We five orderlies received from Maj Relsall 5 bottles beer, 1 tin of peas, beans, Salmon, Tongue, chocolate and cigarettes, 3 packets of butterscotch and a cake. Capt Newland an autographic pocket Kodak between us.
Capt Smith a large ready cooked ham, from Asst Surgeon Cooper and Fanamdus 6 bottles of beer, some whisky and cigars, S&T Issue, pudding 8oz and cake 8oz from Daily News and Telegraph, and 4oz rum and 1 pint of beer. Regiment for us from Queens 4lb of pudding and 2 fowls. Ward Boys some fruit and a pudding (native) and some roasted almonds. Hospital cooks a cake. Some Christmas but feel very lonely wish I was at home with Liddle. Mail expected in today. Went to early service 8 o’clock, service and hymns at Hospital 3pm.
Xmas Dinner – Duck, green peas, roast potatoes. Plum pudding and custard, dried apricots, roast peanuts and beer. (Henry White)
However, in a land where sickness and disease were rife, not everyone was in a position to enjoy the festivities:
Dear All
Am unfortunately writing to you from a bed of sickness – nothing much simply a bad attack of diarrhoea, but enough of course to prevent me from enjoying my Xmas dinner . . .
The dinner I am giving the people here is as follows.
Soup
Fish Mayonnaise
Duck and Vegetables
Plum Pudding
Pate de Foie Gras
Asparagus
Sweets and Preserves
Rather a good dinner but unfortunately nothing that I can eat . . . You mustn’t think we feed on the above scale every day. It is a special effort.
I wonder whether another Christmas will see me out here. I sincerely hope not.
The railway from Basra has now passed Safarh. And we have been busy for the last week unloading stores . . . chiefly good cheer for Christmas. Among this there were twelve large barrels of beer . . .
I’ve had plenty of time to think yesterday and today lying here doing nothing and most of my thoughts have turned homewards to past Christmases. I’ve seen myself waking up early in the morning and getting out of bed to receive my presents and give in exchange when funds ran to it. I’ve seen myself singing ‘Christmas Awake’ in the old parish church and the old rector in his fine voice and happy phrases wishing his flock a Merry Xmas. I have seen myself coming home and eating largely of goose and savoury pudding followed by numerous chocolates. I have seen myself relapsing temporarily into a state of coma and finally emerging to have a piece of Christmas cake at tea and so perhaps to a Christmas party.
Well, either next year or the year after I hope the same sort of Xmas will happen to me again. The actors will be older but the spirits will be there and that’s the main thing.
Well here’s to that next merry meeting. May it come sooner than we hope.
Ps: I find I have written quite a long letter. You’ll have to thank the diarrhoea.8 (Capt Herbert Winn, 2/5th Gurkhas)
While Maude gathered his forces on the Tigris, further pressure was being applied to the Turks by a British advance across the Sinai Desert. By the end of 1916, Gen Sir Archibald Murray’s force had established a strong defensive position 100 miles east of the Suez Canal, so ending the Turkish threat to this vital imperial artery. Once established in this position Murray began to assess whether it would be feasible in the New Year to advance into Palestine and inflict a decisive defeat on the Turks. A key settlement occupied in Sinai was El Arish on the coastal plain. This became the main advance camp for the Egyptian Expeditionary Force (EEF) where men and matériel began to concentrate for the coming offensive:
We should have got in for Xmas Eve, but a great salt lake intervened: these areas are very dangerous, we often got our horses in up to the girths in the neighbourhood of the lakes and in places there are awful quicksands where horses entirely disappeared in a few minutes.
I therefore called a halt for the night, but when I rode round later on to see that the guards were properly placed, I went down to the lake and very carefully crossed not only the dried up bog, but the lake itself at a narrow part. It was quite firm and so exactly like a frozen lake in England very lightly coated with snow that I do not think anyone could distinguish between the two with the eye.
