New Years Eve 1917 - from Edmund Blunden.

New Years Eve 1917 is vividly described by Edmund Blunden in his wonderful book, ‘Undertones of War’.

He spent Christmas and New Year in the Ypres Salient.

‘Undertones of War’ is one of the finest books written and his personal vibrant account of the war. It is a must read for anyone interested in the war.


“At the moment of midnight, December 31, 1917, I stood with some acquaintances in a camp finely overlooking the whole Ypres battlefield. It was bitterly cold, and the deep snow all round lay frozen. We drank healths, and stared out across the snowy miles to the casual flares, still rising and floating and dropping. Their writing on the night was as the earliest scribbling of children, meaningless; they answered none of the questions with which a watcher’s eyes were painfully wide. Midnight; succession of coloured lights from one point, of white ones from another, bullying salutes of guns in brief bombardment, crackling of machine-guns small on the tingling air; but the sole answer to unspoken but important questions was the line of lights in the same relation to Flanders as at midnight a year before.

All agreed that 1917 had been a sad offender. All observed that 1918 did not look promising at its birth.”

Christmas 1917 - Wilfred Owen,

Unknowing to him Christmas 1917 would be the last Christmas that Wilfred Owen would spend on this earth. He celebrated it in Scarborough at the Clarence Gardens Hotel.

On 19th December he went up to Edinburgh for the weekend . Returning to Craiglockhart:

“Then I went off to Tyncastle. They were in the act of writing Christmas Letters to me! My address was on the Blackboard. And ‘original’ Christmas Cards were all over the room! I am going to see the Gays this afternoon & may stay with them tomorrow. Am feeling very fit, in spite of the wretched weather & journey. “

Christmas in the Clarence Gardens Hotel was ‘very mopish’, mainly because the Commanding Officer, ‘a terrible old misanthrope in the morning’, held an orderly room for punishment – forbidden in King’s Regulations on Christmas Day – and shouted at everyone in sight.

Christmas 1917 - A Seige Battery in Italy.

This account of Christmas 1917 comes from the book “With British Guns in Italy A Tribute to Italian Achievement.” By Hugh Dalton.

Ten British Batteries went to Italy in the spring of 1917 and his book is a diary by a Subaltern officer in a Seige battery

“On the 23rd we made a reconnaissance up the mountains to look for positions. We started through Bassano, which the Austrians had begun to shell the day before with long range guns, starting a trickling, pitiful exodus of terrified civilians. Just before reaching Marostica we struck up a valley running northwards past Vallonara. The road soon began to rise more steeply. It was a war road, broad and of splendid surface, one of those many achievements of the Italian Engineers, which entitles them to rank easily first among the engineers of the great European Armies.

Before the war this road had been in parts a mere mule track, in parts non-existent. We went through a number of little Alpine villages, Crosara, Tortima, Fontanelli, Rubbio. We had soon risen more than three thousand feet above the plain, which lay far beneath, spread out gloriously like a richly coloured carpet, green, white and brown, through which ran two broad, twisting, silver threads, the rivers Brenta and Astico. There had been more than a hundred bends in the road up to this point, but the gradient was never uncomfortably steep. Snow lay thick on the higher levels and the pine and fir trees were all snow-crowned. Sometimes the road ran along the edge of rocky gorges, dropping sheer for hundreds of feet below, with a great mountain wall on the other hand rising sheer above us. The air grew perceptibly colder as we mounted higher.

We turned out of view of the plain over undulating snow fields and down a long valley and came out on a small plateau, screened by a gradual ridge from the eyes of the enemy. Here we provisionally chose a Battery position close to a small solitary house, known as Casa Girardi, on the edge of a pine wood. All round Italian guns were firing in the snow. We went on to Col. d'Astiago, which would be our probable O.P. The summit commanded a wonderful view of the high mountains to the northward, Longara and Fior, Columbara and Meletta di Gallio, and the sheer rock face of the Brenta gorge, and the stream far below, and the great mass of the Grappa rising beyond.

As we came down, lorry loads of Italian troops passed us going up, Alpini, Bersaglieri, Arditi and men of the 152nd Infantry Regiment. They cheered us wildly as they passed, waving their caps and crying, "Avanti! Avanti! Viva l'Inghilterra! Viva gli Alleati!" And as the string of lorries turned round and round the spiral curves of the road, now high above us, they were cheering and waving still, until they disappeared from view.

* * * * *

The Battery ate their Christmas dinner at San Martino, though the air had been thick with talk of an immediate move. On this, as on other, occasions the Major made an excellent speech, in the course of which he said: "You will be going very soon into a place where, before this war, no one would have dreamed that Siege Artillery could go. You were the first British Battery to be in action in Italy, and you will probably be the first British Battery to be in action in the Alps. We shall be very uncomfortable, at any rate for a time, but we shall pull through all right, as we always have before. It will be an honour to be proud of, and an experience to remember for the rest of our lives. And I know that whatever happens to us in this coming year, you will all behave as splendidly in the future as you have always done in the past."

The enemy was doing a good deal of night bombing at this period. Treviso and Padua were attacked with great persistency, so much so that the British G.H.Q. decided to move from the latter city to some smaller and more peaceful place. We used to hear the bombing planes coming over nearly every night and explosions more or less distant. They bombed Bassano, Cittadella and Castelfranco, the latter especially because the French had their Headquarters there. But luckily they left San Martino alone, thinking it too small to worry about. There seemed to be no anti-aircraft defences anywhere. But our Air Force soon mitigated the nuisance by raiding their aerodromes, and brought down a number of hostile planes in air fighting.

Our Staff again brought themselves into notice at Christmas by altering our official address from "B.E.F. Italy" to "Italian Expeditionary Force." I heard that the distinguished General, who introduced this reform, estimated that it would hasten victory by several months. But the stupid soldiers and their stupid relatives at home, having got into the habit of using the abbreviation "B.E.F.," shortened the new address to "I.E.F.," and the stupid postal people began to send the letters to India! And then the distinguished General had to issue another order, pointing out that "this abbreviation is unauthorised" and that "this practice must cease."

In the midst of such excitements the New Year began, and the Major was awarded the D.S.O. for work on the Carso. He was as delighted as a child, and I too was very glad. This decoration, even more than most others, has been much too freely dished out during this war among quite undeserving people, who have simply made an art of playing up to their official superiors. The Major, however, had always been something of a thorn in the side of various Headquarters, and seldom hesitated to speak his mind both to, and of, Colonels and Generals and Staff officers generally. For this reason, and also for others, I consider that he deserved a D.S.O. a great deal more than many who received one.”

Christmas 1917 - Royal Berkshire's in Italy.

This account comes from the book “The War Service of the 4Th Royal Berkshire Regiment” by Charles Robert Mowbray Fraser Cruttwell.

Christmas 1917 found them in Italy and was spent with mush festivity.

“Happy the Battalion which for a while at least in wartime has no history. We had come to Italy expecting at once to be desperately engaged against the victorious invaders. But the Italians, greatly to their credit, had reorganised their broken forces, and, with their left resting on the mountains, had repelled all attempts of the enemy to cross the Piave, swollen with autumn rains. By the end of December the British and French Armies were fully concentrated, and a period of immobility set in, not to be broken for six months. The 48th Division, which formed part of General Haking's 11th Corps, found itself peacefully installed in Army Reserve. Under the clear Italian skies, in the peaceful Venetian plain, moderately well housed and not overworked, their lot was cast in a fair ground. The two halves of the Battalion reunited on 4th December, and finally settled on the 15th December at S. Croce Bigolina, where they remained six weeks. This village is situated just east of the Brenta, about 20 miles north of Padua, where G.H.Q. were established, and a similar distance south of the foothills of the Trentino Alps, where the line ran through the famous plateau of Asiago. Excursions to these hills in small parties for the purpose of reconnaissance formed from time to time a diversion from the ordinary routine of training.

Christmas was celebrated with great festivity. The officers had supplemented the men's rations by a subscription, stores were purchased in Vicenza and Padua, and a cheque of £50 was received from the County Association for the same purpose. Dinners, concerts and suppers were provided for the Companies; the officers were given free use of the house of the Parish Priest, who was entertained by them as the guest of the evening. It was the happiest Christmas which had been spent overseas.

With the New Year winter set in with a hard, bright frost, so keen that all the running streams were frozen. Visits of inspection were paid by General Plumer, the popular Commander-in-Chief, and by General Haking, whose kindliness and geniality in chatting to the men as individuals was heartily welcomed. At this time also the gratifying news was received that the commanding officer had been awarded the C.M.G.

On the 24th January the Battalion left S. Croce amidst general regret. The excellent priest, who had worked with all his will to promote good relations, in a parting message to Colonel Clarke especially commended the honourable and chivalrous relations which had existed between the troops and the women of the neighbourhood.

At Paviola, which was reached after a weary march in a misty thaw over roads reduced to quagmires, the Battalion split up again: B and D Companies, with Headquarters remained in the same area, while Captain Challenor with the remainder moved to the Convent di Praglia, south of Padua, in order to supply working parties to the central school at G.H.Q. Here they remained till the end of February, doing every kind of job, to the complete satisfaction of those concerned. Some worked at the quarries, some at a bayonet-fighting assault course, some at the musketry school, others at the gas school; finding, however, time between their labours to play a number of football matches with neighbouring units.”

