We fell in at 4 o’clock on the afternoon of October 4, 1915, on the parade ground of St. Lucia Barracks, Borden. So mechanical a proceeding is a regimental parade, and so extremely heavy were the packs that we carried, that there was little opportunity for pondering over the changed conditions that we were soon to undergo. As far as the men were concerned—and the same applied to a large number of the officers—they had left their homes and all that home implied when they left Ireland three months before.

As we marched to the station we were struck by the apathy displayed by the few civilians we saw. There was no cheering, waving of handkerchiefs, or kissing of hands; even the children, making mud pies on the side of the road did not trouble to look up. We were only one of the many units that had passed down that same road during the previous fourteen months. It was almost an everyday sight now for the people who lived there to see regiments entraining for France. So it was, that as we marched down the short road to Borden station, we felt that we were only going on our business, and that those plain-clothed civilians—many of them young and physically fit men—were going on theirs. At Borden station the somewhat questionable spirits of the men were revived by large cups of excellent tea, brought round by ladies, a parting kindness which was greatly appreciated, and which none of us will forget. The first train, with Brigade Headquarters, Battalion Headquarters, and A and B Companies, steamed out of the station at 5-10 p.m., followed at 5-35 by the second train with C and D Companies. Blinds were drawn in the carriages soon after starting, and with only one stop the train ran through to Folkestone Pier, where we went on board the transport “Onward.” At 9-35 p.m. we left the shores of England, bound for France and the unknown. A war-time cross-channel steamer, converted into a troopship for short runs, is as uncomfortable a form of craft as one can wish to sail in, and the “Onward” was no exception to the rule. In addition to our battalion there were several drafts, principally from Scotch regiments, on board. Luckily it was a fine, warm night, and the sea was as smooth as glass. The dining-room and lounge were boarded up and stripped as bare as a barrack floor, while the corridors, and every available inch of accommodation below were packed with men, in all those extraordinary attitudes, recumbent and sprawling, which the sleeping Tommy can only adopt. On deck it was just the same, and quite impossible to walk from one end of the boat to the other. There were strict orders against smoking on deck, and the task of the unfortunate officer, whose sense of duty was sufficiently strong to prevent him from winking at any breach of discipline, was unenviable. A cigarette, like Nerissa’s candle, throws a long beam, and every effort to reach the culprit was fraught with such curses and mutterings from the bodies over which one stumbled, that it would have disheartened even the adamant spirit of the Secretary for War himself.

We reached Boulogne at 11-30 p.m., and, after the usual disembarkation formalities, in which the Disembarkation Officers and R.T.O.’s always seem to exercise their unlimited powers to the full, the Battalion fell in by companies about 300 yards down the pier. In the darkness and heavy rain which now began to fall this proceeding took a considerable amount of time, but after half an hour we moved off, all thoroughly soaked through. At the best of times the way from the pier at Boulogne to the Rest Camp, some distance out of the town, is not pleasant, but that October night it was particularly bad. The streets were wet and slippery, the men heavily laden with blankets and equipment, and the road up to the Rest Camp led up a steep incline. The leading company, however, stepped out at their normal pace. A few, mindful of the landing of the original Expeditionary Force, and the ever famous “Tipperary” scenes, burst into song, but the Frenchman retires early to bed, and, with the exception of one long, thin arm fluttering a pocket handkerchief from a top window, we saw no sign of life in the deserted streets. After a very steep climb of about two miles, we came to the Rest Camp, and a series of gasoline flares lit up the muddy flats on which the tents were pitched. The mud, ankle deep, sucked up round our boots, and torrents of rain danced in the puddles. It was a matter of ten minutes before each company was allotted its area, and after that, in less time than it takes to tell, the sleep, which only those who have spent a night in a Rest Camp at Boulogne know, had fallen on all.

