Gas Attack - St. Julien 24th May 1915

This account of a gas attack comes from the Kildare Observer 10th July 1915. It was given by Private James Rogers of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. He mentions St Johns which is probably St Julien . According to the Royal Dublin Fusiliers Association:

“The German gas attack in the early hours of May 24, was described as being about three miles long and forty feet deep. The Allied troops in the trenches had little hope of escape. The 2nd Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers were serving at the front that night. The gas bleached the grass, blighted the trees and left a 'broad scar of destruction in its wake'.”

Although this was a month later than the First Attack on April 22nd, it is an interesting account of life at the front.

“as I listened to the tale of horror, of valour and of suffering, told in simple yet vivid language with Private James Rogers, of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, unfolded to me. Private Rogers, who is yet little more than a boy, thought he has experienced more of the stern realities of life than fall to the lot of even the most adventurous amongst us in a long lifetime during the "piping time of peace", is son of Mr. John Rogers, Millbrook, Naas, and has seen five and a half years' service with the "Dubs", four and a half with the third battalion since mobilisation in August last. He looks none the worse for his six months in the firing line. Private Rogers has been on a short furlough with his parents in Millbrook after his recovery from the effects of the wound for which he was sent from the front. He has now gone to join his regiment with the prospect of further thrills before him, from which, let us hope, he will return unscathed.”


“We were next moved to reinforce the Cheshire’s in the trenches. There we remained for about ten days, after which we were shifted to St. John. That was on Whit Monday and here the toughest time began. About 5 o'clock we were saluted with gas from the Germans. The first thing I have any clear recollection of in the excitement was a shout of THE GAS! THE GAS! and it was upon us. A lot of our fellows got badly choked by it, but I was not much affected by it at all. After giving up the gas they began to shell us with high explosives. Part of our fellows on our right had retired, thus leaving our right flank exposed. Most of our officers had been knocked over by the gas and shells and either killed or wounded. A Scottish regiment came up to reinforce us about 8 o'clock, but they were gassed and had to retire. All our officers and non-commissioned officers had been knocked over except Lieut. Shanks, who was in charge of what was left of us. We held the position until about 11 o'clock, where there were ONLY SIX OR SEVEN OF US LEFT. The remainder had all been killed or wounded. When the "Jocks" (as we call the Scottish regiments out there) retired it was a matter of looking out for ourselves. Our right and left flanks were gone. We were told that reinforcements were coming up to us, and I said to the few that was left that we should try and hold on until they arrived. A little later four of the six left stole away to look out for themselves, and they got away. There were then ONLY TWO OF US LEFT, myself and a fellow named Andrews, a Dublin chap. We though we had better try to make a rush to get back to headquarters. The very minute we got out of the trench they turned a machine gun on us, but we managed to cover a bit of ground unhurt, and got to about 100 yards behind the reserve trenches, which were unoccupied at this time. The bullets were flying all about us. They tore through my coat and shirt just under the left arm. I had this (producing a Queen Mary Xmas present box) in the pocket on the left side of my tunic, and that must have saved my life. It was full of fags at the time. A bullet struck it, and going through the cover, glanced off the bottom of the box. (The box itself bore evidence of the valuable service it had done Pte. Rogers). The bullets kept on flying and whistling around us, and then I found myself hit in the left arm. I felt the blood running down my sleeve, but in the excitement I did not mind much. Just then Andrews got shot in the wrist and I WENT TO BANDAGE HIM. We lay down in a ditch, which gave us a bit of cover and every time we tried to get up the machine gun opened fire on us. We thought our best chance was to lie there for a while. We lay down in the ditch for a while, but the other fellow could not "stick" it any longer, and said he would have to go to headquarters. He stood up and made a run for it. I waited, lying down, until he had time to get clear (and I found he got safely to headquarters) and then I made a bolt for it. I saw there was a little more cover in a ditch on the other side of the road and thought I would make for that side. They cut the GROUND FROM UNDER MY FEET as I crossed the road, but I got into the drain all right, and crept back to headquarters. The first men I saw when I got there were Captain Leahy and Captain Magan.

"We had sent word down for reinforcements and a message came back from Col. Loveband to hold on a little longer, that the reinforcements were coming. The Colonel was in a "dug out" near headquarters. The "Jocks" told us the Warwicks were coming to our aid, and to try and hold out.

That was the last message we had from Colonel Loveband, and it was at about 8 o'clock in the morning, as I came back to headquarters past the "dug out" I saw a man lying near the trench. I thought I knew the boots - a sort of highlaced boots. I went over and found there was a coat over the man's face. I lifted it off and saw it was the BODY OF COLONEL LOVEBAND. He had, as far as I could make out, been shot through the lip, just at the bottom of the nose. I looked at the wound and saw the bullet had gone through the back of his head. He was evidently anxious about us - to see how we were getting on without the reinforcements and wanted to have a look. He came out of the trench and was evidently got by a sniper. His face when I saw him dead seemed as if he was laughing - a sort of smile on his features.

"When I got to hospital I was like a ragman - my clothes flittered by bullets".

First Gas Attack - An Eyewitness Account.

This famous eyewitness account of the first gas attack was from Anthony R. Hossack. He joined the Queen Victoria Rifles at the beginning of the War and served with them from early 1915 until after the Battle of Arras, where, in July 1917, he was wounded, returning to France at the end of February 1918, when he was attached to the M.G. Battalion of the 9th (Scottish) Division, and, after coming through the retreat from St. Quentin, was taken prisoner in the battle for Mt. Kemmel.

The full article is on a Great War in a Different Light.

"It was Thursday evening, April 22nd, 1915. In a meadow off the Poperinghe-Ypres road, the men of the Queen Victoria Rifles were taking their ease. We had just fought our first big action in the fight for Hill 60. We had had a grueling time, and had left many of our comrades on its slopes. We survivors were utterly spent and weary; but we felt in good heart, for only an hour ago we had been personally congratulated by Sir John French, also the Army Commander, General Smith-Dorrien.

Now some of us were stretched out asleep on the grass, others making preparations for a much-needed toilet. Our cooks were preparing a meal, and on our right a squad of Sappers were busily erecting huts, in which we were to sleep. Alas! we never used them. As the sun was beginning to sink, this peaceful atmosphere was shattered by the noise of heavy shell-fire coming from the north-west, which increased every minute in volume, while a mile away on our right a 42-cm. burst in the heart of the stricken city of Ypres.

As we gazed in the direction of the bombardment, where our line joined the French, six miles away, we could see in the failing light the flash of shrapnel with here and there the light of a rocket. But more curious than anything was a low cloud of yellow-grey smoke or vapour, and, underlying everything, a dull, confused murmuring.

Suddenly, down the road from the Yser Canal came a galloping team of horses, the riders goading on their mounts in a frenzied way; then another and another, till the road became a seething mass, with a pall of dust over all.

Plainly something terrible was happening. What was it? Officers, and Staff Officers, too, stood gazing at the scene, awestruck and dumbfounded; for in the northly breeze there came a pungent, nauseating smell that tickled the throat and made our eyes smart. The horses and men were still pouring down the road, two or three men on a horse, I saw, while over the fields streamed mobs of infantry, the dusky warriors of French Africa; away went their rifles, equipment, even their tunics, that they might run the faster. One man came stumbling through our lines. An officer of ours held him up with levelled revolver. "What's the matter, you bloody lot of cowards?" says he. The Zouave was frothing at the mouth, his eyes started from their sockets, and he fell writhing at the officer's feet. " Fall in.! " Ah ! we expected that cry; and soon we moved across the fields in the direction of the line for about a mile. The battalion is formed into line, and we dig ourselves in.

It is quite dark now, and water is being brought round, and we hear how the Germans have, by the use of poison gas, driven a French army corps out of the line, creating a huge gap which the Canadians have closed pro tern. A cheer goes up at this bald statement, though little we knew at what a cost those gallant souls were holding on.

About midnight we withdrew from our temporary trenches and marched about for the rest of the night, till at dawn we were permitted to snatch what sleep we could under a hedge. About the middle of the morning we were on the move again, to the north, and were soon swinging along through Vlamertinghe. About two miles out of that town we halted in a field. By this time we had joined up with the remainder of our Brigade. the i3th, and, after a meal had been served, we were ordered to dump our packs and fall in by companies. Here our Company. Commander, Captain Flemming, addressed us. "We are," he said, tired and weary men who would like to rest; however, there are men more weary than we who need our help. We may not have to do much; we may have to do a great deal. Whatever happens, fight like hell. I shall at any rate." A few moments more-then off we go again towards that incessant bombardment, which seemed to come closer every minute.

The Scottish Borderers led the Brigade, followed by the Royal West Kents, then ourselves-all with bayonets fixed, for we were told to be prepared to meet the Germans anywhere on the road.