I had reveille sounded at 4 (or 0400 as we now have to write it) and consulted the native N.C.O.s as to the feasibility of taking a short cut across the lake. They were unanimous in declaring that the whole convoy would be swallowed up. I told them that nevertheless that was the route I intended to take and not a protest was raised. Whether their compliance was due to an unbounded confidence in my lucky star or to sheer helplessness to combat my pigheadedness I cannot say, but they followed to a man.
We had reached an island in the middle of the frozen lake when Xmas dawn broke: all the stars had faded except one wonderful star in the East, which had been a thing of great use to me as well as beauty in the campaign and which all the natives call THE STAR. In places the ice cracked and water oozed up through, but for the most part all was as firm as an arctic sea.
A great awe seemed to have come over man and beast. I halted and looked down the line, it was quite uncanny for there was neither sound nor motion . . . We might have been there for ages, frozen or bewitched. When I stalked on the ghostly procession followed soundlessly, and then weirder that all in this place of infinite solitude, music came from some near but invisible source: ‘Adeste Fideles’ and ‘Hark! The Herald Angels’, and about the same time there was a pulsation as of many wings overhead – a host of aeroplanes had turned out to see who was crossing the lake.
The sun broke gloriously and soon we were in camp where a warm Xmas welcome and breakfast awaited us.
The day spent almost entirely in the saddle in the bracing air gave me a great zest for the Xmas dinner at 7.30 at which nearly all the officers in the neighbourhood – about twenty – were present. Bagpipes escorted the flaming pudding and natives masquerading as Father Xmas, Bloody Bill, Harlequin and Columbine etc played weird instruments at dessert as they processed round the board.9 (Lt Joseph McPherson, Egyptian Camel Transport Corps)
In the Balkans too, December 1916 found British forces having advanced into contact with the enemy. The Bulgarian threat to Salonika had passed by May 1916, so Allied forces under French Gen Sarrail began moving north from their defensive lines towards the Greek–Serbian frontier along which the Bulgarians were entrenched. In August, when Sarrail launched his first offensive, spearheaded by French and Serbian troops, the British Salonika Force (BSF) under Lt Gen George Milne was holding a 90-mile front that included the wide, flat Struma Valley, which during summer was one of Europe’s malarial blackspots, and the tangle of hills and ravines beside Lake Doiran, a position that German and Bulgarian military engineers had turned into a veritable fortress.
Later offensive pushes by French, Russian and Serbian forces placed the latter back on home soil with the liberation of Monastir on 19 November, the last major action before worsening winter weather conditions intervened. It would be spring 1917 before the BSF engaged in any major fighting, for in the final weeks of 1916 they simply tried to adapt to the wet and freezing conditions in the Macedonian wilderness, often with little more than a bivouac tent for shelter:
The weather was bitterly cold at this time, it being only a few days before Christmas, and we found it almost impossible to get any sleep in our 2 men bivvies. As a result, most of us spent the first night or two doubling up and down in a desperate effort to get warm. As the bivvies were open at each end there was no protection from the Arctic blast, so we resolved to think up some scheme for a new sleeping arrangement.
The state of the weather was such that men began to indulge in the unusual practice of volunteering for guard duty. The reason for this was that, instead of trying in vain to get to sleep in cold bivvies, members of the guard kept a very big fire going all night, and spent the time cooking porridge. The porridge was borrowed from the Company cooks, somewhat in advance of obtaining their permission. On the whole it was a very pleasant way to spend
a cold night, except that in keeping out the cold we sat as close to the fire as possible, with the result that the heat stirred the lice into a frenzy of activity. We were, however, so accustomed to the activities of these boarders that we didn’t worry too much. (Pte Christopher Hennessey, 2/15th Londons)
Where the British had taken over trenches from the French there was much to be done to improve them in terms of defence and habitability. Undertaking this work during a Macedonian winter was difficult, so Christmas parcels arriving from home helped bring some cheer to proceedings. Capt Mervyn Sibly (9th Gloucesters) wrote to his sisters on Christmas Eve, just before his battalion moved to the advance line:
My dear Mildred and Enid
Thank you very much my dears for your many presents and all the trouble you have taken to brighten up my Christmas time. What a wonderful cake that is, it is quite perfect. There are two classes of cakes in the world – those that you make and other cakes. Morton and Irwin both had so-called Christmas cakes and, though they were good, they were not fit to be seen in the next trench to mine. I cut the cake first on Thursday; Morton had to go up the line on Friday, with a fatigue party working on dugouts, and I said to him ‘though I of course hoped nothing would happen to him one never knew, and we should both feel happier if he had some of my cake in his inside’. We had our first batch of mince pies on Thursday, and the second last night; Witts made quite a success of the pastry, so they, too, were ‘top-hole’.
