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Below are extracts of letters
which were written by Brandon men at the Front and sent home to their
families. These letters were often printed in local newspapers, and
these have come from the Thetford & Watton Times of 1914-1918 ...
January 1915 -
(Rifleman W.
Ashley)
“We have been in the trenches 23 days, so you can bet we are looking a bit
rough now, but we expect to go for a rest before long. The Christmas days were very quiet. On Christmas Eve the Germans started
shouting Christmas greetings, and of course we did the same. Then they started singing Christmas
carols, and of course we joined in until it became a general thing. On Christmas Day they continued being friendly, and started coming out of their trenches
towards ours, and by midday we were all mixed up together, shaking hands
and exchanging tobacco and cigarettes.
It was a sight I never expected seeing, or anyone else. The majority of them say they are fed up
with the war. In the afternoon my
platoon held a concert, which was got up by our officer, who presented us
with money prizes. It was a great
success considering the circumstances.
So you see it wasn’t such a bad Christmas after all. But of course that sort of game is
finished, and we are settling down to the realities of war. I must say it was a treat to leave the
trenches without being shot at.”
February 1915 -
(Private Ashley
Death)
“The Germans simply swamped us. They were in such heaps that no matter
where you fired you could not help hitting them. We lost our maxim gun at Mons. Major Horne, who was in charge of the
machine gun, was captured. Then we
retired. About half way down there
was another terrible battle, and we lost, I think, about four guns. We were fighting rearguard
actions continually. We would stop
and ‘scrap’ for about two days, or a day, as the case might be, and then be
off again. Once we had to prepare to
receive cavalry four times in a day, but they did not actually charge. In these days it was a case of infantry
against machinery, and we could not compete with them. We crossed the Aisne on a Sunday night
and I was wounded on Monday. We
passed through a village and made for a hill. The Germans guns had found the range, and
in consequence of the heavy firing our orders was to advance a few men at a
time. Just as the party I was in was
moving, a shrapnel burst, and I was hit in the left arm. I managed to pick myself up and three men
helped me into an old church in the village, which was being used as a hospital. The same night, however, we were moved in
a Red Cross van. The Germans were
shelling us all the time we were crossing the pontoon bridge over the river. The wounded were then taken about 50
miles in motor lorries and afterwards put in a train. When we got near to Paris and American
doctor came round and asked whether anyone was still bleeding. I told him I was. He said there was a very nice hospital at
Paris and asked whether I would like to go.
I told him I would. There
were about 700 British wounded in the train with me. The hospital in Paris was fitted out by
the Vanderbilt family. There were
both American and English ladies and gentlemen attending to us, and we were
treated wonderfully well. I was
there for about a month, and after going to Rouen for a week, was brought
to England.”
(Private Norman Gore) “Rations
under difficulties, Brandon man’s experience, new German spies were caught
– Private Norman Gore, of Brandon, who has been invalided home after an
attack of rheumatic fever, tells a tragic story of the difficulties
sometimes confronting the men in the firing line in getting their
rations. In this case the food had been
brought up by the transport and had been placed as near the men as
possible. There was a call for
volunteers from the Company to fetch it, but as this involved crossing a
stretch of ground exposed to the enemy’s artillery fire, there was some
reluctance to come forward.
Eventually Private Gore and some other men were picked out. “We went out”, he said in an interview,
“and found the rations under a flint wall.
It was a very dangerous spot, for shells were bursting all round
us. I got hold of a box of cheese,
and was going to run for it while the artillery had ceased for a bit. But just then they opened fire again and
a shell burst within twenty yards of me.
I dropped the cheese box and bolted for the wall. Some of the men had got biscuits, some
cheese, some bully beef, and they all had to run for shelter. One fellow made a dash in between the
shells and was knocked over. I do
not know whether he was wounded or killed.
After we had crawled into the trench the rations were drawn by
rope.”
(A
Brandon soldier) “I am still happy, and don’t care if it shows. We are having a quiet time now. The Turks say we are too quick for them,
and that we move about like a sheet of steel, as when we are advancing,
though they rapidly fire at us, they never see any fall. It makes you have a little pride in
yourself when the enemy tell us a thing like that. It was a Turkish General that told us,
one we had captured with a thousand men, 40 officers, and several big
guns. What a nice little capture
that was when we took the place we are in now. It was the worst battle of the lot. It lasted three days, at it night and
day. But we don’t care, for we would
sooner be at it than standing about.
We have got to polish them off, and the
sooner the better.