We were now in the area of the ill-fated French Colonial Corps. Ambulances were everywhere, and the village of Brielen, through which we passed, was choked with wounded and gassed men. We were very mystified about this gas, and had no protection whatever against it.

Shortly after passing through Brielen we turned to the left down a road which led to the Canal, along the south side of which ran a steep spoil bank, and, as the head of our battalion reached this, we halted. We could see nothing of what went on on the other side, but knew by the rattle of musketry that there was something doing. So there was, for when we finally crossed the pontoon we found that the Jocks had met the Germans on the north bank and had bundled them helter-skelter up the slope to Pilckem. This saved us any dirty work for that day, so we spent the rest of it till midnight in carrying supplies and ammunition to the Jocks and Kents, and after-wards lay in reserve on the Canal bank. It froze hard that night, and after the sweating fatigue of carrying boxes of S.A.A. all night we were literally aching with cold.

All night there seemed to be a spasmodic bombardment all round the Salient.

Next morning about 12 o'clock the Adjutant, Captain Culme-Seymour, was chatting to Captain Flemming a few paces away from where I was lying, when up rushed a breathless despatch rider and handed him a message, which he read aloud to Flemming. I caught three words, "Things are critical." In about five minutes the Colonel had the battalion on the move. We moved off in double file by companies, our company leading; as we did so a big shell burst in the midst of "D" Company, making a fearful mess. We moved on quickly, like a gigantic serpent, with short halts now and then. As we skirted Ypres there was a roar of swift-moving thunder and a 17-inch shell, which seemed to be falling on top of us, burst a quarter of a mile away, covering us with dirt.

Over meadows and fields green with young crops which would never be harvested, past cows peacefully grazing that had had their last milking, we went, passing curiously unperturbed peasants, who watched us from the farms and cottages.

As we crossed the Roulers road a lone cavalryman came galloping down it, hatless and rolling in his saddle as though drunk. Some wag throws a ribald jest at him. He turns his ashy face towards us, and his saddle it seems is a mess of blood. Above us a Taube appears and, hovering over us, lets fall a cascade of glittering silver-like petals. A few moments more and shells begin to fall about us in quantities, and gaps begin to appear in our snake-like line.

We pass a field battery; it is not firing, as it has nothing to fire, and its commander sits weeping on the tail of one of his useless guns. We quicken our pace, but the shelling gets heavier. It seems to be raining shrapnel. Captain Fleraming falls, but struggles to his feet and waves us on with encouraging words. We double across a field, and in a few moments come on to the road again. Here was action indeed, for barely had we reached the road and started to work our way towards St. Julien, than we found ourselves amongst a crowd of Canadians of all regiments jumbled up anyhow, and apparently fighting a desperate rearguard action. They nearly all appeared to he wounded and were firing as hard as they could. A machine gun played down the road. Then comes an order: "Dig in on the roadside." We all scrambled into the ditch, which~, like all Flanders ditches, was full of black, liquid mud, and started to work with entrenching tools-a hopeless job. A woman was bringing jugs of water from a cottage a few yards away; evidently she had just completed her week's washing, for a line of garments fluttered in the garden.

"Dig I Dig for your lives !" shouts an officer. But, dig! How can we? 'Tis balers we need.

A detonation like thunder, and I inhale the filthy fumes of a 5.9 as I cringe against the muddy bank. The German heavies have got the road taped to an inch. Their last shell has pitched on our two M.G. teams, sheltering in the ditch on the other side of the road. They disappear, and all we can hear are groans so terrible they will haunt me for ever. Kennison, their officer, stares dazed, looking at a mass of blood and earth. Another crash, and the woman and her cottage and water jars vanish and her pitiful washing hangs in a mocking way from her sagging clothes line. A bunch of telephone wires falls about us. To my bemused brain this is a catastrophe in itself, and I curse a Canadian Sapper beside me for not attempting to mend them. He eyes me vacantly, for he is dead. More and more of these huge shells, two of them right in our midst. Shrieks of agony and groans all round me. I am splashed with blood. Surely I am hit, for my head feels as though a battering-ram has struck it. But no, I appear not to be, though all about me are bits of men and ghastly mixtures of khaki and blood.

The road becomes a perfect shambles. For perhaps half a minute a panic ensues, and we start to retire down the road. But not for long. Colonel Shipley stands in the centre of the road, blood streaming down his face. The gallant Flemming lies at his feet, and the Adjutant, Culme-Seymour, stands in a gateway calmly lighting a cigarette.

"Steady, my lads," says the Colonel. "Steady, the Vics Remember the regiment." The panic is ended.

"This way," says Seymour. "Follow me through this gate here." As we dash through the gate, I catch a glimpse of our M.O. working in an empty gun-pit like a butcher in his shop. Many were the lives he saved that day.

Once through the gate we charge madly across a field of young corn. Shrapnel and machine-gun bullets are cracking and hissing everywhere. Ahead of us is a large farm, and advancing upon it at almost right angles to ourselves is a dense mass of German infantry.

We are carrying four extra bandoliers of ammunition as well as the rest of our equipment. Shall I ever get there? My limbs ache with fatigue, and my legs are like lead. But the inspiring figure of Seymour urges us on, yet even he cannot prevent the thinning of our line or the gaps being torn in it by the German field gunners, whom we can now plainly see.

At last we reach the farm, and we follow Culme-Seymour round to its farther side. The roar of enemy machine guns rises to a crazy shrieking, but we are past caring about them, and with a sob of relief we fall into the farm's encircling trench. Not too soon, either, for that grey mass is only a few hundred yards off, and "Rapid fire! Let 'em have it, boys!" and don't we just! At last a target, and one that we cannot miss. The Germans fall in scores, and their batteries limbered up and away.

At last we have our revenge for the discomfort of the afternoon. But the enemy re-form and come on again, and we allow them to come a bit nearer, which they do. We fire till our rifles are almost too hot to hold, and the few survivors of our mad quarter of an hour stagger back. The attack has failed, and we have held them, and thank God that we have, for, as our next order tells us, "This line must be held at all costs. Our next is more big attacks, though the enemy set fire to the farm and nearly roasted us, though our numbers dwindled and we were foodless and sleepless, till, thirty-six hours later, we were relieved in a misty dawn, and crept back through burning Ypres for a few hours' respite."

First Gas Attack - From The Story of the Great War Vol:5

This account of the first gas attack at St. Julien on 22nd April 1915, is an overview from 'The Story of the Great War, Volume:5' at Project Gutenberg.

It describes the opening sequence of events of the second battle of Ypres.

BEGINNING OF SECOND BATTLE OF YPRES

What is called the second battle of Ypres began with a bombardment of the little city on April 20, 1915. The rain of shells continued on through April 22, 1915, on the evening of which the British
artillery observers reported a strange green vapor moving over the French trenches. The wind was blowing steadily from the northeast. Soon the French troops were staggering back from the front, blinded and choking from the deadly German gas. Many of their comrades had been unable to leave the spot where they were overtaken by the fumes. Those who fled in terror rushed madly across the canal, choking the road to Vlamertinghe. A part of the Zouaves and Turcos ran south toward the Langemarck road, finally reaching the reserve battalions of the Canadians. Ere long the Canadians caught the deadly odor also.

But the work of the gas did a much more valuable thing for the German troops than causing the agonizing death of many hundreds and sending thousands in headlong flight. It made a four-mile-wide opening in the front of the Allies. And the Germans were quick to take advantage of that opening. They followed the gas, and were aided in their advance by artillery fire. The French were forced back on the canal from Steenstraate to Boesinghe. The Canadians had not suffered so much from the gas as the French soldiers, but their flank was too exposed for them to do much effective work against the onrushing Teutons. The attempt to rally the Turcos failed. The Third Brigade could not withstand the attack of four divisions, and was forced inward from a point south of Poelcappelle until its left rested on the wood east of St. Julien. There was a gap beyond it, and the Germans were forcing their way around its flank. Because the entire First Brigade of Canadians had been held in reserve it could not be brought up in time to save the situation. Two of the battalions, the Sixteenth and Tenth, were in the gap by midnight. They charged and recovered the northern edge, and the guns of the Second London Division, which had been supporting the French in the wood east of St. Julien. But the British could not hold all they retook, and were forced to abandon the guns because the artillery horses were miles away. So parts of the guns were made useless before the Germans had them again.

