2nd Battalion, Devonshire Regiment

19th Sep 1914 Divisional HQ Opens

25th Sep 1914 Concentration

2nd Oct 1914 Concentration

27th Oct 1914 Exercise

29th Oct 1914 Route March

30th Oct 1914 Concentration Complete

31st Oct 1914 Mud

4th Nov 1914 On the Move

5th Nov 1914 On the Move

6th Nov 1914 Delays

7th Nov 1914 Delays

8th Nov 1914 On the Move

9th Nov 1914 Into Billets

11th of November 1914 In the Line

13th of November 1914 Reliefs Completed

21st of November 1914 Regiments Under-strength

3rd Dec 1914 Relief

9th Dec 1914 Reliefs

18th Dec 1914 Attack Made

24th Dec 1914 Relief Complete

27th Dec 1914 Relief

30th Dec 1914 Reliefs

30th Dec 1914 Message

6th Feb 1915 In the Line

10th Apr 1915 Orders

9th May 1915 2nd Devons at the Battle of Aubers

18th May 1915 Orders Received

3rd Jun 1915 Enemy too strong

16th Oct 1915 The Derby Scheme

1st Dec 1915 Derby Scheme Armlets

11th Sep 1915 Last day of Derby Scheme Recruitment

25th Dec 1915 Merry Christmas

10th Jan 1916 Group System Reopens

9th February 1916 Call Ups

21st Mar 1916 Instruction

22nd Mar 1916 Instruction

24th Mar 1916 Instruction

1st Jul 1916 In Action

17th May 1918 Reliefs

26th May 1918 2nd Devons under Attack

27th May 1918 A Devastating Attack

28th May 1918 Hard Fighting

31st Oct 1918 River

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There are:5272 items tagged 2nd Battalion, Devonshire Regiment available in our Library

These include information on officers, regimental histories, letters, diary entries, personal accounts and information about actions during the Great War.

Those known to have served with
2nd Battalion, Devonshire Regiment
during the Great War 1914-1918.

Andrews James Allfrey. Capt. (d.1st Jul 1916)
Bowden Charles. Pte. (d.9th May 1915)
Cockwill Reginald Darke. Pte. (d.26th March 1918)
Davis Charles Henry Vincent. Pte.
Flower Arthur. Pte. (d.5th Sep 1917)
Gilbert William Peter Northey. Pte. (d.1st July 1916)
Harris Henry. Pte.
Hendrie George. L/Sgt. (d.31st July 1917)
Keep Wilfred. Pte. (d.31st May 1918)
Lawrence Ernest. Pte. (d.22nd Nov 1917)
Manning Alfred Charles Henry. Pte. (d.10th Aug 1917)
Priddis William James. Pte. (d.14th Apr 1917)
Rowe Charles Philip. Pte. (d.29th Mar 1918)
Stephens MiD. Sydney Frank. Pte.
Webb William James. L/Cpl. (d.17th May 1918)
Whitlock MM. Robert. Cpl. (d.31st October 1918)
Whitlock MM. Robert. Cpl. (d.31st October 1918)

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Pte. Charles Philip Rowe 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.29th Mar 1918)

Charles Rowe was my great-uncle, and I am trying to find more about him and how he died.
Andrew Stone

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Pte. Wilfred Keep 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.31st May 1918)

Wilfred Keep was the last of 8 children born to Nicholas James Keep and Fanny Bishop. He was killed in the Battle of Aisne and is commemorated at the Soissons Memorial being just one of the 4000 who have no known grave.
Peta Millard

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Pte. Sydney Frank Stephens MiD. 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment

Sydney Frank Stephens was born in 1883 and baptised 13th May 1883.
He was the youngest son of Henry Stephens, a baker and grandson of a farmer. He had a love of and a way with horses. Horses were used by his father's bakery in Aston, West Midlands for the delivery of bread. In the early 1900's he fell in love with Myra De Saulles the widow of Samuel De Saulles the artist to the mint and designer of several medals. His father did not approve and sent him to Australia (to forget her) where he once painted the gasometer in Sydney harbour using rope and crepe sandals with another chap he had met in the labour bank queue. His love did not die and he earned enough money to return and married Myra and is mentioned in the 1911 census (Myra is listed as aged 40).
He lived for a while in London. That is possibly where he enlisted for the war. We do not know for certain his exploits during the war but we do have his dog tags which show "Devons 69216" and his medal card which according to the regimental museum suggests that he may have been in the 2nd Battalion. We the family were lead to believe he was in a yeomanry regiment (the regimental museum doubts this but this is what we were told)
The family stories from my mother are as follows, He took his father's best horse with him, the horse was called Gerry. The horse had been imported from Ireland and then bought. During basic training he distinguished himself with this horse. It was very fast and won various races. Sydney was made an assistant farrier (although not qualified pre war) he was more than competent removing shoes and frost nailing horses. He was also very good at wrangling and soothing difficult horses. (the regimental museum believes he may have been attached to a transport section of the 2nd Battalion).
He generally kept himself out of trouble until 1917/18. A family member (possibly his sister) died during the flu epidemic in England. He starts volunteering for things. He and another man took 40 mules at night to resupply some cut off troops over no man's land then through a river to get to the front line. Then returned safely. We were always told that for this he received a Mention in Despatched, but have never been able to confirm this.
One day, a friend called Cooky, who worked in the canteen, had been talking to Sydney, then Cooky returned to the canteen, a few minutes later the canteen took a direct hit. Sydney did not see Cooky again.
At some point he was gassed and always had weak lungs (but smoked heavily also). After the Armistice Sydney returned home with his horse (this is probably unlikely but this is what we were told). On returning to his father, one of his father's first comments was "You have ruined that horse!"
A while after the war during a family business meeting in the house above the bakery, a window cleaner climbs to the window and Sydney realises it was Cooky. They went and got drunk together. Cooky had apparently gone back to the canteen and been sent straight back out with a cauldron of cooked potatoes to deliver. After the canteen was destroyed he was quickly re-assigned to another unit.
Myra died 27th Feb 1932 they had no children. Sydney remarried a year later to Lillian Simms and had two daughters, who both continued with his love of horses. He carried on baking with a shop in Lowesmoor Worcester and was the last horse drawn bakery delivery in Worcester until he retired. He died in 1967 and was survived by his 2nd wife Lillian and his two daughters.
His family are very grateful that he served and survived when others did not and to commemorate the end of the war to end all wars are taking a horse from Cambrai to Mons in Sept 2018 to take part in the 100km "Pursuit to Mons" in a copy of his uniform and will stop at Tertre where the Devons received news of the Armistice.

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Pte. William Peter Northey Gilbert 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment (d.1st July 1916)

My Great Uncle William Gilbert was 19 when he was killed in action on 1st of July 1916. He was the eldest child of John Jeffery and Angelina (nee Hosking) Gilbert. His brother, my grandfather, also called John Jeffery, was just 14 when William was killed in France. William also had a younger sister, Angelina Winifred Gilbert (later married to Ernest Tippett).
On the first day of the Battle of the Somme the 2nd Devons attacked between Ovillers and La Boiselle, known as Mash Valley, where I believe William was killed and his body never found. He is remembered at the Thiepval Memorial as well as the War Memorial in his home town of Torpoint.
Marilyn Gilbert

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Pte. Reginald Darke Cockwill 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment (d.26th March 1918)

Reginald Cockwill was born in 1888 in Plymouth, Devon, to John Darke Cockwill and Sarah. He was the youngest brother of my great grandfather, Harry Darke Cockwill. Reginald was his closest friend, as well as Harry's brother. Reginald signed up to join the Army on May 18th 1915. He served in France. He wrote regularly to his family, especially Harry. Harry missed him and always kept Reg's last pencil-written letter dated Sunday 18th February 1918, in his wallet.
In 1918, Reg's officer wrote to a local newspaper to tell his wife of his bravery. This newspaper clipping was also kept alongside the letter in wallet by Harry. It reads.
Lieut. K Gatey, writing to the widow of Pte. Reginald Cocktail at Totnes, says: “Your husband was acting as my orderly during the action of the 25th March, and came with me when I went to get in touch with he troops on my left. He was hit in the groin by a machine gun bullet. After the first shock, he did not seem in very much pain and he was taken down in a stretcher as soon as possible after a field dressing had been applied, to No 47 Casualty Clearing Station, and as it had to be evacuated on the 26th, I presume he was buried in the Military Cemetery which I am sorry to say is now in enemy hands. I was badly wounded myself on the evening of the 26th or I should have communicated with you before giving you these particulars which I have just received.Your husband was for over three months invaluable to me as batman, and was in every way an excellent soldier. On the day previous and the day he was wounded he showed the greatest of bravery and coolness under fire, and he will be a great loss to the Devon Regiment. Allow me to express my deepest sympathy to you and his family.”
Reg is buried in France and remembered with honour at the Rosieres British Cemetery. He was awarded the Victory medal, British medal and 1915 Star. (Pip, Squeak and Wilfred!).
Michelle Briggs

