...
Extract of a letter from a private in the 1/20th County of London Battalion (Blackheath and Woolwich)
Dated 01 October 1915.
I am sure you must have been worrying about me not writing at all for just a week.
No doubt you know little about what we have been doing the last few days. We have known for some time that we were making a big advance all along the line, that was what all that digging and preparations were for.
Before I go any further, I think we ought to thank God for sparing me. Oh, it has been terrible. I will try to relate to you the whole programme during last week.
On Friday 24 September, we packed up our coats and capes and all small belongings to be carried to the transport. All we carried was a ground sheet, rations for 2 days and two hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition.
Then our Colonel spoke to us and told us what we had to do. The 18th Battalion were to take the first line of German trenches, then we were to advance over them and gain as much ground as possible.
He wished all the best of luck and said were backed up by the best troops. We had a brigade of Guards and Cavalry behind us to carry on when we had done our work. The whole British and French line was going to advance together over a front of 400 miles. It would be the biggest battle ever fought in history.
After that, we marched to a small place just behind the line where we rested for two hours. We had a grand dinner consisting of stew with carrots and onions and potatoes in it – the best we have ever had. Then we had tea and rum – plenty of it. This was about 9 o’clock at night. It was pouring with rain all the time and we were out in an open field, so we got wet through. All the time we were bombarding the Germans. Our Artillery did the work splendidly – they bombarded the German lines and positions for four days before the attack. They said we were short of ammunition; we must have sent millions of shells over.
Well, after our repast, we went into the trenches and took up our positions ready for the attack. This was about midnight. It was raining all the time and we got wet through to the skin.
Five hours waiting in the rain, all of us uncertain if we should come out alive. I shall never forget it till my dying days.
Then at 5.30 in the morning we sent our gas to the German trenches. We were ordered to put on our respirators. They are like big helmets with goggles and a valve for breathing through.
Soon after the 18th Batt went over the top and charged the first line trench at the point of the bayonet. They took it easily.
Now our time had come
We had to advance beyond them as far as possible
We climbed over the top at 5.30. Oh! My God. I can hardly describe what we had to go through. We were met with a hail of machine gun fire and shrapnel. It is a marvel that we were not hit at all.
It must have been here that poor Alf was hit.
I saw the poor beggars beside me, some would be hit in the leg and as they stumbled, they would be riddled with bullets right up to their heads.
I advanced about 50 yards and was overcome with the gas. I was nearly choked. There I did a silly thing, but didn’t think of it at the time. I took my respirator off. Fortunately the gas had thinned somewhat there, else I should have been killed.
I laid there for about 5 minutes. I had completely recovered after that time. I got up and found that my company was a good way ahead. I ran for all I was worth and soon caught them up.
After we pressed over the German first line, which the 18th were occupying, we were in the thick of it.
We were still being fired at by machine guns concealed in houses in the village we now had to take. The name of the place is Loos. Several made a stubborn resistance. But quite a lot of the Germans threw down their rifles and put up their hands for mercy. These we captured, the other we made short work of.
It took us a long time to capture the town of Loos, but with perseverance and a big loss of our men, we at last captured it. The German losses were far greater than ours. Hundreds and hundreds had been killed by our bombardment.
We advanced further still till we came to a huge chalk pit with two guns in it. This took a lot of taking as, of course, they did not want to lose two guns without making some resistance. Some of the gunners gave themselves up, others we killed.
Then we got to the top of the hill and found it impossible to advance further. We had advanced two and a half miles and captured two guns. What a grand achievement!
The capture of the guns goes to the credit of A Company, my company. We have had them taken back and they are being sent to Blackheath. When you see them, you will know that your soldier boy helped to capture them.
Well, to resume, as I said before, we were unable to advance any further, as there was a lot of barbed wire in front of another German line of defense. Here we had to dig ourselves in. we dug for our lives. Every man tried to get down deep so as to form cover from the murderous machine gun fire. Here we lost a good many men, but still we held on. By the afternoon, we got fairly well established, but the Germans started a counter attack. Thanks to our machine gunners we were able to drive them off.