The day after we landed was an easy one. No orders came as to moving, and the time was spent by our men in parading about the camp, sleeping, and talking to the numerous women and small boys who wandered round the railings, clamouring for “biscuit,” “penny,” or “bully beef.” So urgent was the appeal for these commodities, that the men took it for granted that the entire population of France was starving, and handed over that somewhat elusive “unconsumed portion” of the previous day’s ration, or any that remained of it. As the day wore on and word was received that there would be no move until the following morning, some of the officers were allowed into town in the afternoon. Boulogne in war-time is not an interesting place, and an hour was sufficient for exploration purposes. With the exception of a few French territorials, guarding the bridges and railway station, the town seemed to be entirely handed over to the British, whose motor ambulances glided in every direction. The “Cambria,” with her green and white topsides and large Red Cross flag at her masthead, lay alongside at the quay, a sight to make one home-sick, which brought one’s mind back to Dublin Bay and Kingstown Harbour in the days of peace. It rained off and on all day, and was bitterly cold, an early foretaste of the bitter winds we were to experience in France. We fell in next morning, Wednesday, 6th October, at 10-15, and marched to the Central station, where we entrained. Speculation was rife as to where we were going, whether Belgium, which savoured of Ypres and all that that name implied, or the new line between Arras and the Somme. The latter was a sector taken over by the British from the French in the July preceding, and had the name of being quiet and pleasant compared to the more northerly parts of the line. As the day wore on and we steamed South through Abbeville, and finally came to Amiens, there was no doubt as to our destination. From Amiens we moved on to a side line, and at 6-15 came to Flesselles, a small town about 15 miles south of Amiens, where we detrained. It was a lovely autumn evening, and with a slight breeze blowing from the East, and as we stood fallen in ready to move off from the station, we heard the low rumble and occasional growl of a big gun. From Flesselles we had to march some twelve kilometres to Rubenpre, which was to be our billeting town. Very heavily laden as we all were, officers and men, again the mistake was made of setting too fast a pace. It was an exceptionally warm evening, the men were tired, hungry and thirsty, after the long train journey, and as an hour, and then two, passed by, and we still appeared to be some distance from our town, the softer hearts in the battalion collapsed. There is no necessity to dwell on the unpleasant memories of our first route march in France; it was the most trying experience for both officers and men that we had for many a long day. As we marched East, and as the night grew darker, the flares, and the lurid flashes of gunfire became more vivid, and helped to keep up the interest of the men and distract their attention from the general weariness; at any rate we were, after eleven months’ training, getting to the “Front” at last.

When we reached RubenprÉ, at 11 o’clock at night, many of the men done up and all very tired, we halted at the head of the village. The second in command had gone on the previous day with the advance party to arrange the billeting, but in the darkness, of a more than usually dark night, the result of his effort was practically impossible to find. The village consisted, as far as one could judge by the light of electric torches or matches, of a series of long barns with doors most of which were barred and bolted, and presented a remark[Pg 12]
[Pg 13]ably inhospitable appearance. A few days before we had left Borden we had been paraded, and in the course of a ten minutes’ harangue, the Commanding Officer had dwelt upon the good name of the battalion, and its excellent conduct while in England. He told the men that he relied on them to maintain that high record in the country to which they were going. Especially he told them to respect the religious susceptibilities of the people. “Hanging over your beds in your billets you will find crucifixes, pictures of the Virgin Mary, and the Saints, and other emblems of the Roman Catholic Church and religion. You will respect these emblems, and remember that you and your Allies have come to free these people from the Germans.” So throughout that march from Flesselles to RubenprÉ, the men had before them the vision and anticipation of feather beds which all the saints in the catalogue might adorn, so long as it was a bed. No such luck, however, as feather beds could be hoped for in the land which the men had already christened “No man’s land.” So dark was the night, and so impossible to find were the billets allotted to each Company, that after nearly half-an-hour’s halt at the entrance to the village, Company Commanders and Officers took the matter into their own hands, threw off their packs and equipment on the side of the street, and led their worn-out men down the village. They burst open the doors of barns, and put in, here 20, there 30, men, despite the irate remonstrances of the owners, often punctuated by some shrill scream from some female proprietor, who thought that at any rate her last hour had come. At length, on straw and hay, on floors hard and soft, everyone found a bed, and, tired, as they were, one or two were heard to mutter, Orangemen though they might be, that they wouldn’t mind a bed even if the picture of the Pope himself hung at the head. In this part of France there are no farms. The country is dotted at intervals of a kilometre or two with villages, some small, some large, mostly the same in appearance, with their orchards, and grey church spires sticking up above the knots of trees. All round these villages the country stretches away in gently rolling plains, like a great checkerboard, no ditches or hedges, reminding one of what England must have looked like in the days of the “common field” system. This part of the country is intensely cultivated, not an inch of land is allowed to go to waste, and in war time the work is done entirely by young girls and old women. A young man was never seen, either in the fields or villages; there seemed to be few old men, and the small boys spend most of their day at school. These Picard villages are intensely dirty, and Rubenpre was even dirtier than most of them. The barns were in a bad state of repair, and the yards were swimming with filthy water from the great heaps of manure which were piled up in front of each house, often right up against the windows, yet, curiously enough, the houses themselves were in most cases neat and clean. The houses are built of laths, plastered with mud and straw, poor in construction, and, owing to lack of men, in many cases whole villages presented a dilapidated and tumbled-down appearance. RubenprÉ was, therefore, an inhospitable place, and the reception we received from the people themselves was not what we expected. We felt that we had come to the country to fight for the people, and to free them from the enemy; in other words we looked upon ourselves in a mild way as deliverers, and felt to a small extent that we were entitled to be received as such. But our eyes were soon opened,—those bolted barns and inhospitable entrances were an index of the regard in which the people held us; we were received with suspicion, and often with dislike, in every village to which we came during our long peregrinations in Picardy. It speaks volumes for our men to be able to say, as we can say with truth, that we always went away with the good wishes and blessings of the people, and there were many in the battalion who, when a day off came, would walk eight or ten miles to revisit some of their French friends. It was only after we had been some time in the country that we discovered the reason for this coldness. Robbed first of all by the Germans, they had endured successive invasions of Zouave, English, Scotch, and Indian troops, and now an Irish Division, a form of terror formerly unknown was thrust upon them in its entirety. We saw that there was a certain amount to be said for their apparent inhospitality, and put up with it.

