Source: File: British infantry advancing into a gas
cloud during the Battle of Loos.jpeg, [online] Available at: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Loos>
Accessed: 9 October 2015].
Planned
preparations to go over top,
Had included the
use of six
Footballs - to be
kicked across field
Of No Man's
Land - in belief
That Germans
would be shocked.
The night before
one commanding
Officer sent
bullets into
Five of them,
making them useless.
Still one had
survived,
Hidden in tunic
of sergeant Edwards..
By one account of
one soldier,
Whose story
commenced
22 September
1915, in a French
Village, some
miles behind
The ready
established firing line.
At the point of
readiness the Tommy
Lay beneath his
groundsheet
The rain
pattering, echoing down
His back -
tapping like fingers
He thought back
leading to that time.
Somehow he would
write this down
To send back home
- on the
Wednesday past,
in a French village
The Captain
informed them
Of a big advance
and their part to play.
Within two hours
they started a march
That lasted over
next three
Nights - Friday
24th they reached
A base town, at
midnight;
Resting there
until morning light.
Saturday and a
Colonel stepped
Up to remind
them,
Of their
Englishness - the regiments
Honor being in
their hands;
Part of
Kitchener's New Army Units.
This young Tommy
was a new trooper
Recollected
awe-inspiring
Spectacle of
sights on French roads -
Thousands of
transports
Moved to mix with
Red Cross motors.
The countryside
dense as any city -
Everywhere men
walking,
Sitting, lying,
hobbling or carried -
These broken
bleeding
Forms yet kept
their cheerfulness.
Passing these
forms in neat fours,
Tired cheers
called out
'They are running
like hell, boys!'
Such scenes
repeated
Over kilometers,
to line of artillery.
Already the gun
lines had spat
Out shells,
incessantly
On the Germans -
over twenty four
Hours they stayed
Until 6 p.m. to
witness artillery duel.
Although it seemed
quite one sided,
Receiving little
in return -
Experience
continued - the new army
Moved on once
again,
To a place
captured that morning,
Another new sight
- stretcher-bearers
Carried a Scots
officer -
Deathly white
except for a fag
In corner of his
mouth
And in one eye, a
cool monocle.
Still their
movement did not stop -
Leaving a village
at dusk.
Separating in
platoons they spread
Over half a mile
- to drop
In the cold to
lay under waterproofs.
Now he returned
to that moment -
The rain pattered
his back
Stiffening in the
chill air, stayed still
In enclosing
darkness -
Until the hour
reached nine o’clock.
The new Tommy
stood - as a unit
Moved on slow,
silent,
And steady to
captured trenches
Just ahead - when
'fun'
Began in sound of
a sudden whizz.
Fifty yards to
his right an explosion -
A Hun 'hello' in
form
Of a 'Jack
Johnson'; an express train.
The biggest shell
of Hun
To make a crater
with billowing smoke.
Still the shells
came, one a minute
Seeking out guns
behind -
Who then
retaliated, ten for each
German -
'creation split'
Earth and dark
shattered all about.
United in their
coolness they passed
First line -
queuing
To get though the
wire onto second
Line. As emerging
a turnstile
They spread
rapidly as rifle fire came.
Bullets picked out
at them to make
Their first
casualty - one
Subaltern was
shot. He dived down,
Beside him a
Sgt-Major
Sent him
backwards on a mission.
Before the first
line, the ammunition
Mules remained,
unable
To cross - they
needed the boxes.
The officer had
to remain
So Tommy sped a
return path.
Now admitting to
first real fear - alone
As aerial
torpedoes of Jacks
Blew all atoms to
nothingness - within
Yards death was
flying around,
Recognisable
parts lying beneath him.
It was as if the
Hun were all aiming
At him - in a 200
yard race
He broke every
single record, making
It to the mules -
time passing
Found this Tommy
was back on line.
'Get ready to
advance!' minutes later
A call:
'Advance!' - The New
Army seemingly in
hurry to get paid,
Steady, spreading
out
A yard apart -
emerged line after line.
Like a rehearsed
dance sequence,
Dressing by the
right -
To fill gaps,
settling to a walk slowly,
Under madness of
Hades,
To reach three
quarters of a mile.
Drunken shells
and every type
Of fire rained
about -
But enemy
targeting was 'rotten,'
Then inside range
Of their
orchestra, they stopped.
Barbed wire again
- at 300 yards -
Determined they
worked
In units, making
small rushed
Advances - twenty
yards
Then reduced to
only five yards.
Without slowing
or keeping cool,
The trooper
realised
Himself amidst
the first attack line -
German machine
guns
In a wood to the
right began.
Almost at the
wire, they had
To turn about -
retire
Was no option -
until others
On the right
could get
Progress - to try
once again.
As he ran this
experienced
Trooper felt pain
On his arm -
evidence of a hit.
Back at woods
edge
Their halt was
briefly called.
Once again,
adrenalin driven
They raised up -
yet
His left hand
could not lift his rifle.
Binding his arm
he had
To watch them go
on ahead.
Somewhere, from a
likely
Dressing station,
He wrote his
account, to add
That he learned
Those trenches
were cleared.
By exchanged
words of recovery,
All soldiers had
stories,
To say the Hun on
seeing boys,
Ran or begged
mercy;
Quality of own
machine guns reply
200 to every
enemy 100.
by Jamie Mann.
Anon.,1915. The
Big Attack - A Soldier's Story - Rush for the Trenches. The
Daily Telegraph, [online] 8 October. P.6. Col.8. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11914679/Daily-Telegraph-October-8-1915.html
[Accessed: 9 October 2015].
Mann, J., 2015. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication,
9 October 2015).
#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary
#worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1Loos
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