That done, we worked like devils to make our position as string as possible. To make things worse, it was pouring with rain and we had nothing to cover ourselves with. As the night set in we got as cold as ice, till we could hardly use our rifles. We cheered one another up by saying we should be relieved the next day and my word wouldn’t we have a feed and something hot to drink, but we were disappointed for no relief came. Men were wanted elsewhere.
All the new troops as they passed over us, cheered us and said “Bravo! Three cheers for the Territorials”.
We didn’t get relieved until Wednesday (the 29th) morning at about 2 o’clock. Five days fierce fighting and very little to eat and drink. All we had was biscuits and cheese and I went two days without anything to drink. Oh! It was awful.
We marched back some way behind the line to a billet on the Wednesday morning. Oh, what a treat to get into an old battered down house. I have never enjoyed a meal so much in all my life. Then we turned in and slept for about 12 hours. Of course when we got back, we were wet through and had to take everything off. We had our coats given out and I captured a German ground sheet that I made into a sleeping valise. I was very glad that I had it. Our colonel thanked us each one for the good work we had done. I saw him go up to our Captain and take him by the hand and said, “ Thank God, you have done wonderfully well” and our Captain said, “Don’t thank me, thank my men.” All our officers in our company had been killed and our Captain was the only one left.
I have some five souvenirs from the Germans. I have a fine helmet, but I have unfortunately lost it since. I have got box of fine cigars too. I have one or two other little things also.
I hope to God we don’t have to go through another experience like this one again. I thank God again and again for sparing me to you. I am more than grieved about poor old Alf. He was such a jolly good fellow. He died a hero, doing his duty. He went over the top next to me, but I didn’t see him fall, perhaps it is just as well. I should have had to stop with him and that would not have done when there was work to do.
We are about 10 miles behind the lines now having a rest and being re-equipped.
Dated 01 October 1915.
I am sure you must have been worrying about me not writing at all for just a week.
No doubt you know little about what we have been doing the last few days. We have known for some time that we were making a big advance all along the line, that was what all that digging and preparations were for.
Before I go any further, I think we ought to thank God for sparing me. Oh, it has been terrible. I will try to relate to you the whole programme during last week.
On Friday 24 September, we packed up our coats and capes and all small belongings to be carried to the transport. All we carried was a ground sheet, rations for 2 days and two hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition.
Then our Colonel spoke to us and told us what we had to do. The 18th Battalion were to take the first line of German trenches, then we were to advance over them and gain as much ground as possible.
He wished all the best of luck and said were backed up by the best troops. We had a brigade of Guards and Cavalry behind us to carry on when we had done our work. The whole British and French line was going to advance together over a front of 400 miles. It would be the biggest battle ever fought in history.
After that, we marched to a small place just behind the line where we rested for two hours. We had a grand dinner consisting of stew with carrots and onions and potatoes in it – the best we have ever had. Then we had tea and rum – plenty of it. This was about 9 o’clock at night. It was pouring with rain all the time and we were out in an open field, so we got wet through. All the time we were bombarding the Germans. Our Artillery did the work splendidly – they bombarded the German lines and positions for four days before the attack. They said we were short of ammunition; we must have sent millions of shells over.
Well, after our repast, we went into the trenches and took up our positions ready for the attack. This was about midnight. It was raining all the time and we got wet through to the skin.
Five hours waiting in the rain, all of us uncertain if we should come out alive. I shall never forget it till my dying days.
Then at 5.30 in the morning we sent our gas to the German trenches. We were ordered to put on our respirators. They are like big helmets with goggles and a valve for breathing through.
Soon after the 18th Batt went over the top and charged the first line trench at the point of the bayonet. They took it easily.
Now our time had come
We had to advance beyond them as far as possible
We climbed over the top at 5.30. Oh! My God. I can hardly describe what we had to go through. We were met with a hail of machine gun fire and shrapnel. It is a marvel that we were not hit at all.
It must have been here that poor Alf was hit.