The first couple of days at RubenprÉ were devoted to “shaking down.” As far as my Company was concerned, we were, on the whole, fortunate with regard to our billets. There was at first a lack of straw, but this was soon remedied, and the men very soon accustomed themselves to the novelty of their surroundings. Large fatigue parties were put on from each Company, and within a week the town was cleaner than it had been for many a long day. The people looked on with quiet amusement, but they too soon became resigned to what they considered the British mania for cleaning.

Battalion headquarters were in a cottage, and at first a battalion officers’ mess was tried in an estaminet which had a room in which a stove was riveted in the centre. In a short time, however, the difficulty of running a four company and headquarters mess in the same house became apparent, and two companies, A and B, seceded and formed a mess of their own in another cafÉ. C Company and headquarters remained in the same house, but before we had been many weeks in France the advantages of company messes became evident. Our company headquarters was in a disused and rather tumbled down house, but it had a good orchard and field behind, which we used for musketry and range finding. In return for the use of the house, we lent the owner a few men every day as a help to thresh his corn and milk his cows. There was no lack of fresh milk, eggs, potatoes, and apples. Eggs cost three sous each, milk four sous per litre.

We remained at RubenprÉ for about two weeks, and during that time had the usual routine of parades and training as at home. We were inspected by the G.O.C. Third Army, Sir Charles Munro, who expressed himself very pleased with our bearing on parade. We had two or three brigade field days and one divisional day, the latter the first divisional exercise under the eyes of our new G.O.C. Division, General Nugent. The remarks of our General on the day’s performance were, to say the least of them, hardly as complimentary as we should have wished. They left an impression on the minds of those who heard them that will never fade, and they had their effect on all ranks.

