Category Archives: Somewhere in France

Somewhere in France – 16th January 1916

25 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by in Somewhere in France, Writing about WWI

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Henry Tod has a “pretty rotten time” in the trenches according to his next letter home to his parents.

I have your letters of 24th December and note all your news with interest. I am glad to see you are both keeping fit and that mother has recovered from her recent indisposition. There is not much the matter with you Dad when you can go slay coyotes. [Note: although Henry was from Scotland, his father and two or three brothers had emigrated to Canada early in the 20th century, hence the reference to coyotes.] You were always pretty useful with a stout stick and I think we might with advantage turn you loose amongst our friends over the way.

We are back for a day’s rest and respite in “trench billets” and we go up to the line again tomorrow to complete our spell. We have had a pretty rotten time and had quite a number of casualties, including one officer killed. We don’t seem to have much luck as when we took over from 1st battalion — Highlanders, they told us it was quite a soft spot and not much doing. No doubt we asked for trouble as we started the ball with a heavy machine gun fire on a village just behind their line through which their reliefs are affected and a shower of rifle grenades into their trenches, just to show we had arrived. We got heavily shelled for our pains but that didn’t do so much damage as a fusillade of trench mortars which they sent over late yesterday afternoon.

They got the range pretty quickly and I suspect they were trying to get the aforesaid machine gun, which was hard by our dugout. Anyway, these heavy mortars were dropping all round us and one of them sent a small avalanche of earth and stone into our dugout, but we were safe.

The men in the vicinity were quick to take cover in another dugout which was luckily available but not before several shells were laid out and our dugout was converted into a hospital for the time being.

We had as a visitor an officer from “C” company, who were [C company that is] in support immediately behind us, and our friend had just returned from leave and was telling us all about his holiday, during which incidentally, he got married. He thought it was time he was getting back to his company and although we tried to dissuade him from going until the strafe was over, he insisted on it. Almost immediately afterwards word was brought in that he had been killed.

Two of us went out to see if we could do anything, but there he was lying a few paces from the dugout practically decapitated. We could only lay him out on the fire-step and come away for the time being. It was rather tragic but he simply walked into it, and if only for his week-old wife’s sake, he might have exercised a little more caution. He was an old 13th H.L.I man, like myself, and we came over to France together. He was an excellent soldier and quite a well known sprinter in his day.

We had some shelling here today and one casualty. Must turn in now as we shall be early on the move tomorrow. My turn for leave cannot be far off now but we are rather short of officers at the moment.

Startling how matter of fact Henry’s writing is. Perhaps that was the way he coped?

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION follow A WRITER OF HISTORY (using the widget on the left sidebar)

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.