I saw the poor beggars beside me, some would be hit in the leg and as they stumbled, they would be riddled with bullets right up to their heads.
I advanced about 50 yards and was overcome with the gas. I was nearly choked. There I did a silly thing, but didn’t think of it at the time. I took my respirator off. Fortunately the gas had thinned somewhat there, else I should have been killed.
I laid there for about 5 minutes. I had completely recovered after that time. I got up and found that my company was a good way ahead. I ran for all I was worth and soon caught them up.
After we pressed over the German first line, which the 18th were occupying, we were in the thick of it.
We were still being fired at by machine guns concealed in houses in the village we now had to take. The name of the place is Loos. Several made a stubborn resistance. But quite a lot of the Germans threw down their rifles and put up their hands for mercy. These we captured, the other we made short work of.
It took us a long time to capture the town of Loos, but with perseverance and a big loss of our men, we at last captured it. The German losses were far greater than ours. Hundreds and hundreds had been killed by our bombardment.
We advanced further still till we came to a huge chalk pit with two guns in it. This took a lot of taking as, of course, they did not want to lose two guns without making some resistance. Some of the gunners gave themselves up, others we killed.
Then we got to the top of the hill and found it impossible to advance further. We had advanced two and a half miles and captured two guns. What a grand achievement!
The capture of the guns goes to the credit of A Company, my company. We have had them taken back and they are being sent to Blackheath. When you see them, you will know that your soldier boy helped to capture them.
Well, to resume, as I said before, we were unable to advance any further, as there was a lot of barbed wire in front of another German line of defense. Here we had to dig ourselves in. we dug for our lives. Every man tried to get down deep so as to form cover from the murderous machine gun fire. Here we lost a good many men, but still we held on. By the afternoon, we got fairly well established, but the Germans started a counter attack. Thanks to our machine gunners we were able to drive them off.
That done, we worked like devils to make our position as string as possible. To make things worse, it was pouring with rain and we had nothing to cover ourselves with. As the night set in we got as cold as ice, till we could hardly use our rifles. We cheered one another up by saying we should be relieved the next day and my word wouldn’t we have a feed and something hot to drink, but we were disappointed for no relief came. Men were wanted elsewhere.
All the new troops as they passed over us, cheered us and said “Bravo! Three cheers for the Territorials”.
We didn’t get relieved until Wednesday (the 29th) morning at about 2 o’clock. Five days fierce fighting and very little to eat and drink. All we had was biscuits and cheese and I went two days without anything to drink. Oh! It was awful.
We marched back some way behind the line to a billet on the Wednesday morning. Oh, what a treat to get into an old battered down house. I have never enjoyed a meal so much in all my life. Then we turned in and slept for about 12 hours. Of course when we got back, we were wet through and had to take everything off. We had our coats given out and I captured a German ground sheet that I made into a sleeping valise. I was very glad that I had it. Our colonel thanked us each one for the good work we had done. I saw him go up to our Captain and take him by the hand and said, “ Thank God, you have done wonderfully well” and our Captain said, “Don’t thank me, thank my men.” All our officers in our company had been killed and our Captain was the only one left.
I have some five souvenirs from the Germans. I have a fine helmet, but I have unfortunately lost it since. I have got box of fine cigars too. I have one or two other little things also.
I hope to God we don’t have to go through another experience like this one again. I thank God again and again for sparing me to you. I am more than grieved about poor old Alf. He was such a jolly good fellow. He died a hero, doing his duty. He went over the top next to me, but I didn’t see him fall, perhaps it is just as well. I should have had to stop with him and that would not have done when there was work to do.
We are about 10 miles behind the lines now having a rest and being re-equipped.
The Charge at Loos
How the 20th London Captured the Guns
A stirring story of the fighting at Loos by one of the 20th London was published in the Daily Express on Tuesday. The writer, who was formerly a member of staff of that paper, gave the following description of the preparation of the advance.