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Pte. Charles Henry Vincent Davis 2nd Btn. Devon Regiment

Charlie's Memoirs of the 1914-1918 Great War by Charles Henry Vincent Davis
The Great War started in August 1914, when I was nearly fifteen years of age. Mother and Dad were naturally relieved that I was too young to join up, and anyway, everyone was saying that the war would be over by Christmas.
Contrary to expectations, however, it was not. It went on into the New Year... and on... and still on. By this time I was seventeen years old and conscription at eighteen had been in force for some time now, so Mother and Dad were getting worried. Most of my pals had already been called up and I felt the stirring of adventure in my blood, I wanted to go too. Dad refused to give his permission for me to volunteer, but I couldn't wait any longer. I went down to the recruiting office and enlisted. The sergeant didn;t ask to see my birth certificate, if you said you were eighteen that was that and the army grabbed me willingly. Mother and Dad could do nothing about it once I had joined.
Well, I went on the appointed day to the Law Courts in Bournemouth and found roughly thirty lads of about my own age who were waiting to go. After details of appearance such as colour of eyes and hair, height etc. we marched to Bournemouth Central Station and left in the charge of a recruiting sergeant, who took us by train to Winchester. At the Winchester Barracks we passed our medicals and were issued with our uniforms (2 suits) plus kit bag. Our civvie suits were then packed up and left to be sent to our respective homes.
After one night at the barracks we then went by train to Fovant Camp near Salisbury, in the charge of another recruiting sergeant. On arriving there, we found the camp over-filled with troops and some difficulty was found in supplying us with meals and sleeping accommodation. As we were there for only two days, it didn't seem to bother us very much. Two days later we went by train to Rollestone Camp on Salisbury Plain, where we remained until after Christmas when we had our first term of leave (7 days).
While at this camp, the chap in the bed next to me almost died one night from pneumonia. He was taken to hospital and returned about a month later, transferred to another company. He came when the hut was empty and stole various things including a pair of boots. We then went to his new quarters and were able to recover them.
Our Company Sergeant Major was disliked by us all. When a heavy snowfall came we all got some satisfaction from taking part in snowballing him.
Two newly made lance corporals were forcibly scrubbed in the wash house one day. They were expected to wash at Reveille but evidently thought that they were privileged in being NCOs.
Whilst on the Plain we did all necessary training including rifle drill and firing new rifles. Later, all arrangements were made for the whole battalion to go to Norwich, Norfolk for the remainder of the winter, where we were billeted in private houses. While there, I had my second taste of jankers (an official punishment for a minor breach of discipline, otherwise known as defaulters). It turned out quite well for me, as the only other chap also on jankers was recognised by the Provost Sergeant at the cavalry barracks, who was a friend of the boy's father in his home town. The result of this was that we were given a good tea in the Sergeant's Mess and were then free to go to the funfair in Norwich while the remainder of the company were engaged in night operations outside the town. A Scotsman in the cells at the cavalry barracks escaped one night by cutting through the roof bars near the guard-room. He was included in a draft due to go overseas but was not found for about 3 months. The corporal of the guard was courts martialled for allowing this escape and for allowing the prisoner's wife to enter the cells to see her husband (she evidently took him the saw). The others of us who were on guard duty were not called at the hearing. The corporal on Bath Parade was a nice enough fellow, but not really fitted for the job of NCO, being not particularly bright and rather young and immature. Anyhow, he was a decent chap really and quite well liked by us all, but the boys couldn't resist having a bit of fun at his expense. When he marched us down the road to the baths, which were about a mile away, they would usually make a point of singing And a Little Child Shall Lead Them... it was all good-humoured fun and it always raised a laugh. When the boys went on leave they were usually in exceptionally high spirits. So much so that they often caused a lot of damage to the carriages of their trains. These were then brought forward for their further use in the condition in which they had been left !
As the Spring approached we were sorry to leave Norwich when we moved to Taverham Camp, a few miles out, and were then under canvas. Although I enjoyed camp life, the continuous wet weather rather dampened our spirits. During this period, I was sent with other fellows to do guard duties at Kelling Camp, overlooking the North Sea at Cromer. At this time, large drafts of troops were being sent overseas and the time came for us to go. We were lucky to have four days leave, which gave us a couple of days at home. I did not mention going overseas to Mother, but she had her suspicions and asked me if I was on a draft leave. I admitted that I was but said I understood we would be going abroad to Italy, which was quite true, as we had been told this before coming on leave. On the fourth day I met the fellows also going back off leave and, after saying goodbye at home, we were on the return journey. Upon arriving at Waterloo, we hired a taxi and clubbed together for a sight-seeing trip around parts of London and later arrived at Liverpool Street station for the return journey to Norwich. Three days later we were on the train again, bound for Folkestone which was chock-full of troops waiting to go over. For some reason or another, I remember some of these regiments had to give up their rifle slings before embarking, but it did not apply in our case.
After a very rough crossing, in which we were escorted by destroyers and ourselves fitted out with life jackets, we made Boulogne where we were given a meal of sort. I remember that you could buy Players or Will's cigarettes at 10 for 2d, which now seems almost like a dream. Within a few hours we were on another train and soon found ourselves in the Reinforcement Depot at Etaples, France, where we camped under canvas. We found out that we had just missed a heavy bombing raid by only four hours, in which many troops and hospital nurses were killed. It was here at Etaples that I was very sorry to have to say goodbye to all the pals I had made at home and who had come with me, but my name and number was the very last on the draft list. Myself and one other fellow from my company were the only two to be sent to join a reinforcement detail in the 2nd Devon Regiment. We were able to shout and wave goodbye as we left, then we were on a troop train bound for Amiens where we arrived at night. At the time, a big battle was in progress on The Somme and we were in reserve to prevent a breakthrough. It seemed to go on forever without ceasing, the gunfire being deafening and the night lit up with gun flashes and Very lights.
The battalion was now made up to strength after a bad time at Villers Brettonia, and it was some relief to know that plans were being made for us to move to another front. In our case it turned out to be a French front and it meant quite a long troop train journey of roughly twelve hours before we arrived at a point some distance from the actual front. This meant that we had quite a bit of route marching to do. It was raining heavily when we left the train at 3 o'clock and marched until around 8 o'clock, when a halt was made for breakfast by the side of the road, everyone wearing ground sheets to keep dry. The weather cleared later, the sun came out and we cheered up quite a bit when the band struck up Colonel Bogey.
The countryside was really beautiful in the sunshine, the only snag being that all our water bottles had been deliberately emptied at the beginning of the march (drinking was not allowed on route marches) so by this time everybody was thirsty but enable to have any kind of a drink. However, some of us were able to get our water bottles filled by handing them to troops filling water buckets for the horses, so a few of us at any rate had a drink. We marched all day with ten minutes halt every hour, arriving in the afternoon at a camp with good hut accommodation. Here we remained for two days and were issued with boracic powder for our sore feet and to put in our boots to make marching easier.
After this, we were on the road again, marching all day with a halt every hour until we came to a village named Romaine where our billets were in hay lofts and I could sleep soundly in the hay and straw. Whilst there, some of the troops drank too much French wine and there were a few drunken arguments, some of which could have been very serious. In particular, two NCOs decided to prove which of them was the better shot with loaded revolvers. An empty biscuit tin was the target but, of course, neither NCO could hit it. They were both stupidly drunk and reeling about, then one of them held his pistol to the temple of the other, who was grinning and treating it as a huge joke ... he little knew how close he was to getting a bullet in his brain ! We were all afraid even to move and were much relieved when the incident passed without any further trouble. However, it resulted in a drumhead court martial, with sentence later.
We were there for only about twelve hours then on the road again, moving nearer to the lines where we arrived at a point about two miles behind the front line. Our billets here were inside a huge rock formation very much resembling Wookey Hole in Somerset, but much drier. The beds here were made of chicken wire fixed on each side of this big cave and there was a passageway leading to the top, from where we could see the front and the Very lights showing up at night. This place was part of a village called Roncey and on the following morning after arrival the battalion paraded at full strength and was addressed by the Colonel. He said that we had come to a very quiet front and to what was considered to be a rest for the 8th Division, of which our battalion was a part. He went on to say that should any attacks be made by us whilst here, no prisoners were to be taken. Later that day, the battalion moved up into the lines and we were told to speak to the French troops we were relieving. I remember a French mongrel dog following the Frenchmen out then turning round and coming back with us into the lines. To get there, we had to cross the River Aisne, where the original bridge had been blown up and a little wooden bridge built to replace it. We were now in the Support Line which was directly behind the front line and we were the first British troops to take over this front - although our artillery support comprised mostly French 75mm guns. I did not see any big guns at any time.
A lot of the trenches were fairly wide so that it was easy to move about, even though wet and muddy, and we were issued with rubber boots to overcome trench feet. At one camp we had two days training and it was here that one of our chaps was killed by a live hand grenade. In throwing it over, he hit the parapet of the trench and it dropped back and exploded.
As a No 1 Lewis gunner, I was directed with others to our appointed place in the line, which had deep dug-outs and hand operated water pumps to supply water for drinking and for washing. During this time we noticed that the front was becoming more active and as each day came it seemed to me that it was getting steadily worse. The observation balloons were beginning to have some effect and during the first hours of daylight we had a salvo of shells come directly into the trench, right on target, but there were no casualties as that part of the trench was empty. I happened to be in the observation post, just in front of the trench, and had the experience of being covered with earth thrown up by the explosion. The whole effect of this was to make us much more careful in moving around and to keep under cover.
Our job while in support was to supply the front line with everything needed, such as small arms ammunition, water and food. When we first went there, the tea and stew were carried in the old type dixies by two men, in Indian file, on the butts of rifles on our shoulders. This was later altered to a large Thermos tank with two strong webbing straps adn carried on the back of one man. All our water supplies were heavily charged with chloride of lime and the tea, of course, tasted mostly of this. We did have one piece of luck here, when I happened to find a large French loaf (much larger than ours) in behind the boarding of a deep dug-out, and this we shared with our Lewis gun team. On going to the front line with tea, ammunition, etc. we came upon one of the boys lying in the bottom of the trench with a bullet through his head. We were told that he had been killed by a sniper and his body was to be picked up by stretcher bearers. The words "stretcher bearers" were to become quite common later.
Each company would take a turn in the three lines, making seven days in the front line - seven days in the support line - and seven days in the reserve line, after which we would be relieved by another battalion. We would then go out to a rest camp for approximately seven days, making a month altogether but most often our rest time would be shortened and sometimes amounted to only three or four days. One afternoon I was doing my job as a Lewis gunner in the observation post, watching the whole of our front through a periscope fixed to the wall of the trench. I turned around and found one of our young officers behind me. He told me that if I looked through my field glasses early in the morning, I would be able to see men ploughing the fields. I thought that this was a rather peculiar thing to be doing so near to the enemy lines. Anyway, what he actually saw was horses going back after bringing up guns during the night and returning, trailing the traces on the ground. Later events proved this to be right. This young man was working as an Intelligence Officer but in my opinion he seemed too young for the job. When three dud shells dropped in front of our post, he asked me if they were gas shells, but there was no sign of any gas about.