How are things looking in Brandon now? Is there much snow about? It is cold enough here for snow, and we
feel it a bit after being used to such a hot climate. We are warm enough when we are in action,
at least we think so, but I expect it is because we don’t care, and have no
feeling at that time. I expect you
say it must be very funny when you can see shells and bullets dropping
round you. Thank God we three
Brandon chums are still alive, and in the best of health up to the present,
and we keep laughing at how we escaped the shot and shell …
We have got the Turks in a corner now, for they don’t like our pills. Every one works them more than they care
for. Well, this is another Christmas
I have seen in the Army. Have not
many more to see in it now, for I shall finish my time by the time the war
is over. I shall look young enough
to enlist again, but seven is enough for me, unless things look brighter.”
May 1915 -
(Private H Whitta) “We are having one of the worst battles
of the war now. The other night our
men blew up a hill and drove out the Germans, but we lost a lot of men –
hundreds – and the battle is still raging.
The worst of all was our sand bags got shelled down, and two of us
got blown yards twice, but never got hurt, only the wind knocked out of
us. Two nights after that they shelled
the same place again and killed the young fellow by the side of me. The shell hit him and he died in a minute
and I had to bury him. He was only
seventeen, and he put up with something, as he was going sick the same
night. He had great sores on his
shoulders, and half an hour after he said he was going sick he got killed.”
“... we have now been up the trenches
sixteen days and only get our letters by chance. A lot of the chaps have lost the parcels
and letters. I got my other parcel
today, but I did not get my paper. I
saw the letter I sent home in the paper, and the fellows say it is a very
good letter and name for it, ‘Hell upon Earth’. But this battle is worse, as we are in
the battle of Hill 60.”
“We have not had our boots off for twenty days. We have been up the firing line all the
time and do not know when we are going to get relieved. We look like being up here some time yet,
as they cannot get the reserves up on account of the fierce battle raging …
”
(Sergeant A.
Carter) “I
am sure you must feel proud of your sons when you think of them all
fighting for the rights of their people and country, and although it will
cause lamentable losses amongst those we love so dear, we must be of good
cheer, and look upon everything that happens as being for the best. I received a letter from Jack (his
brother) to say he was having another try for the Army, and I hope he has
been successful this time, as although he may not be able to come out here,
his services will be quite useful at home.
I have not run across anyone I know yet, but am keeping a good look
out, and am looking forward to seeing both Harry (Private Carter, of the
Canadians) and Ted (Private E. Carter) in the near future. We are having some pretty stiff fighting
at present, and I don’t think it will be long before the Germans are sorry
that they started this game.
According to the tricks they have been getting up to just lately, it
is about time they were crushed once and for all. Do not worry as to my safety, as I am
still on my same job, and do not get into the danger zone. You seem anxious that this war should
finish early. Well for my part, I
only hope they will keep at it until our enemies are completely crushed
once and for all. It is far better
that we should fight to a finish now than to stop half way, and then have
to start over again in a year or two’s time. We are getting some splendid weather here
at present, and the country is looking simply grand, and it seems hard at
times to realise that fighting is going on so near at hand.”
(Private Herbert John Baker, 1st
Norfolk Regiment) “Just a line to let you know I am
in hospital with a wound to the right arm I got last Thursday night. I am tired now and will let you know more
soon.”
June 1915 -
(Sapper Ernest Whitta, 1st Norfolks) ”Your letter found me in the trenches again, so you see we
don’t get much rest. We are round
the same quarter again, and it is a bit rough. On Whit Sunday the church bells were
ringing in a village the other side of the German lines. They had a band playing, and it sounded
lovely. They did not fire a shot for
quite three hours, and it was like being in Paradise not to hear a shot
fired for so long a time. The next
day (Whit Monday) there was an attack on our left, and the big gunfire was
enough to deafen anyone, so you see we had quite a lively time of it. I suppose you had quite a quiet
holiday. I wish I had been with you
to have enjoyed a quiet one, as hardly a second passes here without a shot
of some sort is fired … All the Brandon boys are quite well at the
time of writing.”
In a further letter, dated May 27th,
he states: “I received the parcel quite safe today, and
the bread and butter came in very nice, as we don’t get much bread. They dished out the letters and parcels
at 3 o’clock in the morning, so you see I had quite an early morning’s
feed. I have got a better job
now. I do not have to go into the
firing line so much, as I am in the sappers. We have to trench underground from our
trenches to the Germans, and then put mines in and blow them up.”
