Tag Archives: WWI soldier’s letters home

Somewhere in France – 16th November ’15

24 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by in Family History, Military Stories, Somewhere in France, Writing about WWI

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Photo of German trench

Photo of German trench

Alexander Henry Tod has received his first letters from his parents and after acknowledging his pleasure goes on to tell his family the latest news.

We are in the middle of another spell in the trenches and after doing our bit in the firing line are enjoying life in the support line which happens to be an old front line of the Germans. They are very elaborate – what’s left of them – especially the dugouts, which are really splendid. Timbered with pit-props, this being a mining village, they are practically shellproof, unless in case of a direct hit, when nothing on earth is safe. Their entrances, unfortunately, now face the enemy guns [!!]. In front of the trench is a belt of barbed wire some 30 yards deep which must have been a terrible obstacle to our men, although fairly well torn up by our artillery. The whole region around is churned up with shell holes. These are now full of water which are frozen over these frosty mornings. The dug-outs are overrun with rats and mice which play hide and seek round you and over you, but as you are asleep the moment you lie down it doesn’t matter much. [he’s not sugar coating anything, is he?]

The only bird life visible are hawks and owls and occasional flocks of starlings. The general scene reminds me of the open sea with the trench as your ship – a darn sight safer in it than out of it! The surrounding country hereabout is a desolate waste, white in its general aspect from the chalky subsoil turned over from the trenches and shell holes. The trenches form a network everywhere. The main communication trenches are fairly well defined and of course have been photographed by the enemy airmen and their artillery play on them regularly, much to the discomfiture of the troops going to and from the firing line.

Our D company who are in the firing line at present are getting pretty much the same punishment we got. I don’t know if I told you four of my platoon were killed including the sergeant with one shell. My equipment was buried in the debris but I recovered everything except my shaving outfit. Yesterday a shell got home on the extreme left of our line where we touch the Argylls. A lot of men were huddled together, as they will do, and eight of them were killed outright, six of [theirs] and two of ours. The more you have of shell fire the less you get used to it. The uncertainty of where the next one is coming gets on your nerves and it is a great relief when it stops for a time. You have then to build up your trench, recover the dead, so that you never get away from the ghastly business. We are in the firing line three days at a stretch and it is quite enough [I believe these stretches were extended later in the war]. Sometimes the support trenches get it worse but there is usually better cover there.

It is difficult to get off the subject, as I have not much else to write about. We will soon be back in billets for six days rest and I hear that after another twelve day spell in the trenches, the Division goes back into reserve, which if true should give us a nice quiet time. If there are any points you would like enlightenment on just mention them. It looks as if I will get a good sleep tonight but you never know.

These letters began on October 9th, 1915. You can find the rest of them by searching the tag or category ‘Somewhere in France’. I plan to create a chronological list of them in the future.

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.

Somewhere in France – 1st November 1915 (continued)

05 Thursday Jan 2017

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

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On Tuesday, we left Alexander Henry Tod – known as Henry – announcing his baptism of fire in the trenches …

trench-layoutIt was in the afternoon and we had just relieved another company, who had complete their two days in this spot. The Germans must have got wind of the change for just as we were trying to settle down a shower of hand grenades came over us from our front, apart from the spasmodic efforts which came from our neighbours in the same trench. The Bosche was out in the open in the tangle of grass and wire in front of our parapet. Bombs are most demoralizing things at close quarters [an understatement at best]. Our bombers got most of the first fusillade and I thought they were going to stampede down the trench. A few of them rushed round the traverse into my trench but I chased them back again. The bombers are under the bomber officer (Drury-Lowe) but he was at one of the other bombing posts. Meantime I had my hands full with my own men. The snipers kept us off our own fire-step to a great extent owing to the exposed position but we kept up a fire of sorts with rifles and bombs and kept our friends [!!] at a distance. Atkinson, the machine gun officer, tried to get his Lewis gun into position on the parapet but he was killed, by a sniper’s bullet I think, before firing a shot and he and his gun came crashing down at my feet.

The bombers were my chief worry as some of them kept leaving their post on some pretext or other – like carrying away their dead and wounded – and I had to order them to put down their burdens and carry on. I had a long stretch of trench to look after and I felt as if I were the only responsible being on the whole British front. I went into the bombing post and told them the stretcher bearers would be up in a few minutes and shied [threw] a few bombs just to keep our end up. Meantime the Bosche turned his artillery on to us, together with machine gun fire and rifle fire which played along our parapet and kept mounting up the casualties. I was certain they were going to follow up with an attack in force, but thank goodness they didn’t.