Christmas 1917 - 8th Manchester's.

The 8th Manchester Battalion from their war Diary were in Oblinghem.

Despite being very cold with two inches of snow and a frost, they managed a concert before going back to training on Boxing Day.

DECEMBER 23 1917 - OBLINGHEM
Battalion spent the day in cleaning up. etc. Church Services in the morning for all denominations. Assistant Chaplain General to 1st Army addressed the men at the C.E. service.Weather very cold and frosty.

DECEMBER 24 1917 - OBLINGHEM
Very cold - two inches of snow. Very keen frost.In the afternoon the Funeral of the men killed by bombs on 22/12/17 took place at the BETHUNE Cemetery. Fifty men and all available officers (two per Coy. stayed behind) attended.

DECEMBER 25 1917 - OBLINGHEM
Christmas Day. Each denomination held services, etc. Each Company had a Christmas Dinner in the evening followed by a concert. The P.R.I. provided pork, beer, apples, nuts, raisins, cigars, and vegetables. There was also Christmas pudding and extra vegetables. All the men's dinners were very successful and the men greatly enjoyed themselves.The Sergeants dined in the Company Sergeants Mess. The Officers also dined by companies.The day was very cold and sharp.

DECEMBER 26 1917 - OBLINGHEM
Training carried out at W26 a. Battalion Parade at 8 am. One Coy. on the range. Remainder Physical Drill & Bayonet Fighting, Musketry, Wiring and drill.Afternoon Kit Inspection. Evening a Battalion Concert in a Barn at Battalion Headquarters. Major MOORE left the Battalion for 6 months duty in U.K. Capt E. HORSFALL M.C. assumed duties of 2nd in Command.

DECEMBER 27 1917 - OBLINGHEM
The Battalion was engaged on working parties for the R.E. Motor Lorries came at 8 am (actually came 8.45 am) for the Bn. Very cold.

DECEMBER 28 1917 - OBLINGHEM
The Battalion again engaged on working parties.

DECEMBER 29 1917 - OBLINGHEM
Battalion Training in the morning. Rehearsed for G.O.C. Inspection on the 30th.

DECEMBER 30 1917 - OBLINGHEM
The Battalion marched to AVELETTE (W17 c central) where 1/5th Bn Manchester Rgt. & 127th M.G. Coy. were paraded for the Divisional Commander (Major General SOLLY-FLOOD) Inspection. The General presented ribbons to the winners of decorations (including three Military Medal winners of this Unit (Sgt WHITE, Pte POKE and Pte McCORMACK)). After the General's inspection, speech, and presentation, the troops marched past him.

DECEMBER 31 1917 - OBLINGHEM
A Coy. on Working Party. The other three Companies marched to LOCON in the morning and bathed. B & C Coys. in the afternoon had their box respirators tested. Weather very cold.At night D Coy. had a concert for New Year's Eve.

Christmas 1917 - In Rumania.

This report comes from the “War Illustrated” by Lord Northcliffe who was a War Correspondent in Rumania.

"Not a word, of course, could be sent to England or to France about the turn events were taking. Censorship at each end took care that no hint of the true state of Russia should reach the peoples who were her Allies.

This has been the bitter lot of the war correspondent all through, to see dangers ahead and not be allowed to warn his countrymen. Just about that time I made the eight days' journey to England and returned after staying only a week, for the purpose of telling responsible men that it was useless to look to Russia for further sustained effort. I even hinted at this in an article which I called "Our War." If only I could have made people understand.

In Rumania, where I was at Christmas 1917, we were muzzled again. I tried in the early autumn to warn England. that disaster threatened our latest ally. The Censor, who was also Minister of Education, said in a tone of wounded pride, "I cannot allow that to be said of my country." Two months later the larger part of his country was in enemy hands.

By Christmas the Rumanian Army had been reduced from twenty-three divisions to six. I had seen the tragedy begin and develop and culminate. There was nothing left to do. Jassy, the temporary capital after the fall of Bukarest, was a detestable little place, very dirty, grotesquely dear. I suggested that I should leave. On December 23rd I got a cable saying "Yes." On Christmas Eve, therefore, I left, in a Red Cross train, which agreed to take me to the frontier.

Next morning, Christmas Day, I woke up in the buffet of the frontier station, Ungeni, rather stiff from sleeping on my trunk and thirsting for coffee, which had all been drunk by earlier risers than I. The Red Cross train had dumped me on to the platform about midnight. There was no train in until 8 a.m. It did not actually start until about eleven, and then it was only by hard talking that I got a place aboard it. I was acting as King's Messenger, and I combined with a French officer and a Rumanian, who were also carrying diplomatic letter-bags, to force the stationmaster to allot us a compartment. There we ate our Christmas meal, pooling the contents of our haversacks.

Christmas Queues a Year Ago

Just six days we took to reach Petrograd, a journey which in ordinary times was finished in forty- eight hours. But delays are sometimes useful. At Moghileff, the Tsar's Headquarters, I learned that the Army leaders had decided to support the Revolution, and that plans were made for changing the autocracy into a constitutional monarchy. In Petrograd, half an hour after I arrived, I heard of Rasputin's removal.

Last Christmas I spent in London, on short leave between returning from the United States and going to the British front. What sticks in my memory most persistently from that period is queues. I had seen the approach of hunger from the first. In Warsaw it was only the poor who had difficulty in getting food. In Petrograd a year later scarcity had just become noticeable. In Rumania at Christmas, 1916, everyone was going short, not excepting the Queen and her children, who would have been ashamed to store up supplies as the German Imperial Family meanly did, while their "subjects" were in sore straits. Now, at last, in 1917, England was feeling the pinch. But measures were soon adopted which made the queues unnecessary.

As I look back over the past four and a half years I see how little of the hardships of war people in this country have had to endure. I shall never forget a Rumanian Minister saying to me plaintively, "How lucky you English are to live on an island !"

"And to have a Navy to protect our island," I added. Without that we should have a very different tale to tell. "

Christmas 1917 - With a Field Battery.

This account comes from the book “Three years in France with the Guns:Being Episodes in the life of a Field Battery” by C. A. Rose

His Field Battery were still in France, but 1917 Christmas was far more enjoyable than the previous year.

"The next fortnight was spent under most happy conditions, and all ranks had an enjoyable time. As Christmas approached, active preparations were made to excel anything we had ever had before in the way of festivities, and this was possible now that we were out of action. Quarter-Master-Sergeants, puffed out with importance, were to be seen strutting hither and thither, returning with mysterious sacks and parcels, presumably filled with good cheer.

Plucked geese and turkeys appeared in large numbers, suspended from the ceilings of billets, and several large barrels arrived on the scene, and were duly placed under lock and key in the canteen, awaiting the auspicious day. Much competition took place between batteries for the possession of the only two live pigs in the village, which eventually went to the highest bidders, while the remainder procured their joints in the form of pork from Doullens. One of the batteries meanwhile grew so attached to its prospective Christmas fare that it was almost decided to spare his life and adopt him as a mascot. His fate was sealed, however, when one day it was discovered that he had disposed of several parcels of food which had, inadvertently, been placed within his reach by some of the men.

Concerts were arranged, and the village school-room was kindly lent and artistically decorated for these occasions. The weather was all that could be desired now that we were safely lodged in billets, and it was a typical old-fashioned yule-tide, with a plentiful fall of snow followed by hard frost. The little village was in a sheltered hollow, and a small rivulet passed through it on its way down the valley, while the scenery might have been that surrounding any hamlet in the south of England.

An open air service was conducted by the Padre, for the Brigade, on 'Xmas morning, and the rest of the day was given over to sports and concerts, and the climax of enjoyment was reached at night when the men partook of their dinner. Gramaphones were well to the fore, but all kinds of musical instruments took part in the gaiety which followed.

A certain amount of latitude was given the men for a few days after, in order that they might recover from the orgy, for indeed they had never had such a gorge since their arrival in France. All were in excellent spirits, and these were by no means diminished when it became known that our next area was in front of Arras. It was recognised to be an enviable part of the line to be situated in, especially during the winter months. It was also a locality with which we had not as yet made acquaintance, and it was always interesting to visit a new portion of the front, as we disliked being too long in the same surroundings without a change of scene.

The day following New Year, the Division entered on its period of duty in the sector north of Monchy to the vicinity of Gavrelle, with the heights of Vimy, which had fallen into our hands in the previous spring on its left. "

Christmas 1917 - In Amiens, France.

This account gives a very different account. From the book “An Onlooker in France 1917-1919” William Orpen gives the Head-quarters view of Christmas 1917 in Amiens, France.

"My brother became very popular with those he met in France. Too popular, indeed, with the girls in the hotel at Amiens to please Maude or myself. Maude and I used to complain about it. Maude would say, "William, here you and I have been slaving for months to make ourselves liked by these girls, and your blinking little brother comes along, and cuts us out in a few days. It's disgusting." It was true: Maude, the A.P.M., and I, "le petit Major," took a back seat. We worked hard to prevent it, my brother did nothing: he kept silent, laughed, and won. It was very sad, and we were much upset

Christmas came with much snow and ice. Maude and I went to dinner at Captain MacColl's mess in the Boulevard Belfort. Maude remarked once, "MacColl is the only intelligent Intelligence Officer I know." We had a great dinner, and at 10 p.m. Maude and I went, in a blinding snowstorm, to the police concert. I'll never forget the fug in that place: it reeked of sweat, drink, goose and fags. They were all very happy, these huge men; all singing the saddest songs they could think of, including, of course, "The Long, Long Trail." American police were there also. They had come to Amiens to learn their job. We left late, but we had promised to return to MacColl's mess, so started for there, but after we had fallen in the snow a few times, we gave the idea up and went to bed.