Somewhere in France – 2nd January 1916

22 Thursday Jun 2017

Posted by in Somewhere in France, Writing about WWI

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We haven’t heard from Henry Tod in a while. Today he’s writing to his parents after his first Christmas of the war.

~~~

An Australian Christmas Box

Your welcome letters of 10th December to hand today and I received your Christmas box of good things two days ago, just in time to contribute to the feast we gave to the men on New Year’s day. I sampled the contents first and found them exceedingly good and have retained the sweets and tobacco for my personal consumption, also the socks. [Socks were destroyed by trench conditions and hard to come by.] My best thanks to all who contributed and you can rest assured they were most highly appreciated. Dad, you pay my letter writing a great compliment which, however flattering, means that I have got to live up to it. I should think I have inherited the art, if such it is, as you are no mean hand yourself with the pen, once you get going. With the advantage however of having something to write about I do not think there is any great merit in putting it down on paper.

I see you want to know a lot of state secrets about our strength, mode of relief, &c. and I don’t know how far I should go into the subject, although I suppose our friends the enemy know as much as we do ourselves. What both sides are always anxious to find out is the identity of their opposite number in the trenches. We are keeping well up to strength from the drafts which are always coming out. Nowadays battalions consist of 4 companies, a brigade of 4 battalions and a division of 3 brigades. Then there are Army Corps and Armies and I am not very sure which of these I am in. The Division goes into the line for a period of several months depending on the exigencies of the situation and is duly relieved by another division. Our division, the 15th, is a Scottish one and is composed entirely of Highland and Lowland regiments. We have been in the line for nearly six months and I may say it has earned a great reputation for itself, of which we are being continually reminded, for our future guidance! For the present, we have been taken out of the line, on Divisional rest, for about a month altogether.

When the Division is in the line, a battalion is in the trenches for twelve days, followed by six days in rest billets, just behind the line when we are acting as reserve to the battalion which has relieved us. When in the trenches, two companies of the battalion, sometimes three, are in the firing line, with the other two or one, as the case may be, in immediate support. Each company has its spell in the support trenches which when we are very close toe the enemy line and more uncomfortable the the firing line as regards shell fire. Now that we are bang up against each other [against the enemy], the firing line on both sides is generally more immune from heavy shell fire than the support and reserve trenches but that is about all you can say for it and it comes in for everything else that is going. However, as we are not there now we shall not talk about it.

I was away from the battalion for a week on a course of instruction, which taught me nothing very new, and I was back with the lads for Christmas and New Year, which were spent rather quietly in accordance with the general’s wishes. You see, we are living in other people’s houses and we are scattered all over the village. However, we managed to arrange accommodation for ‘platoon dinners’ on New Year’s day and the men enjoyed themselves in their own way. Afterwards we had a concert and we managed to pack most of the battalion into the local school room. It was a great success and the talent brought to light was really surprising. It was fine to hear the men join in the chorus of their favourite songs. To me there is great pathos in men’s voices singing in unison and in harmony. The Russian soldiers are great singers and to hear a thousand of them singing on the march is something to be remembered, and more moving than opera. [Now there’s a detail I wish I’d had for one of my novels.] We all got a Christmas box from the Glasgow Corporation, consisting of a cake, box of raisins and almonds and a comforter of sorts, some getting wooden gloves, others a sleeping helmet and so forth, together with the enclosed card which reads very nice.

Best love and wishes to all for the New Year.

The details of trench rotation and army strength are quite interesting to me. Back soon with another instalment.

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION follow A WRITER OF HISTORY (using the widget on the left sidebar)

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.

Somewhere in France – 20th December 1915

04 Thursday May 2017

Posted by in Family History, Historical Fiction, Military Stories, Researching historical fiction, Somewhere in France, Writing about WWI

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Another instalment from Alexander Henry Tod’s letters home from France during WWI.

Source PBS Newshour

I have your letters of 23rd November and 1st December. I think I have now received all your letters and am sorry my little grouse has disturbed you so much. The only thing outstanding is your Christmas box but that will turn up all right. There are probably about a million parcels to be delivered to the troops at this time and that will take some doing.

As you know we are presently enjoying Divisional rest, well behind the line, but it is rather dull being stuck here doing routine work and we are all hoping to get away on short leave to England. The chances are we shall get it, in due rotation of course, but at this game one mustn’t take too much for granted. I have been detailed to attend a Divisional course of instruction on special subjects, at some other place than this, and will be detached from the battalion for a week. One officer per company goes every week and I was second on the list. I shall be glad to get away as I think we are all beginning to see too much of each other. I go off the day after tomorrow and will rejoin the battalion for the Christmas festivities.

Today is Sunday and I am orderly officer. That’s twice it has fallen on a Sunday and I don’t like it. The duties of the O.O. are rather vague, but comprehensive, and the chief hardship is that he must be on the spot. He has to go round and see that everything is in order – inspect billets, cook houses, prisoners and everything there is to inspect. It is all right on weekdays when he can be excused parades by pretending to do something else.

I took the Roman Catholic contingent to church early this morning but didn’t wait for the service [as far as I know, Henry is not Catholic] as breakfast was waiting for me. There is a strong Irish element in the regiment and we have a ‘padre’ to look after them. He is a good sort and a great favourite with us all and he does full justice to the hospitality of the different messes! [perhaps the padre was a little plump?] He also takes full advantage of his position and the grim business of war to bring home to the men the immediate need of their living better lives and so forth.

source PBS Newshour

We are recruited chiefly from Glasgow [Henry is from Glasgow] and Lanarkshire and the strong local accent is still music in my ears after being away from it so long. The men are wonderful in the trenches under the most trying conditions and there is always someone who can see the humorous side when things are most depressing. I hope some day to tell you all about them when the clouds roll by.

We managed to get a photo taken of the company the other day by a woman photographer, who is in this line of business in the village. We couldn’t all get into the picture so we had to make the best of it. I hope the censor doesn’t grab them. Tea has made its appearance so will close.

I found this comment on the PBS Newshour site about WWI soldiers playing soccer in their off times:

It’s a way to hide the horror under one layer of spectacle and another layer of moral virtue — a way to pretend that war is like a game, that there are rules, that there is safety. A way not to look into oblivion. We missed the cruel irony in all those soccer balls that show up in World War I photos. Nothing is a metaphor for war. War is a metaphor for nothing.

 

FOR MORE ON READING & WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION follow A WRITER OF HISTORY (using the widget on the left sidebar)

M.K. Tod writes historical fiction and blogs about all aspects of the genre at A Writer of History. Her latest novel, TIME AND REGRET was published by Lake Union on August 16, 2016. Mary’s other novels, LIES TOLD IN SILENCE and UNRAVELLED are available from Amazon, Nook, Kobo, Google Play and iTunes. She can be contacted on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads or on her website www.mktod.com.