Poem ~ Assault at Montauban - Saturday, 8 July 1916

Impression sketch of Ruins of Montauban. [online] See original image at: <https://17thmanchesters.wordpress.com/the-big-push/the-defence-of-montauban/> [Accessed: 08 July 2016]

A Knight on Wheels by Ian Hay, 1914 - was a popular book read by British soldiers at the front. An ebook version is available at: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38368

From phases of battle,

Within the area of Picardy,

Lay a target assault

On Montauban - a sergeant

Told a tale in blighty,

Of Somme’s great advance.

Over the top in fashion

Of an orderly charge they

Reached the commune -

Yet it little resembled any

Habitable place, with

Houses 'head over heels.'

Initially they split into

Groups of six - the company

Taking separate paths -

With hardly any resistance

To merge once more,

As they closed on the village.

They looked to a tree,

Where a machine gunner was

Posted on a neat,

Painted platform almost unseen.

Shot down he fell,

To hang in tree by his boots.

The sergeant with

His close group of five pals,

Pressed into what

Had been streets, to find two

Cafes still stood - all

About sighting Germans.

They ran 'monkeying'

Between ruins, as more

Ran from the back

Of the village - his close
Group detected

A few Huns in a house.

At ground level they

Tossed a mills bomb into

The window, without

Waiting around for replies,
They pelted around
A corner to face a German.

By a wall he fired

From a brick emplacement.

His machine gun took

Aim at the sergeant’s feet

Who did not stop,

Charging with bayonet.

Bullets rattled out

'Two kicks over the heart,'

He felt as his bayonet

Halted the German game -

Unable to progress

He looked down to damage.

The machine gunner

Had hit his foot badly, not
Only that, his tunic

Breast pocket had two

Bullet holes - he

Looked inside at the result.

Both bullets had cut

Into his shaving mirror,

Halted by pocket

Case, the force had welded

Both to form a metal

Lump, nosing into a book.

Earlier that morning,

His officer had given him

The book to read

In the German trenches -

Forgetting he had

Put the book in his pocket.

While metal had

Saved his life, this book

'A Knight on Wheels,'

Was a companion on a later

Return to blighty -
While injured he observed.

Before them three

Germans appeared to drop

Rifles - in reaction

So did the Tommy’s, who

Embarked on a fist

Fight - outcome unknown.

Another soldier lad

Chasing after three Germans,

Caught them up -

He applied the bayonet to two

To swing his rifle butt

Onto the third taking him down.

Like some hobby

He described idea of fun,

In the easy capture

Of Montanan - one Tommy

Caught in a blast,

Stood up again, dazed.

He stated, 'Oh there

Must be a war on after all,

I suppose' - then

He carried on this duty,

As the injured

Sergeant left for blighty.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1916. 1916. Soldiers Stories Of The Great Advance - Capture of Montauban. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 8 July 1916. P.9. Col.6. Available at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12211872/Daily-Telegraph-July-8-1916.html>[Accessed: 8 July 2016].

Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 8 July 2016). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12211872/Daily-Telegraph-July-8-1916.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

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Poem ~ Yorkshires Seek Prisoner - Friday, 25 February - Saturday, 26 February 1916

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].

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12169037/Daily-Telegraph-February-24-1916.html

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Poem ~ War Prediction and Reality - Friday, 1 October 1915

Source: File: A battery of French Rimailho 155mm howitzers near Massiges, 26 September 1915. jpeg, [online] Available at: <http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205322841> Accessed: 1 October 2015].

A premonition came from

One 1909 publication, as to how

Future warfare would change;

That all hand to hand fighting

Out on the battlefield, should be

Confined to stories of history.

Predictions made redundancy

Of steel weaponry - this included

Banishment of bayonets.

Such decisive thoughts

Had emerged from high Levels

Of well established thinkers.

Proof showed poor prophecy,

In trying to form military evolution -

Freed from blinkered strategists,

Each war in history always

Open up new tactics, but dangers

Lay in opinionated sights.

The fact of a long drawn war,

That would include many countries,

Was unforeseen months before.

Fighting realities make for

All surprises - as in rolls of barbed

Wired barriers and trenches.

Who could have foretold

Barricades forming a fortified chain

From the Alps to the sea?

Impossibilities became possible

With trenches and barbed wire walls;

To be repaired Indefinitely.

Shellfire resistant obstacles

Had to be broken by other methods -

Most likely by land troops.

Therefore hand bombs use

And reliable bayonets, might down

Rifles and machine guns.

A debate over who might

Face the most difficulties then lay

Between British and French -

Every regiment launched

Against enemy knew full well how

Many would soon lay cold.

Neither county had priority

Over sacrifices - with French army

Seen as being most strategic.

The French proximity lay

Closest to the German lines, about

The area of Champagne.

Champagne; French lands

That has seen many disputes date

Back over centuries -

Old campaigns witnessed

Other fights for victory over same

Fifty miles - once again.

Faced by enemy systems,

In unique espionage techniques,

To threaten French tactics -

Despite greater numbers

Of French forces, they still greatly

Depended on British forces.

Half the battle was to build

Soldiers confidence; that all good

Talk makes for sure success.

Champagne campaign hopes,

Openly formed in the written lines

For this French victory.