About this time I went to H.Q. Tanks, and painted the General and Hotblack, and had a most interesting time. General Elles was a great chap, full of "go," and a tremendous worker. Hotblack, mild and gentle, full of charm; one could hardly imagine he had all those D.S.O.'s, and wound stripes—Hotblack, who liked to go for a walk and sit down and read poetry. He said it took his mind off devising plans to kill people better than anything else.

Then there was the "Colonel" of the Tanks—"Napoleon," they called him. A great brain he had. Before the war he knew his Chelsea well, and the Café Royal and all the set who went there. And there was a dear young Highlander also, a most gentle, shy youth. He was very happy one day; he had a "topping" time. He was out with the Tanks, and he killed a German dispatch-rider and rode home on his bicycle. "

Christmas 1917 - 2nd Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry.

This account comes from the book “The Story of the 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry” by G. K. Rose.

They spent Christmas 1917 in Billets at Bray. It was a small rest in old dilapidated huts.

“On December 7 the 183rd Brigade relieved the Battalion, which moved back to tents in Havrincourt Wood. It was bitter! Shells and aeroplane bombs made the wood dangerous as well as cold. On the 10th a further tour in the front line commenced This time trenches north-east of Villers Plouich were held. Wiring was strenuously carried out, but save for activity by trench-mortars the enemy lay quiet. The Battalion returned to Havrincourt Wood on December 15 and remained in its frozen tents until the Division was relieved by the 63rd. After one night at Lechelle the Battalion entrained at Ytres and moved back to Christmas rest-billets at Suzanne, near Bray.

Huts, built by the French but vacated more than a year ago and now very dilapidated, formed the accommodation. In them Christmas dinners, to procure which Bennett had proceeded early from the line, were eaten. And O'Meara conducted the Brigade band.
The Battalion's mid-winter respite was brief. On New Year's Eve, 1917, the 2/4th Oxfords quitted the wretched Suzanne huts and marched through Harbonnières to Caix. No 'march past' was necessary or would have been possible, for so slippery was the road that the men had to trail along its untrodden sides as best they could. Old 61st Divisional sign-boards left standing nearly a year ago greeted the return to an area which was familiar to many. The destination should have been Vauvillers, but the inhabitants of that village were stricken with measles. Better billets and freedom from infection compensated for a longer march. At Caix the Battalion was comfortable for a week.

The Division's move from the Bray-Suzanne area to south of the Somme heralded a new relief of the French, whose line was now to be shortened by the amount on its left flank between St. Quentin and La Fère. About January 11 the Battalion found itself once more in Holnon Wood, where a large number of huts and dug-outs had been made by the French since last spring. The front line, now about to be held between Favet and Gricourt, was almost in its old position. The outpost line of nine months ago had crystallised into the usual trench system. Those courteous preliminaries, so much the feature of a French relief, were, on this re-introduction to scenes soon to become so famous—and so tragic—a little marred by an untimely German shell which wounded Weller, who had accompanied the Colonel to see the new line.

Christmas 1917 - with the 4th Field Ambulance, A.I.F.

Private William Dalton Lycett, 2063, of the 4th Field Ambulance A.I.F. enlisted on 12th September 1914, he embarked on the 22nd December 1914 at Melbourne on the H.M.A.T. “Berrima”.

This extract is from his diary which can be found online at Anzacs.net: - and describes his 1917 Christmas where unfortunately he was ill and stuck down with the ‘runs’.

Sunday 23rd December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m. and at work 8 a.m., heavy frost and very cold. Took out two lead plugs. Half day off this afternoon, too cold to go out, sat shivering in hut, could not get warm. Fritz plane bombing 6.30 p.m. Into bed 9 p.m.

Monday 24th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m. and at work 8 a.m. Wet frost this morning and cold. Re-tapped a safety plug hole in Huntslett. Sleet and rain inclined to fall. Refitted lead plug. Number of men pretty drunk this afternoon so not much work doing. Had diarrhoea today pretty bad but little better tonight. Wrote letter home tonight and turned into bed 9 p.m.

Tuesday 25th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m. and at work 8 a.m. Feel sick today so knocked off at 10 a.m., got diarrhoea bad. Half holiday this afternoon, big no. of men in liquor. Will Hill had tea with us. Spent most of day in my bunk. Feel very rotten tonight, turned in for night at 6.30 p.m. First real fall of snow was on Xmas day.

Wednesday 26th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m. and went on sick parade at 9 a.m., snowing hard and strong wind. Back at 11 a.m. Had nothing only boiled milk all day. Dad has to go away tomorrow to the C.C.S. on his way to the base and perhaps to Aust. Feel little better tonight. Wrote letter to Dais. and turned into bed 8.30 p.m.

Thursday 27th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m., snow still on ground and pretty cold. This is third day have had nothing to eat, just little boiled milk from farm. Went on sick parade. Dad left at 11 a.m. for the base, hope he gets back to Aust. Spent day reading, news of first British reprisal raid on Mannheim. Guns up forward bursting out in spasms. Wrote two letters home and in bed 8 p.m.

Friday 28th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m., feel better this morning. Very keen and cold, ground still covered with snow. Went on sick parade and back at 11 a.m. Fritz planes over about 11.30 a.m., soon driven off. Spent afternoon reading, started to blow very strong this evening, had little bread and margarine for first time in four days. In bed 9 p.m.

Saturday 29th December, 1917

Up at 7 a.m., guns been booming heavily all night, snowed a little. Received word this morning to go on leave at midnight tonight. Went to doctors at 9 a.m. for chat (vermin) and scaby free ticket. Packed up my gear this afternoon and got ready. After tea cleaned myself thoroughly and set out for Popperinghe station at 10.30 p.m.

Sunday 30th December, 1917

Caught train 1.30 a.m. and arrived at Boulogne at 11.30 a.m., went on boat and crossed to Folkestones, then to London by 8.30 p.m., reported at Hdqtrs and caught train 11 p.m. for Middlesboro.

Monday 31st December, 1917

Arrived at Middlesbro' station at 6.30 a.m. and went to Uncle Dan's, had breakfast then went out for hair cut and bath before dinner. Pretty tired so spent a quiet afternoon indoors and after tea Uncle Dan went round with me to Uncle Charlie's and we spent a pleasant and quiet evening, getting home and to bed at 11 p.m.

Christmas 1917 - 6th Battalion, The Durham Light Infantry.

The next account comes from “The Story of the 6th Battalion, The Durham Light Infantry - France, April 1915-November 1918.”

They moved in December from the front line on Passchendaele Ridge, (a series of shell holes) to Divisional reserve, where they spent Christmas. Christmas Dinner was on Boxing Day with all the traditional trimmings.

During the first week in December the visit of officers to the line disclosed the new sector to be taken over, which included Passchendaele village, recently captured by the Canadians. A few days later the Battalion entrained at Watten for Brandhoek, where it spent a short time in a hut camp in Divisional reserve. From there it marched up through Ypres to a camp just west of Potijze Wood, the scene of its first action in April, 1915. After two days there a further move was made to the forward area, into a number of shelters known as the Seine area. The next step was to the front line, which consisted of a series of shell hole positions on the Passchendaele Ridge. Not only were these uncomfortably wet, but they were very difficult to locate in the dark, and many will remember the trouble experienced in selecting the routes from the heap of debris of what had once been the village church. Battalion Headquarters were in a German pill-box known as Hamburg. Four days were spent in the front line, and the Battalion then went to Divisional reserve again at Brandhoek.

After another tour in the line, it again moved to Brandhoek on Christmas Day, and there completed the 24 days which entitled it to a similar period of rest and training. The whole tour had been without any exciting incidents, and casualties were small, in spite of persistent shelling which made the duck-board tracks (H, K, R.A.M.C., tracks, etc.) very unpleasant.

The Christmas at Brandhoek was thoroughly enjoyed by the men. On Boxing Day a Christmas dinner was provided, consisting of turkeys, puddings, port wine, beer, etc., the orderly work being done by the N.C.O.'s, and the carving by the officers. A visit was paid to the Battalion here by the Corps Commander (Lieut-Gen. Sir Aylmer Hunter-Weston), who congratulated the men on their appearance and bearing immediately after an uncomfortable trench tour.

