinking or washing purposes as we are not allowed to use any but sterilized water. Baths are unknown, I am absolutely filthy with mud and have to scrape it off. On the whole though I prefer this to being at home as I am doing something at last and although it is a very hard life it is not so monotonous.
The Western Front. In the distance Very lights illuminate No Man’s Land.
I am very much in need of cigarettes. Would you send some of those little black nigroids for the throat. You see we sleep in the mud. Cakes and things will be welcome as I am always hungry and any sort of toffee. There is no news and of course, I can’t tell it you if there is. I saw a ‘tank’ yesterday. Some things! Don’t forget umpteen parcels of eatables and cigarettes.
You better lodge an order to supply me them, about 100 a week and I will send a cheque.
Best love, Norman
26 Oct 16
Dear All
Just a line to let you know that I am A1.
The only thing to complain about is the mud and cold. It’s rained ever since I came out.
I change my socks every day but they are soaked with mud in 10 minutes. We sleep on the wet ones and try and dry them a bit, as we have no fires and the only lights we have are candles and we cannot get those always.
Instead of washing our legs we scrape the mud off with a knife. We have no blankets of course and have to sleep in our wet clothes. Thank goodness I brought the sleeping bag with me. When we are out of the trenches I manage to get a decent sleep. The men have an awful time. They are up to their waists in mud in the trenches and when in billets they sleep on the muddy floors of old barns, stables etc with more hole than roof.
We rarely take any clothes off at all. I always put on everything I have and my pyjamas on top then pile equipment on top of me. Socks will be very welcome and some quinine tablets from Boots for colds. I haven’t been more than 48 hours in one place since I came out. At present we are out for a ‘rest’. Yesterday I was scraping or rather ladling mud off the road from 8am to 5pm and it rained steadily all day and all this on a sandwich of cheese and bread. This was about a mile from the trenches (firing line) and was our ‘rest’. We were well splashed with mud from the traffic. It was funny to see a chap bending down ladling mud with his back to the road and a bus would dash past and he would catch the stream of mud ‘where his kilt wasn’t’. Excuse this writing but the nearest candle is 2 yards away. I am going to send home to London for a proper trench coat, oiled silk lined as the coats I have simply mop up the wet. Nothing will keep the wet out for long. We do not get a rum ration every day but it is absolutely necessary I think.
In the line. This picture of the 6th Seaforths was taken on the Somme in the spring of 1916 prior to Norman’s arrival.
A map of the area on the Somme with which Norman was to become very familiar. The front lines had remained static since the failure of the first assault on the German-held village of Beaumont Hamel on 1st July 1916. Below, the village of Mailly-Maillet through which Norman frequently passed before the second attack on 13th November.
We have to censor our men’s letters home and it is most amusing sometimes. The average Tommy is quite a cheerful creature though. The Army Service Corps and other non combatant corps are greatly envied out here. They have a decent time. The Royal Garrison Artillery have a soft time. It is a fine sight to see the aeroplanes being shelled. They were doing a lot of that yesterday when I was mud scraping.
Best love Norman
P.S Will you send a Wolseley vest out, long sleeves and any patent comforts you can find.
Norman
We had Hallowe’en before the battle, it was the last day of October, when all the officers gathered together and we had something to eat and there was a lot of heavy drinking and a sing-song. The Pipe Sergeant Major was brought in to play the pipes and they are deafening in a small barn and when he had finished, the Colonel said ‘What will you have to drink?’ And he said ‘I will have a crème de menthe’. And he held out his mug and they filled it up with crème de menthe and he drank it all in one draught. God! I would have thought he was as sick as a dog. I wasn’t in a very good condition either because I wasn’t a drinker at all, and naturally this was new territory for me. I was thumping the table and there was some broken glass about, and I remember a very kind major restraining me a little bit in case I thumped on the glass, but, worst of all, early that next morning I had to go up the front line with a sergeant to do a reconnaissance before it became light. I got back to billets, a tent it was, and shortly afterwards I set off. I had to catch a lorry, a very primitive lorry, for I can remember the smell of the exhaust was pretty awful, and go up to the line at Beaumont Hamel and do a reconnoitre, over the top, just to have a look round to see what I could see. Well, I was feeling a bit sick, I can tell you, especially with the fumes of the lorry exhaust, when I got up there, in the line. The pair of us went up the communication trench into the front line, up a short ladder and into no man’s land and looked. We crawled about there in no man’s land but I’m afraid I wasn’t really any use because I didn’t really know what I was there for, having just got to France and never having been up before. I remember that I froze stiff when a star shell burst. And I had a look round to see what I could see, which wasn’t much, and then I had to get back to the regiment because by then it was daybreak, to report to the orderly room to the adjutant.
Nov 3rd 1916
…Thanks very much for the papers, I read every word including adverts about four times. I don’t think I’ve seen a newspaper since leaving the Base. The mud still continues. I never dreamt of such mud. Yesterday I got stuck and couldn’t move, I had to be hauled out. My boot came away from the upper and is now being sewn together. Whom do you think I met today? Henderson of the Argylls. I was glad to see him. Bolton met him at Ripon. Yesterday morning at 5am I was in No Man’s Land doing a bit of reconnoitoring. You should have seen the ‘Strafe’ last night. Every gun was turned onto the Bosche and it was one roar all night and the Bosche trenches were one line of fire. They answered it fairly strongly but we have the upper hand on them easily. We rarely see a Bosche aeroplane up. Today I counted ten British observation balloons up and couldn’t see an enemy one. Our airmen simply swarm over their trenches. I saw a fine parachute descent from a balloon today.
The end of a sap or trench from which the cameraman had been afforded a clear sight of the famous basilica in the British-held town of Albert. It is just possible to identify the figure of the Madonna leaning at 120° to the ground as shown in the picture inset..
The 6th Seaforths in a trench. The man in the foreground is reading a copy of the popular newspaper The Daily Sketch while the man behind peers through a periscope into No Man’s Land.
The thing that strikes me most about the trenches is the small number of men holding the line. One can walk for a hundred yards along the front line trench and never see a soul except a single sentry. We see some rotten sights but it’s all in the game… We have umpteen ‘tanks’ here. I saw thirteen in a row today! They are fearsome things and
can climb a slope of 60 degrees or walk through houses.
About nine tenths of the troops out here never see a German. The infantry go through more in one day than the Army Service Corps, Royal Garrison Artillery etc do in six months.
Best love Norman
Sunday 5.11.16
Dear all
The weather is hindering operations out here as per usual. I got a letter, my first from England. It was welcome. Sunday is exactly similar to any other day out here. We often forget which day it is. No rest for the weary! Life out here is quite bearable when one gets used to it. Let me give you a little advice, Bolton. Don’t on any account join the infantry if you can possible get into any other branch of the service.
They have double the work of any other branch and are the least thought of. Well there is no more news so au Revoir.
Best Love Norman
P.S I am looking forward to a letter from home. Send some local papers and an occasional Bystander and some socks and handkerchiefs.
Tuesday 3pm
7/11/16
Dear Dad and Mother,
I’ve just finished giving my platoon respirator drill. We are well in the gas zone. Luckily we are out of the trenches at present and resting in a little village behind the trenches. We are in tents, (very leaky).
We are not very much troubled by shell-fire. Occasionally they shove some dirty ones over and sometimes an aeroplane playfully drops a bomb or two. I don’t mind it when we’re in the trenches but object to it when we want to get a bit of sleep. However, don’t worry about me. I’ll come through A1.
Last Man Standing Page 8