A few days later a sergeant came and asked me if I would like to go on a Lewis gun refresher course and entered my name for this. At this time, some parts of the trenches were being heavily shelled and we had some difficulty moving out of the lines. However, there were only about thirty of us going on this course and we managed to get out without casualties. I remember that this was on a Sunday and, after some sort of breakfast, we began a march that lasted all day with ten-minute hourly halts. The weather was perfect and very hot and by the time we arrived at the Lewis gun school it was early evening. We were again given boracic powder for our feet and boots, and the accommodation in huts was good. Our refresher course was to last for two weeks, and to my mind it seemed more of a holiday as our parades finished at midday, the rest of the day being free. The course was also a repetition of our previous training. Living conditions were still giving us trouble with body lice and every evening was a time for shirt reading. All the boys, like myself, were fighting a losing battle with the saddle backs as they were known. The usual practice was to open the seams of clothing and run a lighted cigarette up to burn out the eggs and prevent hatching, but fumigation was the only practical way to overcome this trouble, together with baths and fresh underclothing.
We had been at this school for just a week when, at around midnight on the following Sunday, a sergeant burst into our hut shouting "everybody out on the road in ten minutes", which gave us just time to put on our gear. Outside on the road a long line of lorries was drawn up and we had orders to climb aboard, not knowing just what was happening. We soon found out when some shells passed over us and pitched in the fields nearby. The lorries then stopped and we had orders to take over some trenches a short distance away. We then found that we were back in the village of Roncey and that the line we were holding was a stone's throw from our previous billet in the Rock.
When daylight came, we were able to see thousands of Germans coming towards us through the cornfields. Our Lewis gun was in position on the parapet and we began firing at 600 yards range but could not guage the effect, as the enemy kept disappearing in the tall corn then rising and coming on again. There were so many of them that we had no way of knowing their casualties. While this was going on, we had to stop firing every now and again to let the wounded pass in front of us. I recall a Colonel being carried by on a stretcher and telling the boys who were carrying him to leave him and look after themselves. This, of course, they refused to do. The Lewis gun was very hot by this time as we had been firing continuously for upwards of an hour. When the order was given to move out onto the road, we were obliged to use two of us to carry it, one by the butt and the other by the bi-pod legs. When we arrived on the road it was filled with men, some on stretchers and also walking wounded being picked up by the Red Cross ambulance team, and a number of our men were badly gassed. We went to help with carrying the stretchers in order to get the wounded away but were ordered to take up new positions behind fields of barbed wire. For some reason or another, our Lewis gun limber arrived and orders were given to put the guns in the boxes, together with magazines, spare parts and also our valises which, the sergeant told us, we could pick up later. We did not see any of it again, nor my valise in which I had personal things and letters from home.
The German attack along this whole front had been building up for some time and it turned out to be a major battle. We were able to capture a few Germans here, and I recall seeing an officer (not ours) cutting off the buttons and Iron Cross ribbon from the tunic of one cocky German who, with the others, were given the task of carrying the wounded to the rear, some of them on their backs and others on stretchers. About this time, I was separated from White, the boy who was transferred with me to the Devons. I later saw him just before he was killed. For some time he had been very much depressed and I thought, from the beginning, that he had a presentiment that "his number would be called". He told me he had received a cake from home but that I could have it as he wouldn't be needing it. I made enquiries about him from the Red Cross men just before we went on rest period and was told he had been picked up, dead. So there it was, it just seemed to be part of our life and anything could be expected to happen.
In our new position, we had large fields of barbed wire both in front and behind, and we found ourselves better placed. Although ammunition was now getting low and none being brought to us. By this time, it was sunset after a very hot day and we were tired, hungry and thirsty so our officer gave the order to eat our iron ration, for which we were very thankful. We had nothing to drink and, as it was nearly dark, we decided to get some rest, leaving one awake to give warning. For this we tossed a coin. Shortly after going to sleep, I came awake again. All was quiet outside our shelter and, looking outside, I found that the four of us were quite alone. All the rest had moved back to a new position in a wood about a quarter of a mile away. I gave a shout and the others woke up. We moved quickly out into the open, with Germans firing at us as we ran back. Not one of us was hit, but we were nearly shot by our own troops when entering the wood, as they did not know we had been left behind and thought that we were German troops. Before dawn, we were moving back to another new position, according to orders from the one officer now in charge. I must explain here that, when we rejoined the battalion, all of our artillery had been captured by the advancing enemy, with one exception a field gun that was doing it's best to give us support. It remained with us for about two days and was then abandoned on a river bank. All this time, we were being constantly shelled and subjected to pressure the casualties mounting up fast. Frank Burt, who came from Wimborne, was wounded here and taken to the field hospital. Not badly wounded, he rejoined us a few months later.
Our battalion strength was now very much reduced and we were joined by troops from other regiments. We also did not appear to have any officers to give orders, except for one or two NCOs, so an officer from another regiment took over. He gave orders to dig a line of trenches on the edge of a wood, which we proceded to do. One or two of the other lads started to move on when the officer, who was mounted on horseback, pulled out his revolver and threatened to shoot one of them. He pointed the revolver at one chap and said he would shoot him if he did not dig. This fellow's mate then aimed his rifle at the officer and said that he would shoot him also, if he did so. We were able to stay for a while at this place but were forced to move back again on the following day, bringing back our wounded and leaving them with the Red Cross men, who were being overworked due to a shortage of wagons. Our position now was on the top of a fairly high hill, from which we could see most of what was happening, and we dug in. Almost out of ammunition, we could see our position was being gradually surrounded by the enemy. Orders were given to go down the hill, two at a time, and form again at the bottom. This was a worse position as we were in open country with no cover, being shelled and machine gunned. Most of the time, we were carrying our wounded back, some of them with very bad wounds, and quite a lot dying before we could get them out. Our own Brigadier General Grogan was awarded the VC here and I remember seeing him riding around from place to place on a grey horse, giving encouragement to the men. He was indeed a great soldier and, as far as I know, he was not hit. We were still without food and drink and, of course, very hungry and thirsty. Instructions were given to two men to go back to a village and bring back any food and drink they could find ... we did not see them again. It was here that I was told to take a message, with a runner, to an officer with a number of troops in a large wood about half a mile away. It was over open ground, no cover of any sort and the two of us set off under rifle and machine gun fire, not expecting to make it to the wood. However, we arrived and I had to inform the officer in charge that we were moving back on the left, and for him and his troops to do the same. We then returned, the way we had come, rejoining our party. We saw no British aircraft at any time, but a number of air battles took place overhead where we were, between French and German planes. One French plane landed in a field next to us, the pilot having been shot in the upper part of one arm. He and his observer came over to us and one of our chaps bandaged him up then we directed him to a First Aid post nearby. Shortly after this, we had to wade through the Vesle river and I had a very close shave from a shell which landed only a few yards away from me. By this time we were in a very dirty condition and, not having taken off our boots for four days, our feet were getting bad and we were very hungry and thirsty. However, I managed to find some coffee beans in a railway house, put some in my pockets and chewed them for some days. We now had to dig a trench to make a new position and we camouflaged it with branches and grass because of the open position. The first day went by, with blazing sunshine and again no food or drink. After dark, I crawled out of the trench to the rear and found an empty gun-pit with a puddle of water in the bottom of it. There was also a small pile of empty bully-beef cans which I had a look through, with the hope of finding some meat left behind. With the exception of a few scraps, there was none. I did, however, fill my water bottle from the water at the bottom of the pit and took it back to the rest of the boys. We drank it all between us and, of course, next day we were all ill with stomach pains but recovered later.
The following morning, we could see rations being taken to another point a short distance away, but we could not be reached owing to our open position so we concluded that our rations had been left there. That night, we moved out after dark and were relieved by fresh troops, I can assure you that they were welcome to the conditions there. We were then taken to a wood where we had our first meal in five days and were able to take our boots off and put our feet in water ... what bliss! After this, boracic powder was used again on feet and boots. I am not sure of the number of our casualties by this time, but I think that I am right in saying that approximately twenty of us were all that was left from a whole battalion, but as there was no roll-call I would say that it was probably a little less.
We now went on a rest period, or rather what was at that time called a Kings Rest which in effect meant going some distance from the fronts. The battalion was made up to strength with new reinforcements from home and a comb-out at the bases. Some of the latter were not very pleased at having to leave their easy jobs at these bases. With all the new men arriving, we were now under canvas at Chalk Camp and the battalion paraded each day. At this time, we marched roughly two miles through a forest for further training in firing and mock attack. The Colonel and his staff officers were all mounted on horseback and the battalion paraded in square formation. Everything went according to plan on the first day but, on the second day, the Major's horse seemed difficult to control for some reason. As the company officers reported to the Colonel for orders, the Major's horse turned away and backed into the Colonel's horse, lashing out immediately with his hind legs, the two of them creating quite a confusion. To make matters funnier still, the Colonel sat his horse very calmly, trying to ignore the trouble, but you can perhaps imagine the effect all this had on the troops who were on parade. Everyone, except the Colonel and his staff, were roaring with laughter. The Regimental Sergeant Major and Company Sergeant Major were trying their best and eventually stopped the laughing. The Major concerned was quite a good sport, and when mounting his horse near me at the end of the day, I heard him say, "I suppose I shall now have some more bloody fun with this horse", which gave me the impression that he was either unused to horse riding or new to that particular horse. While on parade, the order came "Anyone wishing to take stripes and become an NCO, take two paces forward". Only one man from the whole battalion stepped forward, no one wanted stripes. Some were later obliged to become NCOs and were selected by the CSM. Our clothing and equipment was by now in very poor condition, so we were issued with completely new outfits with the only exception of rifles. We then went by lorries to a place called Gamaches, where we were again under canvas and later able to go sea bathing at a place near the mouth of the Somme river. This was certainly a real rest and, as far as I can remember, lasted for roughly three weeks. The battalion was now fitted out with a complete new staff of colonel and officers, and plans were made for us to be on the move again. We had no idea as to where we were going, but we later took over a camp near a place called Mont St Eloi, which reminded me very much of Corfe Castle in Dorset. I remember that we moved out of this camp on a Sunday evening and went by lorry along a straight road which brought us to the junction of Arras to Lens road.
