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.”
Showing posts with label New Years Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Years Day. Show all posts
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
New Years Day 1916 - General Booth of the Salvation Army.
New Years Day 1916 gave an opportunity for General Booth of the Salvation Army to encourage his members on the struggle ahead.
General Booth’s Call to Faith.
General Booth in his New Year message to the Salvation Army says:-
“We may have some ‘rocky’ times in 1916. Very likely! Men’s hearts will melt with fear. Perhaps so! Wars and rumours of wars will assail them. All manners of voices will cry, “Lo here. Lo there!” Many old landmarks will be removed and some old boundaries will disappear. One sun after another will go down in the night of grief and doubt and fear. The great deeps of human sorrow and bitterness will be broken up in many souls. I call you to a year of faith in God in 1916. We shall do very little without that, but I call you also to a year of burning love of your brothers. If we are to have a New Year that will yield the right record, it must be a year of Peace.”
General Booth’s Call to Faith.
General Booth in his New Year message to the Salvation Army says:-
“We may have some ‘rocky’ times in 1916. Very likely! Men’s hearts will melt with fear. Perhaps so! Wars and rumours of wars will assail them. All manners of voices will cry, “Lo here. Lo there!” Many old landmarks will be removed and some old boundaries will disappear. One sun after another will go down in the night of grief and doubt and fear. The great deeps of human sorrow and bitterness will be broken up in many souls. I call you to a year of faith in God in 1916. We shall do very little without that, but I call you also to a year of burning love of your brothers. If we are to have a New Year that will yield the right record, it must be a year of Peace.”
Friday, January 02, 2009
New Years Day 1916 - The Primrose League.
New Years Day 1916 saw a few notable speeches published in The Times. This sobering speech given to the Primrose League by its Grand Master Lord Curzon sums the feeling of rugged determination which was now needed by all.
Lord Curzon’s Message
Duty, Faith And Endurance.
Lord Curzon of Kedleston, the Grand Master, in his New Year Message to the Primrose League. Says: -
"We have made further acquaintance with the methods of warfare, abominable in their conception and fiendish in their execution that we know now to be the inseparable manifestation of the German spirit and the world has redoubled the execration with which it regards these atrocious crimes. But we have also learned the extent of the enemy’s resources and the determination of his fighting and although, in both respects, signs of weakness are visible, we realize that every ounce of effort that we can put forward, as individuals and as a nation, will be required and that greater sacrifices and sufferings will have to endured before the only peace that we can so much as contemplate is seen on the horizon.
The watchwords for the New Year are Duty, Faith and Endurance and no man or woman has an excuse for not listening to the appeal. "
(The Primrose League was an organisation for spreading Conservative principles in Great Britain. It was founded in 1883 and active until the mid 1990s. It was finally wound up in December 2004).
Lord Curzon’s Message
Duty, Faith And Endurance.
Lord Curzon of Kedleston, the Grand Master, in his New Year Message to the Primrose League. Says: -
"We have made further acquaintance with the methods of warfare, abominable in their conception and fiendish in their execution that we know now to be the inseparable manifestation of the German spirit and the world has redoubled the execration with which it regards these atrocious crimes. But we have also learned the extent of the enemy’s resources and the determination of his fighting and although, in both respects, signs of weakness are visible, we realize that every ounce of effort that we can put forward, as individuals and as a nation, will be required and that greater sacrifices and sufferings will have to endured before the only peace that we can so much as contemplate is seen on the horizon.
The watchwords for the New Year are Duty, Faith and Endurance and no man or woman has an excuse for not listening to the appeal. "
(The Primrose League was an organisation for spreading Conservative principles in Great Britain. It was founded in 1883 and active until the mid 1990s. It was finally wound up in December 2004).
Thursday, January 03, 2008
New Year's Day 1915 - In Furnes, Belgium.
Sarah Macnaughtan had a very different New Year's Day 1915 to anything she could have imagined before the war.
This extract from her amazing story ‘MY WAR EXPERIENCES INTWO CONTINENTS’ .
"31 December, 1914.—The last day of this bad old year. I feel quite thankful for the summer I had at the Grange. It has been something to look back upon all the time I have been here; the pergolas of pink roses, the sleepy fields, the dear people who used to come and stay with me, and all the fun and pleasure of it, help one a good deal now.