On 18th October we left RubenprÉ to go up to the line for that instruction period which everyone in the New Army in France knows so well. As we got nearer to the line the sound of the guns became more distinct, and the tiny puffs of white smoke in the sky from the German aircraft guns was the first sign of the nearness of the trenches. The country was just the same as at Rubenpre every inch cultivated. At Varennes we were met by a band of the South Lancs., and played through the town and along the road as far as Forceville. Here we halted in a field for dinners. After dinners we fell in, and marched off by companies at ten minutes’ interval, for we were now within the zone of artillery fire, being about 3½ miles from the trenches. It was only when we left Forceville that we saw any change in the aspect of the country. We now passed several lines of heavily wired trenches, which made long, white streaks across the otherwise brown and regular landscape. In other respects there were the same signs of intensive agriculture as far behind the line. We reached, at length, Mailly-Maillet, which was to be our billeting town during the instructional period. In peace time Mailly-Maillet had evidently been a very pretty little town of about 1,000 to 1,500 inhabitants, considerably better built and evidently much more prosperous than any of the villages we had seen since we came to France. There was a chateau with a fine avenue of elms which had its entrance on one side of the main street. The chateau was a Brigade Headquarters, while the avenue of elms was used as a park for transport, and was crowded with limbers and G.S. waggons up to the axles in mud. There was not a pane of glass to be seen in any of the houses; many were without doors, and some were pierced by great shell holes. Generally Mailly-Maillet had a dejected and war-worn appearance. A battery of howitzers close by caused all the window-frames in the place to shake, and every now and then a[Pg 17]
[Pg 18] few slates would come tumbling down. As the town was full of troops, and we were an additional battalion, our billets were very poor. The men were in a very bad outhouse with little straw, while C Company Headquarters was an empty room with a tile floor in an extremely rickety condition. The first few days in Mailly were devoted to working parties. A Company was attached to the 1st Batt. Essex Regt., B Company to the 8th South Lancs., and C to the 1st Batt. Kings Own Royal Lancaster Regiment, and D Company to the 2nd Royal Lancaster Fusiliers; all belonging to the 12th Brigade of the 4th Division.

We spent a happy Xmas at St. Requier, and as we were in billets decided to make the best of it. The men were in excellent health and spirits, football, shooting, and route marches keeping them in training. The 18th of December being “Lundy Day,” was celebrated by some Derry men and other Ulster boys, the following being a description of the celebration by an Officer. Two Lundy’s had been prepared, one large and the other small. Some of the inhabitants suggested that they were father and son. The father was about eleven feet long, stuffed with straw, and with rockets put in unexpected places. He had large wooden feet and wire knees, and his head filled with gunpowder and surrounded by a large yellow trimmed hat in the shape of an Admiral’s. On his chest was a placard bearing the words “Lundy the traitor.” The procession, headed by torchlights and band, marched through the village playing such airs as “No Surrender,” “Derry Walls” and “The Boyne Water.” Lundy was then let down on a wire rope from a tree where he had been strung up, and set on fire, amidst great cheering and boohing. He was well soaked with petrol and burnt excellently. Every now and then someone gave him a shake and his knees wobbled in most realistic fashion. Bombs made of jam tins were thrown into a pond just beside him, and of course broke the windows of houses in the vicinity. The procession then reformed, and marching to the top of the village, where Lundy junior was burnt with like ceremony.

Christmas, of course, produced a series of dinners given by the Officers Commanding Companies and Battalion Headquarters. To read the menu cards it was hard to believe we were in France, and that this was the second year of the war. One particularly elaborate dinner was given on Christmas day, to which we invited Madame Vivien, our kind hostess, and her family. The following is a copy of the menu in which most of the guests are represented.

A service was held in the ancient Abbey of St. Requier on Christmas Day, and a sacred concert, which gave our men an opportunity of listening to Christmas music.

An incident happened about this time at St. Requier which caused no little excitement. A French billet belonging to the Downs (13th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles) went on fire. At the sound of the fire alarm every one turned out to assist the French people who stripped to the waist were hard at work trying to save their farm. The fire was raging fiercely round the stables and out-houses, and it was quite impossible to save all the horses, some of whom were burned to death in their stalls. It was a horrible sight.

On January 8th, our Battalion moved to Bernavillers. We were now beginning to think of the trenches again, and many were the rumours. Everyone seemed to know for certain our exact peregrinations during the next few months, but in truth no one could tell from day to day what our next move would be. There were also rumours of a more pleasant character, but so far only spoken of with bated breath, the one and only hope of our existence—“Leave” had begun. Our first “leave” and all that the word means. There is no doubt of it that the first leave is the best, but your first leave you are then indeed a hero, whether from billets or trenches, and your dear people who have not yet become accustomed[Pg 36]
[Pg 37] to those short ten days have waited and watched for it with an intense longing and pride in their hearts; is it any wonder one’s blood thrills with the thought of that never-to-be-forgotten home coming.

At Bernavillers an excellent concert party was formed by Lord Farnham, called “The Divisional Follies” or “The Merry Mauve Melody Makers.” Their first concert was honoured by a visit from The Most Rev. Dr. Crozier, Lord Primate of Ireland, who had come to France on a tour among the Irish Divisions. He had already paid a visit to the 107th Brigade, who had been having a strenuous training in the trenches ever since October. They had escaped with very few casualties.

