Well folks I've survived my first week. So far so good.
I can tell you my stomach was as tight as a knot, my mouth as dry as furnace and my heart was racing like the clappers as I was led down the communication trenches to the front line. I met my commanding officer and the troops of the platoon I was joining. They were jolly cheerful considering where we were and the danger we were in. Their easiness and good cheer eased my nerves but that first night I was alert and aware of everything, my senses heightened by my fear. We were on sentry duty, watching out for any attacks by the Hun. None were forthcoming and the night passed quietly.
We spent the following days repairing the front line trenches and the communication trenches. The Hun were quiet, there was little firing or exchange of shots and we got on with the repair work in hand. The work was hard, digging, draining and shoring up. It was almost like working down the pit except we were digging muck in daylight in the freezing cold with the Hun ready to pick us off if we showed too much.
It seemed to me that being at the front wasn't as bad as a I thought it would be, not much firing, shooting or shelling, just digging, repairing and being on lookout. No doubt this is the lull before the storm.
This map shows the village of Le Touqet and the surrounding area, it is next to Frelinghien.
Our frontline runs roughly north south along the road to the north of Le Touquet, then comes around the western side of the T junction in the village and finally along the south of the eastern road to the River La Lys. The Hun is the on the eastern side of this line and the river. He has full control of Frelinghien.
Our communication trenches run to the west away from the T Junction. Le Bizet and Nieppe are a little further along this road and a large town called Armentieres is 2 miles further along. We sing a song about this place whilst we are on route marches, it makes us jolly happy. I'll teach you the words to this later.
Anyway back to the business, on the 1st of December the Boche opened up on us with machine guns. I dived for cover, muck and bullets were flying everywhere. Some of my chums fired back, the noise was deafening. I kept my head down. It was soon over. It reminded me of how vulnerable we were, I kept a weary eye on my movements after that. The strafing by the Boche didn't hit anyone, how no one was hurt I don't know, we can thank our lucky stars.
The term Boche is a word we have learnt from the French, its what they call them all the time and it has rubbed off on us.
On the 3rd of December some whizz-bangs were sent over by the Hun. I heard them whistle overhead and then explode. They were shrapnel shells and burst near the Brigade HQ. I can tell you it caused a bit of stir with the top brass, a lot of them running around and diving for cover. No one was injured though.
On the 4th December we were relieved in the trenches and retired to the billets at Le Bizet. I was ready for the rest and thankful to get out of the firing line. At the billets we had hot baths and plenty of scoff, it was much welcomed after the hard work and stress of the trenches. We were given one day of rest and recreation and then we went on a route march the following day, the 6th of December. The army wanted us in good shape and fit for anything so we always had to carry out marches. We may be needed anywhere on the front as reinforcements so we had to be ready and able to go.
I should tell you my full regimental address, it is:
So its back to the trenches for me folks, wish me luck and hopefully I'll be here to talk to you again in a weeks time.
Albert x
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