Over The Top

We'll Chums Albert is here once again.

When I last left you I was going to go over the top on a patrol. Was I dreading that.

As you can see I'm still here to tell the tale, so if your sat nicely with your cup of cocoa I'll describe the whole event for you.

It was the evening of the 19th of January. Me and two of my pals got ourselves ready for the patrol. We blackened our faces and packed bombs into our pockets. We strapped our rifles over our bodies and got ready to climb out of our trench.

Our remit was to check our defensive barbed wire entanglements for any breakages caused by shelling, this was to be reported and then a follow up party would go out and repair them.

Our secondary duty was to check the Huns line to see if he had put up any more entanglements or obstacles, or were craftily sapping their way towards us. This is a forward trench dug towards the enemy that allows you to get nearer to him. We needed to put a stop to this so if we found any we had to make note of it and it would be bombed or shelled the next day.

Our third objective was to listen out for, or spot, the Hun crawling around in no mans land doing the same as us. If we did spot him and it was safe to do so we were either to bomb him or shoot him.
This of course made us feel quite vulnerable because Fritz was out there and would do exactly the same if he saw us first.

It was a cold and wet night, the sky was overcast so there wasn't any moonlight, unless a star shell lit us up we were in total darkness and not visible to the Hun.

We were to crawl out of our trench, move forward and then crawl back and forth over a stretch of ground coming back into our trenches 100 yards further down.Our fellow soldiers were told of our patrol and to expect us to come back in 2 hours time. We were given a pass phrase to exchange with the sentries so that we could come back safely without getting our heads shot off by our own blokes.

So it was, at the allotted time of 2:30 am we crept out and moved forward. The ground was a sodden muddy mess with freezing cold puddles and pools of water everywhere. We hunched down as we moved, we went a few paces at a time and then paused and listened. We could hear nothing, we could see nothing, My heart was pounding and I was sure all could hear it but the noise was all in my head and not audible to others.

We came to our barbed wire entanglement and then followed it along checking everything and ensuring all was well. The entanglement has gaps in places, an overlap, to allow troops to pass through. These are not visible when looked at head on but when you look down the line of wire you can see them every now and then. We obviously know where these are but the Hun doesn't. Even if he does these 'choke points' are well covered by our machine guns and if he tries to get through he will be cut down.

We check all is well and then move through into the open space between our barbed wire and the Huns. The gap in the section we patrolled was about 60 yards to the Hun wire. We crept forward, sometimes slithering into shell holes sometimes creeping around mounds of earth. All the time we were stopping and listening for the Hun. We didn't hear a jot.

Suddenly a star shell went up and we hit the deck as fast as we could. I buried my head into my hands and the earth and laid there as still as I could be. I laid there thinking what a bloody way to go, In the middle of France, on a sodden, rain-soaked, muddy piece of earth that mattered not a jot to me.

The light from the shell faded and then me and my pals whispered to each other to move on.

Other than a rotting dead cow that stunk to high heaven we didn't find anything untoward and we didn't come across any Hun. We made our way back to our lines and when coming back through our entanglements we crawled forward to reach our trenches. One of our sentries spotted us and shouted a challenge, we quickly replied with the pass phrase for fear of being shot to ribbons by our own men. He acknowledged and then told us to move forward and be recognised. We did so and our patrol in the waste of no mans land was over.

Although I didn't realise it I had been perspiring whilst I was out patrolling  The nervous tension and the physical activity had both contributed to this. Now I was back in the safety of the trench and relaxed the cold hit me and I started to shiver. Our prize for crawling about no mans land was a tot of rum and I sank it in double quick time. It warmed my insides and took the chill off for a while.

we gave our report and then took to our beds, our small scrapes in the trench wall. We have groundsheets pegged across the hole and I pulled mine back, climbed in and let it cover over me. What a life!

To give you an idea of the area I crawled around this is a sketch of the Hun Line opposite a section of our trenches. You'll probably be surprised by the buildings still being there. There are quite a few in this area and in one part we have some houses nearly joining up across no mans land!

The rest of the week has been the same as usual with construction and draining of the trenches. The Hun decided he would start machine gunning our trenches and no mans land at regular times. He's been doing this at 7:00pm and 3:00am. Whether he thinks we are patrolling at this time or whether he got wind of us when I was out on patrol I don't know. Anyway he just blasts away like a manic clockwork toy showering us with red hot shards of steel to send us to our maker.

We left the trenches on the evening on the 21st. I was glad to get out, my clothes were covered in dried mud and beneath them my body was black as a man just out of the pit. To my horror the regimental baths weren't operational. The damn rain had flooded the area and put it out of action! I had to settle for a strip wash in the billet were I was staying. Oh well I suppose it was home from home, the same strip wash in the scullery after coming home from the pit.

