Well chums it was the morning of the 2nd of May. All was quiet and had been all the evening before but we could now see that opposite us the Hun was moving men forward towards the front trenches. Our artillery opened up and gave them a fair bashing. We could see them scurrying about for cover.
In return the Hun fired shells over to our lines. He was targeting the many farms in the area with incendaries and did a good deal of damage to them. They were all set on fire or burnt out. He even destroyed our temporary dressing station.
So the morning went on shelling to and fro. The Hun eventually stopped shelling and after a while so did ours boys It all went quiet. Although the Hun was up to something it didn't seem like an attack was likely now.
We settled in for the day observing the Hun's movements whilst tending to our equipment. The hedgerow gave us good cover so we could do this unobserved.
It was mid afternoon and we started a brew. We got the water on the boil and were mashing up. A shout went out to have a look at Fritz. We returned to the hedgerow and saw smoke coming from the Hun lines. What a beautiful target for our artillery I thought. Then looking at it, it somehow seemed strange, more like fog rolling across the land. A shout went up that it was gas. Bloody hell I thought, what are we supposed to do. I could then see that there were streams of gas shooting into the air and settling down to roll across the land. It was an eerie sight. It just quietly crept forward, a yellowish cloud on the breeze.
Lieutenant Hawkins came dashing along the line shouting 'gas, get your flanelletes on, wet them, now'. I jumped down from the hedgerow and ran to the brew. I chucked the contents of the mash onto my handkerchief, God knows were my flanalette was, and then held it up to my nose and mouth. By now all hell was being let loose. I could here A and D Company letting rip with everything they had. Our lads started up also. Bloody hell I thought, the Hun is following the gas cloud and will be upon us.
I returned to my spot in the hedgerow and started shooting for all I was worth. I was trying to hold my handkerchief on and load and shoot at the same time. It wasn't working too well.
Jacky Lynn, our machine gunner, moved his Vickers gun from his position that had been a little setback up and into the hedgerow into a good forward position. He then opened up. Boy did he let it rip he was firing for all he was worth.
All too soon the gas was upon us. My God it was stifling. It made my eyes itch and run. It burnt the lining of my nose. It made me cough, splutter and choke. Everything inside me was on fire and the taste was an awful metallic taste.
Knowing I wasn't effective fighting the way I was and fearing for my safety as I couldn't keep my handkerchief on I decided to move back and make good my situation.
I jumped into the trench and went to a nearby dugout. Other men followed but instead of stopping like me they were making off. I could hear Captains at the back threatening to shoot men if they didn't return. Bloody Hell if the Gas or the Hun doesn't get you, the Captain will!
Inside there were other men who similarly had taken refuge. Someone said piss on your handkerchiefs it'll stop the gas. I was trembling and shaking. I forced a good amount of piss out and wet all my handkerchief. I had some cord in my belt pouch and I tied my handkerchief over my nose and mouth. By now the dugout was filling with gas and I had my last few lungfulls of clean air.
I dashed out back to my position. My mate was still there blazing away. Jacky was up top swinging the Vickers and laying a sheet of lead down. I thought yes you bastard Hun eat that. Having full use of both hands I could now reload and fire my rifle in rapid succession. I couldn't see anything through the gas cloud but thought whoever is following it is going to get full of some good British lead. Take that you swine, and that and that.
I could see Jacky wasn't wearing any gas protection. No flanalette and no handkerchief. He was wheezing and rasping like a little devil but all the time he was continuing to fire through the cloud. He was swinging the Vickers right and left and laying down a wall of bullets. No one could get through that.
By this time, which must have only been maybe 10 minutes since the cloud had arrived on us, my rifle was becoming extremely hot from the rapid firing. I thought bloody hell its going to seize up!
The pee filled handkerchief was working better than the original tea soaking but my lungs were on fire and my nose was burning. I was coughing and choking and starting to wheeze. Most of the lads had retired, hopped it out of there. Jacky was still blazing but most others had gone. I said to my mate come on let's go. He didn't respond. I nudged him and shouted let's go. He still didn't respond. I pushed him to one side. His eyes were wide open. His face was pale and blue. His lips were a blueish plum colour and covered in a greenish froth and slime. He was dead. He hadn't put his flanalette or handkerchief on.
I thought my God its me next. I was coughing and wheezing. I got up and ran back. All I could see was dead and dying men all around me. All had blueyish faces and lips all were frothing at the mouth. They were all strewn about in various positions and contortions. Some were screaming, some gargling, some vomiting.
I ran on, leaping over empty trenches. My heart was pounding and I was wheezing like an old miner. I eventually got to the road and good clean air. I was puffing like mad and stumbling along. I must have gone about three or four hundred yards, sometimes running, sometimes stumbling, before I finally collapsed by the road. I threw my guts up all over myself. I couldn't turn or stand. I was done for.
I don't how long it was before some Canadians came along. They saw me and came to my help. I was in a state. My uniform was covered in vomit. They cleared me up and gave me some fresh water. They then took me, carried me, to a first aid post. What a site. It was full of men hissing and wheezing, all gasping for air. They were trying to speak, trying to breathe but all were suffocating, dying before my eyes. They were blue or turned blue and then gasped no more.
I was moved further back. I was one of the lucky ones. I was wheezing and coughing but I wasn't gasping or turning blue. I could move about but the other poor sods could hardly move. They were grasping at everything to try and get help but to no avail.
I ended up here at the field hospital. Most blokes who got this far were going to survive, the other poor sods had already died!
My mind turned to Jacky, atop the hedgerow blazing for all his worth. What happened to him, I didn't see him wearing any protection.
Well chums I'll let you know tomorrow. Here's a picture of Jacky letting the Hun have it.
Speak to you tomorrow,
Albert x
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| Private Jacky (John) Lynn |
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