It was exactly 06.15am by my 25s 6d Civil Service Stores wristwatch, (illuminated dial and lever action), and I am a pessimist by nature, allowed myself, he writes, just twenty minutes to live. Unlike most heroes who are about to die, I didn’t call down the blessings of the saints upon my relatives or had teased my little sister in her early youth. It was too wet for regrets or heroics. Besides the callings of my inner man were so insistent that I spent my last few minutes feverishly consuming bread thickly spread with Snigsby’s special fluid plum and apple jam. I say thickly, and those who will have tasted Snigsby’s jam will marvel at my courage, but it must be remembered that I was about to die and didn’t care whether I was poisoned or shot.
Having stuffed the last morsel of bread into my mouth I examined my rifle and found it dirty as usual. Then I examined myself all over and finally analysed my feelings and finding that I was rather brave began wondering whether I should get the DCM or the VC.
I looked at the watch on my wrist again and found it just on 06.30.
Everybody around me was trying to look unconcerned, but the twitching of lips and the furtive glances at photographs and sealed letters betrayed nerves strung to the highest pitch. Suddenly the bombardment, which had been practically continuous for the past three days, ceased. Not a shell shrieked; not a gun thundered. The silence, after that indescribable din, seemed oppressive and unnatural. The earth seemed to tremble and lie still as if recovering from a blow. I took a deep breath and pressed my hand to my aching temples and looked wonderingly upon a new and silent world. The man next to me broke the silence, ‘The London Irish are going over,’ he whispered.
A wild shout - a real Irish shout - from hundreds of Irish throats rent the air and through a periscope I watched a wave of khaki clamber and struggle out of the trench in front and rush madly towards the German lines. I fully expected to see the little drab figures flounder helplessly on the German barbed wire and be slaughtered by a merciless machine gun fire, and my heart stood still. But the khaki line swept on heedless of the terrible havoc wrought by the German fire and finally disappeared in the enemy’s trench. The Bosche’s first line was ours! A hoarse cheer arose from our trench and my platoon officer, smiling happily, lit a cigarette with a steady hand.
‘It’s our turn now,’ he beamed, ‘and we’ve got shrapnel to go through as well as bullets.’
He spoke as if the Germans were conferring a special favour on us by allowing us a variety of horrors.
‘And perhaps a little high explosive to give it a flavour,’ I added with a grim attempt at humour.
Once again I looked at my watch. It was 06.35.
‘Twentieth Lond-ern,’ bawled someone on my right with an accent on the ‘ern.’ On the sound of the whistle...’
But his voice was drowned by the explosion of a couple of very ‘sooty’ ‘coal boxes.’
Then a little thin squeal bleated plaintively above the roar of the artillery and I saw the man on my left scramble over the parapet. I grabbed my rifle in my left hand, dug my toes into the sandbags, threw myself over and dashed hell for leather for the slag heaps.
Now, by nature, I am mild and gentle, and before the Kaiser thought fit to drag me into a war, I would have thought twice about exterminating a bluebottle. But at that wild moment the uppermost thought in my demented mind was to drive that ugly bayonet, bristling wickedly at the end of my rifle, through a German and when I had withdrawn it, red and slippery with blood, to drive it through more Germans until there were none left alive and the world was free. And I began to imagine myself as a saviour of the universe and thought that I was destined to win the war. But the madness soon passed, for I was getting out of breath and bullets and bits of shell were missing me by inches.
The battalion, having passed the London Irish was gathering itself to rush the second line in full force. I held my breath and spurted on again. The fire was getting hotter. Two machine guns viciously to our right and there was an enfilading fire from the same quarter. In front of us some half dozen more machine guns spat death at the rate of 700 rounds per minute and the German artillery plumped shells into our midst.
The enemy trenches were but fifty yards in front of me and in that last rush I think I became insane.