Then another counterattack was made by the First and Fourth Ontarios of General Mercer's First Brigade. The Fourth Ontario captured the German shelter trenches and held them for two days, when they were relieved. The Third Canadian Brigade held its position in spite of being opposed by many times their numbers and almost overcome by the gas fumes. The Forty-eighth Highlanders, who had had to withstand the gas, rallied after their retreat and regained their former place in the front. The Royal Highlanders kept their original position. Yet there was every indication of a rout. The roads were clogged by the night supply trains going forward and the rush of men trying to escape from the deadly gas. The staff officers found it impossible to straighten out the tangle, and the various regiments had to act almost as independent bodies, It was not until early the following morning, April 23, 1915, that the first reinforcements of British soldiers appeared to fill the breach. These men, for the most part, were from the Twenty-eighth Division, and had been east of Zonnebeke to the southeast corner of Polygon Wood. So great was the pressure at the section where the break had been made in the line that troops were taken from wherever available, so that the units in the gap varied from day to day. For the men had to be returned to their original positions, such as remained available, as soon as possible. This composite body of troops has been called Geddes's Detachment.

The Germans had captured Lizerne and Het Sas, and Steenstraate was threatened by them. They bombarded with heavy artillery, located on the Passchendaele ridge, the front held by the Canadians, the Twenty-eighth Division, and Geddes's Detachment, on April 23, 1915. The severest fighting was on that part of the front held by the Third Brigade of Canadians. Many men had been killed or wounded in this brigade, and those who survived were ill from the effects of the gas. Furthermore, no food could be taken to them for twenty-four hours. Moreover, they were subjected to a fire from three sides, with the result that they were forced to a new position on a line running through St. Julien. Finally the Germans forced their way around to the left of the Third Brigade, establishing their machine guns behind it.

A terrific artillery attack was started by the Germans on the morning of April 24, 1915, and this was followed by a second rush of gas from their trenches. It rose in a cloud seven feet high and was making its attack on the British in two minutes after it started. It was thickest near the ground, being pumped from cylinders. And it worked with the same deadly effect. The Third Brigade, receiving its second attack of this sort before it had recovered from the first, retreated to the southwest of St. Julien, but soon after regained most of their lost position. The Second Brigade had to bend its left south. Colonel Lipsett's Eighth Battalion, however, held fast on the Grafenstafel ridge, remaining in their position two days in spite of the gas of which they got a plentiful supply.

By noon of April 24, 1915, the Germans made an attack on the village of St. Julien and that part of the allied front to the east of the village. Thereupon the Third Brigade retreated about 700 yards to a new front south of the village and north of the hamlet of Fortuin. But what remained of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Battalions was forced by circumstances to remain in the St. Julien line until late that night. Colonel Lipsett's Eighth Battalion at Grafenstafel, in spite of its left being unsupported, held its position which was of great importance to the British front. For, had that part of the front been lost, the Germans in an hour could have worked their way back of the Twenty-eighth Division and the entire eastern sector.

In the meantime the French on the western section of the front made a counterattack from the canal with partial success; but were unable to drive the German troops from the sector entirely. The Teutons took Steenstraate; but their victory there was marred by the fact that the Belgian artillery smashed the bridge behind them. By this time the British reenforcements began to arrive in fairly large numbers. The Thirteenth Brigade of the Fifth Division was placed to the west of Geddes's Detachment, between the Pilkem road and the canal. Territorials who had arrived from England only three days before, the Durham and York Brigades of the Northumbrian Division, supported the Thirteenth Brigade. The Tenth Brigade of the Fourth
Division were rushed to support the Third Brigade of Canadians who were south of St. Julien. Other British troops were sent to relieve the tense situation at Grafenstafel.

An attempt to retake St. Julien was made early on Sunday morning, April 25, 1915, by General Hull's Tenth Brigade and two battalions of the Durham and York Brigade. The British worked their way to the few Canadians who had continued on the former front when the main British force had been driven back. There they were checked by the German machine gun fire. The British lost many men here and the efforts to save the day resulted in such a mixture of fighting
units that there were fifteen battalions under General Hull, as well as the Canadian artillery.

At Grafenstafel the Eighth Battalion of the Durham Brigade were bombarded with asphyxiating shells before the German infantry attack. The fighting on this section of the front was fierce throughout the afternoon, but finally the British were forced to retire. At Broodseinde, the extreme eastern point of the allied front, the Germans made a desperate attempt to take the salient, using asphyxiating and other bombs again and again on the men of the Twenty-eighth Division of the British. King George's men, however, repelled the attacks with severe loss to the Teutons, taking many prisoners.

The French on the left, beyond the Yperlee Canal, prevented the advance of the German troops; and, farther to the left, the Belgians checked three attacks in which asphyxiating gas was used, south of Dixmude. Thus it may be seen that the Germans had met with no success worth while, when Sunday, April 25, 1915, closed, so far as the ends of the salient were concerned; but in the center the British situation was so critical that the Second Canadian Brigade, reduced to less than 1,000 men, was once more called into action on the following day. On the same day, April 26, 1915, the Lahore Division of the Indian army was marched north of Ypres. The point of the salient was pushed in on that day at Broodseinde, but the German success there was short-lived. The brigade holding Grafenstafel was attacked fiercely by the Germans. The Durham Light Infantry was forced from Fortuin behind the Haanabeek River. The Teutons made several attacks from the St. Julien district against the section between the Yperlee Canal and the southern part of the village. By this time Geddes's Detachment was almost exhausted, they, with the Canadians, having withstood the heaviest fighting at the beginning of the battle; and most likely saved the Allies a most disastrous defeat. The detachment could stand no more, and the various units of which it was composed were returned to their respective commands.

But the salient was growing smaller as a result of the repeated hammering of the Germans; and that exposed the allied troops to a more deadly fire from three sides. It was evident that the Allies must make a counterattack. General Riddell's Brigade was sent to Fortuin and with the Lahore Division on its left was told to retake St. Julien and the woods to the west of the village. Beyond the Yperlee Canal, on the left, the French made an assault on Lizerne, supported by the Belgian artillery; while the French colonial soldiers poured on Pilkem from the sector about Boesinghe. On the right the allied troops were lined up as follows: the Connaught Rangers,
Fifty-seventh Wilde's Rifles, the Ferozepore Brigade, the 129th Baluchis, the Jullundur Brigade, and General Riddell's battalions. The Sirhind Brigade was held in reserve.

The German artillerymen apparently knew the distances and topography of the entire region and poured a leaden hail upon the allied troops. The Indians and the British in their immediate neighborhood charged in short rushes, losing many men in the attempt to reach the German
trenches. Before the Germans were in any danger of a hand-to-hand struggle, they sent one of their gas clouds from their trenches and the attack was abandoned, the British and Indians getting back to their trenches as best they could. In this action the British gave great praise to their comrades from India. Riddell's Brigade was stopped in its attack on St. Julien by wire entanglements; and, though the outlaying sections of St. Julien were captured, the brigade was unable to hold them; and the Germans continued to hold the woods west of the village. Nevertheless the British front had been pushed forward from 600 to 700 yards in some places.

By that night, the night of April 26, 1915, the allied front extended from the north of Zonnebeke to the eastern boundary of the Grafenstafel ridge; thence southwest along the southern side of the Haanabeek to a point a half mile east of St. Julien; thence, bending around that village, it ran to Vamhuele--called the "shell trap"--farm on the Ypres-Poelcappelle road. Next it proceeded to Boesinghe and crossed the Yperlee Canal, passing northward of Lizerne after which were the French and the Belgians.

The work of the allied aviators on April 26, 1915, deserves more than passing consideration in the record of that day's fighting. They dropped bombs on the stations of Courtrai, Roubaix, Thielt, and Staden. They discovered near Langemarck an armored train with the result that it was shelled and thus forced to return. And they forced a German aviator to the ground at Roulers.

The Lahore Division with the French on their left attacked the Germans on April 27, 1915, but they met with little success because of the gas which the Teutons sent into the ranks of the attacking party. But the German troops had lost so heavily that they did not seem to be inclined to follow up their apparent advantage. Incidentally the Allies needed a rest as well. Hence there was little fighting the next two days. On April 30, 1915, however, General Putz attacked the Germans with so much force that they were hurled back an appreciable distance near Pilkem. Seven machine guns and 200 prisoners were taken, and the 214th, 215th, and 216th German regiments lost more than 1,000 men. On the same day the London Rifle Brigade, further east, drove back a German forward movement from St. Julien.