From Brandhoek the Battalion moved by 'bus to the Steenvoorde area, where it was accommodated in very scattered billets for about ten days, during which it was training and resting. It then entrained at Eecke for Wizernes, near St. Omer, and marched to billets at Acquin. A stay of about a fortnight there was occupied in the use of an exceptionally good training area. A return was then made to the former front line, and detraining again at Brandhoek, the Battalion went this time to another hut camp known as Toronto. A similar system of reliefs as before was carried out and the tour was divided up into short periods at Brandhoek, St. Jean, and the Passchendaele sector. The line was somewhat quieter than on the previous occasion. The route to and from the trenches was now a new track called Judah track, a stretch of about three miles, which reflected great credit on the Pioneer Battalions. From Brandhoek to St. Jean and the return journeys were usually done by 'bus or light railway. The tour ended with a night in the cellars in the town of Ypres, and from there the Battalion marched to Ypres station and entrained to Wizernes again, and so to billets in St. Martin-au-Laert, a suburb of St. Omer. These billets were very good, and the advantage of being near a town was fully appreciated. The story of the Battalion would not be complete without a reference to the band, which, under the direction of Sergt. T.O. Hann, M.M., had reached a very high standard, and was second to none in the Division. With the buglers, whose smart appearance attracted much attention, a selection of music was played in the town daily at "Retreat." At this time, also, the Battalion concert party, the "Red Diamonds," trained by Capt. Cardew and Capt. Lyon, provided several very good entertainments.

Christmas 1917 - The Sherwood Foresters.

This account of Christmas 1917 comes from the book “The Sherwood Foresters in the Great War 1914 – 1919, History of the 1/8th Battalion.” By W.C.C. Weetman

The Sherwwod Foresters struck it lucky at Christmas and were out of the front line, with plenty of food and drink.

"Our second period in the St. Elie Left sub-sector lasted until the middle of January, 1918. We continued the old system of six days in the line, six days in Brigade support at Philosophe, and after a further six days in the line the same period in Divisional reserve at Verquin. The weather was now getting very bad, and as few troops as possible were kept on duty in the front line, which as usual was held by posts at considerable intervals, the defence of the line being assured by the activity of patrols which were out in No Man's Land much of the night, and did some excellent work, on several occasions getting right inside the enemy lines.

We were lucky in being out of the line for Christmas, which was spent at Verquin with much feasting and merriment. There seemed to be no shortage of good things, and we feel sure that the inhabitants of Verquin will not think that at any rate at Christmas time we take our pleasures seriously. Of course tales of all kinds are told of our doings, and though perhaps some of them may have been exaggerated, there is no doubt we did ourselves proud. It was a memorable sight to see the four Company Commanders slogging back to the trenches on December 28th, to relieve the 7th Battalion in the line. Jack White in temporary command of A, John Turner of B, Geary of C, and "Simmy" of D. Passing Brigade Headquarters at Philosophe they wore a look that seemed to say "another little drink wouldn't do us any harm," and after a refresher there, they went on looking as if they didn't care two straws if the Boche attacked or not. As a matter of fact on January 2nd, 1918, the enemy did actually attempt a raid on our front, but thanks mainly to much careful planning by Simonet, and supervision by Major Hacking, who was in temporary command of the Battalion; the raid was successfully beaten off. The first intimation of anything of the kind being likely to happen, was a message received from Col. Vann of the 6th Battalion, on our right, at 3.30 p.m. on that day stating that an obvious gap had been cut by the enemy in their wire opposite "Breslau Sap," on the 6th Battalion front, and asking for co-operation in the event of a raid at that point. Steps were accordingly taken to cover the front between Breslau and Hairpin Craters with Lewis gun fire, whilst trench mortar co-operation was also arranged, and all Companies warned to be particularly alert. The raid was attempted as anticipated, the intention apparently being to surround Hairpin Crater post. The barrage began at 9.30 p.m. with heavy trench mortars and whizz-bangs, opening South of Breslau and gradually extending North. A barrage was also put down on the front of the Battalion on our left. The heaviest bombardment was on Hairpin Craters. Lewis gun fire was at once opened by us along the whole of the front, from Breslau to Border Redoubt. Various groups of the enemy attempted to push through to our posts when their barrage lifted, but it was evident that they had lost direction, and got very disorganized, and we had no difficulty in driving them off with rifle and Lewis gun fire and bombs, and eventually things quietened down. Our casualties were only one Officer, and seven other ranks wounded, all slight, whilst we captured two unwounded prisoners, and a third was brought in dead. For his excellent preliminary arrangements, and for his wise judgment and control of the situation during the attack, Capt. Simonet was awarded the M.C. Great gallantry was shewn on the same occasion by Sergt. W. H. Martin, L.-Sergt. Turner, and Pvte. Wildsmith, and good work was also done by L.-Corpl. Rowley, and Pvte. Crouch.

During our stay in the St. Elie sector, much more use was made than on any previous occasion of trench light railway and tram systems. At first rations and stores were brought up nightly by our own Transport to the "Mansion House" at Vermelles, and there transferred to small trench trams, which were taken up to forward dumps by pushing parties found by the Battalion. As we were so short of men, however, mules were requisitioned for this purpose. Later on, stores were brought up all the way from Sailly-Labourse on the light railway. The larger trucks on this railway were also available on one or two occasions to take the Battalion on relief to Sailly, a ride which was much appreciated, and saved some part, at any rate, of the weary tramp back to billets.

The chief recreation in these days was as usual football. A "league" was formed, including practically every Unit in the Division. So that the notices of matches might not give direct evidence of our identity, each Unit was allotted a code name. We rejoiced in the name of "County," whilst teams we played included those having such aristocratic names as "Dragons," "Miners," "Tigers," "Wyverns," and "Maconochies." We were not very fortunate and occupied a somewhat humble position in the final league table. "

Christmas 1917 - 5th Leicestershire's

The next account comes from the excellent book “The Fifth Leicestershire (A Record Of The 1/5th Battalion The Leicestershire Regiment T.F., During The War, 1914-1919)by J.D. Hills.”


Our Christmas "rest" was spent in Beuvry, and here we arrived on the 20th of December at the end of our second tour. Our first duty was to inspect a large draft of 140 N.C.O.'s and men who had come to us while we had been in the line. Most of them came from the 11th (Pioneer) Battalion of the Regiment, and were men of good physique, very well trained, and excellent alike at drill, work, games, and in the line. During the whole time we were in France we never had a better draft than this. Meanwhile, although the enemy were apparently willing to allow us a Christmas rest, and kindly refrained from bombarding our billets, the higher command were not so gracious, and we had much work to do. Ever since the defection of Russia, the Staff had realized the possibility of a German offensive on a large scale, and every effort was being made to organize our defences. With this object, a new "village line" had been built, including Cambrin,Annequin, Vermelles and other villages, and this had now to be wired. Accordingly, on the night of the 22nd/23rd December, the whole Battalion marched up to this line by parties, and worked hard for several hours putting out a "double apron fence." So well had Major Zeller and his Engineers organized the work, and so well did the Battalion work, mainly thanks to the newly arrived Pioneers who were experts, that we did an incredible amount during the night, and received the congratulations of the G.O.C. on our efforts.

The actual Christmas festivities had to be held on Christmas Eve, as we were due to go into trenches on the morning of Boxing Day. Everything combined to make the day a great success. Plum puddings arrived from England, large pigs, which Major Burnett had been leading about on a string for some days, were turned into the most delicious pork, and there was plenty of beer. The Serjeants' Mess also had a very lively dinner in the evening, though one Company Quarter Master Serjeant spent much of his time dragging the Beuvry river for his Company Serjeant Major whom he had lost. This Warrant Officer was eventually discovered asleep in an old sentry box, with his false teeth clenched in his hand. The Germans, in spite of their boast, dropped in a message from an aeroplane, "to eat their Christmas dinners in Béthune," caused no disturbance, and did not show the slightest sign of being offensive. Christmas, 1917, was unique in one respect. We produced a Battalion Christmas Card for the first and last time during the war. It contained a picture, drawn by 2nd Lieut. Shilton, of a big-footed Englishman standing on a slag-heap, from which a Hun was flying as though kicked. It was very popular.

Boxing Day, for us "Relief Day," was bitterly cold, and an occasional blizzard made getting into trenches all the more difficult. The ground was covered with snow, and each night there was a bright moon, so that the snipers of both sides were on the watch day and night for the slightest movement. Our snipers claimed to hit several of the enemy during the tour, but we, too, had our losses. First, F. Eastwood, M.M., of "C" Company, a soldier who had scarcely missed a day since the beginning, was shot through the head and killed outside "C" Company Headquarters in Northampton trench. A few nights later, on the 30th December, Lieut. P. Measures, commanding "B" Company, was sniped while fixing a sniper's post in the front line, and also killed instantly. He had not been with us very long, but both he and Lieut. Watherston had proved themselves very keen subaltern officers, and both had been praised by the General for their work on patrol. Lieut. T.H. Ball temporarily took command of "B" Company.

Whenever work was possible—it was often too light even at night—we worked at two new trenches, "Cardiff" and "Currin," connecting Bart's Alley with Savile tunnel, as an alternative to Savile Row. These had been dug by the Monmouthshires, and now had to be wired, and here, also, we suffered at the hands of a German sniper. Serjeant W.E. Cave, a very fine N.C.O. of "A" Company, was killed with a wiring party, and one or two others had narrow escapes. The New Year, 1918, was ushered in with several bursts of machine gun fire at midnight, but nothing of importance occurred.

Christmas 1917 - 8th Battalion.

The 8th Battalion A.I.F. spent the festive season in Belgium in the front line trenches.