I can only remember seeing two Germans, one portly and middle aged and the other a sallow youth wearing spectacles and a downy growth of beard on his face. The first one I bayoneted between the ribs before his thick fleshy lips had time to cry ‘Kamerad.’ The second showed a little fight. I caught him under the jaw with an upward swing of my rifle butt. I left him at the bottom of the trench nursing his face. Then I went onwards to the village of Loos. I started running at first, but soon found that the battalion was advancing in extended order at walking pace. There was a third line of German trench to be captured, but no Germans remained there to hold the position and we simply strolled over it towards our objective.
The shelling became intense and as far as I could judge we must have lost nearly a quarter of our objectives up to that moment.
Then we rushed Loos. Our bombers went first, throwing their missiles with deadly accuracy right into masses of fleeing Germans and driving them out of fortified houses and cellars. Those of the enemy who escaped the bombs were either taken prisoner or bayoneted.
Suddenly a cry went up among us.
‘The guns in the chalk pit’
It was taken up and passed from mouth to mouth. ‘The guns in the chalk pit.’ Then about thirty of us inclined half-right and charged. Over the slag heaps we went with blood curdling yells and flashing bayonets and down the chalky slope. The German gunners, with the exception of one officer and a wounded man, did not wait for us. The officer, a young lieutenant of artillery, waved a revolver menacingly towards us and shouted out something in German. Two bayonets shot forward and upwards to his throat, but before the steel even pricked his skin his revolver dropped to the ground and his hands went up.
‘Kamerad’
The bayonets were lowered. Somebody unloaded the two guns and another tampered with the breech blocks. They were ours!
If you care to visit the Horse Guards Parade you will see them standing out prominently among the other smaller prizes and resting against one of them is a blackboard bearing the inscription in white letters, ‘Captured by the 20th London Regiment (Blackheath and Woolwich) at Loos on September 26, 1915.’
We are going to have them up at Blackheath soon and when we grow old and imaginative, we’ll handle those guns, every inch of them and tell others proudly how each of individually ‘captured them by ourselves.’
How the 20th London Captured the Guns
A stirring story of the fighting at Loos by one of the 20th London was published in the Daily Express on Tuesday. The writer, who was formerly a member of staff of that paper, gave the following description of the preparation of the advance.
It was exactly 06.15am by my 25s 6d Civil Service Stores wristwatch, (illuminated dial and lever action), and I am a pessimist by nature, allowed myself, he writes, just twenty minutes to live. Unlike most heroes who are about to die, I didn’t call down the blessings of the saints upon my relatives or had teased my little sister in her early youth. It was too wet for regrets or heroics. Besides the callings of my inner man were so insistent that I spent my last few minutes feverishly consuming bread thickly spread with Snigsby’s special fluid plum and apple jam. I say thickly, and those who will have tasted Snigsby’s jam will marvel at my courage, but it must be remembered that I was about to die and didn’t care whether I was poisoned or shot.
Having stuffed the last morsel of bread into my mouth I examined my rifle and found it dirty as usual. Then I examined myself all over and finally analysed my feelings and finding that I was rather brave began wondering whether I should get the DCM or the VC.
I looked at the watch on my wrist again and found it just on 06.30.
Everybody around me was trying to look unconcerned, but the twitching of lips and the furtive glances at photographs and sealed letters betrayed nerves strung to the highest pitch. Suddenly the bombardment, which had been practically continuous for the past three days, ceased. Not a shell shrieked; not a gun thundered. The silence, after that indescribable din, seemed oppressive and unnatural. The earth seemed to tremble and lie still as if recovering from a blow. I took a deep breath and pressed my hand to my aching temples and looked wonderingly upon a new and silent world. The man next to me broke the silence, ‘The London Irish are going over,’ he whispered.
A wild shout - a real Irish shout - from hundreds of Irish throats rent the air and through a periscope I watched a wave of khaki clamber and struggle out of the trench in front and rush madly towards the German lines. I fully expected to see the little drab figures flounder helplessly on the German barbed wire and be slaughtered by a merciless machine gun fire, and my heart stood still. But the khaki line swept on heedless of the terrible havoc wrought by the German fire and finally disappeared in the enemy’s trench. The Bosche’s first line was ours! A hoarse cheer arose from our trench and my platoon officer, smiling happily, lit a cigarette with a steady hand.