West of the Yperlee Canal, however, it soon became known to the commanders of the allied forces that the Germans were in such a strong position that it would be impossible to dislodge their enemy until much greater preparations had been made. In the meantime the communications of the Allies were in danger. Hence Sir John French on May 1, 1915, ordered Sir Herbert Plumer to retreat. The wisdom of this order, the execution of which contracted the southern portion of the salient, was seen when the Germans again attempted to force their way through the allied front by the use of gas. The attempt this time was made between Zonnebeke, on the Ypres-Roulers railroad, and Boesinghe on the Yperlee Canal on Sunday, May 2, 1915. Though the British had been supplied with respirators of a sort, these means of defense were not as effective as they should have been nor as adequate as what was provided later. The Germans, however, suffered large losses in this attack because, as soon as the wall of gas began to approach the British trenches, the men there fired into it, well knowing from past experience that the Germans were following the gas. In this manner many of the Teutons were slain. The Allies adopted other tactics which were quite as effective. On seeing the gas approaching, the soldiers in some parts of the line proceeded to execute a flank movement, thereby getting away from the gas and subjecting the Germans to a deadly fire from a direction least expected.

Between Fortuin and Zonnebeke and south of St. Julien the allied line broke, but the supports with two cavalry regiments were rushed from Potijze, a mile and a half from Ypres on the Zonnebeke Road, and regained the lost ground. By night the Germans decided to discontinue their attempt to advance and left their dead and wounded on the field.

The Canadian Memorial, St. Julien, Belgium.

The Canadian Memorial stands in Saint Julien Wood, a section of forested land in Belgium, near Langemark at the north east of the Ypres Salient. During World War I, the location was known as 'Vancouver Corner'. Kitchener's Wood is close by.

The memorial stands 11 metres tall and is visable for miles around. It rises from a flagstoned terrace, carved to form the bowed head and shoulders of a Canadian soldier, his hands resting on his reversed rifle. It is surrounded by tall cedars trimmed into cones to complement the granite shaft.




On 22nd & 23rd April 1915, the 5th, 8th, 10th and 15th Battalions of the 2nd Brigade of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, became the first units of the British Army to experience a German chlorine gas attack, at the beginning of the Second Battle of Ypres.




Out of the 816 Canadian soldiers from 10th Battalion C.E.F, who were to the right of the British forces, 623 of them lay dead by the end of 23rd April. They were buried where they fell.

The Franco-Belgian Cross, Steenstraat, Belgium.

The Franco-Belgian Cross near Steenstrat remembers the first poison gas attack on 22nd April 1915.

This 15 metre high aluminium cross is a replacement for the original memorial showing soldiers being asphyxiated by the gas. This was destroyed by the Germans during the Second World War.

The cross was made by the architects Paul Tournon and Pierre Devillers in 1961.

The inscription around the base of the monument gives the Regiments involved in the fighting in the area by both French and Belgian Forces, and in particular those who were subjected to the first gas attack on 22nd April 1915.

Lord Roberts Funeral

In a previous post Lord Roberts Memorial Workshops I looked at the work of the Memorial workshops set up in honour of Lord Roberts and the miniature tank week organized in 1918.


This report from the Kildare Observer 0n 11th November 1914, announces the death of Lord Roberts after catching a chill at St. Omer.


We deeply regret to announce the death of field Marshal Lord Roberts, which took place on Saturday evening at the front. Only on Thursday of last week Lord Roberts proceeded to France to see the Indian troops at present fighting at the front, of which he was Colonel-in-Chief. He contracted a chill and succumbed, after a short illness, to an attack of pneumonia. Lord Roberts was quite fit and well when he left England with Lady Aileen Roberts (his daughter) and Major Lewin, his son-in- law, on Wednesday of last week. The party had rough weather when crossing to France, but Lord Roberts showed no sign of distress upon landing. In fact, so well was he that he accomplished everything in France that he went to do.


On Thursday and Friday he visited by motor car the British bases and camps, discussing affairs with the leading officers, and his Lordship's chief purpose, the inspection of the Indian troops, was also fulfilled.


It was not until dinner on Friday night that he complained of feeling a slight chill, and being subject to more or less trilling chest troubles, he followed his usual course and went to bed early. Usually these attacks were amenable to home treatment, but as his temperature increased rather then dropped a medical man was summoned, his diagnosis put a serious opinion that Lord Roberts was in an extremely critical condition.


His Lordship complained occupations, his highest obligation were faithfully discharged in a room specially set apart for players for the household, while Sunday morning invariably found him at church. If he had visitors they would be seen in his nephew. He would always walk to church rather than give Sunday work to his chauffeur or coachman. Every institution in Ascot having for its object the good of the inhabitants had his warm support.


Although the present war had put an additional strain on Lord Roberts, it did not excite him beyond what might be expected of an old soldier. He, of all men knew it would come sooner or later, and though it came perhaps sooner than he expected it did not find him unprepared.


The Press Bureau on Wednesday morning issued a lengthy account of the funeral service of Lord Roberts at the General Headquarters in France:- It was an impressive scene as the remains of the ex- chief of the British army were conveyed with Military Honours from the house where he died, through the town in which are at present stationed General Headquarters, to the Town Hall, where the funeral service was performed. The route was lined with British and French troops.


To the wail of "Flowers of the Forest" from pipers the long cortege moved up the street in the following order:- British Cavalry, French Cavalry, Territorials, Indian Detachments, Regimental Officers, the Maire and other French Officials, Indian Officers, Officer of the French mission with the British Army Officers of the General Headquarters staff, and the French General Officer's Personal staff, and the Commander-in-Chief. The gun carriage, escorted by eight General Officers acting as Pall Bearers: representatives of Earl Roberts family; The Prince of Wales, representing the King; Sir John French, representing the King of the Belgians; Prince Arthur of Connaught; Colonel V. Huquet, representing the French President; French Cavalry, and Royal Horse Artillery.


The service was held in the Vestibule of the Maine, which had been converted into a temporary chapel, furnished with an altar and beautifully decorated with flowers. The whole of the Officers attending were accommodated within, and the Prince of Wales and Prince Arthur stood at one end of the Bier. The service was conducted by Rev. F.J. Anderson of "Now the Labourer's task is over" and "O God, our help in ages past".



At the conclusion of the service the "Last Post", blow by British Buglers, rang out across the square, and brought to those present the realisation that they had followed their old chief for the last time.


The interment took place at St. Paul's, London on Thursday, the King being present.


For an in depth account of his funeral: http://www.garenewing.co.uk/angloafghanwar/articles/roberts_funeral.php

Pozieres British Cemetery and Memorial, Ovillers-la-Boisselle, Somme, France

On the main road from Pozieres towards Albert, the large Pozieres British Cemetery and Memorial is reached on the right side of the road. The inscription above the gate reads "In memory of the Officers and Men of the Fifth and Fourth Armies who fought on the Somme battlefields 21st March to 7th August 1918 and of those of their dead who have no known graves".

The village of Pozieres was attacked on 23 July 1916 by the 1st Australian and 48th (South Midland) Divisions, and was taken on the following day. It was lost on 24-25 March 1918, during the great German advance, and recaptured by the 17th Division on the following 24 August. Plot II of Pozieres British Cemetery contains the original burials of 1916, 1917 and 1918, carried out by fighting units and field ambulances. The remaining plots were made after the Armistice when graves were brought in from the battlefields immediately surrounding the cemetery; the majority of them of soldiers who died in the autumn of 1916, but a few represent the fighting in August 1918. The cemetery is enclosed by the Pozieres Memorial, which relates to the period of crisis in March and April 1918 when the Allied Fifth Army was driven back by overwhelming numbers across the former Somme battlefields, and the months that followed before the Advance to Victory, which began on 8 August 1918.



The Memorial commemorates over 14,000 casualties of the United Kingdom and 300 of the South African Forces who have no known grave and who died in France during the Fifth Army area retreat on the Somme from 21 March to 7 August 1918. The Corps and Regiments most largely represented are The Rifle Brigade with over 600 names, The Durham Light Infantry with approximately 600 names, the Machine Gun Corps with over 500, The Manchester Regiment with approximately 500 and The Royal Horse and Royal Field Artillery with over 400 names.

Billjim by Edward Dyson

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

Billjim" was a name apparently given to an Australian Light Horseman (some became Cameliers) by Norman Lindsay in his comic strip of the time - every second male was named either Bill or Jim!


BILLJIM

DOWN to it is Plugger Bill,
Lyin' crumpled, white 'n' still.
Me 'n' him
Chips in when the scrap begins,
Carin' nothin' for our skins,
Chi-iked as the 'Eavenly Twins-
Bill 'n' Jim.

They 'ave outed Bill at last,
Slugged me cobber hard 'n' fast.
It's a kill.
See the purple of his lip
'N' the red 'n' oozy drip!
Ends our great ole partnership-
Jim 'n' Bill

Mates we was when we was kids;
Camp, 'n' ship, 'n' Pyramids,
Him 'n' me
Hung together, 'n' we tore
Up the heights from Helles shore,
Bill a long 'arf head afore,
Fine to see!