We were now directly at Vimy Ridge which was bare except for a few tree stumps. Upon entering a communication trench leading over the ridge, we had a marvellous view of Vimy which was directly below us, the ruined town of Lens on our left and, almost directly in front of us, the town of Douai. On our right was the ruined city of Arras while Douai was not much damaged, but it was in German hands. We did not have time to admire the view from the top of the ridge as we were taking over this sector from the Canadians, who had moved over to the right sector. We found that we had quite good trenches, our main communication trench running through the village churchyard of Willereaux and in front of another village named Arleaux, both of which were complete ruins. Arleaux was between our front and the German front lines. The night before we took over, a German raiding party had tried to capture some Canadians, without any success, so we were expecting the same thing to happen again to us. However, nothing did happen. Our company went into the front line for the first seven days, and I can remember a very heavy thunderstorm on the second night we were there. All the lower sections of the trenches were flooded, making everything wet and uncomfortable. We went, in battle order, to remove our haversacks and put them under a bivouac shelter, but in the morning we found that they had all been eaten through by rats, which included our iron rations (biscuits) which were carried in canvas bags. I had never seen such rats, most of them as big as cats and brown in colour.
Three of us were in the advance posts in front of the front line to give warning and to block a communication trench, which we sand-bagged. The following day we were being pestered by a German sniper, several of the boys having narrow escapes, so that night I went out with a party to find his position, which was in front of the German barbed wire. We blacked our faces and crawled out after it became dark and found the spot, but the snipers were gone. Some telephone wires were connected to the sand-bagged post, running back to the German front line, so we destroyed the post and took back around 100 feet of telephone wire to prove that we had achieved some result. Two nights later, our two Lewis gun teams were sent into the destroyed village of Arleaux which was in no-man's-land between the German and British front lines. One team was posted in a cellar on the edge of the village, whilst my team had to make a position directly at the cross roads - which we had some trouble in finding owing to the village having been so totally destroyed. We made up a post with brick rubble and fixed the gun in position, our job being to prevent any Germans from approaching our front line. A short while after settling in, some heavy rifle and machine gunfire opened up on our right and suddenly we saw the German signal lights, two red and one green, which we knew from previous experience meant SOS (send over shells). Immediately after this, a terrific bombardment of shells came over and we all thought that none of us would survive, it seemed like hell itself had been let loose on us. All we could do was lie face down and wait for it to end, which it did after about ten minutes. There were just five of us in this post and I shall never know how we came through without casualties. Just before dawn, we packed up the gun together with all our gear and returned to our front line, where to us it seemed almost like safety. When our relief period of seven days came around, five of us in our platoon - we were all marksmen - went by lorry to take part in a shooting competition at a spot some thirty miles from the battle areas, where it was quiet and peaceful. Parties of five representatives were chosen from all the British regiments in France. We were quartered in tents on a small island in a river and the weather conditions were perfect, but we finished up only about halfway up the awards table.
Every morning, at an hour before sunrise, we had to stand to for one hour and again for another hour just before sunset, these being the times when an enemy attack could be expected, all the troops being on or below the firing steps. We had now been relieved in the front line and had gone back to the support line, where the fatigue duties are done. Our first job here was unloading and cleaning a great number of Lewis gun magazines, that is oiling the insides of magazines and the ammunition then reloading ready for use. Another duty was to meet the ration train which was an electric motor drawing two fairly small trucks on a light guage railway track. This train was expected at about 10pm and came as far as Willereaux, where we were told to unload. It was raining heavily at the time so we waited in the dug-out. This was also ankle deep in water and, to make matters worse, Willereaux was being heavily shelled. At first we were bombarded with high explosives only. Shortly after, the gas alarm went off so gas masks were put on as gas cylinders were landing all around us, mixed up with the shelling. We were then told that the ration train had arrived after a delay of about two hours owing to the shelling. The sergeant in charge gave orders for us to run out, two at a time, grab the first two sacks we could lay hands on then make a bolt for it back to our trench. Together with another lad, I ran out - both of us reaching the truck at the same time - when we heard a shell which seemed to be coming in right on top of us. We both dropped down flat underneath the truck as the gas shell exploded only a few yards away. We did manage to grab two sacks and bolted for the trench, which by this time was filled with poison gas. In fact, the whole area was like being in a London fog and our range of vision was only about two yards. Wearing our masks, and due to these conditions, we had some difficulty finding our position in the support line. Arriving there, we were allowed to sleep in the dug-out, this being the general rule. After a few hours sleep I turned out with the others to find that the rain had gone and the sun was shining. Shortly after this, a sergeant came to me with a notebook and asked me if I was going on sick parade. I told him I had no reason for doing so for as far as I knew, I was alright. He told me that if I did not go then, I would later, as all the others who had been on ration fatigues were going sick. He said, "Take a look at your eyes in the mirror of the trench periscope". I did, and found that I had bright red rings around my eyes but did not feel any effects at that time. He entered my name and number in his notebook. I met the others at the main communication trench and found that the chap who had run out to the ration train with me had been badly burned by liquid poison gas and would not let anyone near him. Also, the corporal who had been with us lay dying on a stretcher nearby. We soon found we were unable to keep our eyes open and we had to hold onto each other's coats for support. One man was then put in charge to lead us in crocodile fashion, each of us with one hand on the shoulder of the man in front, for guidance, to the medical officer's dug-out. Here our eyes were examined and by this time they were very painful. Some kind of liquid was put in them, then two cotton wool pads were bound tightly around our heads. We were then lead out of the lines and taken to some other place where I remember there was the smell of boiling tea and cooked food. This was something so different from what we had been used to and, after a good meal of tea and cake, we were again taken outside where we could feel the warm sunshine. After we had been there for a while, someone who we thought sounded like an officer came to us and asked if we had been fed. Although we said that we had, he took us back to the canteen and gave us another tea, which was too good to be refused. Later we were loaded into Red Cross ambulances and taken to a hospital in Mont St. Eloi where we slept on beds for the first time since leaving England. The next day, the battalion went back to the line for another twenty one days, but owing to the trouble with my leg, I had to remain with the other chaps at the rest camp. Just as the boys were forming up on the road to march off, the parcel post arrived bringing me a cake and letters from home. There was also a parcel for another chap with whom I had become pally. His name was Rickard and he was one of the signalling party. I took him his parcel so he could take it along with him but, owing to the heavy load of the kit he was carrying, he told me he could not manage to take it. I told him that I would bring it with me when I rejoined the boys in the line, which I knew would be in a short while, and returned to the hut. At 12 midnight that night the battalion made an attack and we could plainly hear the bombardment open, then a quarter of an hour later it ceased, so we then went to sleep.
Early in the morning, a sergeant came to our hut and asked for volunteers for a burial party, he said, "I know you'll do it, as it's your own boys". We all volunteered and were each given a pick and shovel, then we walked to the place where we were to dig, two of us to each grave. We were all in a sombre mood, it was not a pleasant task and to make matters worse the rain poured down ceaselessly all the while, dampening our already low spirits still further. Later in the morning, they brought lorry loads of bodies, piled up on each other, and laid them in long lines on the grass, almost, it seemed to me, as if they were on parade. Then a sergeant and a corporal passed along the lines, taking names and numbers of the dead. I happened to be sitting near them, listening to the names being called out. The name Pickard was mentioned but at the time I was not too concerned. However, I suddenly wondered if a mistake had been made in calling out this name, so I asked the sergeant if it was correct. He said that he would make certain, then came back to tell me it should have been Rickard. Of course, I knew who it was and out of all the men buried that morning, I had the job of burying my pal Rickard, although I did not know this until after I had filled in the grave and the board bearing his name fixed in place. It seemed almost as though it was intended that I should bury him and I only regretted that I did not have his home address to which I could write. There is one thing I would like to make a note of here, on this last midnight attack, the soldier who was tried by court-martial (to which I referred earlier) went over with the rest of the boys, and was killed. His sentence had been reduced, and at midnight it would have been finished. At the time of the court-martial he told us that he would be going to Le Havre prison, away from the front, but instead, as a punishment, he was made to do front line duty all the time that the battalion were in the lines.
Two or three days later, I was off the sick list and able to get back and rejoin my company. I found them in a new position, on a ridge in front of Arleaux from where we could look downwards into the enemy lines and watch the effect of our trench mortar shells exploding. We also had to put up with the same sort of thing from the German lines. Our orders were to fire at anything that moved. The Germans put up some lifesize cardboard figures for us to shoot at, presumably to find out what sort of shots we were. A raiding party from our No 6 platoon went out after dark and brought back two complete suits of uniform which they had taken from Germans they had killed. These proved that the troops in front of us were Bavarians. By the size of the uniforms, which we hung up on sticks, they appeared to be heavily built fellows. Now and again the artillery officers would come to our front line to record the German gun flashes and to mark the positions on their maps. I remember one of them telling us to watch the bombardment of a huge coal mine slag heap, almost in front of us, which he informed us was the German staff headquarters. It was much too big to destroy completely, but our big guns must have made it very uncomfortable for any Germans in there. We were now due for a rest period and went back to our rest camp, being followed most of the way by German shellfire. This camp was within range of their big guns and we could expect a blasting by big shells at any time of the day or night. One German long-range gun made a point of firing at us almost every night, always on the stroke of twelve, in fact, we could set our clock by it. Certain things began to happen here. Firstly, all numbers 1 and 2 Lewis gunners, myself included, were called out at midnight with our guns, magazines and spare parts bags, and taken by lorry to a position opposite the town of Lens, where the Germans were expected to make a possible breakthrough. We fixed up our guns in a ruined house but nothing untoward happened, so we were picked up again after stand-down and taken back to the rest camp, where we were free for the remainder of the day to get some sleep.