‘It’s our turn now,’ he beamed, ‘and we’ve got shrapnel to go through as well as bullets.’
He spoke as if the Germans were conferring a special favour on us by allowing us a variety of horrors.
‘And perhaps a little high explosive to give it a flavour,’ I added with a grim attempt at humour.
Once again I looked at my watch. It was 06.35.
‘Twentieth Lond-ern,’ bawled someone on my right with an accent on the ‘ern.’ On the sound of the whistle...’
But his voice was drowned by the explosion of a couple of very ‘sooty’ ‘coal boxes.’
Then a little thin squeal bleated plaintively above the roar of the artillery and I saw the man on my left scramble over the parapet. I grabbed my rifle in my left hand, dug my toes into the sandbags, threw myself over and dashed hell for leather for the slag heaps.
Now, by nature, I am mild and gentle, and before the Kaiser thought fit to drag me into a war, I would have thought twice about exterminating a bluebottle. But at that wild moment the uppermost thought in my demented mind was to drive that ugly bayonet, bristling wickedly at the end of my rifle, through a German and when I had withdrawn it, red and slippery with blood, to drive it through more Germans until there were none left alive and the world was free. And I began to imagine myself as a saviour of the universe and thought that I was destined to win the war. But the madness soon passed, for I was getting out of breath and bullets and bits of shell were missing me by inches.
The battalion, having passed the London Irish was gathering itself to rush the second line in full force. I held my breath and spurted on again. The fire was getting hotter. Two machine guns viciously to our right and there was an enfilading fire from the same quarter. In front of us some half dozen more machine guns spat death at the rate of 700 rounds per minute and the German artillery plumped shells into our midst.
The enemy trenches were but fifty yards in front of me and in that last rush I think I became insane.
I can only remember seeing two Germans, one portly and middle aged and the other a sallow youth wearing spectacles and a downy growth of beard on his face. The first one I bayoneted between the ribs before his thick fleshy lips had time to cry ‘Kamerad.’ The second showed a little fight. I caught him under the jaw with an upward swing of my rifle butt. I left him at the bottom of the trench nursing his face. Then I went onwards to the village of Loos. I started running at first, but soon found that the battalion was advancing in extended order at walking pace. There was a third line of German trench to be captured, but no Germans remained there to hold the position and we simply strolled over it towards our objective.
The shelling became intense and as far as I could judge we must have lost nearly a quarter of our objectives up to that moment.
Then we rushed Loos. Our bombers went first, throwing their missiles with deadly accuracy right into masses of fleeing Germans and driving them out of fortified houses and cellars. Those of the enemy who escaped the bombs were either taken prisoner or bayoneted.
Suddenly a cry went up among us.
‘The guns in the chalk pit’
It was taken up and passed from mouth to mouth. ‘The guns in the chalk pit.’ Then about thirty of us inclined half-right and charged. Over the slag heaps we went with blood curdling yells and flashing bayonets and down the chalky slope. The German gunners, with the exception of one officer and a wounded man, did not wait for us. The officer, a young lieutenant of artillery, waved a revolver menacingly towards us and shouted out something in German. Two bayonets shot forward and upwards to his throat, but before the steel even pricked his skin his revolver dropped to the ground and his hands went up.
‘Kamerad’
The bayonets were lowered. Somebody unloaded the two guns and another tampered with the breech blocks. They were ours!
If you care to visit the Horse Guards Parade you will see them standing out prominently among the other smaller prizes and resting against one of them is a blackboard bearing the inscription in white letters, ‘Captured by the 20th London Regiment (Blackheath and Woolwich) at Loos on September 26, 1915.’
We are going to have them up at Blackheath soon and when we grow old and imaginative, we’ll handle those guns, every inch of them and tell others proudly how each of individually ‘captured them by ourselves.’
...
Private Thomas George Stephenson, a private in the 20th County of London, eldest son of Mr and Mrs Stephenson of Murray Villa, 85 Courthill Road, who joined at the commencement of the war, sends home letters describing the work of the battalion at the front and the nature of the fighting in which the 20th London is taking part.