Then it was we took a touch-
Simple puncture, nothin' much;
But we lay
'N' we stays the count, it seems,
In a sorter realm of dreams
Where the sun infernal gleams
Night 'n' day;

Boilin', fryin' achin', dumb,
Waitin' till the stretchers come,
Patiently.
I hangs on to 'arf a cup.
Which I wants ole Bill to sup.
Damn if he ain't savin' up
His for me!

When they come to lift my head
I am softly kiddin' dead,
For a game,
So's they'll first take on his gills.
Over, though, me scheme he spills-
Bli'me, this ole take-down Bill's
Done the same!

But he isn't kiddin' now,
And it knocks me anyhow
Seein' him.
We was both agreed before,
Though it got 'em by the score,
Two was goin' to beat this war-
But 'n' Jim.

Mate o' mine, yiv stayed it through.
Hard luck, Bill-for me 'n' you
Hard 'n' grim.
They have got me Cobber true,
But I'm stickin' tight ez glue....
Bill, there's one who'll plug for two-
It is Jim!

2nd Battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment.

The 2nd Battalion Royal Sussex was a regular service battalion and at the outbreak of the First World War was stationed at Woking.

In its history, it had been sent to Egypt in 1882 as part of General Wolseley's expedition to crush the Urabi Revolt and conquer Egypt in the name of the Khedive. The Battalion was stationed in Alexandria after its bombardment by the Royal Navy and later, in 1884, the regiment was part of the Nile Expedition--the unsuccessful attempt to save General Gordon and his garrison at Khartoum during the Mahdist War.

In 1888, the 2nd Battalion was stationed in India, as part of the Black Mountain Expedition, one of many battles fought along the North-West Frontier Province.

The 2nd Battalion crossed the channel with the British Expeditionary Force in 1914 and was of 2nd Brigade, 1st Division.

The 1st Division of the British Army :

1st (Guards) Brigade (On formation of the Guards Division in August 1915, this Brigade lost its two Guards battalions and was redesignated without the Guards reference in its title).

1st Battalion, the Coldstream Guards (left August 1915).
1st Battalion, the Scots Guards (left August 1915).
1st Battalion, the Black Watch.
2nd Battalion, the Royal Munster Fusiliers (left September 1914, after suffering high losses in the Rearguard Affair of Etreux).
1st Battalion, the Cameron Highlanders (joined to replace the Royal Munster Fusiliers in September 1914).
14th (County of London) Battalion, the London Regiment (joined November 1914, left February 1916).
8th (Service) Battalion, the Royal Berkshire (joined August 1915, left February 1918).
10th (Service) Battalion, the Gloucester’s (joined August 1915, disbanded February 1918).
1st Battalion, the Loyal North Lancs (joined February 1918).
1st Brigade Machine Gun Company (formed on 26 January 1916, moved into 1 MG Bn 28 February 1918).
1st Trench Mortar Battery (joined by 27 November 1915).

2nd Brigade

2nd Battalion, the Royal Sussex.
1st Battalion, the Northamptonshire.
1st Battalion, the Loyal North Lancs (left February 1918).
2nd Battalion, the King's Royal Rifle Corps.
5th (Cinque Ports) Battalion, the Royal Sussex (joined February 1915, left August 1915).
9th Battalion, the King's (Liverpool) (joined March 1915, left November 1915).
5th Battalion, the King's Own (joined October 1915, left January 1916).
2nd Brigade Machine Gun Company (formed on 26 January 1916, moved into 1 MG Bn 28 February 1918).
2nd Trench Mortar Battery (joined by 27 November 1915).

3rd Brigade

1st Battalion, the Queen's (transferred to I Corps, November 1914).
1st Battalion, the South Wales Borderers.
1st Battalion, the Gloucester’s.
2nd Battalion, the Welsh.
2nd Battalion, the Royal Munster Fusiliers (joined November 1914, left February 1918).
4th (Denbighshire) Battalion, the Royal Welsh Fusiliers (joined November 1914, left September 1915).
6th (Glamorgan) Battalion, the Welsh (joined October 1915, left May 1916).
9th Battalion, the King's (Liverpool) (joined November 1915, left January 1916).
3rd Brigade Machine Gun Company (formed on 26 January 1916, moved into 1 MG Bn 28 February 1918).
3rd Trench Mortar Battery (joined by 27 November 1915).

Divisional Troops
6th (Glamorgan) Battalion, the Welsh (joined as Pioneers May 1916).
216th Machine Gun Company (joined 22 March 1917, joined Divisional MG Battalion 1 March 1918).
No 1 Machine Gun Battalion (created 28 February 1918).

Divisional Mounted Troops
C Squadron, 15th (King's) Hussars (left April 1915).
B Squadron, 1st Northumberland Hussars (joined 13 April 1915, left 18 April 1916).
1st Cyclist Company (left 15 June 1916).

Divisional Artillery

LXI (Howitzer) Brigade, RFA (joined August 1915, broken up 14 November 1916)
XXV Brigade, RFA.
XXVI Brigade, RFA (left January 1917).
XXXIX Brigade, RFA .
26 Heavy Battery, RFA (left April 1915).
1st Divisional Ammunition Column
V.1 Heavy Trench Mortar Battery RFA (formed 30 January 1917, broken up 9 February 1918)
X.1, Y.1 and Z.1 Medium Mortar Batteries RFA (joined by 16 March 1916; on 9 February 1918, Z broken up and batteries reorganised to have 6 x 6-inch weapons each)

Engineer Units

23rd Field Company.
26th Field Company.
1st (Lowland) Field Company (joined Dec 1914, renamed 409th Field Coy).
1st Divisional Signal Company.


The 2nd Battalion fought through the war on the Western Front and it was during the first Battle of Ypres that it was given the unofficial title "The Iron Regiment" as an unsolicited testimonial by German prisoners captured on November 1st 1914.

At the Battle of Aubers Ridge and Festubert in 1915, the Battalion fought alongside the 5th (Cinque Ports) Battalion. Later that year, on 25th September, during the Battle of Loos Sgt Harry Wells won a posthumous VC, when the Battalion took part in the attack in the vicinity of the Lone Tree in front of Hulluch.

Throughout the war the 2nd battalion, Royal Sussex Regiment, lost a total of 1,723 officers and men.


The Battle honors of the Battalion:

Battle of Mons. (23-24 Aug 1914).
Rearguard affair of Etreux. (27 Aug 1914).
Battle of the Marne. (7-10 Sep 1914, including the passage of the Petit Morin and the passage of the Marne).
Battle of the Aisne. (12-15 Sep 1914, including the capture of the Aisne Heights including the Chemin des Dames).
Actions of the Aisne Heights. (20 Sep 1914).
Action of Chivy. (26 Sep 1914).
Battle of Langemarck. (21-24 Oct 1914).
Battle of Gheluvelt. (29-31 Oct 1914).
Battle of Nunne Bosschen. (11 Nov 1914).
Defence of Givenchy. (20-21 Dec 1914).

First action of Givenchy. (25 Jan 1915).
Affairs of Cuinchy. (29 Jan. 1 Feb. 6 Feb 1915).
Battle of Aubers. (9 May 1915, including the attack on Fromelles and the attack at Rue du Bois).
Battle of Loos. (25 Sep-8 Oct 1915).
Actions of the Hohenzollern Redoubt. (13-19 Oct 1915).

Battle of Albert. (1-13 Jul 1916, including the capture of Montauban, Mametz, Fricourt, Contalmaison and La Boisselle).
Battle of Bazentin. (14-17 Jul 1916, including the capture of Longueval, Trones Wood and Ovillers).
Battle of Pozieres. (23 Jul 1916, including the fighting for Mouquet Farm).
Battle of Flers-Courcelette. (15-22 Sep 1916, including the capture of Martinpuich).
Battle of Morval. (25-28 Sep 1916, including the capture of Combles, Lesboeufs and Gueudecourt).
German retreat to the Hindenburg Line. (14 Mar-5 Apr 1917).
Operations on the Flanders Coast. (20 Jun-11 Nov 1917).
German attacks on Nieuport. (10-11 Jul 1917).
Second Battle of Passchendaele. (26 Oct-10 Nov 1917).

Battle of Estaires. (9-11 Apr 1918, including the first defence of Givenchy).
Battle of Hazebrouck. (12-15 Apr 1918, including the defence of the Hinges Ridge and the Nieppe Forest).
Battle of Bethune. (18 Apr 1918, including the second defence of Givenchy).
Battle of Drocourt-Queant. (2-3 Sep 1918).
Battle of Epehy. (18 Sep 1918).
Battle of Beaurevoir. (3-5 Oct 1918).
Battle of the Selle. (17-25 Oct 1918).Battle of the Sambre. (4 Nov 1918, including the passage of the Sambre-Oise canal and the capture of Le Quesnoy).

19th (Western) Division Memorial, Wytschaete, Belgium.