Crosse and Blackwell’s tinned plum pudding was as nice as any I have tasted. I found a little sprig of prickly stuff, something like holly, with two red berries on and stuck it in the top then of a little brandy from someone’s emergency brandy flask was emptied round the plate and we put it all burning on the table.
We have had to keep our Christmas a little in advance as we are going into trenches this evening. I must not write further or I may get late in packing my things up.
With much love to you both my ‘best girls’
From their loving brother
Mervyn
Once in the trenches there was little activity as the enemy was also trying to have a quiet winter. Instead there was simply a need to establish routines to get them through the discomforts of trench life:
We came up to the first line on Sunday night – Christmas Eve – and took over the trenches on the extreme left of our sector; these are the trenches which extend from the Tributary Ravine to the west; on the lower slopes of Horseshoe Hill and opposite the ruined village of Doldzeli. The trenches are quite good for this part of the world and they need to be for there is no dugout accommodation and the men live in the trenches all the time. The officers have little dugouts in the side of the ravine the dimensions of mine where I am now writing are 5ft x 4ft 6ins by 3ft high. It would be a terrible little hole if it was wet but now the weather is fine it is not so bad and I can lie comfortably from corner to corner.
Thank God there was a wind today; yesterday the stench in this ravine was horrible. It comes from shallow refuse pits and shallower graves in fact I am told the legs of one dead Frenchman stick up above the ground just up the top of the bank; we must certainly put some more earth on top of him at night when we can go there unobserved.
I mentioned in another letter the parcels and letters I received on Boxing Day. The men were delighted to receive a good mail of Christmas parcels in the trenches . . .
This is really a bit of a rest cure – not very much work to do and the rest of the time, or greater part of it, I spend in my dugout sleeping or reading or writing in a recumbent position. I am a great believer in getting a proper amount of sleep in trenches. Many people seem to mess about doing nothing in particular when off duty and get haggard and cross through want of sleep.10 (Capt Mervyn Sibly)
Soon after coming into contact with ‘Johnny Bulgar’ many in the BSF found him a sporting opponent who was keen to abide by the unwritten rules of the ‘live and let live system’. Christmas provided a good test of this as Bulgaria, being an Orthodox country, celebrated on 7 January, which meant they could have regarded 25 December as just another day of the war. But this was generally not the case:
To-day is the Bulgar Christmas, and I have heard only some half-dozen shells of ours go over, for which I am glad, for they left us pretty quiet on Christmas Day, and it is only fair to do ditto.11 (Lt John Hammond, Medical Officer, 10th Devons)
For those serving on the lines of communication or troops passing through the large transit camp called Summerhill, there was much more in the way of food and entertainment on offer thanks to the close proximity of depots and the ‘bright lights’ of the city of Salonika. Lt Holroyd Birkett Barker (134th Siege Battery, RGA) had just returned from hospital on Malta, where he had been recovering from malaria, and spent Christmas at Summerhill while awaiting re-posting to his unit:
Christmas Day under very unusual surroundings compels one to reflect upon the destiny that has led us here. We have very little work to do and after breakfast our main concern is to work up an appetite that will do justice to the dinner to be provided in the mess, which has been spoken of in very impressive tones during the last few days. At last the moment arrives, and we find ourselves in the mess hut – a long tin shed with a sandy floor, blankets hung along the sides for tapestry, forms to sit on, and candles stuck in old jam tins for illumination. Other tins are filled with soil and holly stands precariously in its midst; here and there red, white and blue paper is twisted . . . and at the head of the table appeared in an unsteady hand the word ‘Welcome’. This completes the decorative element. We then turn on to soup – unnamed but apparently made from cayenne pepper – goose and turkey of most excellent flavour, a Christmas pudding and mince pies that are but vaguely reminiscent of the real thing and lastly jellies quite innocent of flavours and eaten, through pressure on the cutlery equipment, from a knife, oranges, nuts – but no crackers for them – other fruit that defies description.