July 1915 -
(Drummer P Wilby to his friends in Brandon) “I am writing
these few lines in the trenches, we are in the reserve trenches. A, B and C Companies are in the firing
line, and we have to carry their rations and water, and do what they want,
but for my part I would rather be in the firing line, as it is just as
dangerous where we are, if not more so.
There are plenty of shells bursting round about, and it fairly got
our nerves up the first day or two, but we have got used to it now. I was with another chap looking at a
grave when a shell burst over us and cut off the top of the tree under
which we were standing, and a piece of the shell fell between the two of
us. We did not stop any longer. It was a bit exciting for a minute or
two.”
(Sapper Ernest Whitta, 1st Norfolks) "We
have just had a sermon in the wood, 150 yards behind the firing line, as it
is Sunday night. I have just had
tea, bread and marmalade; and you know I like such stuff as that. We have to give 10d for a loaf of bread,
and it is rum stiff then, as there is not any salt in it. The milk is 11d a tin now … and the
Brandon boys are quite well up to the present, also young Billy Chinn. I look after him as he is so young, and I
give him plenty of fags when we have got any.”
A few days later Sapper Whitta
writes that he is, “Still in the pink of condition, and very much alive
after the Huns’ blood. I received a parcel Tuesday, and it was all
broken up and all mixed up like bran mash … I am glad to hear you have got
some more soldiers in Brandon again, as it will liven the old place up a
bit; but we want as many out here as possible to get it over. We want a few more here, then we could get a little more rest. We have been up in the firing line and in
a wood 26 days, and expect to be here another month. We therefore cannot get back to have a
little bit of enjoyment at one of the villages to liven us up as we go out
of the firing line into a hole in the ground like a hermit, and there are
millions of ants about here.”
Writing on the 23rd June he said - “The battle is still raging round our quarter;
very fierce at night time. I did not
get the other parcel you sent off last week. I thought I should of got it today, as
there were three bags of mail up, and I stood there waiting; but there was
only a letter, thought that was good and was nearly the last one out of the
three bags. You ought to see the poor
boys all rush round when they are calling the names out, just to get the
news from the old home ...
On the 28th June - “Our troops are still
fighting well. On the right and left
very fierce fighting is still going on.
Our troops are still advancing, and the French are doing well.”
(Private Henry
George Austin, in hospital in England, writing to his wife in Town
Street) “You
see by the address I am down country.
I have been down about eight days as I had a piece of periscope
glass taken from my chest. It was
not a very big piece, but it brought me out of the firing line for a
time. I saw Mr Thompson at the Base,
so I am not alone.”
September 1915 -
(Drummer S. Holmes,
writing to the wife of Drummer George Branch) “Your
inquiry of July 9th to hand, and duly note contents. I regret very much to say your husband
was killed at Mons on August 24th, having been shot through the
brain. He died instantaneously. He was in my section of the platoon, and
I knew him well. I thought it was
better for you to know the truth and set your mind at ease. I sincerely sympathise with you in your
great loss.”
October 1915 -
(Captain E.V.
Carey, writing to the mother of Corporal W. Grass) “I have for a
long time been anxious to write to you a few words of sympathy on the loss
of your son, Acting Corporal W. Grass, of the 8th Battalion
Rifle Brigade, but I have only just succeeded in finding your address. Your son was in the platoon which I had the honour to command, and I had the very
highest opinion of his coolness and pluck.
I felt I could always rely upon him to carry out any task which
required to be done, and I felt his loss keenly. He was shot whilst crossing a piece of
open ground between the fire and support trenches, under heavy shell and
rifle fire, on July 30th.
I saw him fall, but, very much to my regret, I could not stay to
attend to him, as there were other men around me who had to be led to a
place of safety, and I myself wounded at the time. Moreover, he appeared to me to be killed
instantaneously. The regiment has
lost a fine soldier, and I deeply sympathise with you in your loss. It may be some small consolation to you
to know that your son died fighting valiantly.”
(To the parents of
Private Bertie Edwards, from his brother, Herbert)
“Bert was killed in action last night by
a piece of shell. We have been
shifted to a very hot part of the line, and the shelling is rather
thick. Dear Bert stuck it very
bravely, and was, I was told very patient with his
injuries.”
(From a Captain of
the Suffolk Regiment to the parents of Private Charles Albert Warren)
“It
is my painful duty to inform you that your son, Private C.A. Warren, who
was in my platoon, met his death yesterday (Monday, September 27th). We in the platoon sympathise with you
deeply in your irreparable loss, but I know it will be a comfort to you to
hear that he died serving his country in the glorious work of administering
to the wounded in the field. As you
know, he was a stretcher bearer, and met his death bringing in wounded
yesterday morning after an engagement.