My Company now got orders to move to Beauval, where we took over billets from the Y.C.V.’s (14th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles). They were the cleanest billets I can remember in France, and the Y.C.V.’s deserve great praise for the way in which they were left for us. After a week of preparation we moved on to Canaples, and from there to Martinsart where we again manned the trenches, and went in alongside the 9th Inniskilling Fusiliers by Companies, “C” and “D” Companies in front with “A” and “B” in reserve. The next week we went into support with “D” Company, and “A” and “B” took our place in front. This time we were not attached to a regular Battalion for training, but took over part of the line ourselves. Our period in the trenches was uneventful, it was a quiet part of the line, and the trenches were deep and well made. This time we gave the Bosche 500 to every 50 of theirs, so all taken into consideration we were lucky. The weather, however, was by no means favourable, the trenches being full of slush and water. A heavy fall of snow also made the ground in a bad condition, and the men suffered greatly from the cold, which was intense. Several new Officers joined our Battalion about this time, for which we were very thankful, as leave was able to proceed without difficulty, two Officers being sent each week. On February 29 our first death occurred, poor young Watt of No. 12 platoon. He was killed by a shell while standing outside the door of his billet in Mesnil, and buried in Mesnil Ridge Cemetery. From this time on we went into the trenches by Battalions, alternately with the Downs (13th Royal Irish Rifles). Our casualties were not great, but always a few, the expected result of trench warfare. Indeed, if it had not been for a tot of rum at “stand to” on those very cold mornings, I feel sure there would have been more work for the hospitals. About March 6th the weather began to improve and we occasionally felt dry. We now began to think about giving Jerry something to stir him up as he seemed to have gone underground completely during the cold weather. Evidently Battalion Headquarters also felt that the time had come to stir for we received a message to supply a specimen of German wire as it was wanted by the corps. The job was given in “C” Company to Young, our scout Officer, and four other scouts. On a dark and snowy night they crept out on patrol, and procured a good specimen about a yard long. The other Companies also procured specimens and the Corps appeared satisfied with results. Our Batteries also began to wake up, and we kept them well informed as to the position of the German transports, which from this time on never got a moment of peace. The 10th Inniskillings on our right, under command of Colonel Ross-Smyth, got a terrific shelling from the Bosche on the night of the 10th-11th of March. Shells came over at the rate of 60 to the minute, but the 10th showed splendid coolness and gallantry, keeping up a steady fire from the front trenches throughout the bombardment, which was evidently intended by the Germans to cover a raid on our lines, similar to one which took place elsewhere the same night. An Officer, describing the bombardment in a letter, writes—

“The Bosche has been very prodigal of shells for a day or two, all along the front, but particularly on the somewhat unpleasant sector occupied by the “Derry’s.” On this particular afternoon he had subjected it to a smart bombardment with “heavies,” field guns, and trench mortars. Then he fell short and waited. At eleven o’clock precisely he opened fire with guns of all[Pg 39]
[Pg 40] calibres. Over the Derrys he burst shrapnel, reserving his high explosive for the Donegals and Fermanaghs, and for the Brigade on their right. Not content with peppering the line, the supports, and the reserves, he shelled half a dozen villages to the rear, with which he did not as a rule concern himself. It was a very dark night, and the flashes of the guns seemed to cut through the darkness like spear points. Before the Bosche had been firing five minutes our guns had begun to reply to him, and the eighteen pounders commenced to whiz over our heads on to their front line, and soon the men in the trenches heard the welcome whistle of a high travelling howitzer over their heads in the right direction. Then indeed the din was indescribable, so fast and furious did the game become that at one time it seemed as if the boom of the big guns, the harsher bark of the small, the explosion of the shells, and the tearing crash of bursting mortars were all blended into one continuous roar. The trenches of the “Derrys” had an ugly time of it. Dug-outs were caved in, and traverses smashed down, one whole sector of the front line being practically ploughed up. At one time the enemy proceeded to pound the flank out of one Company with high explosives for several minutes, then lifted to the opposite flank and gave it the same measure. This evidently appeared to him a satisfactory idea as he repeated the manoeuvre. But the Company Officer had by now appreciated his tactics, and by his work undoubtedly prevented a great number of casualties. Gradually the German fire on the front line slackened and ceased, though it still continued overhead, and our “heavies” now warmed up to their work showed no inclination to give up. It was at this juncture that a sentry came running back from the sap head to report that he had seen Germans moving in front of the wire. The order was given to the men to stand up on the fire step, and send bursts of rapid fire in the direction of the German line. If the raiders had intended coming over this caused them to change their minds. The “Derrys” stood to till morning, but nothing fresh occurred. Through the night the men prayed their Officers to lead them over to vengeance, but for that they will have to wait. The loss was slight considering the intensity of the bombardment. When morning came the “Derrys” learned that the famous raiders had entered the trenches of the Battalion on their right, which, by the way, did not belong to the Ulster Division, and carried off an Officer and nine men as prisoners. It was a workmanlike job without a doubt, for the raiding party had come and gone within ten minutes.”