The 19th (Western) “Butterfly” Division memorial is located nearby Wytschaete. It shows the butterfly emblem of the Division at the top of the cross and commemorates the division's greatest achievement of the First World War.



On 7th June 1917 the Battle of Messines opened and the 19th Division was among the first to advance in the wake of the explosion of 19 mines which signified the start of the attack at 3.10am.


The Divisional memorial is sited at the crossroads which the division successfully reached within five hours of the start of the attack, which included the taking of the village of Oosttaverne nearby.


During the attack 19th Division lost 51 officers and some 1,358 other ranks. In their turn they captured 1,253 German prisoners.


The same site saw further action by 19th Division in April 1918 during the Battle of Lys.

The 19th Division Memorial has an identical memorial in design at la Boiselle on the Somme.

Alphabet of the War.

This little article by Aubrey Ford was first published in the London Opinion and was subsequently republished in the Kildare Observer.

Penned in the first few months of the war, it is an excellent patriotic, flag waving article and captures the optimistic spirit of the time.

ALPHABET OF THE WAR

A Stands for Austria, Awed and afraid.

B Stands for Belgium, so basely betrayed.

C Is for Cossacks that never were cowed.

D ! What the Kaiser's been saying quite loud.

E Is the English for, Amen.

F Stands for French, both the man and the men.

G For the Germans, their graves let them grieve;

H The lost honour they ne'er will retrieve.

I Stands for Indians, imperially true;

J Stands for Joffre, and Jellicoe, too.

K For our king, and our great K. of Ki.;

L For Liece, and lost lovely Louvanin.

M Stands for mines for our merchantmen laid;

N For our Navy that guarding our trade.

O For the outrages, German's shame,

P Is the price to be paid for the same.

Q Is the quid proque Britain had waiting;

R The steam roller, its rush ne'er abating.

S Stands for sausage and sauerkraut, what!

T For the treaties the war lord forgot.

U For the Uhlans we quickly upset;

V Is the victory soon we shall get.

W That's Wilhelm, who'd so much to say,

X Is that 'Xit he'll make one fine day.

Y'S For the years that he's yearned for this fight.

Z Are his Zeppelins served jolly well right.

(The London Opinion replaced Barry Pain's weekly To-Day, in July 1905; it was a digest-sized monthly magazine and it carried some fiction as well as cartoons, humorous squibs, etc.
It absorbed The Humorist in August 1940 and was absorbed by Men Only at some point in the 1950s).

Private Walter James Homer, 3rd Pioneer Battalion, A.I.F.

Selsey War Memorial in West Sussex contains the name of one former resident who fought with the Australian Imperial Force.



Private Walter James Homer, 106, 3rd Pioneer Battalion, A.I.F.

Private Homer was born in Selsey on Sea and arrived in Australia aged 20. His parents were Charles and Ellen Homer, 2 Richmond Villas, Selsey-on-sea, Chichester, England.

He enlisted on 16th February 1916 aged 22, his occupation given was that of Station Hand and his address; 48 Melville Road, Hawthorn, Victoria.

He was 5’ 10” tall, weighed 142 lbs had blue eyes and brown hair.

He embarked from Melbourne, Victoria, on board HMAT A62 ‘Wandilla’ on 6th June 1916.

He was killed in action on 6th September 1918, aged 24.

He is buried in Tincourt New British Cemetery (Plot X, Row D, Grave No. 10), France.

Tintagel War Memorial, Cornwall.

Tintagel War Memorial on the North coast of Cornwall, England.

A full list of the dead on the memorial can be found at tintagelweb.co.uk

The Tintagel War Memorial contains the name of one soldier who fought with the Australian Imperial force, Private Herbert Goodman, 28th Battalion, AIF.

Private Herbert Goodman enlisted on 9th September 1915. He was the son of John and Elizabeth J Goodman formerly of Treknow, and had arrived in Australia 5 years earlier at the age of 14.

His occupation on his enlistment is given as a farm-hand.

He embarked from Fremantle, Western Australia, on board HMAT A7 Medic on 18 January 1916

He was killed in Action on 3rd-6th November 1916 at Fleurs, France.

He is buried in Warlencourt British Cemtery (Plot IV, Row C, Grave No. 14), France, aged 20.

Villers-Bretonneux Military Cemetery

VILLERS-BRETONNEUX MILITARY CEMETERY was made after the Armistice when graves were brought in from other burial grounds in the area and from the battlefields.




Plots I to XX were completed by 1920 and contain mostly Australian graves, almost all from the period March to August 1918. Plots IIIA, VIA, XIIIA and XVIA, and Rows in other Plots lettered AA, were completed by 1925, and contain a much larger proportion of unidentified graves brought from a wider area. Later still, 444 graves were brought in from Dury Hospital Military Cemetery.

The following were among the burial grounds from which British graves were taken to Villers-Bretonneux Military Cemetery.

CARD COPSE CEMETERY, MARCELCAVE, on the road to Fouilloy, where 35 Australian soldiers were buried by the 2nd Australian Division in July and August, 1918.

DURY HOSPITAL MILITARY, CEMETERY, under the wall of the Asylum near the West side of the Amiens-Dury road. From August, 1918, to January, 1919, this building was used intermittently by British medical units, and a cemetery was made next to an existing French Military Cemetery. The British cemetery contained the graves of 195 Canadian and 185 United Kingdom soldiers and airmen; 63 Australian soldiers; one man of the Cape Auxiliary Horse Transport Corps; and one French and one American soldier.

HIGH CEMETERY, SAILLY-LE-SEC, on the road to Ville-sur-Ancre, where 18 United Kingdom and eleven Australian soldiers were buried in June-August, 1918.

KANGAROO CEMETERY, SAILLY-LE-SEC (on the Ville-sur-Ancre road, but nearer Sailly), where 13 Australian soldiers were buried by the 41st Battalion in March-April, 1918, and 14 of the 58th (London) Division by their comrades in August, 1918.

LAMOTTE-EN-SANTERRE COMMUNAL CEMETERY EXTENSION. The village was captured by Australian troops on the 8th August, 1918, and the Extension contained the graves of 56 Australian and twelve United Kingdom soldiers who fell in August and September.

LA NEUVILLE-LES-BRAY COMMUNAL CEMETERY, containing the grave of one Australian soldier who fell in August, 1918.

LE HAMELET BRITISH CEMETERY (behind the Church), containing the graves of 25 Australian soldiers who fell in April-July, 1918; and the COMMUNAL CEMETERY EXTENSION, in which 27 Australian soldiers and one from the United Kingdom were buried in July and August, 1916.

MIDWAY CEMETERY, MARCELCAVE, 1,500 yards North-West of Marcelcave Church, made by the Canadian Corps and containing the graves of 53 Canadian and three United Kingdom soldiers who fell in August, 1918.

VAUX-SUR-SOMME COMMUNAL CEMETERY, containing three Australian graves of March-April, 1918, and two United Kingdom of 1916 and 1917; and the EXTENSION, made in May-August, 1918, and containing the graves of 130 Australian soldiers and 104 soldiers (mainly 58th Division and Artillery) and one airman from the United Kingdom.

WARFUSEE-ABANCOURT COMMUNAL CEMETERY EXTENSION, in which five Australian soldiers were buried by the 12th Australian Field Ambulance in August, 1918. There are now 2,142 Commonwealth servicemen of the First World War buried or commemorated in this cemetery. 609 of the burials are unidentified but there are special memorials to five casualties known or believed to be buried among them, and to 15 buried in other cemeteries whose graves could not be found on concentration. The cemetery also contains the graves of two New Zealand airmen of the Second World War.

Villers-Bretonneux became famous in 1918, when the German advance on Amiens ended in the capture of the village by their tanks and infantry on 23 April. On the following day, the 4th and 5th Australian Divisions, with units of the 8th and 18th Divisions, recaptured the whole of the village and on 8 August 1918, the 2nd and 5th Australian Divisions advanced from its eastern outskirts in the Battle of Amiens.

Both cemetery and memorial were designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens.

Villers Bretonneux, The Australian National Memorial - Part IV

Photographs of the Australian National Memorial.

The Entrance

The Memorial in the distance.




Towards the Cross of Sacrifice.



The Cross of Sacrifice.



The Australian National Memorial





The Inscription reads :

"To the Glory of God and in memory of the Australian Imperial Force in France and Flanders 1916-1918
And of eleven thousand who fell in France and have no know grave. "




Inside the Memorial, with a map of the Austrialian Divisional Memorials.




Looking down from the Top of the Memorial.

The side of the Memorial.

A Bronze Plaque explaining the Australian involvement in France and Flanders.