Yesterday was a fine day in the middle of weeks of rain. When I came down to breakfast in the Joos' little kitchen I remarked, of course, on the beautyof the weather. "What a day for Taubes!" said Monsieur Max, looking up at the clear blue sky. Before I had left home there was a shell in a street close by, and one heard that already these horrible birds of prey had been at work, and had thrown two bombs, which destroyed two houses in the Rue des Trèfles. The pigeons that circle round the old buildings in Furnes always seem to see the Taubes first, as if they knew by sight their hateful brothers. They flutter disturbed from roof and turret, and then, with a flash of white wings, they fly far away. I often wish I had wings when I see them.
I went to the station, and then to the hospital for slippers for some wounded men. Five aeroplanes were overhead—Allies' and German—and there was a good deal of firing. I was struck by the fact that the night before I had seen exactly this scene in a dream. Second sight always gives me much to think about. The inevitableness of things seems much accentuated by it. In my dream I stood by the other people in the yard looking at the war in the air, and watching the circling aeroplanes and the bursts of smoke.
At the station there was a nasty feeling that something was going to happen. The Taubes wheeled about and hovered in the blue. I went to the hospital for lunch, and afterwards I asked Mr. Bevan to come to the station to look at some wounded whose dressings had not been touched for too long. He said he would come in half an hour, so I said I wouldn't wait, as he knew exactly where to find the men, and I came back to the Villa for my rest. As I walked home I heard that the station had been shelled, and I met one of the Belgian Sisters and told her not to go on duty till after dark, but I had no idea till evening came of what had happened. Ten shells burst in or round the station. Men, women, and children were killed. They tell me that limbs were flying, and a French chauffeur, who came on here, picked up a man's leg in the street. Mr. Bevan sent up word to say none of us was to go to the station for the present.
At Dunkirk seven Taubes flew overhead and dropped bombs, killing twenty-eight people. At Pervyse shells are coming in every day. I can't help wondering when we shall clear out of this. If the bridges are destroyed it will be difficult to get away. The weather has turned very wet again this evening. We have only had two or three fine days in as many months. The wind howls day and night, and the place is so well known for it that "vent de Furnes" is a byword. No doubt the floods protect us, so one mustn't grumble at a sore throat.
1 January, 1915—The station was shelled again to-day. Three houses were destroyed, and there was one person killed and a good many more were wounded. A rumour got about that the Germans had promised 500 shells in Furnes on New Year's Day.
In the evening I went down to the station, and I was evidently not expected. Not a thing was ready for the wounded. The man in charge had let all three fires out, and he and about seven soldiers (mostly drunk) were making merry in the kitchen. None of them would budge, and I was glad I had young Mr. Findlay with me, as he was in uniform, and helped to get things straight. But these French seem to have very little discipline, and even when the military doctors came in the men did nothing but argue with them. It was amazing to hear them. One night a soldier, who is always drunk, was lying on a brancard in the doctor's own room, and no one seemed to mind.
3 January, Sunday.—I have had my usual rest and hot bath. I find I never want a holiday if I may have my Sundays. I spent a lazy afternoon in Miss Scott's room, she being ill, then went to Mr. Streatfield's service, dinner, and the station. A new officer was on duty there, and was introduced to the kitchen. He said, "Les anglais, of course. No one else ever does anything for anybody."
I believe this is very nearly the case. God knows, we are full of faults, but the superiority of the British race to any other that I know is a matter of deep conviction with me, and it is founded, I think, on wide experience.
6 January.—I went to Adinkerke two days ago to establish a soup-kitchen there, as they say that Furnes station is too dangerous. We have been given a nice little waiting-room and a stove. We heard to-day that the station-master at Furnes has been signaling to the enemy, so that is why we have been shelled so punctually. His daughter is engaged to a German. Two of our hospital people noticed that before each bombardment a blue light appeared to flash on the sky. They reported the matter, with the result that the signals were discovered.
There has been a lot of shelling again to-day, and several houses are destroyed. A child of two years is in our hospital with one leg blown off and the other broken. One only hears people spoken of as, "the man with the abdominal trouble," or "the one shot through the lungs."
Children know the different aeroplanes by sight, and one little girl, when I ask her for news, gives me a list of the "obus" that have arrived, and which have "s'éclaté," and which have not. One can see that she despises those which "ne s'éclatent pas." One says "Bon soir, pas des obus," as in English one says, "Good-night, sleep well."
This extract from her amazing story ‘MY WAR EXPERIENCES INTWO CONTINENTS’ .
"31 December, 1914.—The last day of this bad old year. I feel quite thankful for the summer I had at the Grange. It has been something to look back upon all the time I have been here; the pergolas of pink roses, the sleepy fields, the dear people who used to come and stay with me, and all the fun and pleasure of it, help one a good deal now.