Ron Austin in 'Cobbers in Khaki' paints the picture:-

"Christmas Day 1917, was spent in the trenches, with the only sign of festivity being the issue of plum puddings. Three nights later a white clad German patrol of the 153^rd IR, reached an outlying post where it met an 8^th Battalion patrol similarly clad in white overalls. The enemy party was scattered by MG fire from another of the battalion posts and suffered some casualties, but managed to capture Lance Corporal Robert Weekes. The bright moonlight seriously inhibited a search for Weekes or any other German casualties. .The 8^th Battalion was relieved by the 2^nd Battalion at the end of December, with B and C companies being billeted at Lindenhoek, A and D Companies at Irish House and BHQ at Kemmel.

1917 had seen the 8^th Battalion engage in a series of major and minor actions culminating in the two major advances at the Ypres salient, and although the men were still in high spirits, the rain, cold and mud had left the men ‘very stale’, particularly after there last sixteen days in the trenches."

Christmas 1917 - Christmas At The Front

The last few years I posted many articles on the Christmas of the First World War, starting 25th December 1914 and going on to 1916. This year we reach 1917 which would become the war’s final Christmas

A lot had happened during 1917, the American’s were now mobilized and the year ended with the horrendous ‘Third Battle of Ypres – Passchendaele’.

We start with - CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT

This article that appeared in the Times on Boxing Day 1917.

CHRISTMAS AT THE FRONT

War Correspondents

On Christmas Eve the frost, which had lasted just a week, broke and a rapid thaw set in. The result was that the sun rose this morning on a ‘piebald’ landscape, with the remaining snow patches dully reflecting the rosy brilliance from their slushy face.

It is my impression that there that there is less of the spirit of Christmas tide in the trenches this year than on the three previous Christmas Days our troops have spent in France. I do not suggest that there is any flagging of cheerfulness. But it seems to me that the men have a consciousness that the present is no fitting time for demonstrative festivity. Not that this has blunted their appetites for the very excellent fare provided for them. The Christmas dinner of the troops this year has been supplemented for the first time, by plum pudding as a regular ration. Heretofore private generosity has made ample provision in this direction. But today plum pudding was a regular issue, and I am assured by those who sampled it that it was excellent.

There has been a good deal of artillery activity on both sides during the past 24 hours, which served as a grim reminder that there was to be no attempt at fraternizing. The Germans are manifesting great curiosity about what we may be doing in various parts of the line, and frequently attempt to raid our trenches, but with a very small measure of success. Probably they have not quite recovered from the shock of the great tank surprise of November 19 last.

The Unborn by Edward Dyson

On the 94th Aniversary of the opening of the battle of the Somme.

Here is a poem by the Australian Edward Dyson.

THE UNBORN

I see grim War, a bestial thing,
with swinish tusks to tear;
Upon his back the vampires cling,
Thin vipers twine among his hair,
The tiger's greed is in his jowl,
His eye is red with bloody tears,
And every obscene beast and fowl
From out his leprous visage leers.
In glowing pride fell fiends arise,
And, trampled, God the Father lies.

Not God alone the Demon slays;
The hills that swell to Heaven drip
With ooze of murdered men; for days
The dead drift with the drifting ship,
And far as eye may see the plain
Is cumbered deep with slaughtered ones,
Contorted to the shape of pain,
Dissolving 'neath the callous suns,
And driven in his foetid breath
Still ply the harvesters of Death.

He sits astride an engine dread,
And at his touch the awful ball
Across the quaking world is sped,
I see a million creatures fall.
Beyond the soldiers on the hill,
The mother by her basinet.
The bolt its mission must fulfil,
And in the years that are not yet
Creation by the blow is shorn
Of dimpled hosts of babes unborn!

Tragedy of the War by G.P. Cuttriss and J.W. Hood.

This poem was written by G.P. Cuttriss and J.W. Hood and comes from the nook “Over the Top With the Third Australian Division”.

The book contains an illustration which adds to the poem.


TRAGEDY OF THE WAR


From strife they now march back to smiling farms,
Recoiling from the crash and smoke and roar.
Meadows, all verdant, faerie fields, whose charms
Serve for a space to make them as before.
And peaceful pictures of the days of yore,
With thrilling thoughts of those they left behind
Flash thro' the mental vision, and a score
Of letters brightly occupy the mind
Without a care, or woe, or doubt of any kind.

Anon they journey from this place of rest
By night or early dawn back to the brink
Of that volcanic crater where the best
Sit tight, scarce caring if they swim or sink.
Silent they bear it, as they quietly think
The end approaching to their life at last,
And face each other, with a smile or wink
Outwardly stoic, tho' their hearts beat fast
As, thumping down, great shells come racing in and past.

Erase such thoughts from out the o'er-wrought brain,
Think rather of this freshness, and the sight
Of nature in her harvest dress, refrain
From plunging into the eternal night.
Such contrasts seem the only choice by right
Of those who battle for the joy of life.
Out on this troubled spot where Armies fight,
And peasants labour just behind such strife
Shorthandedly, unhelped, save by a child or wife.

So come with me down hedgerows, down the glades,
And thro' the cosy glens, till far away
We come unto a hill-crest--lights and shades,
Bright coloured landscapes far below us lay,
Blue mists and fields of yellow corn and hay,
In rows like soldiers, now the tired eyes see,
And poplars guard the distant dim roadway,
Whilst near the wind sighs thro' the acorn-tree,
Till one feels hushed, serene, contented, almost free.

And here, tucked back behind a leafy lane,
Low in a pocket of some sheltered ground,
An unpretentious farm, so snug and plain,
An invitation in itself; when found,
Only a whining howl like dingoes' sound,
Reminds one that there is a war near by.
The tools of peace see littered here around,
Weapons by which men learn to live, not die:
A plough, a drill, and there a binder standing nigh.

'_Bon jour, m'sieurs_,' a little hunchback cries;
A wizened, twisted human form divine;
She flashed a look of welcome from her eyes,
From which the soul of ages seem to shine.
'_Entrez_,' she welcomed, and her face looked fine,
As proudly bustling o'er her clean stone floor
She bade us linger, eat, and drink her wine.
Refreshed with food and drink, we loiter more
Within such cool retreat, delaying '_Au revoir_.'

And soon the human tragedy in course
Of progress thro' that little home becomes
Clear to the senses, and to us much worse
Compared with our Australia's peaceful homes.
For, oh, the pity, as one's vision roams
From there to here, and back on wings again;
A rush of feeling and emotion comes,
Whilst hearing this contorted piece of pain,
The stirring times of all their troubled lives explain.

For she to whom Fate seemed at first unkind,
Now lives an angel in a higher sphere.
This pained and twisted cripple seemed to find
Pleasure in living for her kinsfolk dear.
Hard work an honour, in her duty clear
To wives of brothers in the fighting line;
Women and children gather round her here;
For round their hearts her nature did entwine,
Her beaming face proclaimed 'See, Anglaise, they are mine.'

And all around these chubby children play,
Dirty, but happy, fed and cared for well,
With ne'er a troubled thought the live-long day,
For they know little of adjacent hell.
The hunchback warns us we are not to tell
About the 'Allemagne' whilst they are nigh,
Since all have known him in the past too well.
'Let them forget it as we often try.
_C'est la guerre_,' she said, and quickly brushed her eye.

And then she whispers, as we loiter near,
The story of their young lives years ago,
When, snatched from cradles, with a frenzied fear,
Their mothers hurried on before the foe;
Their men defend and screen them as they go,
And fight a rearguard action with the brute,
Who cares not for their agony or woe,
But only for the blood-streams and the loot.
And now she sees us watching one poor little mute:
'Ah! this one?' and she pointed to the dot
Who sat alone, and smiled to vacant space,
'Waits for her mother; very hard her lot;
For years now has she waited in her place.
"Where is her mother?" I can never trace
Somewhere beyond across "the no man's way."
Some day, perhaps,' she cried, with yearning face.
The tiny mite, tho' happy, could not play,
Except with little restless hands all day.

'Sometimes the shell come here right by,' she said.
'The other day, when I what you call wash,
A big boom quickly pass above my head,
And fall out in the field with a big crash.
But, oh, those children, they so very rash,
They know so little of the dreadful doom.
I come in time to save a fearful crash,
And catch them with the nose-cap in this room--
The nose-cap, unexhausted, from the boom.'

And then we start, inclined to say farewell.
We try to brighten up the little maid
Who sits alone, perhaps in faerie dell;
For she doth seem not in the least afraid.
She, smiling, takes the pennies which we lay
Within her hands, tho' distant is her smile;
And for a space she seemed with them to play,
But drops them ere we're scarcely gone, awhile
We wander back, half dumb, hard, thinking for a mile.

G.P. CUTTRISS and J.W. HOOD.

She, smiling, takes the pennies which we lay, Within her hands, tho' distant is her smile;

Bread By Ernst Lissauer.

This interesting poem appeared in New York Times in June, 1915. With this explanation:

Ernst Lissauer, the author of the famous "Song of Hate Against England" has written a second poem entitled "Bread," and directed against the British policy of cutting off Germany's food supply. The poem was published in the Bonner Zeitung and reprinted in the Frankfurter Zeitung of March 26, 1915. Following is a translation:


With arms they cannot overpower us,
With hunger they would fain devour us;
Foe beside foe in an iron ring.
Has want crossed our borders, or hunger, or dearth?
Listen: I chant the tidings of Spring:
Our soil is our ally in this great thing;
Already new bread is growing in the earth.

ADMONITION:

Save the food and guard and hoard!
Bread is a sword.

