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The Western Front was not a fixed line at any
time during the War. It was a descriptive phrase to
represent any battle or exchange of fire between
Germany and Britain or other allied forces, which
took place on what is now French or Belgian soil,
as opposed to the other battles between Germany and
Russia in Eastern Europe. The countryside
surrounding the town of Ypres became the setting
for some of the most ferocious scenes during
different stages of the four years of hostilities.
Trench warfare was the background to the battles
that took place but not being a natural part of the
landscape, they had to be dug!
Heavy rain often made much of the ground too
soft for digging trenches and so other suitable
positions had to be found to create a trenched line
of defence. Digging a hole at least seven feet deep
and for several hundred yards in different
directions, with some reinforcements for the sides,
and making makeshift ladders, and filling who knows
how many sandbags which all have to be carried and
placed, as well as coping with yards and yards of
barbed wire to strategically place above ground in
front of the trench was no mean feat for either
side. Having done all of that the day to day
conditions that had to be endured in the trenches
were horrific with or without hostile attacks.
Water logged - so much of the time walking or
rather sliding about in squelchy mud, while trying
to be as quiet as possible, especially at night
when sounds travel so much further. Rats - of an
excessively large kind, feeding on bodies and
various waste, were frequent visitors, if not
fellow trench mates. If killed they would decompose
and stink the place out so the lesser of the evils
was to let them run free. Lice - they lived mostly
in the seams of the uniforms causing a severe and
constant itching but which could never be got rid
of. At times the soldiers would run the flame of a
lighted candle along the seams to hear the eggs
cracking and to try and stop the severity of the
infestation if only a little, but invariably it was
a fruitless exercise.
Sometimes there might be breakfast to start
the day, depending on the previous night's
activities, and sometimes there might be a
tablespoon of rum at night, to warm the insides
from the cold night air, and maybe to help 'stun
the lice'. If the men ate or drank, other
necessities naturally followed. Where could a
soldier urinate (or other) if on watch - only where
he stood at worst, and at best in designated areas
which were still 'close by' in the trench still. No
room or time for much privacy here! Is it any
wonder men 'lost it'? And what did they get for
their temporary madness? The privilege of being
shot for 'desertion' by members of a different
battalion. If it was not bad enough shooting and
killing the enemy, how would anyone feel shooting
their own? (Apparently it was the one thing that a
soldier could refuse to do without recourse, but I
am not convinced that it was widely publicised as
such.)
As the situation dragged on without signs of
much advancement, there was an idea that perhaps
those chaps who had been at the Front for several
weeks might be afforded some leave. Let's face it,
even when not under attack, there was precious
little time for relaxing, as such, in the front
line. A watch lasted for two hours roughly, and
then four hours 'break', where there would be
briefings, updates on positions, maybe eat, new
orders, and moving of equipment. At night, time
would be spent repairing trench damage, filling
sandbags, devising ways of collecting water to boil
for washing, maybe even having a 'cuppa', with care
not to allow the steam to rise which would give
away the position to the enemy and invite a grenade
attack, checking that the barbed wire was still in
place, burying the dead, and if very fortunate a
snatch of sleep - lice permitting, before it was
time to go back on watch.
However, allowing soldiers to go on leave
brought its own problems. Some chose not to go
home, but to do some sightseeing in Paris.
Unfortunately, there were those who brought back
just a few more souveniers than they bargained for.
In that unpleasant condition, soldiers were not
able to be sent to the 'Front Line', but had to
remain behind in safe territory to be treated with
ever increasing numbers of other soldiers. The
situation became so bad that officers warned
soldiers that in future letters would be sent home
to inform parents/wives of their condition.
Interestingly enough, the treatment for the
condition had been developed by a German.
Anyone feel like they want to go home just
reading this? I know I would have wanted to! I can
also understand why survivors would 'never talk
about the war much' according to their families. To
have spent a part of your life living in those
conditions - only fellow land servicemen would
understand. Definitely a case of 'would have to
have been there'. And all totally apart from the
horrors of seeing mates severely wounded. I have
been looking at the book 'Forgotten Voices of The
Great War' by Max Arthur, (published 2002) who has
captured reminiscences from survivors from all
sides and about different stages of the war. There
are several thought provoking moments but one that
has stayed with me is from Sergeant Jack Dorgan of
the 7th Battalion, Northumberland Fusiliers who
described a shell attack on 26th April 1915. Two of
his comrades had been caught in the explosion. They
had both had their legs blown off. One of them,
Private Bob Young, was very conscious. Jack asked
if there was anything he could do. 'Straighten my
legs Jack ............ and get my wife's photograph
............'. There were no legs to straighten but
Jack touched the bone he could see, and then got
the photograph for Bob to hold, and that was how
Bob died. I dare say all of the survivors had
several of their own memories that were equally
mind churning. None of which could be a response to
'how was the war for you then _____?
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