The next thing that happened was that all of us were awakened one night with orders to parade out on the road within ten minutes. We were then told that observers in the balloons had reported that the Germans were evacuating and pulling out on our front. Again nothing happened, so we returned to the huts. Later events proved that there was some truth in it however. After this rather long spell at Vimy Ridge, we moved to the ruined town of Arras and, after passing through it, we took over front line trenches looking directly towards Douai. This was then still in German hands and we could plainly see huge fires burning in the city. We made a new attack here but captured only a few prisoners due to the enemy pulling back. We now found ourselves about half a mile from the Hindenburg Line, with the advance posts very close to it. A party from a Lancashire regiment were sent forward to occupy these forward posts but nothing was seen of them again. We were told this, and were also informed that we had to take over the same posts. After dark, we put our rations in sandbags and water in petrol cans and, with our officer in the lead, we moved up through a ditch by the side of the road. We also had to find our way through fields of barbed wire which the Germans had laid. After a difficult journey, we arrived, crawling on hands and knees at our post. Here we discovered, to our dismay, that the sacks containing our rations had been lost in transit. We were so very close to the Hindenburg Line and we were told beforehand that we must speak in whispers and use hand signs instead of talking aloud to each other, so as not to draw attention to the fact that we were there. But the Germans knew and began trying to reach us with whiz-bangs and machine guns, without result. Just before dawn, a sergeant signed to me and asked if I would try to recover the rations that had been lost. I went back the way by which we had previously come and, by a stroke of luck, found the sacks of rations and a petrol tin filled with water, under some barbed wire. The boys were greatly bucked-up when the shareout came, otherwise we'd had nothing to eat all day. Soon after I returned, the sergeant told me to follow a disused trench after crossing a road away to our right, where they could hear a wounded man calling for help. I was to find him then wait with him until they were able to send a stretcher to pick him up. I discovered him lying in a shell hole, managing to reach him without being seen as it was raining and foggy. I stayed with him for all of that day, expecting at any time to see the stretcher arrive, but it was not until dark that they were able to reach us without the enemy spotting them. He was unconscious for most of the time but, when he did come round, I was able to give him a small drink of water but we had nothing to eat all day. He was from A Company and they had sustained some casualties in moving up too far. His legs were very badly injured and he also had a bad wound on his face. We were both relieved when help finally came and we could move out of that shell hole. The Germans were very jumpy and seemed to be expecting us as, all night long, the front had been lit up by Very lights and parachute flares making the nighttime bright and creating difficulties with moving about unobserved. Half and hour before zero, the rum ration was brought around and doled out. At five minutes past 5am the signal gun was fired, then the attack began. I have never forgotten the way all hell broke loose that morning, as we moved forward toward the German lines, when all the guns opened up. We were supposed to move at a slow walking pace, to allow our guns to extend their range every few minutes but, as usual, we gradually picked up speed until we found our own shells falling around us. I remember being struck on the left shoulder by what I thought was spent schrapnel and it was very painful for some time afterwards. I was too excited and keyed up at the time to bother much about it, there was noise and turmoil all around me the roar of the guns, the scream and crash of shells, all was pandemonium. We had been warned that it would be a tough battle, and it was.
Our job was to take the enemy's front line, and we were able to collect a few prisoners. I still have no idea of the number of our casualties that morning, but there were many, a lot of our chaps killed and wounded by shellfire. Our own Lewis gun corporal was directing us to our position, talking to me, when he was struck in the face by schrapnel, which entered his cheek and passed out through his lower jaw. However, he did not lose consciousness, and after we had bandaged him up he was taken to a dug-out near our position. Shortly after we had cleared the trench, the guns ceased firing and I can still see the scene when the sun rose. We were able to sit on the parapet of the Hindenburg Line and look directly over the open countryside to the town of Douai, where large fires had been deliberately lit. In fact, the whole place had been burning for almost a month. We ate our rations and were then able to have a look round as there was no sign of the enemy, most of whom had been pulled back during the night to a new position, barring our road into Douai. All the countryside here was free from damage, with trees growing, so very different from the battlefields of Vimy Ridge and Arras.
After the battalion's first push forward here of roughly a quarter mile eastwards, we were clearing the ground in our rear when we came across an area where sometime previously an almighty clash had taken place. We found rusty rifles and bayonets, helmets both British and German with skulls still in them, boots with leg bones in them, bits of German field grey and British khaki uniforms and parts of equipment from both sides, together with more bones scattered all over the place. It seemed to me that this must have occurred about eighteen months previously and that it took place in no-man's-land, where neither side were able to identify or bury their dead. Also, stray shells appeared to have disturbed the remains at various times, making identification impossible.
We now came to what was known as a rest period, although there was very little rest connected with it. We heard that the canteen was sending us some army rissoles, the troops, of course, having their own particular name for these. They did eventually arrive and, to my mind, looked like dirty grey lumps of putty and without putting too fine a point to it, they tasted like it. It seemed like we had not missed anything by waiting so long! At about this time, we had a small reinforcement arrive and I was able to make a new pal who turned out to be a bare-back horse rider in a circus in civilian life. He used to bring the letters he received for me to read to him as he was unable to read or write. Even so, he was a strong, good looking lad and I only knew him for a short period. I always assumed that he was a casualty of the Hindenburg Line attack as I never heard what happened to him. Conditions were bad here and we were thankful to move forward towards Douai and see green fields and trees again, leaving behind the old, barren battlefield areas.
We were moving eastwards fast and all leave was stopped. We had a short spell of rest, about forty eight hours, which gave us a little time to relax then a battalion of Canadians came to relieve us. Our transport lines moved into a nearby clearing in the woods and all the horses and mules arranged in long lines. I had just left a church in a nearby village when the German heavy guns opened fire and shelled the spot where the animals were grouped. We could only stand helplessly by, powerless to prevent the slaughter which was taking place. The church had evidently been used by the Germans as stables for their horses, by the appearance of hay and straw which was strewn all over the floor. They had also looted the church, removing all the brass and copper.
Our brief spell of rest over, we again moved up towards Douai where we took over some shallow trench lines at night. Here we were obliged to deepen these lines by piling the earth on each side, not throwing it out over the top which would have given our position away. There was no shelter of any sort and I was twice blown off my feet by trench mortar shells, which landed on the parapet. One exploded in the trench and all we could do was lie face down and hope for the best. We were not allowed to stay in these lines for long and were shortly relieved by a battalion of the 2nd Middlesex Regiment, who were also attached to our division. They gave us the first news that the Germans had agreed to accept President Wilson's 14-point plan, and they seemed to be quite excited about it. From my own point of view, I considered it to be just another rumour and did not attach any great importance to it, but in this instance it turned out to be correct. The next day, we were able to break through the German machine gun posts and entered Douai over the main bridge. Here we found buildings on fire all around us, one happened to be a cinema and I can well remember seeing the Pathe film cockerel on fire there.
A number of the German troops had deserted at this point and we had to round them up, with orders to shoot to kill if they showed any sign of resistance. They came out of the cellars of the shops and houses with their hands up and seemed glad to know that, as far as they were concerned, the fighting was over. We loaded them into lorries and I remember our fellows swearing over the fact that they were being transported while we had to continue foot slogging. We moved further into the town, which was completely deserted, and came to a house where the back garden was filled with every kind of brass and copper ornament you could think of most of them having been looted from the churches and wayside shrines. There were also brass clocks, large crucifixes, brass and copper parts from railway engines and machines. We concluded that the Germans had collected all this stuff but had to leave in a hurry with no time to take it with them. Some of our boys started looking for souvenirs, so a guard was formed to stop this. The rear of this garden led down to a canal bank where the ground, leading to the water, was absolutely covered with banners and flags, curtains, etc. showing all the colours of the rainbow. We had previously seen all these colours from a distance before entering Douai, but at the time could not make out what they were. The Germans were setting fire to buildings and property as they retreated, and we had to be prepared all the time for any booby traps which they had left behind. All the crossroads had been mined, some exploding before we reached them. The Canadians now took over and we were able to rest for a while, during which we were fixed up with baths and clean clothes, the first time for about six weeks, a real treat, as you can imagine. We now heard that one of our companies (I think it was C Company) was making a new attack over the pontoon bridge, making the attempt by going over with the help of an artillery barrage. They had a very hard time getting across with quite a lot of casualties. To make matters worse, the bridge was blown up and broken by enemy fire although some of the company did get back safely. I heard that some members of two Lewis gun teams had managed to swim back, bringing their guns with them. A new bridge was then put over the canal and another company made the attempt, with the same result. We were told that it was now our turn to try and get across, but this time without a barrage and to go over quietly. So the engineers constructed a large wooden box frame and covered it with waterproof canvas. This box was made to carry four at a time and at night a wire rope was strung across the canal and the box slung onto it. What was now left of our company made our way down a railway cutting which brought us out to where the box was waiting. My own Lewis gun team, the four of us, were the first load to go over. We also had bandoliers of extra ammunition for recharging the magazines of the gun and our first job, once we were over, was to act as a cover party by lying out in the open while the remainder of the company made their way over, four at a time without making any noise. Although it was dark, we found a lot of dead from the previous two attempts, lying unburied so we had to lie down amongst them. All of our movements had to be carried out by touching each other when we moved, as the Germans were dug in quite near to our position, and no sounds had to be made which might give away our presence. When everyone was over, we moved off through flood water to a building about 100 yards from the German lines and fixed up the gun in the doorway of what I then thought was a house at the head of a mine shaft. Except for some machine gunning and mortar shells it was fairly quiet, but around 4am a big German gun opened fire and we found that the shells were passing over us - but close enough to bring down some of the house we were in. We had a lance-corporal in charge of us, by the name of Whale, who realised that the shells had begun dropping shorter and, if we stayed where we were, we'd be liable for a direct hit. He moved us out to a new position behind some pit props. Picking the time to move between shell bursts, we managed to get there after being blown over by the blast from one of these shells. Our position here was on the extreme edge of the line, within a short distance of the canal bank, with the Germans dug in trenches about a hundred yards in front of us and open ground with no barbed wire in between. The enemy evidently knew that we were there, and during the night we were subjected to constant machine gun and mortar fire, with some casualties.