PRAYER:

The peasants have sown the seed again.
Now gather and pray the prayer of the grain:
Earth of our land,
With arms they cannot overpower us,
With hunger they would fain devour us,
Arise thou in thy harvest wrath!
Thick grow thy grass, rich the reaper's path!
Dearest soil of earth
Our prayer hear:
Show them of little worth,
Shame them with blade and ear.

A Cross in Flanders by G. Rostrevor Hamilton.

A CROSS IN FLANDERS by G. Rostrevor Hamilton


In the face of death, they say, he joked--he had no fear;
His comrades, when they laid him in a Flanders grave,
Wrote on a rough-hewn cross--a Calvary stood near--
"Without a fear he gave

"His life, cheering his men, with laughter on his lips."
So wrote they, mourning him. Yet was there only one
Who fully understood his laughter, his gay quips,
One only, she alone--

She who, not so long since, when love was new--confest,
Herself toyed with light laughter while her eyes were dim,
And jested, while with reverence despite her jest
She worshipped God and him.

She knew--O Love, O Death!--his soul had been at grips
With the most solemn things. For _she_, was _she_ not dear?
Yes, he was brave, most brave, with laughter on his lips,
The braver for his fear!



(Sir George Rostrevor Hamilton (1888 - 1967) was an English poet and critic. He worked as a civil servant: his experience as an inspector of taxes meaning he could help out his friend Walter de la Mare. He was knighted in 1951.

He had a classical education at the University of Oxford, and later compiled anthologies of Latin and Greek verse for Nonesuch Press. He was a published war poet of World War One, known for the rather conventional and sentimental A Cross in Flanders.

His book The Tell-Tale Article on the Auden Group made an impact by the expedient of counting the proportion of definite articles in Auden's verse, remarking that it was much higher than in older styles. In general he was a steady conservative in matters of literature.

He was a director of the Poetry Book Society, and well connected as a correspondent of many literary figures; including E. R. Eddison and Owen Barfield.).

The Troop Went Through by Edward Dyson

This is another excellent poem by Edward Dyson from “Hello Soldier”.

THE TROOP WENT THROUGH

I HEARD this day, as I may no more,
The world's heart throb at my workshop door.
The sun was keen, and the day was still;
The township drowsed in, a haze of heat.
A stir far off on the sleepy hill,
The measured beat of their buoyant feet,
And the lilt and thrum
Of a little drum,
The song they sang in a cadence low,
The piping note of a piccolo.

The township woke, and the doors flew wide;
The women trotted their boys beside.
Across the bridge on a single heel
The soldiers came in a golden glow,
With throb of song and the chink of steel,
The gallant crow of the piccolo.
Good and brown they were,
And their arms swung bare.
Their fine young faces revived in me
A boyhood's vision of chivalry.

The lean, hard regiment tramping down,
Bushies, miners and boys from town.
From 'mid the watchers the road along
One fell in line with the khaki men.
He took the stride, and he caught their song,
And Steve went then, and Meneer, and Ben,
Long Dave McCree,
And the Weavers three,
All whisked away by the "Come! Come! Come!"
The lusty surge of the vaunting drum.

I swore a prayer for each soldier lad.
He was the son that might have had;
The tall, bold boy who was never mine,
All brave with dust that the eyes laughed through,
His shoulders square, and his chin in line,
Was marching too with the gallant few.
Passed the muffled beat
Of their swanking feet,
The swell of drum, the exulting crow,
The wild-bird note of the piccolo.

They dipped away in the listless trees;
A mother wept on her beaded knees
For sons gone out to the long war's end;
But more than mother or man wept I
Who had no son in the world to send.
The hour lagged by, and drifting high
Came the fitful hum
Of the little drum,
And faint, but still with an ardent flow,
The pibroch, call of the piccolo.

British Troops at the Suez Canal.

This article published in the Illustrated War News, Number 21, Dec. 30, shows the reader the British advanced camps on the eastern side of the Suez Canal.

The canal was attacked by Turkish troops at the battle of Ismalia in February 1915.

READY FOR THE TURKISH ARMY SENT "TO DELIVER EGYPT"! A BRITISH ENTRENCHED CAMP ON THE SUEZ CANAL.

It was stated on December 23 that the "Frankfürter Zeitung" had learned from Constantinople that the Turkish Army sent "to deliver Egypt" began its forward march to the Suez Canal on the 21st. The Canal is securely held along its hundred miles of length. Our illustration shows one of the several British advanced-camps on the eastern bank (the Asiatic or Sinaitic Peninsula side), placed there to prevent a surprise attack. In all cases, our positions are well fortified, and, with the desert in front, present a formidable barrier to the enemy. In support of the entrenched camps, movable pontoon-bridges have been constructed at certain points. These, with the permanent railway along the western bank, will enable reinforcements to be thrown across the waterways speedily.

The Ration Fatigue.

This excellent little article comes from the great book “Bullets & Billets" By Bruce Bairnsfather.

Here he describes the trenches in Belgium and at the undesirable job of being on a ‘Ration Party’.

THAT RATION FATIGUE

They seemed to me long, dark, dismal days, those days spent in the Douve trenches; longer, darker and more dismal than the Plugstreet ones. Night after night I crossed the dreary mud flat, passed the same old wretched farms, and went on with the same old trench routine. We all considered the trenches a pretty rotten outfit; but every one was fully prepared to accept far rottener things than that. There was never the least sign of flagging determination in any man there, and I am sure you could say the same of the whole front.

And, really, some jobs on some nights wanted a lot of beating for undesirability. Take the ration party's job, for instance. Think of the rottenest, wettest, windiest winter's night you can remember, and add to it this bleak, muddy, war-worn plain with its ruined farms and shell-torn lonely road. Then think of men, leaving the trenches at dusk, going back about a mile and a half, and bringing sundry large and heavy boxes up to the trenches, pausing now and again for a rest, and ignoring the intermittent crackling of rifle fire in the darkness, and the sharp "phit" of bullets hitting the mud all around. Think of that as your portion each night and every night. When you have finished this job, the rest you get consists of coiling yourself up in a damp dug-out. Night after night, week after week, month after month, this job is done by thousands.

As one sits in a brilliantly illuminated, comfortable, warm theatre, having just come from a cosy and luxurious restaurant, just think of some poor devil half-way along those corduroy boards struggling with a crate of biscuits; the ration "dump" behind, the trenches on in front. When he has finished he will step down into the muddy slush of a trench, and take his place with the rest, who, if need be, will go on doing that job for another ten years, without thinking of an alternative. The Germans made a vast mistake when they thought they had gauged the English temperament.

Lowthers Own in Camp at Cooden.

This is one of my favourite articles published in November 1914 in the Eastbourne Gazette.

Under the title “Lowthers Own” in camp at Cooden, it really captures the feeling of the great adventure in 1914. All lads joining up together and no one ‘missing out’.

The chap putting his head out of the tent with the caption “Sorry I joined? Don’t think” is priceless.

(Click on image to enlarge)

Defending the East Coast.

The Illustrated War News, Number 21, Dec. 30, 1914 carried this photograph and story of the cliff defences that were put in place against a threatened invasion by the Kaiser’s army.

The Home Defence Force was a popular outlet for those men unable to join the regular army.




DEFENDING OUR EAST COAST FROM INVADERS: ENTRENCHMENTS OF THE TYPE USED AT THE FRONT, ON THE CLIFFS.

The entrenchment of the East Coast is not only a wise precaution, but the work of digging and fitting up the trenches is excellent practice for the troops who may later on be called upon to do similar work abroad. It will be seen from our photographs that the trenches on the East Coast are constructed on the latest pattern as developed in the war, with deep passage-ways, roofed sections, traverses, and zigzags to avoid an enfilading fire from the flank. They are, indeed, to judge by the photograph, remarkably similar to those constructed at the front in France and Flanders. Even if occasion should not arise to use them against the enemy, the labour of making them has not by any means been in vain

Civil Life in Berlin.

This article appeared in the ‘The New York Times Current History: the European War, February, 1915, under the title ‘Civil Life in Berlin’.

It was first published in ‘The London Times’ on October. 17th, 1914.

A gentleman, the subject of a neutral country, who has just returned from a visit to Germany, has furnished The Times with the following statement as to his impressions. He says:

I did not hear any boasting over German successes. When I spoke to Germans of their victories they would reply: "Yes, we have had victories—but what of the dead?" This thought is present even in places where one might think that for the time being every effort would be made to prevent its intrusion. In Berlin, for example, where all the theatres are open and attracting crowded audiences, it is the burden of a song sung during one of the patriotic plays, of which several are now being performed.

I went to a theatre on the night of the fall of Antwerp. A play entitled "1914" was acted, in the course of which many topical allusions were made by the well-known comedian Thielscher. Even in these serious times the Berliner, who is famous for the form of humor known as Berliner Witze, cannot refrain from his jokes. One of these was the question: "Why does Germany understand war so well? Because it has been declared upon her eight times!"—the point of the jest lying in the fact that the German word Erklaren, "to declare," means also "to explain." Another pun of the same kind was made out of the word Niederlage, which means both "defeat" and "dêpot." "Germany," said one of the characters, "is surrounded by enemies on all sides." "Yes," was the reply, "she is the head establishment, while England, France, and Russia only have the Niederlage."