Yesterday was a fine day in the middle of weeks of rain. When I came down to breakfast in the Joos' little kitchen I remarked, of course, on the beautyof the weather. "What a day for Taubes!" said Monsieur Max, looking up at the clear blue sky. Before I had left home there was a shell in a street close by, and one heard that already these horrible birds of prey had been at work, and had thrown two bombs, which destroyed two houses in the Rue des Trèfles. The pigeons that circle round the old buildings in Furnes always seem to see the Taubes first, as if they knew by sight their hateful brothers. They flutter disturbed from roof and turret, and then, with a flash of white wings, they fly far away. I often wish I had wings when I see them.
I went to the station, and then to the hospital for slippers for some wounded men. Five aeroplanes were overhead—Allies' and German—and there was a good deal of firing. I was struck by the fact that the night before I had seen exactly this scene in a dream. Second sight always gives me much to think about. The inevitableness of things seems much accentuated by it. In my dream I stood by the other people in the yard looking at the war in the air, and watching the circling aeroplanes and the bursts of smoke.
At the station there was a nasty feeling that something was going to happen. The Taubes wheeled about and hovered in the blue. I went to the hospital for lunch, and afterwards I asked Mr. Bevan to come to the station to look at some wounded whose dressings had not been touched for too long. He said he would come in half an hour, so I said I wouldn't wait, as he knew exactly where to find the men, and I came back to the Villa for my rest. As I walked home I heard that the station had been shelled, and I met one of the Belgian Sisters and told her not to go on duty till after dark, but I had no idea till evening came of what had happened. Ten shells burst in or round the station. Men, women, and children were killed. They tell me that limbs were flying, and a French chauffeur, who came on here, picked up a man's leg in the street. Mr. Bevan sent up word to say none of us was to go to the station for the present.
At Dunkirk seven Taubes flew overhead and dropped bombs, killing twenty-eight people. At Pervyse shells are coming in every day. I can't help wondering when we shall clear out of this. If the bridges are destroyed it will be difficult to get away. The weather has turned very wet again this evening. We have only had two or three fine days in as many months. The wind howls day and night, and the place is so well known for it that "vent de Furnes" is a byword. No doubt the floods protect us, so one mustn't grumble at a sore throat.
1 January, 1915—The station was shelled again to-day. Three houses were destroyed, and there was one person killed and a good many more were wounded. A rumour got about that the Germans had promised 500 shells in Furnes on New Year's Day.
In the evening I went down to the station, and I was evidently not expected. Not a thing was ready for the wounded. The man in charge had let all three fires out, and he and about seven soldiers (mostly drunk) were making merry in the kitchen. None of them would budge, and I was glad I had young Mr. Findlay with me, as he was in uniform, and helped to get things straight. But these French seem to have very little discipline, and even when the military doctors came in the men did nothing but argue with them. It was amazing to hear them. One night a soldier, who is always drunk, was lying on a brancard in the doctor's own room, and no one seemed to mind.
3 January, Sunday.—I have had my usual rest and hot bath. I find I never want a holiday if I may have my Sundays. I spent a lazy afternoon in Miss Scott's room, she being ill, then went to Mr. Streatfield's service, dinner, and the station. A new officer was on duty there, and was introduced to the kitchen. He said, "Les anglais, of course. No one else ever does anything for anybody."
I believe this is very nearly the case. God knows, we are full of faults, but the superiority of the British race to any other that I know is a matter of deep conviction with me, and it is founded, I think, on wide experience.
6 January.—I went to Adinkerke two days ago to establish a soup-kitchen there, as they say that Furnes station is too dangerous. We have been given a nice little waiting-room and a stove. We heard to-day that the station-master at Furnes has been signaling to the enemy, so that is why we have been shelled so punctually. His daughter is engaged to a German. Two of our hospital people noticed that before each bombardment a blue light appeared to flash on the sky. They reported the matter, with the result that the signals were discovered.
There has been a lot of shelling again to-day, and several houses are destroyed. A child of two years is in our hospital with one leg blown off and the other broken. One only hears people spoken of as, "the man with the abdominal trouble," or "the one shot through the lungs."
Children know the different aeroplanes by sight, and one little girl, when I ask her for news, gives me a list of the "obus" that have arrived, and which have "s'éclaté," and which have not. One can see that she despises those which "ne s'éclatent pas." One says "Bon soir, pas des obus," as in English one says, "Good-night, sleep well."
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