We had our usual estaminet visits and the card and dominoes schools. For those of us who are grenadiers, I am one, we had bombing practice. We went into some practice trenches on the far side of the village and practised throwing bombs from the trenches, into the trenches, and from the open. Practice makes perfect.

There's a precise practice to a bombing party, I'll let you know about it next time. We have just come back into the trenches and its Kaiser Bills birthday so we are expecting trouble. I'll leave you as usual and wish you all the best.

I hope that cocoa didn't go cold!

Hope to see you next week,

Albert x

The Daily Grind

Good day Folks, Albert is still alive and kicking.

When I last left you I was in the trenches and off to do some sentry duty. Well that all passed without too much trouble, however Fritz is really changing the game now. He has been sending shells over regularly each day giving our trenches and the village a good old bashing. I'm mighty glad we constructed the blast trenches, we've also constructed some shelters instead of the scrape holes that we usually use. 

Although we have these places of shelter it doesn't save us from a direct hit. If your times up then that's it. Some of the blokes can't stand the stress of not knowing if the next moment is their last. For me its a case of not thinking about it, but if you let your mind wander then it soon drifts into the what ifs and then the collywobbles set in. The best thing is to keep yourself busy.

I thought I'd show you our kit, the following pictures show what we wear when we go into the trenches.

Full Dress

The Pattern 1908 Web Infantry Equipment

Web Components

The components of the Webbing are as follows:

a) Belt

b) Bayonet and Scabbard

c) Braces

d) Cartridge Carriers 

e) Pack

f) Supporting Straps

g) Haversack

h) Water Bottle

i) Intrenching Tool

The weight of everything that we carry to the front,  the webbing packed with clothing, personal hygiene equipment, water, food and ammunition, weighs over over 58 pounds That's like having a sack of spuds tied to you, and that's why I say you don't want to slip into a shell hole full of water, you'll never get out of it alive if its too deep!

Our day at the front starts with stand to. This is something that we do everyday just before dawn, it's something that is done by all infantry units at the front. Its when we could expect an attack by the enemy so we all stand to and be prepared to repulse the attack. Officers then do an inspection, they march up and down the trenches ensuring that all men are stood to and ready for any action that may come our way. Anyone not prepared and ready with their rifle and equipment is up for it. They will be severly reprimanded and may end up being court martialed for derelicting their duty.

Once dawn passes and the Hun hasn't made an attack we are then stood down. This is when we can crack on with breakfast. We have all our rations with us, enough for four days. Further rations are sometimes sent up to us. We have all the essentials in a bag and hang it up on a hook in our scrapes or in the shelters that we are now building. To leave it on the floor would allow the rats to get it. Boy there's plenty of them in these trenches. Cheeky things they are, they just run along and and pass you by like someone in the street. Sometimes they sit and stare out you without the slightest worry or fear.

We start our breakfast by lighting a fire. We cut some wood into small strips and then hang our mess tin on a hook in the middle of the trench. We light the fire under it and drop strips onto the fire now and then to keep it going. We keep it from smoking or Fritz will see it and then hone in on it. He throws bombs over if we are near enough, or shells it if he's further away. To make smoke isn't a good place to be at.

We keep the fire small and then do a brew on it, after we have made the brew we cook some bacon. We eat this with french bread that we have brought with us. it's a basic meal but in these trenches after the freezing night, the damp and the cold, it's a grand meal.

We then go about our business. Some draining the trenches, some on construction jobs, some on sentry duty, others fetching and carrying materials. Now and then the Hun opens up with machine gun fire and then shells us with 5.9 shells. They whistle over, then plunge to the ground and explode in a huge shower of earth. Weve named them whizz-bangs. When they whistle in we hit the bottom of the trench for all we are worth. Heads down, arms and hands round our heads waiting for the explosion not knowing if this is it, our time is up. Then the blast wave hits you making your clothes stick to your body. Then the ground shakes and judders and if the shell landed sufficiently near you get covered in great clods of earth and anything else it has destroyed. Your alive though and that's all that matters.

This is our daily grind.

Its not all one sided, we give the Hun as good as we get. Our sentries spot activity and pass the word on, our machine gunners open up and give them hell.

Each company has a machine gunner, our gunner is called Jackie Lynn, his real name is John but we all call him Jackie. He has been with the regiment some time now, he started as a drummer boy. In the months before I came to the front Jackie helped to repulse a Hun attack and he showed great courage and action in several battles. He was awarded the distinguished order medal in the Christmas honours for this. He's a good bloke and well liked by all of us.

We stayed in the trenches until the 13th and then returned to Le Bizet. The Hun has knocked the place about, he is shelling it every day now. We have constructed some trenches in the village to protect us from big shells. At present the Hun is not sending any over but for our safety the top brass has decided we should stay indoors. We aren't allowed to stay out in the open, we can only go from place to pace and get ourselves in doors as sharp as possible. The buildings offer good protection from the 5.9 inch shells that get thrown at us and they also protect us from the flying debris and shrapnel.

