Impression sketch
for Yorkshires Seek Prisoner - by Jamie
As rumours go,
based on truth,
Was story of
Canadian troopers,
Taking up the
hobby of dipping
Into trenches -
making short
A shift of work
returning home,
To convey a
prisoner or two.
In liking for a type
of such Red Indian
Warfare, there
were also others; young
British officers who, being itchy all day
For the night to
come, when time allowed
Night patrols in
their moving out to wire.
Another rumour in the then
Trenches of Yorkshire
lads,
Was their general's
pleasure,
To bring a
prisoner to him -
A proposal of a
sortie was
Soon discussed in
dug outs.
One non
commissioned officer
In league with an eager sergeant,
Formulated their
idea into a plan.
Completed by four
lieutenants,
Who set to find
their volunteers.
Included was one
private
With a waggish
humour
And roguish eyes
- two
Parties after dark found
Yards equal to miles, with
The dead earth lit by flares.
At intervals of regularity
came
A sudden whoosh,
as rockets
Flared the dark -
with sudden
Stark white
lights, the parapets
And wire made
stark silhouettes.
Beneath the harsh
lit
White, crawling
forms
Of Yorkshire men halted -
Pressing exposed
selves
Downwards, into the
spin
Of earth beneath
them.
When darkness
held them again,
They crawled on
fingers - inch
By inch - following blindly the path
Of leading subalterns, towards
A gap of a curved
enemy trench.
Between two bays
that
Flashed in white
relief,
The Yorkshires
paused -
In the loop they
listened
Intently, hearing
a sentry
Stamping his cold
feet.
The sentry paced back and forth,
For warmth he
gave a quiet whistle.
His exhale
patterning in harsh light
Of white flares where he thought
He was alone, unaware
of English.
The Yorkshires lay
close
To him, holding breathes,
Clasping
revolvers - two
Lieutenants fingered
way
To the parapet - behind
Men were left to instinct.
Any orders would
alert the sentry;
One man led
himself to clamber
Down into trench, only yards from
The sentry - as a
wolf he tensed
For his prey, as
footsteps came.
Moving in the dank sunk
Was a black form, marked
By glowing
cigarette nub;
A German officer
on rounds.
The man leapt away,
his
Feet hung over the
trench.
With legs lying in open air, head
Towards British
lines - the officer's
Passing cloak, gently
stroked his
Heels - the lad
twisted in tension,
To see the German
go on his way.
Close by, the
lonely
Sentry made a whistle,
A tune of home to try
And cheer his
isolation,
When the alert of
a click
Changed
everything.
One lieutenant
aimed his gun
But the mud
filled its mechanism,
So it could not
fire - the sentry
Spun, his whistle
became a gasp -
Now he was blind
with terror.
To fall from the
parapet
Was a British
sergeant -
Before him the
boy sentry
Suddenly shrieked
with
A yell - an English
hand
About his German
throat.
The fingers were
trying to strangle
Him - he
struggled when a second
Englishman an
officer, was before
Him - to hold a
cold barrel against his
Neck, to feel
thump of a dud revolver.
The first officer
sought
To knock him out,
while
A trigger
squeezed and
Blew away the sentry’s
Life - the same
bullet also
Shot the sergeant's
hand.
Now all alarm was
raised - attempts
To gain any
prisoner was lost, with
Thuds of German
boots, hurrying
To a lost rescue of
their fellow sentry;
The raiding party
scrambled away.
Over the slimy
parapet
they fell into a
watery ditch -
All attempts were
to race
For their home
trench -
Under the white
flares
And heel snapping
bullets.
The split of two
parties had found
The other Yorkshire
group troubled,
To find their way
across a sodden
Ditch - they came
against enemy
Wire, slowed down
by making a gap.
In breaking
through
The leaders split
- the
Sergeant to the
left
Lieutenants to
right -
Their men close
behind
To creep forwards.
In the target bay
the sergeant soon
Discovered two
German sentries,
Whose alert facial
status prompted
Him to throw them
a grenade -
The noisome result
looked to work.
From a dugout two
Germans appeared
Into the smoky
hole -
The sergeant sent
Another bomb, when
More soldiers
came.
Making for a
sharp exit - along
With him the party crouched,
As the enemy
flung bombs
Towards them - only to realise
Their lieutenant
was missing.
Turning back to
find
Him, the sergeant
saw
From out of the
dark,
A shadow lift - a flare
Burst revealed a
white
Face, a result
of wounds.
Despite a bayonet
neck injury
And shrapnel
hit, the Lieutenant
Lead the party
back to safety -
Only one left of their
number had
A delay; the
grinning eyed man.
Lying in a ditch,
The Yorkshire man
Maintained calm -
Although caught
By the enemy wire,
Expectant of death.
Certain that his
bombs had
Killed a number
of the Hun,
He tried to get
free of the trap.
His boots were
caught - only by
Removing them he
might get out.
Feeling that they
Were very good
Boots, he could
Not part with
them -
Twisting once, then
Again he was free.
Both parties
returned in safety,
Despite a lack of
any prisoner
There were no
regrets in giving
The Germans the
jumps - which
Continued over consecutive nights.
Apparently seeing
Shadows, the Hun
Habitually tossed
Bombs at their
Own barbed wire;
To humor the Yorks.
by Jamie Mann.
Anon.,1916. Daring
Yorkshires - 'No Man's Land' Exploit. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 25 February 1916. P.9.
Col.2. Available at:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12169037/Daily-Telegraph-February-24-1916.html
[Accessed: 25 February 2016].
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