Several of the men of the Inniskillings earned commendation from Colonel Ricardo for conspicuous gallantry on this occasion; their names were Private D. Little, Private J. J. Young, Lance Corporal Black, and Private W. Dinsmore. They were serving as Company Officers, Orderlies, Signallers, and Messengers. Captain Cruickshank, of Omagh, also showed great coolness and valour on that occasion.

The weather still continued fine, and our time was spent in building new traverses, and rivetting and sandbagging the parados and firesteps. Bosche aeroplanes, taking advantage of the fine nights, crossed our lines, and green flares were sent up from the enemy to show our positions. The Germans would then send over a number of shells, and we had several casualties, Lieutenant Waring of “A” Company being hit by shrapnel, and Privates Moffat and McBride of “C” Company badly wounded. Poor Moffat subsequently died from his wounds.

We were now stirred to think of raids and night patrols. The following is an example of a patrol done by one of my Officers and some men of “C” Company. Lieutenant Young, Sergeant Renshaw, Riflemen Storey, Pollock, M‘Dowell and M‘Kelvey. March 16th. “C” Company Patrol Report.

“Patrol went out from Sap in Sector 41 at 7-30 p.m., consisting of one Officer, one Sergeant, and four Riflemen. On leaving our wire we turned north, striking sunken road which runs north-east in direction of German trenches. After going about 100 yards down this road we turned off under a ditch running north-west from the road. There were a number of small[Pg 42]
[Pg 43] thorn trees on this ditch, and we could distinctly see footprints and elbow marks round them, also pits had been dug which could be used by snipers. Further along the ditch we came to a lone tree, which can be seen from Sector 49 in our lines, here we halted. About 20 yards from the tree we discovered a wire which came from the direction of the German lines. Following this we found it entered the parapet of a sniper’s pit, just beneath the lone tree. We then dug out the wire, and discovered it was attached to a square box covered with felt. This box we opened, thinking it contained a telephone, but instead found four German grenades with the detonators attached to the wire. We quickly disconnected the wire, and dug out the box. Not far from the spot we found another German grenade which we also took with us. At 10 p.m. we returned to our own trenches. A working party of the enemy could be heard, but it was difficult to say from which direction the sound came. Otherwise, everything was normal.”

G. O. Young, Lieutenant.

On March 18th we went into reserve, and were billeted in Englebelmer, being relieved on 24th by the 13th Royal Irish Rifles (The Downs). This time the 11th Battalion East Yorks were attached to us for instruction. They saw a fair amount of shelling for their first period in the trenches, the Germans putting a lot of trench mortars over on Thiepval hill. All that remained of the Chateau at Thiepval being the walls, about as high as the hall door, and a few holes where windows once had been, in all about 7ft. high by 20ft. long. The German trenches lay in front of it, on the carriage drive, and ours right up to the other side of the avenue, almost into them. Not a pleasant place, with an active sniper in the Chateau. Our trenches also ran through Thiepval wood, in which the trees were now thick with foliage. The birds built their nests and sang merrily enough on those Spring mornings. They did not appear to mind the shelling, even a cuckoo could sometimes be heard, reminding us that winter was over “this winter of our discontent.” Spring had indeed come, a time when the birds call, the trees call, all nature calls for life, while we were there to kill and to be killed. There were moments when a lull came in the busy day’s work, when the monotony of trench warfare left time to think, that thoughts such as these arose.