In a letter dated June 10, he writes: -
‘We came out of the trenches three days ago, marched nine miles, rested 10 hours, marched back again and went into the trenches the same night as a working party. We had to go out in the open in front of our advanced trench and dig another trench. We had been at the operation for about ten minutes when the beggars started a machine gun at us. The two chaps on either side of me were hit. One of them yelled out that he was hit and this gave the show away to the Germans and the latter at once started shelling us. The other chap beside me was hit in seven places, twice in the stomach, twice in the chest as well as in the leg. That night we lost six men. Goodness knows how many of us got through. Last night we went out again to do the same job. I tell you we all had got the wind. Well, on this occasion the Huns left us alone for two hours then they let us have it, rifle fire, trench mortars, shells, bombs and rifle grenades came over one after the other. All at once the order came to get out of it back to the trenches and we got under cover as quick as lightening. It was a rush and it is a marvel no one was hurt. Somebody did hit me over the head with a rifle and I have got a nice eye. We have lost 18 men. It has been Hell this last two nights. Out of our platoon of 56, there are 22 left and I am one of the latter. I think it is about time our division went back for a rest; it has been on the go for about seven weeks’
In a letter dated June 10, he writes: -
‘We came out of the trenches three days ago, marched nine miles, rested 10 hours, marched back again and went into the trenches the same night as a working party. We had to go out in the open in front of our advanced trench and dig another trench. We had been at the operation for about ten minutes when the beggars started a machine gun at us. The two chaps on either side of me were hit. One of them yelled out that he was hit and this gave the show away to the Germans and the latter at once started shelling us. The other chap beside me was hit in seven places, twice in the stomach, twice in the chest as well as in the leg. That night we lost six men. Goodness knows how many of us got through. Last night we went out again to do the same job. I tell you we all had got the wind. Well, on this occasion the Huns left us alone for two hours then they let us have it, rifle fire, trench mortars, shells, bombs and rifle grenades came over one after the other. All at once the order came to get out of it back to the trenches and we got under cover as quick as lightening. It was a rush and it is a marvel no one was hurt. Somebody did hit me over the head with a rifle and I have got a nice eye. We have lost 18 men. It has been Hell this last two nights. Out of our platoon of 56, there are 22 left and I am one of the latter. I think it is about time our division went back for a rest; it has been on the go for about seven weeks’
A Private’s Account of the Charge
Private CJ Andrews writes: As most have you have probably read in ‘The Kentish Mercury,’ we were well in front at the attack on Loos. Our battalion has covered itself in glory. The casualty list is heavy and of course, but bearing in mind the ground gained the losses are relatively small. The position being captured, we had to hold it for four days against constant German counter attacks. That, we succeeded, despite empty stomachs and a merciless rain, not to mention the awful horrors with which we were surrounded, speaks volume for the pluck and endurance for the battalion.
We arrived in our front line trench at about 04.00am on the morning of the 25th and at about 05.30am the fun started with a most tremendous bombardment of our front line and the reserve lines with their heavy artillery and every inch of our trench seemed to be blown to Hades and the noise was deafening. I am sure that everybody was glad when at 06.30am the order was ‘Over the top with the best of luck. ‘ We had on gas helmets and after we had got as far as their front line mine got so stuffy and hot that I couldn’t stick it any longer so I pulled it up and got out a cigarette and carried on. The most marvelous thing to me was that I wasn’t hit. I certainly felt safer out in the open than in the trench, but with shrapnel bursting over head and ‘coal boxes’ ploughing up the ground 20 or 30 yards away and machine gun bullets zipping all around, I literally had to assure myself that I wasn’t wounded by looking at my clothing to see if there were any holes or not, but I was all right. Almost an hour after we started we finally reached our objective, where, as you know, we had to hang on for four days, when we were relieved and went back to a village about ten miles away from the scene of up to date butchery. We were still back, getting new equipment and a well-earned rest.