It reads:

"Australia erected its national war memorial here to commemorate the nations feat of arms in France and Belgium during the war. The memorial also records and honours 10,982 Australian dead who have no known grave and died in France (other than at Fromelles). The national memorial with its 32 metre tower. Overlooks many of the battlefields in which Australians fought including those to the north around Dernancourt and south beyond Villers Bretonneux.

The memorial is located on a hill from which the Australians and British repulsed German advances on Villers Bretonneux on 24 April 1918.The memorial was built by the commonwealth war graves commission and unveiled in 1938 by King George VI - during 1940 French forces briefly held the advancing Germans in this area, signs of the damage done by German artillery can still be seen today. Separate from the memorial is the cemetery, which was made after the 1918 armistice. Graves from other burial sites and the battlefield were concentrated here. Men from many nations lie here in peace.

Their sacrifice is not forgotten."

Villers Bretonneux, The Australian National Memorial - Part III

This report in the British Nursing Journal in August 1938 page 199, recalls the King and Queen unveiling the Australian War Memorial.

The Queen placing a Flanders poppy from her bouquet on the Australian Memorial after it had been unveiled by the King.

"THE KING’S TRIBUTE TO AUSTRALIAN GALLANTRY.

On July 22nd, the King stood with the Queen and President Lebrun, beside him, when on hallowed ground at Villers-Bretonneux he unveiled the Australian War Memorial-ground hallowed for all time by the heroism of Australia’s soldiers. The ceremony was deeply impressive. At the close of the religious service the King laid a wreath of Flanders poppies at the foot of the memorial. The Queen stepped forward alone and placed a single poppy on the wreath of the King.
After touching ceremonies, from high in the topmost platform of the tower came the mournful wail of bugles -in lamentation for Australia’s dead - the “ Last Post ” and then ‘‘ Reveille ” rang out."

For more information on the Memorial and the unveiling go to: Australians on the Western Front.

Villers Bretonneux, The Australian National Memorial - Part II

Views of the surrounding countryside from the Australian National Memorial covering the ground fought over in 1918.

The view looking north towards Fouilloy & Corbie

The view looking east towards Le Hamel & Sailly-le-Sac and ultimately many miles away in the distance Pozieres.

The view from the National Memorial looking south towards Villers-Bretonneux.

To finish off the view over the cemetery west towards Amiens

Photos: Roger Stoakley at: rjstoakley@btopenworld.com

Villers Bretonneux, The Australian National Memorial - Part 1

The Australian National Memorial at Villers Bretonneux erected to commemorate all Australian soldiers who fought in France and Belgium during the First World War, to their dead, and especially to those of the dead whose graves are not known.

The 10,700 Australian servicemen actually named on the memorial died in the battlefields of the Somme, Arras, the German advance of 1918 and the Advance to Victory.

The memorial was unveiled by King George VI in July 1938.

Villers Bretonneux became famous in 1918, when the German advance on Amiens ended in the capture of the village by their tanks and infantry on 23 April. On the following day, the 4th and 5th Australian Divisions, with units of the 8th and 18th Divisions, recaptured the whole of the village and on 8 August 1918, the 2nd and 5th Australian Divisions advanced from its eastern outskirts in the Battle of Amiens.

Villers Bretonneux Military Cemetery was made after the Armistice when graves were brought in from other burial grounds in the area and from the battlefields. Plots I to XX were completed by 1920 and contain mostly Australian graves, almost all from the period March to August 1918. Plots IIIA, VIA, XIIIA and XVIA, and Rows in other Plots lettered AA, were completed by 1925, and contain a much larger proportion of unidentified graves brought from a wider area. Later still, 444 graves were brought in from Dury Hospital Military Cemetery.

Photos: Roger Stoakley at: rjstoakley@btopenworld.com

The first night in a Plugstreet trench

The book Bullets & Billets by Bruce Bairnsfather, gives a fantastic account of Bruce’s first night in a real trench in Belgium. This was a trench of 1914 and describes how uncomfortable and awful it must have been in those early days on the Western Front.


THOSE PLUGSTREET TRENCHES

“An extraordinary sensation—the first time of going into trenches. The first idea that struck me about them was their haphazard design. There was, no doubt, some very excellent reason for someone or other making those trenches as they were; but they really did strike me as curious when I first saw them.

A trench will, perhaps, run diagonally across a field, will then go along a hedge at right angles, suddenly give it up and start again fifty yards to the left, in such a position that it is bound to cross the kitchen-garden of a shattered chateau, go through the greenhouse and out into the road. On getting there it henceforth rivals the ditch at the side in the amount of water it can run off into a row of dug-outs in the next field. There is, apparently, no necessity for a trench to be in any way parallel to the line of your enemy; as long as he can't shoot you from immediately behind, that's all you ask.

It was a long and weary night, that first one of mine in the trenches. Everything was strange, and wet and horrid. First of all I had to go and fix up my machine guns at various points, and find places for the gunners to sleep in. This was no easy matter, as many of the dug-outs had fallen in and floated off down stream.

In this, and subsequent descriptions of the trenches, I may lay myself open to the charge of exaggeration. But it must be remembered that I am describing trench life in the early days of 1914, and I feel sure that those who had experience of them will acquit me of any such charge.

To give a recipe for getting a rough idea, in case you want to, I recommend the following procedure. Select a flat ten-acre ploughed field, so sited that all the surface water of the surrounding country drains into it. Now cut a zig-zag slot about four feet deep and three feet wide diagonally across, dam off as much water as you can so as to leave about a hundred yards of squelchy mud; delve out a hole at one side of the slot, then endeavour to live there for a month on bully beef and damp biscuits, whilst a friend has instructions to fire at you with his Winchester every time you put your head above the surface.

Well, here I was, anyway, and the next thing was to make the best of it. As I have before said, these were the days of the earliest trenches in this war: days when we had none of those desirable "props," such as corrugated iron, floorboards, and sand bags ad lib.

When you made a dug-out in those days you made it out of anything you could find, and generally had to make it yourself. That first night I was "in" I discovered, after a humid hour or so, that our battalion wouldn't fit into the spaces left by the last one, and as regards dug-outs, the truth of that mathematical axiom, "Two's into one, won't go," suddenly dawned on me with painful clearness. I was faced with making a dug-out, and it was raining, of course. (Note.—Whenever I don't state the climatic conditions, read "raining.") After sloshing about in several primitive trenches in the vicinity of the spot where we had fixed our best machine-gun position, my sergeant and I discovered a sort of covered passage in a ditch in front of a communication trench. It was a sort of emergency exit back from a row of ramshackle, water-logged hovels in the ditch to the communication trench. We decided to make use of this passage, and arranged things in such a way that by scooping out the clay walls we made two caves, one behind the other. The front one was about five yards from the machine gun, and you reached the back cave by going through the outer one. It now being about 11 p.m., and having been for the last five hours perpetually on the scramble, through trenches of all sorts, I drew myself into the inner cave to go to sleep.

This little place was about 4 feet long, 3 feet high, and 3 feet wide. I got out my knife, took a scoop out of the clay wall, and fishing out a candle-end from my pocket, stuck it in the niche, lit it and a cigarette. I now lay down and tried to size up the situation and life in general.

Here I was, in this horrible clay cavity, somewhere in Belgium, miles and miles from home. Cold, wet through and covered with mud. This was the first day; and, so far as I could see, the future contained nothing but repetitions of the same thing, or worse.

Nothing was to be heard except the occasional crack of the sniper's shot, the dripping of the rain, and the low murmur of voices from the outer cave.

In the narrow space beside me lay my equipment; revolver, and a sodden packet of cigarettes. Everything damp, cold and dark; candle-end guttering. I think suddenly of something like the Empire or the Alhambra, or anything else that's reminiscent of brightness and life, and then—swish, bang—back to the reality that the damp clay wall is only eighteen inches in front of me; that here I am—that the Boche is just on the other side of the field; and that there doesn't seem the slightest chance of leaving except in an ambulance.

My machine-gun section for the gun near by lay in the front cave, a couple of feet from me; their spasmodic talking gradually died away as, one by one, they dropped off to sleep. One more indignant, hopeless glare at the flickering candle-end, then I pinched the wick, curled up, and went to sleep.

A sudden cold sort of peppermint sensation assailed me; I awoke and sat up. My head cannoned off the clay ceiling, so I partially had to lie down again.

I attempted to strike a match, but found the whole box was damp and sodden. I heard a muttering of voices and a curse or two in the outer cavern, and presently the sergeant entered my sanctum on all fours:

"We're bein' flooded out, sir; there's water a foot deep in this place of ours."

That explains it. I feel all round the back of my greatcoat and find I have been sleeping in a pool of water.

I crawled out of my inner chamber, and the whole lot of us dived through the rapidly rising water into the ditch outside. I scrambled up on to the top of the bank, and tried to focus the situation.