It was drizzling with rain, as usual, and as daylight came the Germans opened up with a shell barrage - our own guns replying and shelling the enemy lines. Soon after it started, I moved across to where I could see over to the German lines and saw what I first thought was a German soldier bending down and lifting a wounded comrade to his feet. I moved to the end of the pit props and had a clearer view of a whole line of enemy troops coming towards our position, being led by an officer who was also bending down and urging his men onwards. I immediately opened fire with my Lewis gun while shouting to the rest of the boys at the same time to warn them that Jerry was coming. After a few rounds the gun jammed and stopped firing and I had to pick up my rifle and, with Frank Burt next to me, we continued firing. Frank was lying about a yard behind me, not realising that his rifle muzzle was very close to my right ear and that each time he fired he was deafening me. Of course, there was some excuse for it under the circumstances and in the excitement, but from my point of view extremely uncomfortable. The Germans had now reached the other side of the pit props, roughly ten feet away from us, when for some reason they turned and started to run back to their own lines. On the way back they received more casualties than when advancing towards us. The firing was now dying down and we saw one German soldier crawling towards our lines. We shouted and beckoned to him to go back but he didn't seem to understand what we meant and continued coming on. He had been badly wounded and died shortly after reaching us, I expect the poor fellow scarcely knew what he was doing, he was dying and wanted company. We did not know it at the time but our platoon officer, who was in charge of our two small platoons, was hit by a shell during the night and killed by another shell. On of our boys (who came from Winton) tried to bring him in but lost a leg in the attempt. Another of my pals, Vic Palmer, was also badly wounded at that time whilst he was with us. I tried to get information later and I believe that he too died. After the surviving Germans got back to their own lines they raised a white flag on a long pole, waving it backwards and forwards at intervals for the rest of that day. They did this, we thought, with the hope of getting us to come out onto open ground which, from our point of view, would have been fatal so we were told to ignore it. As usual, it was still raining and during the afternoon a German spotter plane flew fairly low over us - we assumed it was taking photographs and we tried to bring it down, without success. An hour later we were greatly cheered up by the news that we were pulling out as soon as it became dark. It did not take long to get all our gear together and we were ready to move long before dark. We then returned to the canal where we had left the canvas box and wire pulley.
In the darkness an officer came and told me to take my Lewis gun team and act as a rear guard cover party while the rest of the troops crossed the canal. I had orders to hand the gun over to No.2, come back to the canal bank and await further orders. These orders also applied to another gun team and their No.1 met me on the canal bank where we waited together. The troops were going steadily back, four at a time, taking the wounded with them. Eventually we found that our two gun teams appeared to be the only ones left on our side of the canal but we still waited for orders to move out. However, these orders did not come and we both agreed to bring our teams back to the canal bank, as there seemed to be no purpose in leaving them lying out in the open. We waited for a while longer then sent both teams across in the canvas box. We ourselves remained, waiting for someone to issue instructions which never came. We decided it was time for us to go and were on the point of leaving when we heard someone coming along the canal bank. In the darkness, we could not see who it was but he told us that several wounded men had been left behind, so we decided to go back for them ourselves. On the way, we came across a sergeant on a stretcher with two men sitting by the side of it. The wounded man was Sergeant Davis and I understood him to have been billeted in Clarence Park Road (my own road at home) during his training period, so I left the other No.1 gunner in order to help him back. I then went on almost to the place from where we had started and here found another wounded man on a stretcher. There was one man with him in a slit trench, waiting for help to move him. I knew that we would have to move fast as it had become quiet, with no firing or Very lights going up, so we picked up the stretcher and ran with the wounded man to the canal crossing. All the others had now gone over so we loaded the stretcher onto the box, which we'd pulled back from the opposite bank, and hauled the three of us over the canal. There were some big trees lining the bank and we barely had time to get across before the Germans counter- attacked. All we could do was lie low on the ground behind these tree trunks and wait for the firing to end. When the lull came, we picked up the stretcher and carried it back to Oisement, where we accompanied the wounded man to the hospital in St. Armand, and I can remember being absolutely worn out. I went upstairs to where we were quartered and just fell onto the floor, almost instantly asleep. We had previously been told to go down to the cellars in the event of a heavy raid, but I was much too tired to know anything about the shelling that took place during the night.
No-one woke us up the next morning which, for a change, was bright and sunny. About mid-day a sergeant came with orders for us to be on parade in half an hour for a roll-call. We turned out for this on time, but what a shock it was to see what was left of our battalion ! The casualties were much greater than I had ever expected. Our own Company Officer turned to us and said "Boys, I am proud of you" and I was surprised to see tears on his cheeks as he spoke. With regard to the strength of the battalion, I must say here that it was well below normal even before this action, as no reinforcements had been received from the time we had left Douai. When we came off parade our previous platoon officer came to see us in our quarters. The first thing he said was "I didn't expect to see any of you blokes again". He had, for some time, been promoted to Intelligence Officer and it was through his efforts that we were pulled back from what was a hopeless position.
The Canadians had again taken over our position south of the canal. A communique was posted on our notice board saying that the Germans were retreating all along the line and that we were to turn it into a rout to make them lay down their arms. This was easier said than done. They did pull back, however, and we now knew that the end of the war was getting near as we were meeting civilians on our eastward march. We also came upon prisoner-of-war camps where we met large numbers of prisoners who had broken out when their guards had gone. They were all dressed up in various types of uniform, including Boer War outfits, and seemed to be overcome by their release. Were they glad to see us ! We still had to move fast and came to a village where we were billeted in a school. Here it appeared that only the little girls were being taught, the boys' schoolmaster having been killed. At least, we concluded this was the case from what the boys had said. All the civilians were in bad shape and it was arranged that our meat rations should be given to them, as they had not had meat of any sort for nine months. We also gave the children some of our jam and cheese ration. When we moved off again at 3am, the boys brought us some freshly made coffee in large enamel jugs. Although there was no milk or sugar, we really did enjoy it as the weather was becoming very wet and cold. All along the route, the farms were still burning and at daybreak we came to quite a large town (I cannot recall the name) which was overflowing with people who had brought out pianos into the streets, and there they danced and sang - they were so excited. We marched through this town with our own brass band playing, which added greatly to the noise and shouting. We had to literally push our way through the huge crowds who, in their excitement, kept slapping us on the back, making it very difficult to continue on our way.
It was quite a relief to leave all that behind us and to be out in the country once again. We were still not getting any news of what was really happening. Only rumours reached us. We stopped for the night in houses which had been evacuated and, for the first time, four of us slept in a large four-poster bed with sheets and pillows (real luxury for us!). In the morning, one of the boys found some vegetables, potatoes and swedes. As there were some cooking pots handy, we lit a fire and he cooked all the veg for us. We gave him our biscuit ration and bully beef and he pounded the hard biscuits into a dough and made a meat pie in the oven. This was really great, except for the fact that just as we were sitting down to enjoy it the whistle blew for us to fall in on the road outside! We did, however, manage to fill our dixies with the hot food and ate it on the march. We continued on our way eastward along a railway track, most of which had been destroyed by the Germans. Eventually we came onto a main road and, as we moved along, I noticed that a number of field guns were going in the opposite direction and I remarked on this to my pal Frank Burt. He was of the same opinion as myself, that they were being sent back for re-boring. Shortly after, a runner passed us, calling something as he went but we could not make out what he was saying. Within ten minutes we were halted and officially given the news that the Armistice was being signed at 11 o'clock that morning, the time then being about 9.30am. The news was received with some relief by the troops but it did not create any great excitement, owing to the fact that the boys were much too tired to show any enthusiasm.
After having a rest by the roadside we marched on eastward, arriving at a place called Ghlin - a suberb of the town of Mons, and our band played us in. The civilian population were absolutely mad with excitement, crowding around us and again making it difficult for us to move in an orderly column. Our quarters here were on the upper floor of a school, all the lower rooms being crowded with refugees, mostly elderly people. It was decided that part of our food ration would be issued to them, for which they were grateful as some of them were actually starving. We now set to work cleaning ourselves up, also our equipment, with the polishing of buttons, badges, etc. in preparation for a celebration march past the Belgian King and Royal Family. I was detailed for a guard duty lasting 48 hours at a large house which had been taken over by us for use as a guardroom. The weather had now turned very cold and frosty. After a spell of night duty I was feeling very sick and running a temperature, I also had difficulty in swallowing owing to a bad throat. I managed to finish the guard duty and, instead of returning to the billet, I went to the Medical Officer's house. At first he diagnosed it as acute tonsilitis but later confirmed it as diphtheria. We were sleeping on a hard block floor at our billet so I had a very uncomfortable and disturbed night. The next morning, feeling very ill, I was put aboard a large Red Cross motor wagon with all my kit. Most of the others on board were suffering from Spanish Flu and we travelled westwards together for some hours. We eventually arrived at a large chateau, near Arras, which had been converted into a War Hospital. I was put into a really comfortable bed and received every possible attention from an Irish nurse. I was unable to swallow any solid food so she fed me regularly with warm milk and onion broth. Alone in an isolation ward, for the first two days I seemed to become light-headed at times. A padre came to see me and offered to write a letter home but I declined, with thanks, as I did not want mother and dad to worry about me. By the end of the week, I was feeling much better and was moved into a big ward with Americans and Canadians. We were later transferred to the Canadian 46th Stationary Hospital at Etables, the place from where I had started. We also had Australian and German sick in this hospital. It seemed as though we might have to spend our Christmas in there, but at 2am on December 21st we were put onto a Red Cross train which took us to Calais and then on a Red Cross transport ship bound for Dover.
On arriving at Dover we were put on another Red Cross train and eventually arrived at Epsom, where we were taken to the Horton War Hospital for convalescence. We had to report to the desk here for details of name, unit, etc. and I can well remember the official, after taking my particulars, looking at me and saying "Do you know that you are the first one of your mob to come here, and they have recently had a memorial service for the 2nd Devon Regiment at Exeter Cathedral". He seemed most interested and came along to see me several times during my stay there. I would have liked to have got home for Christmas but we were given a really good time at the hospital, with plenty of everything, they did us proud. The doctor came each morning to see us all and one day I remember him turning round at the door as he was leaving and saying "I have never seen so many fit and well invalids as I have seen today. A few months ago you would all have been feeling a lot worse when I came to see you". Well, we had a good time there and I made a lot of friends from various parts of the world and from home, but the time came when we had to go our different ways. We were demobilized from the hospital, where we were fitted out with our civilian suits. It was a great feeling to be going home for good, and I know that Mother and Dad were relieved to have me back where I belonged. I travelled down on the train with one of the chaps whom I had met in hospital, he came from Poulner in Hampshire. He said to me "Well this is the last time you will see me in khaki", but it was only the matter of a few months later that he called to see me. He was still in uniform and had enlisted in a tank regiment at Wareham. He said he could not settle down to a civilian life again as it was too quiet and he missed the companionship to which he had become accustomed. Let the lamp of memory glow. Tell the young and let them know What was done to save this land. Tell them. Make them understand The cost of it, the bitter price In blood and tears and sacrifice. Tell the story, speak with pride Of the men who fought and died. Let the truth of it be known. Write the names in bronze and stone Of those who went at duty's call To give the greatest gift of all. Patience Strong. Let Them Know.
Ken Gravenell