French strategy was seen

For an Artois offensive to hold

Captive German reserves -

Against any predictions

Of a book, written by theorists;

Steel bayonets came alive.

A 'holding attack' method,

While unrewarding can alarm

An enemy, to bring victory -

Inventing familiar names

Loos and Vimy, enabled French

In virtual Lens domination.

Off paper true tactics lay

In the minds of leaders - for one

Who dares, makes a move -

Time, poised in the midst

Of battle formed Joffre's tactics -

Ready to make history.

Between Rheims and Lens

Localised fights sent shadows

Across Champagne lands.

Two storm centres poised -

Outcomes unknown - perhaps

Ready for a defining blow.

Despite fortified barbed

Wire, ditches and machine guns,

French artillery intentions

Might see them ineffective

New predictions of modern war

Might see ten days history.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1915. The French Battles - Artois and Champagne - Fighting Corps A Corps. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 1 October. P.10. Col.3. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11896835/Daily-Telegraph-October-1-1915.html [Accessed: 1 October 2015].

Mann, J., 2015. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 1 October 2015). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11896835/Daily-Telegraph-October-1-1915.html

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Poème ~ 'Ne tirez pas!' - Mercredi 29 Septembre 1915

Source: Fichier: 1er tranchée de ligne dans Champagne.jpg, [en ligne] Disponible à l'adresse: <https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tranch%C3%A9e_de_1%C3%A8re_ligne_en_Champagne_1915.jpg> Consulté le 29 Septembre ici à 2015 ].

Cinq jours dans la bataille, qui a débuté
Samedi 25 Septembre à midi,
Vu soldats blessés fatigués
Rejoindre Paris - leurs uniformes
Et le visage tourné pâle, à partir de
La boue crayeuse de Champagne.

Incongrue au milieu de la capitale,
Ils sont arrivés - apparaissant comme
Meuniers de pays dans le Parisien
Ville - de dire comment jusqu'à zéro heure,
Canons français, avec plus féroce
Bruit, n'a jamais cessé.

Ces soldats parlaient miller
A propos de leur régiment, entre
Le premier support - impatience
Leur tenue dans les tranchées, jusqu'à
Samedi de routine des sirotant
Soupe a pris fin avec un cri.

À peine fini dans leur tâche
Des armes de nettoyage, l'écorce
D'un ordre était «en avant!»
Comme les hommes possédés, cria
Un cri se battre, comme ils ont soulevé
Eux-mêmes de leurs trous.

L'avance de la ligne de ces Poilu,
Avait déjà progressé -
Bien au-delà des lignes allemandes -
Avec peu de résistance de ces
hommes ont couru à suivre camarades,
Passant beaucoup de morts allemande.

Comme un abattoir morts empilés
Jusqu'à leur front et sur les côtés -
Cratères qui étaient effondrés
Déjà rempli de Fallen Earth -
Comme roches en cuir, bottes
Avançait en rez tourné frais.

Comme dans un jeu morbide, ils
Arrêtée et a tiré une botte pour
Des signes de réaction, ce tout
pourrait être en vie - aucun d'entre
Eux étaient, donc partir Ils se précipitèrent
Au milieu de coups de feu.

Un contingent féroce à droite -
De bord d'une fosse, la machine
Guns ratissé terre battue -
Mais le poliu élance
Pour faire taire les tentatives de l'ennemi
Par la poussée de leur baïonnette.

Un autre combat féroce a suivi -
Résistance est devenue divisée
Entre le rendu.
Tandis que d'autres ont continué
Combattre; ceux qui ont survécu
Crié 'Kamerads!'

D'autres ont appelé 'Pas Kapout!'
Pour jeter les armes faibles -
D'autres prisonniers encore tiré
Avec un revolver d'une artillerie
Le capitaine a tiré une balle dans
Une main gauche du Poilu.

Le Français a frappé
Lui au sol et assis
Sur la poitrine Allemands, qui
Demanda grâce - à dire
Il avait une femme et des enfants;
L'homme français a eu pitié.

L'Allemand se tenait à nouveau,
Pour remercier le Poilu sauvagement
Faire des offres d'argent,
Qui fait rire
fort pour les contes étaient
Ces soldats meuniers dit.

Un autre autre homme français,
Dans la réception d'une balle
Jetant sa tête, dit
Comment dans l'infanterie attaque
Ils sont venus à se blottit
Des Allemands, les mains levées.

Une impression était de savoir comment
Ces Allemands, touchées
Par la canonnade Français
Old Men - tournés vers idiots
Et le jeune possédé,
Appelé sur 'Pas kapout!'

'Pas kapout! Pas kapout!'
'Ne tirez pas! Ne me tuez pas! '

par Jamie Mann.

Anon., 1915. Combat à la baïonnette - Ligne allemande Transporté d'urgence. [en ligne] 29 Septembre. P.10. Col.3. Disponible à: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11896789/Daily-Telegraph-September-29-1915.html [Consulté le 29 Septembre 2015].

Mann, J., 2015. il ya 100 ans - Poèmes de Jamie Mann. [lettre] (communication personnelle, le 29 Septembre 2015).

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11896789/Daily-Telegraph-September-29-1915.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

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