There were some serious scenes in this play, in the middle of one of which some one stepped quickly on to the stage and, interrupting the actors, exclaimed: "One moment, one moment, if you please! Antwerp has fallen!" Of course, there was tremendous enthusiasm at this announcement, but when it had subsided, one of the company came forward and sang:

Nicht zu laut!
Nicht zu laut!
Denkt g'rad' jetzt wo Ihr jubelt und lacht;

Nicht zu laut!
Nicht zu laut!
Fiel ein Krieger vielleicht in der Schlacht
Und er liegt beim zerschossenen Pferde
Und nimmt Abschied von Mutter und Braut—

Nicht zu laut!
Nicht zu laut!

(Not too loud! Not too loud! Think just now while you laugh and cheer; Not too loud! Not too loud! Perchance a warrior fallen in the battle lies beside his shot down steed, and bids farewell to mother and bride; Not too loud! Not too loud!)

I have mentioned this to give an idea of the kind of life which the Berliners are living just now. There are other popular theatres in which similar plays are now running with titles such as "Der Kaiser Rief" ("The Emperor Called") and "Fest d'Rauf" ("Hit Hard!") the latter being borrowed from the words of the famous telegram sent by the Crown Prince at the time of the Zabern incident. These theatres are crowded. At the principal theatres classical plays such as "Hamlet" and Lessing's "Minna von Barnhelm" were being played while I was in Berlin.

Berlin keeps open many places of amusement until the early hours of the morning, and the war has not made any difference in this respect. What is known as the "night life" of Berlin continues. For years past the fast element in Berlin has been one of its most notorious features. This accompaniment of the prosperity of the capital since the war of 1870 has struck with surprise many observers of German life accustomed to the idea of German simplicity and purity of morals, rendered classical by Tacitus and exemplified by many representatives of German national life in the earlier part of the nineteenth century, when Germany was rallying from the blows inflicted by Napoleon. All that need be said upon this head is that, as far as report can be accepted as evidence, vice is the only commodity which has become less expensive since the war began.

The spy fever seems somewhat to have abated. At present, however, the public are not allowed to walk on the footway beside the headquarters of the army or the General Telegraph Office, obviously with a view to protecting these buildings against damage from hostile persons. The Germans still think that many spies exist in their country. The presence of women acting as tramcar conductors struck me as strange. These are the wives of men summoned to the colors. Notices are affixed to the interior of the cars stating the reason for the presence of these women, and requesting the public to be considerate toward them, and to help them over any little difficulties they might encounter in the discharge of their duty. Traffic in Berlin is absolutely regular. There are as many taxicabs as before, but instead of benzine, which is wanted for the army, they now use other spirit. The streets are as brilliantly lighted as ever. Riding exercise is taken by gentlemen in the Thiergarten every morning as usual. Sport is reviving, and there are a good many football matches. Two recently played were those between Berlin and Vienna and Berlin and Leipsic, the latter for the Red Cross. The universities will open on the 25th inst., the regular date.

The population, as a whole, is serious and confident of victory; but the war is by no means the sole topic of conversation. England is the enemy most bitterly hated, the Germans maintaining that her only reason for entering on the war was to destroy German trade. England's desire to preserve the neutrality of Belgium is scouted. The common people in Germany say that having fought the Belgians and defeated them they will retain their country. This, however, is not the attitude of the more educated section of the population, who express the opinion that the difficulty of ruling Belgium would be greater than the advantage to be derived from it.

The fierce hatred of England in Germany is due in large measure to what the Germans call "the shopkeepers' warfare" of the English. They maintain that the English confiscation of German patents is a wholly unfair method of fighting, and it has caused the deepest resentment. When asked as to the future, they reply that they will do all in due time. After Belgium will come France, and then the turn of England will arrive. They are not discouraged by the failure to reach Paris, since the strategy adopted by the French would have rendered the possession of Paris of little value. It will still be taken.

With regard to England not much is said of an army of invasion, but German confidence is evidently reposed in her Zeppelins, of which a large number is being constructed with all possible speed. They are to be employed against England, whose part in the war is the least honorable of all. Belgium's attitude at the outset they can understand, France's desire for la revanche is natural, but England's only motive was jealousy of Germany's industrial development and the desire to cripple her trade and commercial prosperity. Therefore, Woe to England!

The German Trench – Mortar.

The Illustrated War News, Number 15, Nov. 18, 1914 published this article on the German Trench – Mortar.

THE GERMAN TRENCH-MORTAR JUST INTRODUCED TO THE BRITISH: A WEAPON WHICH THROWS A 187-LB. MINE-SHELL.


"In this quarter," says Eye-Witness of the fighting near Ypres on October 29, "we experienced ... the action of the 'minenwerfer,' or trench-mortar. This piece, though light enough to be wheeled by two men, throws a shell weighing 187 lbs. The spherical shell has a loose stem which is loaded into the bore and drops out in flight. It ranges about 350 yards at 45 deg. elevation. The shell is a thin-walled mine-shell containing a large charge and is intended to act with explosive effect, not splinter-effect." The diagram on the left shows one of the shells and its stem in their most up-to-date form; in the centre is the trench-mortar (its wheels off) with a shell in place; below this are three shells without their stems; on the right is a shell and its stem.

The King and Soldiers Gloves.

This letter appeared in the Eastbourne Gazette on 23rd December 1914. It is interesting how the expectation of the writer was that every recruit would wear gloves and carry a cane when off duty.


The King and Soldiers Gloves.

Sir,

I notice the King has sent £25 to the fund for supplying gloves and mittens to the troops, which was started by the Grand Duke Michael, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir. F. Ponsonby, Keeper of the Privy Purse, in forwarding a cheque to the Grand Duke, writes; “The King is glad to hear what a success the fund has been and how grateful the troops are for the gloves which have been supplied to them.”

May I express a hope that all recruits will make a point of wearing gloves and carrying canes when they are off duty, it is the custom for the troops in garrison towns to do this and we want the new soldiers of the King (Kitchener’s Army) to cultivate briskness and smartness I every detail.

Yours faithfully

Veteran.
Eastbourne, Monday.

A Zeppelin Brought Down.

These photographs and text were published in ‘The Illustrated War News, on November 18th 1914.

It was no doubt comforting reading for the ‘Home Front’ to see pictures of the remains of a Zeppelin, destroyed near Belfort.

A ZEPPELIN BROUGHT DOWN: REMAINS OF ONE OF THE MUCH-DISCUSSED GERMAN AIR-SHIPS HIT AND DESTROYED NEAR BELFORT.

Debris of the shattered framework;

Wreckage of the cars.

Considering the amount of discussion—not to say, in some quarters, apprehension—to which the Zeppelins have given rise, singularly little has been heard of them so far during the war, and, apart from the Antwerp exploits, they have done practically no damage. On the other hand, several have been destroyed: the number has been variously estimated from two to six.
One, said to be the "LZ10," was brought down in October at Grandvilliers, ten miles from Belfort. Our photographs show:

(1) debris of the shattered framework;

and (2) wreckage of the cars.

Another Zeppelin was destroyed in October by the fire of Russian batteries near Warsaw, and its broken remains were taken to Petrograd to be examined. The British air-raid on Düsseldorf also accounted for one or possibly two.

Music of War by Rudyard Kipling

This interesting little article comes from the New York Times Current History: The European War, Vol 2, No. 1, April, 1915.

When you normally think of recruiting, infantry comes to mind. But here, Rudyard Kipling makes an appeal for Bandsmen and musicians. As he so eloquently puts it “The army needs music, its own music, for, more than in any other calling, soldiers do not live by bread alone”.

Music of War by Rudyard Kipling

The following speech was delivered by Mr. Kipling on Jan. 27, 1915, at a meeting in London promoted by the Recruiting Bands Committee, and held with the object of raising bands in the London district as an aid to recruiting.

The most useful thing that a civilian can do in these busy days is to speak as little as possible, and if he feels moved to write, to confine his efforts to his check book. [Laughter.] But this is an exception to that very sound rule. We do not know the present strength of the new armies. Even if we did it would not be necessary to make it public. But we may assume that there are several battalions in Great Britain which were not in existence at the end of last July, and some of them are in London. Nor is it any part of our national policy to explain how far these battalions are prepared for the work which is ahead of them. They were born quite rightly in silence. But that is no reason why they should continue to walk in silence for the rest of their lives. [Cheers.]

Unfortunately up to the present most of them have been obliged to walk in silence or to no better accompaniment than whistles and concertinas and other meritorious but inadequate instruments of music with which they have provided themselves. In the beginning this did not matter so much. More urgent needs had to be met; but now that the new armies are what they are, we who cannot assist them by joining their ranks owe it to them to provide them with more worthy music for their help, their gratification, and their honor. [Cheers.]

I am not a musician, so if I speak as a barbarian I must ask you and several gentlemen on the platform here to forgive me. From the lowest point of view a few drums and fifes in the battalion mean at least five extra miles in a route march, quite apart from the fact that they can swing a battalion back to quarters happy and composed in its mind, no matter how wet or tired its body may be. Even when there is no route marching, the mere come and go, the roll and flourishing of drums and fifes around the barracks is as warming and cheering as the sight of a fire in a room. A band, not necessarily a full band, but a band of a dozen brasses and wood-winds, is immensely valuable in the district where men are billeted. It revives memories, it quickens association, it opens and unites the hearts of men more surely than any other appeal can, and in this respect it aids recruiting perhaps more than any other agency. I wonder whether I should say this—the tune that it employs and the words that go with that tune are sometimes very remote from heroism or devotion, but the magic and the compelling power is in them, and it makes men's souls realize certain truths that their minds might doubt.