The medical corps has been very active whilst we were in billets. We have all been inoculated for enteric. This is also known as typhoid. Obviously living in the trenches is not the cleanest of places so we are being inoculated to be kept us safe and fit. Quite strange if you think about it. The army doesn't want us to go down with sickness but it's ok to get blown to bits!

Well our stint in billets ended on the evening of the 17th. On our return to the trenches we have found them to be flooded again and have had to abandon some of them and start constructing some more. Its a constant battle against the Hun and the weather. One kills your spirit and the other just kills you!

Anyway chums yours truly has been given a mission tonight. I'm going out into no mans land with a small party to form a  listening post and then do a patrol. It means going over the top and being a sitting duck for the Hun if he spots us. I can tell you my hearts thumping like the clappers and mouth is as dry as a furnace. I'm dreading it but we all have to do it at some point and tonight its my turn, my first time!

So chums if I don't speak to you again I wish you all the best and think on when you are tucked up in bed, tonight the 19th of January, Albert Kyte is in no mans land doing his bit for King and Country, keeping you safe and sound.

Cheerio,

Albert x

As You Were

Hi Chums, I'm still here.

Well things have returned to normal and its all go and hard slogging between us and Fritz. When I last wrote to you I had just returned from the trenches and was off for a pint. What a blast that was, literally!

Me and my pals scrubbed up a bit and then headed off for our favourite estaminet. We were downing our first pint when Fritz decided to warm things up for us. We heard the distant roar of his guns and then as the shell flew threw the air we heard the whooshing sound getting nearer and nearer. We all thought it was coming straight for us and dived for cover. It went straight over us, thank goodness, and landed in the village. There was a deafening crump as it went off and then a second or so after the ground shook and the glasses rattled on the shelf.

Fritz decided to turn the heat up by throwing more shells at us. We headed for the cellar for safety and sat there listening to the incoming shells. Sometimes they landed near sometimes they didn't. Sometimes the earth shook, sometimes it trembled a little.

Not knowing how long we were going to have to stay and it being a well stocked cellar we decided to partake of some of its finest wine. If it was going to be our last we wanted to make sure we went in style.

When the shelling had stopped we climbed out of our hiding place. Outside there was a huge commotion as people were going about trying to help each other, rescue people from shattered buildings, catch horses wild with fear and generally trying to pull together after this abominable bombardment.

We helped as best we could and then wearily we trudged back to our billet that thankfully was safe and sound.

The next day (later that same day, the 6th) we went back out to see what more we could do for the towns folk. In the afternoon Fritz decided he would shell us again. This time the shells landed closer to home and when we came out to the street the house opposite was just a shattered shell of what it had been. There were bricks, furniture, clothes, broken wooden beams and personal belongings everywhere.

We were told there had been people in the house when it had been hit but when we looked all we could find was a bloody shattered mess with pieces of body strewn amongst the rubble. They had taken a direct hit and the explosion had completely blown them to bits.

An ambulance arrived but there was no helping anyone. The poor chaps spent some time collecting together what they could to take to the morgue and then give a proper burial.

I was sickened by it. Fritz knew there were civilians in this village but he shelled it anyway just to try and kill us. How I felt for those poor people.Christmas and New Year was now well and truly over.

Fritz shelled us again on the afternoons of the 7th, 8th and 9th. It was on this day that it was our turn to return to the trenches and face the bullets again.

In all Fritz sent about 50 shells over during this period. None of our lads was hurt but the poor townsfolk took a bit of a beating. Some losing livelihood and living, some losing their lives.

We gathered together at dusk on the 9th and did our usual 'run' into the trenches. The routine we take to the reach the front line is the same every time, I'll take you through it. We gather together in the centre of Le Bizet and await the officers to join and give the order to march off. When we do so it isn't quite your usual brisk orderly march with bags of spirit and a song to go with it, its more of a quiet casual walk. We set off in rows of four. The villagers come out and shout 'bon chance'  and 'bonsoir' to us and wave us off.

We tramp on into the darkness in the direction of the trenches, the gunfire getting louder all the time and the illumination from the star shells getting brighter.

We reach a point called Smokers Corner and then pause a while. This is the last place we can have a
cigarette when going into the trenches and the first place we can have one when coming out.

We usually pause for ten minutes and then move on. This time we are in single file and the pace is quicker. The path at this point gets very muddy and very slippery. We follow the shadow in front, sometimes we break into a run, sometimes we deviate to avoid a shell hole full of water. You don't want to slip into one of those in full kit!