The men behaved very well and obeyed orders, which were simply to sit tight and be ready for anything. To know our machine gun was out of action was not very comforting. I was glad to see Drury-Lowe come along eventually and take charge of his bombers. He had his head in a bandage. Gradually the whole thing fizzled out and left things pretty much as they were. The C.O. phoned up from somewhere to know how I was getting on, and I told him it was all over for the present.

There is a large quarry just in front of where we were and it is here the Germans could concentrate a large force without being seen, except from the air. Our artillery, however, keeps on shelling the place and I am sure they don’t like that. To make matters worse for the two days in question we had to go short on grub as two ration parties and one ammunition party were severely strafed coming up the communication trench. The most trying of all is lack of shelter, either from the shelling or the elements, specially now that the weather has broken. There were no dug-outs and when you were not “standing to” on duty, you were trying to get some shelter under a waterproof sheet stretched over a recess in the trench. Sleep and rest were out of the question and you simply dozed off occasionally without knowing, why, when or how.We had a break of two days in the support line where we pulled ourselves together a bit.

Getting back to billets was the crowning act. Getting up to the line was bad enough – a 10 mile tramp with more than full pack and most of the way wriggling through trenches. Coming home was infinitely worse. It had rained heavily for hours on end, before we were relieved, and the trenches had become practically impassable. Wet to the skin and absolutely tired out, it was only the blessed thought of relief that kept us going. We had to squelch our way through feet of mud and water most of the way. Every step was a labour and our sodden packs weighed a ton. It took us 8 hours to get back and after seeing the men stowed away somewhere, I was absolutely done. However, a bath, a change, a square meal and a sleep for a round of the clock did wonders and today I am in grand fettle. We are here for 5 or 6 days and then go up again.

It doesn’t matter how often I read about WWI, letters and diaries like these add another shocking and poignant layer to the information I’ve amassed over the past seven or eight years.

These letters began on October 9th, 1915. You can find the rest of them by searching the tag or category ‘Somewhere in France’. I plan to create a chronological list of them in the future.

Next letter 10th November 1915 can be found here.

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.

Somewhere in France – 1st November 1915

03 Tuesday Jan 2017

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

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Alexander Henry Tod records his first experience in the line …

loos-la-basseeHere I am back in billets and comparative comfort after my first spell in the firing line. We had twelve days of it altogether and had a rather tough time. The weather broke badly and it was very cold and wet. Otherwise it was warm enough – the battalion suffering 100 casualties with 20 killed including one officer. We occupied a section of the trenches officially known as the “hairpin” which is right at the apex of a big salient penetrating into the German line, with Loos on our right and La Bassee on the left. Our trenches were of course those recently occupied by the Germans, before the big attack, and were in a terrible state of disrepair. They were practically blown to bits by the artillery of both sides.

We were not 30 yards from the Germans at places and as it had not been possible since the advance to get out working parties to put things to rights, the place had remained just as it was after the big fight; the dead lying everywhere both inside and outside the trenches. Our comparatively heavy casualties were solely due to our exposed position, as, except for a bombing raid by the Germans which accounted for about 10 of us before they were driven off, we were not in open action. The shallow trenches gave us no protection and we were subjected to very heavy fire of all sorts – artillery, rifle, machine guns and bombs, from the front and both flanks. Their snipers took a heavy toll as there were stretches of our trenches open to enfilade fire and from the lie of the land they could look down on us. Our periscopes were smashed by the dozen and it was most wearing work keeping a proper lookout, as we were liable to be rushed at any moment. At this point we are purely on a defensive position and as far as I can see neither side can afford to let the line remain as it is and it will have to be straightened out somehow.

The “line” here is very irregular and broken and in places looks more like an octopus than anything else. In fact at two points the Germans and ourselves are in the same trench, and the short intervening section, of just bombing range, is barricaded off with sandbags and unopened coils of barbed wire. I was at one of these points with my platoon and had a squad of bombers up against the barricade. It was here they tried to rush our trench by open bomb attack and it was here I got a real baptism of fire.

to be continued on Thursday … the continuation of November 1st 1915 can be found here.

These letters began on October 9th, 1915. You can find the rest of them by searching the tag or category ‘Somewhere in France’.