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Cpl. Robert Whitlock MM. 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment (d.31st October 1918)

Robert Whitlock's birth record shows that he was born in Woodstock, Oxfordshire, on 25th January 1888, to John and Rhoda Whitlock. He had an older sister according to the 1891 census. The 1888 baptism record for Woodstock shows Robert's baptism date as April 22nd 1888 and his father John's profession as a glover. The baptism ceremony was performed by Assistant Curate T. E. Chataway. The couple are listed towards the bottom of the 1891 census return from Woodstock, Oxfordshire. They lived in a 4-room house in Browns Lane. The 1901 census still shows them living at that address. It also shows that Robert's sister was working by then as what appears to be a domestic servant and Robert is listed as some kind of assistant. Robert married Mary Elizabeth Rogers in Yeovil in the first quarter of 1910. The 1911 Census shows Robert in that year as being aged 23 and Mary aged 31. Robert's occupation is listed as a leather dresser working for a glove manufacturer. The company concerned was a gloving factory in Tintinhull, which at the time of Robert's occupancy was called the Tintinhull Glove Company Ltd. Robert's daughter, Florence I Whitlock, was born in the last quarter of 1911 judging by the Birth Registration for October to December 1911. Robert's son, my grandfather, was born in the first quarter of 1915 according to the Birth Registration for January to March 1915. Robert had already enlisted by then and was in active service in the First World War, though probably undergoing training prior to deployment to France. There is a photo of him and his family which was probably taken at some point in 1915, probably just prior to embarkation. Both children were baptised in Tintinhull and the address for the family is given as a 5-room house in Tintinhull.
Robert enlisted in Yeovil into the 7th Battalion, Somerset Light Infantry, which disembarked in France (at Boulogne) on 24th July 1915. A gratuity record suggests he enlisted in August or September 1914. According to an entry in The London Gazette dated 18th October 1917, Robert was still serving with 7SLI at the time he was awarded the Military Medal, which would have been awarded for an act of gallantry under fire.
Judging by his later service number, 32186, it seems it was transferred into the 2nd Battalion, Devonshire Regiment in late June 1918. This was almost certainly as part of the rebuilding of that unit after 2nd Devonshires had suffered heavy casualties at the battle of the Bois des Buttes in May 1918.
A detailed report which includes Robert's unit, B Company, 2nd Devonshires, shows that Robert died at some point on the 31st of October 1918, just 12 days before the end of the war, during the attempt on that day to cross the Scheldt (French name for that river is the Escaut). The report refers to heavy casualties being inflicted by the Germans around 11 am, at which point the unit had companies on both sides of the river and were trying to extricate the companies on the far bank back across the river.
The entry for 11.00 reads: "Report from Officer Commanding B Company on Fosse Armoury, B Company HQ. A runner swam the river and arrived minus his boots, coat etc. Officer Commanding reports Lieutenant Sayes killed and casualties very heavy. B Company out of touch with D Company and unable to evacuate wounded. Previous runner drowned in an attempt to get message through. Reply sent to B Company to hold on. Relief being sent tonight."
Thereafter, the entries read
"11.45 hours: One platoon of C Company to reinforce Captain Brokenshire on bank. Lieutenant Napier carried a wounded man on his back across the bridge under the bombardment. A Company's casualties in street caused adjacent to Battalion HQ.
15.10 hours: Fairly frequent heavy bursts of shellfire. Total casualties estimated about 80. Operational order received for relief tonight.
16.40 hours: Orders received to withdraw posts immediately and proceed to billets. Situation on flanks responsible.
17.30 hours: Report received from Captain Taylor that bridge has been broken. More pontoons due from Royal Engineers. Crossing progressing slowly [I am assuming here this refers to the extrication of the unit back across the river].
18.30 hours: A and C Companies clear
19.15 hours: B Company clear and all wounded across.
19.30 hours: 490th Company Royal Engineers arrived with more Jerusalems [pontoons]
19.50 hours: Last of D Company across and Brigade wired to this effect."
The Burial Return for Valenciennes Communal Cemetery shows that there was a cross on Robert's grave at the time of discovery and that no personal effects were forwarded on to the unit's base. His name is listed on the Graves Registration Report for Valenciennes dated 4th September 1920 and the Imperial War Graves Commission report of headstone inscriptions. His name is also inscribed on the war memorial in the graveyard of St Margaret's Church in Tintinhull (erected in 1920 according to Tintinhull Local History Group).
Robin Whitlock

