The following quotes are by the Commanding Officer of the Lonsdale Battalion, Lt-Col. Percy Wilfred Machell.
I have to act drill-sergeant and buck and bark vociferously to get up a high standard….Men take the talking well. It is much better than punishing….Far better make a man than break him.
Very good moving on gradually, so the men get used to billeting; it’s a big change for these lads, accustomed to having everything done for them. Their minds move slowly and they think it’s still training; so far we have got along first rate, much better than others. Spring-Rice[1] very good at getting the transport along.
They are in very good form, and prepared to look smiling under all possible circumstances. I had a talk yesterday on the futility of grousing and the necessity of making the best instead of the worst of everything. Sandbags much wanted. I have been in the trenches a lot to-day, and see how useful a private supply would be. Difficulty in keeping the walls standing, owing to the quantity of water, and there is nothing like sandbags.
All will be more comfortable when our Division takes over. C.O.’s are well enough off always apparently, having pretty good dug-outs and a chance of drying up, but I feel very bad about the men, and one can’t do enough for them.
The men are excellent. I am very energetic, as you may imagine, and they respond splendidly. I am quite delighted with them. They are not foolish at all, just sensible, and do their job without the smallest fuss, though the hardships for them are demandable. For us it is much better, as we can generally get dry socks and a better place to lie in...I have nothing to complain of at all. I am working day and night.
First week in trenches, only six casualties, one, Nicholson (of Carlisle), since died. The 51st Division, to which we were attached, especially thanked Rycroft for the way the 11th Borders had played up.[2]
It is delightful how easily all the working parties can be arranged, and how satisfactorily an immense amount of work is done with a minimum amount of fatigue to the men, by careful and systematic arrangement beforehand. We do more than twice what the others do, and our men do it twice as easily. It is all very small, but it is good to see the result, both in the work and in the men themselves...I have three patrols every night. They go cautiously at first, and I get them to go a bit wider every night, so as gradually to get confidence.
One of our patrols bumped into a German one a few night ago. Germans retired and we got our machine-gun on to them; one German got left, and was brought in in triumph, everyone much pleased. Last night patrol, under Matthews, the police sergeant, got right inside the German wire and located a big working party in the open. Got back and put a M.G. and a lot rifles on to them—groans, lights flying about, silence for half an hour, and then retaliation with whiz-bangs[3] and rifle grenades—no effect. Quite good. It has given them a start, so much turns on the way the first things go. We have located a spot where I believe they are making a trench mortar battery, so we have arranged for our artillery to flatten this place quite out to-morrow. The new R.A. is first class.
McKerrow (Lieut.) was out with a small patrol, bumped into sniper—all Germans started to shoot—McKerrow told the men to crawl, and got back with corporal and two men. Two other men were missing; they lost their way, keeping too much to the right, climbed carefully over what they thought was our parapet, and found good steps inside, trenches 12 feet deep, all well walled up, and the floors boarded, clean and dry. One said to the other, These ain’t our [?] trenches! - saw a fine dug-out, and wanted to throw a bomb in, and the German wire had been so awful to get through they knew they wouldn’t be able to. They just had time to skip up on top of the parapet when 40 men passed within a yard of them. They got through the wire with some noise, the Germans firing as the wire rattled, but got back safely.
Two batteries, 18-pounders, one battery trench mortars, and some 4.5 howitzers, H.E. shells, all on to 100 yards of German front. They made beautiful shooting, and blew mud and wood quite 100 feet high. Guns then started at us from behind their line, and they sent a lot of shells all about us; luckily only one man hit.
Last night a beastly rifle grenade fell in the middle of a party of our men who were putting out wire. Pitch dark night and a chance shot, as they had no idea anyone was out. It got five. One of my best Sergeants killed dead and another so badly hurt that he died before we could get him back over our parapet. Both personal friends. Harrison, the Captain, is splendid. I was anxious not to have anyone outside, and with another man was laboriously dragging in the Sergeant, when he, Harrison, took him on his back and walked in with him…We have been extremely ‘fortunate’, and I believe we are supposed to have done very well all along…so if anything goes wrong at any time we shall have something to our credit in the past.
References / notes
- ↑ Lieut. Gerald Spring-Rice, the Transport Officer of the Battalion, was killed on 26th May 1916 by a spent bullet. He was 52 years of age.
- ↑ Not meant in the sense to misbehave or aggrandise, but rather more appropriately and positively how they engaged themselves in their actions.
- ↑ Referring to the sound of a light shell that was fired from smaller calibre field guns. Whiz (flight), bang (explosion).