Further, no one, not even the Adjutant, can say for certain where the soul of the battalion lives, but the expression of that soul is most often found in the band. [Cheers.] It stands to reason that 1,200 men whose lives are pledged to each other must have some common means of expression, some common means of conveying their moods and their thoughts to themselves and their world. The band feels the moods and interprets the thoughts. A wise and sympathetic bandmaster—and the masters that I have met have been that—can lift a battalion out of depression, cheer it in sickness, and steady and recall it to itself in times of almost unendurable stress. [Cheers.] You may remember a beautiful poem by Sir Henry Newbolt, in which he describes how a squadron of weary big dragoons were led to renewed effort by the strains of a penny whistle and a child's drum taken from a toyshop in a wrecked French town. I remember in India, in a cholera camp, where the men were suffering very badly, the band of the Tenth Lincolns started a regimental sing-song and went on with that queer, defiant tune, "The Lincolnshire Poacher." It was their regimental march that the men had heard a thousand times. There was nothing in it—nothing except all England, all the East Coast, all the fun and daring and horse play of young men bucketing about big pastures in the moonlight. But as it was given, very softly at that bad time in that terrible camp of death, it was the one thing in the world that could have restored, as it did restore, shaken men back to their pride, humor, and self-control. [Cheers.] This may be an extreme instance, but it is not an exceptional one. Any man who has had anything to do with the service will tell you that the battalion is better for music at every turn, happier, more easily handled, with greater zest in its daily routine, if that routine is sweetened with melody and rhythm—melody for the mind and rhythm for the body.
Our new armies have been badly served in this essential. Of all the admirable qualities which they have shown none is more wonderful than the spirit which has carried them through the laborious and distasteful groundwork of their calling without one note of music, except that which the same indomitable spirit provided out of their own heads. We have all seen them marching through the country, through the streets of London, in absolute silence and the crowds through which they passed as silent as themselves for the lack of the one medium that could convey and glorify the thoughts that are in us all today.

We are a tongue-tied brood at the best. The bands can declare on our behalf without shame and without shyness something of what we all feel and help us to reach a hand toward the men who have risen up to save us. In the beginning the more urgent requirements of the new armies overrode all other considerations. Now we can get to work on some other essentials. The War Office has authorized the formation of bands for some of the London battalions, and we may hope presently to see the permission extended throughout Great Britain. We must not, however, cherish unbridled musical ambitions, because a full band means more than forty pieces, and on that establishment we should even now require a rather large number of men; but I think it might be possible to provide drums and fifes for every battalion, full bands at the depots, and a proportion of battalion bands on half, or even one-third, establishments.

But this is not a matter to be settled by laymen; it must be discussed seriously between bandmasters and musicians—present, past, and dug up. [Laughter.] They may be trusted to give their services with enthusiasm. We have had many proofs in the last six months that people only want to know what the new army needs, and it will be gladly and cheerfully given. The army needs music, its own music, for, more than in any other calling, soldiers do not live by bread alone. From time immemorial the man who offers his life for his land has been compassed at every turn of his service with elaborate ceremonial and observance, of which music is no small part, all carefully designed to support and uphold him. It is not seemly and it is not expedient that any portion of that ritual should be slurred or omitted now. [Cheers.]

South Downs Battalion - Claude Lowther's Appeal.

The Southdown’s Battalion were formed from the men of the Home Defence Force and those that volunteered after this notice was published in the Eastbourne Gazette on 9th September 1914.

Lord Kitchener had authorised the raising of a new Sussex battalion. Mr. Lowther’s appeal letter is fascinating; encouraging friends and relatives to sign up together and the special appeal to all ‘who have distinguished themselves upon the field of sport to decorate this town with laurels from the battlefield.’


GREAT RECRUITING EFFORTS

ANOTHER BATTALION OF SUSSEX INFANTRY

TO BE RAISED BY MR. CLAUDE LOWTHER, M.P.

With the sanction of Lord Kitchenner. Mr. Claude Lowther, M.P. (Hertmonceux Castle) is raising another Sussex battalion of infantry which he will command and will accompany wherever it goes. Already the services of a number of local gentlemen have been secured as officers and Sussex men are wanted as rank and file. Mr. Lowther will do his best to make the best commissariat arrangements, but all who join must understand that they will be soldiers under the orders of the Government. The age of enlistment ranges from 19 to 36, a concession which men who have completed their 35th year will appreciate. Mr. Lowther’s great object is to assist the work or recruiting by looking after it himself. Mr. A. Millward (the well known county cricketer and umpire) is the local secretary in Eastbourne; and the appeal for men is being made in the surrounding districts so to form a purely Sussex battalion with separate companies for Eastbourne men, Hailsham men and Hertmonceux men. In some parts of the country men who have gone to enlist have been asked to come in later in the day and this delay has caused some waverers to decide not to join the Army.

About 150 men join the Home Defence Force at Herstmonceux, Mr. Lowther being the commandant and Mr. J.H.C. Norton the hon. Lieutenant. Last Thursday, Mr. Lowther assembled the men and asked how many would join the regulars. Thirty men stepped forward at once and on Monday morning the number had increased to Fifty-five; and it was hoped that by last (Tuesday) evening the full strength required for the Herstmonceux Company would be available.

AN APPEAL FOR AN EASTBOURNE CONTINGENT.

Lord Kitchener, in spite of his strenuous work, has spared time to think of your wants.

He recognises that men often prefer to serve side by side with friends and relatives than to be drafted into different regiments to serve with strangers. He has given me permission to raise another Sussex battalion of infantry which I am to have the honour to command – assisted by other officers who live in the county.

I look confidently to the men of Eastbourne to send a contingent –m to be known as the Eastbourne Company. This contingent will train together, will fight together and will, pray God, return together.

Eastbourne has already responded loyally to the Nation’s call. She has sent men – she will send more.

I make this special appeal a to cricketers, footballers and others who have distinguished themselves upon the field of sport to decorate this town with laurels from the battlefield. But all men between the ages of 19 and 36 will be welcomed.

Claude Lowther.
Herstmonceux Castle.

For particulars apply to Wm. A. Millward, 46, Cavendish Place or to me direct.

540 Recruits from the Eastbourne District

The following 3 notices were published in the Eastbourne Gazette on 9th September 1914, just a month after war was declared.

540 men had signed up from the district and two firms had promised to pay enlisted soldiers from their employment full pay to wives.

540 Recruits from the Eastbourne District

The recruits enlisted at Eastbourne consist of men who have been residing in the borough and the surrounding district.

Enrolled pior to August 28 – 12
Enrolled between Augst 28 – Sept 5. – 370
Enrolled on Monday last – 158

Total 540.

Twenty Three from One firm

No fewer than 23 of the employees of Caffyn’s Garage Ltd (Eastbourne and Heathfield) are serving with the colours. Three other volunteered, but were rejected, 2 on account of defective eyesight and one because he was under age. The married men’s wives will receive allowances from the firm during their husband’s absence. In all cases the positions of the employees are being kept open.

The Grand Hotel Employees With the Colours.

The directors of the Grand Hotel Company Eastbourne, have arranged to pay all married men in their employ (or single men with dependants) who have enlisted for foreign or home service during the war the difference between the Army allowance and full wages in addition to keeping their posts open.

The National Christmas Card.

The Eastbourne Gazette published the following article in November 1914 encouraging it’s readers to purchase the new “National Christmas Card" with proceeds going to the Prince of Wales fund.

The National Christmas Card.

WE have just received a copy of the National Christmas Card, to be sold for the benefit of the Prince of Wales fund.

The first page, entitled “Defenders of the Empire” shows a picturesque representative group of our defenders with a background of battleships and aeroplanes.

On the inside leaf is a super-dreadnought passing and saluting Nelson’s “Victory” and with the Kings message, “Once again the sure shield of Britain and her Empire,” and a text from Shakespeare – “What’s brave, what’s noble, let’s do it.”

The cover is Khaki coloured and each card is stamped with the Prince of Wales feathers.

Glory of War by Adeline Adams

This poem by Adeline Adams appreared in the New York Times in 1915.


“SINGER, why are you white and sad,
And staring through the stars?"
"The friend and brother I once had
Is fallen in the Wars."

"Was he at Mons, or by the Aisne,
Or near the Flanders shore?"
"Also at Rheims, and in Lorraine,
And places many more."

"Had he no children, fair of limb?"
"Yes, he had many sons,
But most are fallen there with him,
Before the monstrous guns."

"And were the daughters of his heart
Crushed also to the sod?"
"The nun who saw their lot and part
Died maniac, cursing God."

"His wife?" "The woman lives, yet dies
Daily, and with the grace
Men say befits her sacrifice,
As it befits her race."

"What was her race, and your friend's rank?
Was he of the first line?
And was he Briton, Russ, or Frank,
Or from beside the Rhine?"

"Ah, many thousand times untold
My friend was each of these,
And went from mart or forge or fold,
To drown in red, red seas!"