Sometimes a star light will go up and we will hit the deck for cover, squatting or laying in the mud and water. As soon as the light fades we are up again running, following the shadow in front.

Now the bullets start to whizz over our heads. If Fritz gets a glimpse of us he opens up with his machine guns.

Suddenly the shadow in front you drops and disappears. Its the entrance to the trench. There are no steps, just a slippery slope leading down into it.

As we go into the trench the battalion we are relieving are coming out. We always relieve the Kings Own Royal Lancaster Regiment. They swap greetings with us and are then off on the 'run' back to Smokers Corner and safety.

I'm currently at the command post in the support trench at the moment. When we returned to the trenches this time we found them in a worse state than ever, they were severely flooded. We've spent the last three days building more trenches and because Fritz has got keen with his shelling now we've constructed more trenches to take refuge in and protect us from the blast.

Some of our men have been sent into some of the abandoned houses that are in the proximity of our front line. This is easier than trying to dig more trenches. It sounds daft but we've been digging and manning trenches when there are houses here that can afford good shelter and protection. Ah well ours is not to reason why.

Today it has been our turn to hit the Hun. Our snipers have had a good day and have killed 11 Germans. Its nothing to celebrate or be jubilant about. You could say its payback for those poor civilians whose lives have literally been blown apart by the Hun.To me its just this bloody war that seems to get more unbelievable each day.

Ah well, I'm now off back into the front trench to do some sentry duty. The place is warming up again with Fritz sending more shells over. I hope to be here to write to you again next week.

Albert x

Happy New Year

Hi Folks a Happy New Year to you all.

Well this week has been a quiet one except for us revelling in the Christmas spirit whilst out of the trenches.

When I last wrote to you we had just returned to billets in Le Bizet. We spent the next few days after this relaxing in the hospitality of the towns folk and the public amenities. We did a little marching and we also did some work in some of the evenings but on the whole we had some thorough rest and recreation.

The main places around here for recreation are the Estaminets. These are basically cafes that are of various sizes. Some accommodate a few people and others are much larger and accommodate many.

We sit around drinking French beer or vin blanc. We either chat or play cards, dominoes or cribbage. Some write letters to dear ones. Quite often we play for money or cigarettes. Yours truly is quite a good hand at cribbage and usually take the opponents for all they have.

We venture from one estaminet to another and each of us have our own favourite. Sometimes we get quite tipsy and have to help each other back to our billets. Under the circumstances I don't think anyone can blame us.

Our billets are rooms in the villagers houses and some are even in the estaminets. The villagers are quite accepting of us and good to us. Although Le Bizet is just out of rifle and machine gun fire distance it is well within shelling distance of the Hun, but the residents stay. I find this quite brave of them but also quite amazing, I would have left by now if I didn't have to be here.

I live in a French families house. Having lived here since coming to the front I am now treated almost like a son and brother to the family. Three of us from my platoon live in one room in this house. The owners make it as comfortable as possible for us and each time we march off to the trenches they wave us goodbye and  shout bon chance. When we return they are waiting for us and greet us with all the fervour of a family greeting a lost son.

Our hearts warm to our hosts and we are very respectful to them and grateful for everything they do. They ensure we have clean sheets and a warm bed to return to and they provide us with plenty of good food. It is all paid for of course but never the less we are very grateful.

During the evenings of the 29th and 30th some of us volunteered to do some trench construction work. The high command trenches had become full of water and we constructed some new ones. This passed with little trouble except for on the evening of the 30th two chaps got injured by a stray bullet that somehow found its way into our trench. Other than doing this work we had all the time to ourselves.

New Years eve was a mighty spectacle, we were revelling in the estaminet and waiting for the cheer to go up on the stroke of midnight when all of a sudden there was an enormous din and rattle of rifle and machine gun fire. The Hun had decided to celebrate in style by opening up with everything they had got. There were star lights and shells fired. This lasted for about a minute and then ended. They were just wildly shooting into the air to celebrate the passing of 1914 and no one was hurt.

We continued to celebrate in the estaminet until the early hours and then returned to our billet. We were going back to the trenches on the evening of the 1st.

As duty called we returned to the trenches on the evening of the 1st, our French families waved us off and we trudged back in silence.

We spent the next four days in the trenches doing the usual sentry posts, reconstruction work, bailing the water out and trying to live the best we could. It was a very quiet period, there were a few shells whizzing overhead destined for who knows where but practically no sniping or other firing. No one was injured or hurt. The war still hadn't returned in its awful destructiveness and I was mighty glad of that.

I am now back in billets writing to you chums. I've had a change of clothes and a quick cat lick and I'm off with my pals to the estaminet in a few minutes for a well earned beer. I leave you with a picture of shell fire and star bursts as a memento of New Years Eve.

Hoping to find you again in a weeks time,

Albert x