What the function lacks in one department however is made up for by the general hilarity prevailing. Nature too is doing her best for the sun has been shining all day and a general warmth in the afternoon made a short walk along the plain very attractive. A discordant note was struck during the day that jarred upon the tranquil harmony of the scene, for two enemy aeroplanes appeared overhead apparently with the intention of bombing the town, and were vigorously fired at by anti-aircraft guns from all sites. Doubtless both of the opposing parties have attended Divine Service this morning and have hailed the Prince of Peace, and have then proceeded to pray for success for their respective arms, and are now sternly endeavouring to inflict slaughter upon each other. Surely only a Christian conscience can fail to detect an inconsistency in such a programme.
In the evening some promiscuous singing brings to a close a day that will no doubt be, throughout my life, memorable among the lengthening line of Christmases to come.
Not all Christmas dinners proved so memorable:
On Xmas Eve all Supply Officers of the ASC met for dinner at the White Tower – about 80 in all with various colonels and generals as guests. It was a most solemn and funereal affair . . . I had practically nothing to eat; I paid 15 francs for the ticket and probably have to pay another 10 for the champagne the guests drank, so zut, I do not think I shall patronize it next year. The worst of it was, I was opposite some new officers I had never seen before, and as we were at table for three hours, 8–11, conversation languished. What made it all the worse was loud applause from the next room, where 4 enticing Parisian ladies were dancing quadrilles with much display of lingerie. No, no more Xmas dinners at 30 francs for me.12 (2/Lt Eric de Normann, ASC Main Supply Depot)
Following dinners, many units put on concerts of varying size and standards, many of which would have served to lift the spirits of even Lt de Normann:
Already a programme had been prepared and sent to print (per duplicator). A goodly number of the men had promised to contribute various items to the concert on Christmas night. A few boards had been
‘found’, and with these a rough-and-ready stage had been constructed at one end of the building which we used as ‘dining-hall’. Then, the crowning achievement of all was the hiring of a piano from a Greek. Yes, wonder of wonders, a piano was obtainable even in Macedonia. You will believe me that its ‘tone’ was not quite perfect when I tell you that it was brought over three miles of bad roads to our camp, on a springless vehicle supplied by the ASC. Nevertheless, properly manipulated it produced ‘some’ music . . .
The first item on the programmes was a marching tune, excellently rendered on the piano by a certain Sgt-Maj. Then followed four or five songs, the audience joining in the chorus in each case. We also heard some good recitations, in which direction I also ‘did my bit’. We were also fortunate in having an expert conjurer in the Company, who proved the truth of that oft-repeated statement, ‘The quickness of the hand deceives the eye’. Then Sapper T gave us a turn; he could imitate almost any noise from the clucking of a broody-hen to the screeching of a circular-saw, and he had us all roaring with laughter before he sat down . . . Some of the men contributed short humorous stories. Volunteers were invited to step on stage and give a turn, and there was a big response.
Of course we couldn’t close the meeting without the usual votes of thanks, after which we sang the National Anthem with great vigour. Then came a messenger and warned us there was likely to be an air-raid, so we popped off to bed, extinguishing all lights, and were soon in the land of dreams. Thus ended the happiest day I have yet spent on Active Service. Xmas Day, 1916, will always live in my mind as a ‘Red letter day’.
Christmas in the Trenches Page 8