From inquiries and personal observation I found that the cause of the tide rising was the fact that the Engineers had been draining the trench, in the course of which process they had apparently struck a spring of water.

We accepted the cause of the disaster philosophically, and immediately discussed what was the best thing to be done. Action of some sort was urgently necessary, as at present we were all sitting on the top of the mud bank of the ditch in the silent, steady rain, the whole party being occasionally illuminated by a German star shell—more like a family sitting for a flashlight photograph than anything else.

We decided to make a dam. Having found an empty ration box and half a bag of coke, we started on the job of trying to fence off the water from our cave. After about an hour's struggle with the elements we at last succeeded, with the aid of the ration box, the sack of coke and a few tins of bully, in reducing the water level inside to six inches.

Here we were, now wetter than ever, cold as Polar bears, sitting in this hygroscopic catacomb at about 2 a.m. We longed for a fire; a fire was decided on. We had a fire bucket—it had started life as a biscuit tin—a few bits of damp wood, but no coke. "We had some coke, I'm sure! Why, of course—we built it into the dam!" Down came the dam, out came the coke, and in came the water. However, we preferred the water to the cold; so, finally, after many exasperating efforts, we got a fire going in the bucket. Five minutes' bliss followed by disaster. The fire bucket proceeded to emit such dense volumes of sulphurous smoke that in a few moments we couldn't see a lighted match.

We stuck it a short time longer, then one by one dived into the water and out into the air, shooting out of our mud hovel to the surface like snakes when you pour water down their holes.

Time now 3 a.m. No sleep; rain, water, plus smoke. A board meeting held immediately decides to give up sleep and dug-outs for that night. A motion to try and construct a chimney with an entrenching tool is defeated by five votes to one ... dawn is breaking—my first night in trenches comes to an end."

Into Battle by Julian Grenfell

This was one of the first ‘war’ poems I read, it is an anthem to British fighting spirit during the early stages of the war.

Into Battle

The naked earth is warm with spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's gaze glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze;
And life is colour and warmth and light,
And a striving evermore for these;
And he is dead who will not fight;
And who dies fighting has increase.

The fighting man shall from the sun
Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;
Speed with the light-foot winds to run,
And with the trees to newer birth;
And find, when fighting shall be done,
Great rest, and fullness after dearth.

All the bright company of Heaven
Hold him in their high comradeship,
The Dog-Star, and the Sisters Seven,
Orion's Belt and sworded hip.

The woodland trees that stand together,
They stand to him each one a friend;
They gently speak in the windy weather;
They guide to valley and ridge's end.

The kestrel hovering by day,
And the little owls that call by night,
Bid him be swift and keen as they,
As keen of ear, as swift of sight.

The blackbird sings to him, "Brother, brother,
If this be the last song you shall sing,
Sing well, for you may not sing another;
Brother, sing."

In dreary, doubtful, waiting hours,
Before the brazen frenzy starts,
The horses show him nobler powers;
O patient eyes, courageous hearts!

And when the burning moment breaks,
And all things else are out of mind,
And only joy of battle takes
Him by the throat, and makes him blind,

Through joy and blindness he shall know,
Not caring much to know, that still
Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so
That it be not the Destined Will.

(Julian Henry Francis Grenfell (1888-1915) was born on 30 March 1888 and educated at Eton and Oxford Grenfell was commissioned into the Royal Dragoons in the summer of 1910, and was immediately despatched to India, arriving at the tail-end of the year.

Until the outbreak of war in August 1914 Grenfell served in cavalry positions in India and South Africa. With the First World War underway Grenfell was posted to Flanders where he immediately saw service during the First Battle of Ypres.

Based near Zillebeke thereafter Grenfell was awarded the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) in November 1914 for his action in stalking German snipers and dispatching them from close range. Noted (and much respected) for his bravery Grenfell was twice mentioned in despatches.

Offered a staff position with General Pulteney in the wake of his award he chose instead to continue serving in the front line, believing he would be of better use to his country in active commands.

Seriously wounded by shrapnel while serving near Ypres at Hooge he was taken to hospital in Boulogne where he died after two failed operations on 26 May 1915. The announcement of his death in The Times three days later - the date of his burial in Boulogne - was accompanied by publication of this, his most famous poem, Into Battle)

Dug-Out Life in 1916

This article originates from The Great War in a Different Light. It was first published in ‘The Sphere’ in February 1916 and gives the readers at home an idea of what life was like in a front line dug-out and trench.

It all rather ‘nice’ and doesn’t convey any of the horror of the war to those at home, but it is still an interesting piece.

"'Life in Dug-Out and Trench' within the British Lines

All the Comforts of Home

In the course of a letter which accompanied the above sketch the writer says: "Here is our gun emplacement! This is the place in which we live, sleep, and operate against the enemy. I wonder if the picture explains itself? It was drawn under difficulties with ordinary lead pencil and the common paper of my writing pad. On the left are our sleeping apartments. Here we lie when asleep with our feet projecting, so that when the gunner, sitting in front of those ammunition boxes to the rear of the hut, requires to wake someone up he can just reach our feet and kick. The little round bag hanging outside the 'Tamboo,' as the sleeping apartment is called, is our tea bag, which comes in for much hard use, and is then put up out of the way. The sandbags are numerous, so that we are fairly well protected. You will have spotted the gun in the background. We call this part 'the Kinema,' and, of course, our belt of bullets represents a kinema film. The front of the 'Tamboo' faces the German trenches. The table is one I knocked together. I am going to put another up opposite shortly. The bottle (no, it is not what you might think) contains the solution for our respirators. We have regular duties, and someone has always to be in readiness. Just before we came here we were sitting in our garden at Mt. Neverest when a shell dropped about 15 yards in front and to the left. It threw up about 20 ft. of corduroy road quite 15 ft. in the air, knocking branches off trees and leaving a fair hole in the ground. Thank goodness it wasn't shrapnel or I fancy we should have got it. I forgot to tell you the sketches we've put up in the hut are to be increased in number from the three you can see. We intend shortly having a picture gallery!"

An officer at the front, who is familiar with the caves of the Mendip country, sends us the following interesting account of life in a dug-out in France. He writes: " During all these months of strenuous trench warfare I have often vividly remembered our cave-work miles away in old Mendip. Sometimes when wandering around at night I have dropped into one of the dug-outs to smoke a cigarette with the infantry officer in charge. It is then that I have obtained an impression of the interior, just a little earth passage or chamber where our party stopped for a meal or to smoke; at times, in fact, it almost seems as if we were back to the old cave life.

"The accompanying sketch will give you some idea of a typical trench dug-out; every trench is, of course, in telephonic communication with battalion headquarters a little behind, and with brigade headquarters right to the rear of the lines.

"The wires are frequently cut by shell fire during the day and have to be repaired at night. Here the telegraphist is seen handing to the officer a message which has just been received, perhaps to ask if all is well or to say that a relief or ration party is on its way up. The little recesses cut in the side of the trench hold his belongings and the lighted candle; the wires also can be seen, one going to the earth the other out at the roof. With the receiver strapped to his head he receives every message; there is usually a buzzer as well, which he has by his side.

Another officer is making a brew of cocoa in his mess tin over a little spirit stove. On many cold and rainy nights I have been invited to have a cup, and have found it very good.

" With a waterproof sheet on the ground and a blanket round him he can make himself very comfortable, and even get a good sleep, whilst off duty. He always has a Very pistol handy in case of emergency. This is a fat brass instrument used for shooting up flares which are intended to illuminate the ground between one's own trenches and the enemy's. (A Very pistol might be very well used in some of the larger chambers or high rifts of Mendip.)

“In the trenches one often sees newspapers only three or four days old, and even novels too; these help to pass the time until a relief comes along.

"The far side is revetted with sandbags, which make a strong and secure wall, easily repaired if knocked about by shell-fire. The roof is supported by boughs from a neighboring wood, and is usually made of boards, brushwood, and even old timber or doors from a ruined village — if there is one near by — all covered with from 6 in. to 1 ft. of earth. If a shell comes right into your dug-out nothing, of course, will stop it, but this protection is sufficient to stop shrapnel bullets or splinters of high-explosive shells.

"Dug-outs such as these are for men to rest in whilst off duty, i.e., when not posted as look-outs, or to take shelter in during heavy firing. Sometimes the colonel has rather a luxurious dug-out in the rear, quite large enough to stand up in, with a table, chairs, bunks, even a gramophone, perhaps.

"At this stage, when one is always near the enemy's lines, all the work of the Engineers, such as putting up barbed wire; digging trenches, or building dug-outs, has to be carried out during darkness, so that for some time past we have been like night birds — coming out at dusk and returning to rest in the early morning." "