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L/Sgt. George Hendrie 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.31st July 1917)

George Hendrie enlisted in Finsbury, London. He was a Lance-Serjeant with 2nd Battalion The Devonshire Regiment and was killed in action on 31st July 1917. This was the opening day of the Battle of Pilckem Ridge, the opening attack of the Third Battle of Ypres.
At 0350 on the 31st of July, the 2nd Devons attacked from Railway Wood. That morning their Colonel was killed and 12 of their 20 officers and 230 of their men were killed or wounded. Amongst them was George. The CWGC records his name and he is commemorated on the Ypres (Menin Gate) Memorial to the missing.
Colin Hendrie

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Cpl. Robert Whitlock MM. 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment (d.31st October 1918)

My great grandfather Robert Whitlock died on 31st October 1918 while saving an officer. The 2nd Battalion of the Devonshire Regiment had reached the Scheldt River by then and so I am assuming that this was just after the Battle of Courtrai, which ended on 22nd October 1918. I am not sure when Robert joined up, but I am guessing he would have been at the Battle of the Bois des Buttes in May 1918, which was the 2nd Battalion's bloodiest action.
Robin Whitlock

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Pte. Alfred Charles Henry Manning 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.10th Aug 1917)

My Great uncle was Alfred Manning, son of John Henry and Edith Emily Manning, whose name is immortalized on panel 21 at the Menin Gate. I have always remembered the sacrifice Alfred made and the courage he must have shown at such a young age. He will go on through generations of my family being remembered and never forgotten. I believe his final resting place are the fields where he fell,may his soul rest in peace for eternity.
At the going down of the sun we will remember them. Lest We Forget
Jackie Hart

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Pte. Charles Bowden 2nd Battalion Devonshire Regiment (d.9th May 1915)

Private Charles Bowden of the 2nd Devonshire Regiment died on May 9th 1915 aged 25. He was the son of John Jeffrey and Mary Jane Bowdon and lived in Bridgetown Totnes.

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Pte. Arthur Flower 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.5th Sep 1917)

Arthur Flower served with the 2nd Battalion, Devonshire Regiment during WW1 and was killed in action on the 5th September 1917, aged 30. He is commemorated on the Ploegsteert Memorial to the Missing in Belgium. He was the son of Mrs. Julia Flower, of 3, Alma Cottages, Widcombe, Bath.
s flynn

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Pte. Ernest Lawrence 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.22nd Nov 1917)

Ernest Lawrence was the son of John Lawrence, of 101 Clifton Road, South Norwood, London. He was executed for desertion shortly after the end of the Battle of Passchendaele campaign. Private Lawrence was aged 21 when he died, and he is buried in the Ypres Reservoir Cemetery in Belgium.
S Flynn

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Capt. James Allfrey Andrews 2nd Btn. Devonshire Regiment (d.1st Jul 1916)

James Allfrey Andrews died on 1st of July 1916 at age 26 while leading an attack as second in command on Ovillers-la-Boiselle, Somme, France, killed in action in the Battle of the Somme.
sflynn

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