He was well liked by his comrades in the battalion, and they mourn
with you his loss. This may be
softened by the thought that he died on the field manfully serving his
country.”
(From an Officer of
the Suffolk Regiment to the parents of Private Charles Albert Warren)
“He
was a real treasure serving us, always willing, always ready to do a
kindness of service. I have never
seen him slack once, but he has always put his heart into his work, and
done it well and cheerfully. His
death was instantaneous. He did not
have pain for a single second. You
will no doubt be rejoiced to hear your son was the means of saving more
than one brave life before his own unfortunate end."
(B.A. Wicks to the
mother of Private Charles Albert Warren) “We were going
back to the trenches to collect more wounded, when a shell from the German
lines exploded amongst us, and, to our sorrow and your misfortune, killed
Charlie instantly.”
(From two
comrades of Private James Grass, to his mother) “It
is with much regret that we have to inform you of the death of your son
James. He was on sentry duty in the
trenches while the Germans were bombarding, and, like a true Briton, he
stuck to his post. A shell dropped
close by, and a flying piece caught him.
He suffered no pain, death being instantaneous.”
(From Corporal H.
Wharf to the parents of Private Walter Wharf) "He
was asleep when he got buried with a shell.
Everyone tried their hardest to dig him out before life expired, but
were, unfortunately, unable to do so.
I have taken this photo from his pocket, and am sending it to
you. It was a shock to me, as I
stood only about ten yards from him.
There was another one buried with him, but he was not so deep ...
His death was instantaneous, and I am sure he felt nothing of it. He had dug a dug out under the trench
where there was a sort of cover made with timber and sand. A shell, weighing, I should think, a ton,
came and hit just behind where he was lying, and about six foot of earth
fell on him and another young chap.
Everyone worked their hardest to see if we could save them. We managed one, but he was standing up.”
November 1915 -
(A letter to Mr
& Mrs Seyer, Town Street, from their nephew,
Private Robert G. Arbour, in a military hospital in Stockport) "It
is nice to be in England and a treat to get away from those guns. I have seen a lot of our Brandon boys
killed. They were in the same charge
with me. It was awful to see them
shot down beside me; it made my blood run cold to see them. We took three of the German trenches.”
(Sergeant Newell to
the mother of Private Walter Frederick Randall) “We went out of
the trenches on Tuesday night to go back about a mile to what we call our
rest camp, but we have to lie in dug outs in the ground, as there are
always bullets and shells flying over us.
Then we go back to the trenches to improve them – that is to widen
and deepen them. We go by night as
well as day – three hours work, and sometimes
eight hours rest. I went in charge
of the gang that was in, from 11 in the morning till two in the
afternoon. Then we had the order to
go again at 4.30 till 8. I managed
to get out of that – worse luck, for he was hit with a stray bullet, coming
back from the trenches. He did not
think he was hurt much, nor did the chaps that were with him. They asked him about writing home, and he
gave them his belt and knife to give to me, and said I should know what to
do. The next day I went and asked
the stretcher bearers who carried him to the hospital how he was. They said it was nothing. He would be all right in a
fortnight. I little thought he was
dead, as he died early the same morning.
I followed him to his grave in the dark. He had a decent grave and a proper burial
service read over him, and that is more than some get
out here. I have had a cross made,
and put it up against his head, which I think is all I could do for so good
a pal.”
(Lance Corporal
J.H. Waltham the parents of Private Walter Talbot) “I was the last
to see him and I want to assure you all of his great bravery. It was he alone that got half the trench
back and saved us from all getting wiped out. Somehow between us we used their (German)
bombs and sent them back. Walter
threw them and I got them ready. It was
impossible for me to do anything as they were so close on us. We were always the best of friends, I
might almost say like brothers, as we seldom did anything without each
other’s consent. So I assure you I
share your loss and miss a great friend.
A bullet passed through my back, and I have to lie in bed now for
nearly a month now.”
In
reply to a letter from Mrs Talbot he wrote further ... “I don’t know
what I can tell you further than yesterday, save that it was a bomb that
fell. You see we were all packed
together very tightly, thus making a good target. Walter was conscious when I said a hasty
goodbye to him, but I feel almost certain that this did not last for long
... This did not happen at the Loos affair, but we were following it up
about a fortnight afterwards. I read
with much regret about Albert Royal; we saw him in the trench, but somehow
or other I saw no more of him.”
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