We spent Easter in billets, in Martinsart village. The 23rd of April being Easter Sunday, a general holiday was given to the Battalion. Amiens, once the capital of Picardy, was about twenty-five miles distant, a long ride, but an interesting old town, and well worth visiting. Its fortifications have been turned into Boulevards, but it still retains its old citadel, and the Cathedral of Notre Dame is indeed a masterpiece of Gothic architecture. The great straight road that leads from Amiens to the front, or Albert, is the great route nationale, running from Rouen through Amiens, Albert, Pozieres, Le Sars and Bapaume on to Mons and Valenciennes. It was on this road that the famous Gordon Bennet races took place, and a better road for riding on or motoring on, it would be hard to find. The road is lined on either side with poplar trees, and a screen used to be hung from tree to tree to hide the traffic to and from Albert. There are few trees left now, and only the barest stumps, owing to bombardment. Amiens, as a rule, was out of bounds to both Officers and men, unless they were the possessors of a pass, but on Easter Monday official permission was granted to all, and many availed themselves of the opportunity to explore the ancient town. It was a chance to see civilization again, and to dine in a restaurant. At that time Amiens had not been badly shelled, even the Bosche aeroplanes seemed to be busy elsewhere, and life went on much the same as in towns at the Base. People went about their business and pleasure with very little thought of the enemy who were comparatively few miles away. The ride back at night from Amiens was rather an interesting experience. After the first six miles the sky was lit up like sheet lightning. Then the villages all became dark, no lights to be seen, then came the halts at the different outposts, the constant flashes and rockets in the sky, awful, yet fascinating. Nearer Albert the sound of the guns became clearer, and in the distance could be seen the great Church tower of Notre Dame de Brebieres with the leaning figure of the Virgin holding the infant Christ above her head. For over a year she had hung at an angle of 15 degrees below horizontal, face downwards to the street below. The French people believed that the day the holy figures fell, would see the end of the War, and that the German shell which threw down the blessed Virgin of Brebieres would shatter the throne of the Hohenzollerns.

Our Battalion being now out of the trenches the Companies were divided among the small villages around. My Company had the luck to be billeted in Autuille, a small village on the Ancre. We were able to get plenty of amusement there between rat hunting, fishing and bathing. Captain E. and I spent several afternoons trying for trout, and sent our finest specimen to “B” Company with compliments. The Ancre at Autuil was an excellent place for fishing, and this would have been a pleasant occupation were it not for the fact that snipers found us out in a short time. The bathing place was hardly 600 yards from the German lines. On May 7th the “Tyrones” had the honour of carrying out the first raid made by the Division. The following is contained in a special order of the day issued by Major General O. S Nugent, D.S.O., Officer Commanding Division. “A raid on the German trenches was carried out at midnight on the 7th inst., by the 9th Battalion Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, the raiding party consisting of Major W. J. Peacock, Captain J. Weir, Lieut. W. S. Furness, Sec.-Lieut. L. W. H. Stevenson, Sec.-Lieut. R. W. M‘Kinley, Sec.-Lieut. J. Taylor, and 84 other ranks. The raid was completely successful and was carried out exactly as planned. Six German dug-outs, in which it is certain there were a considerable number of men, were thoroughly bombed, and a machine gun was blown up, while a lively bombing fight took place between the blocking detachments of the raiding party and the Germans. Having accomplished the purpose of the raid the party was withdrawn with the loss of one man killed and two wounded. The raid was ably organised by Major Peacock, and was[Pg 46]
[Pg 47] carried out by the Officers and men in accordance with plan, the discipline and determination of the party being all that could be desired. The Divisional Commander desires that his congratulations should be extended to all who took part in it.”

Brigadier-General Hickman in a special Brigade Order says—“The arrangements and plans reflect the greatest credit on Colonel Ricardo, Major Peacock, and the Officers concerned. The whole scheme was executed with great dash and determination, with cool judgment and nerve.”

The following awards were issued—Major Peacock received the D.S.O., Sec.-Lieutenant Stevenson the Military Cross, Sergeant Barker, D.C.M., and Lance-Corporal D. Armour, M.M.

At this time an important change took place in the Command of the 11th Battalion Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers. Lieutenant-Colonel W. F. Hessey was promoted to Brigadier-General, and given Command of the 110th Infantry Brigade. His place was taken by Major G. H. Brush, Second in Command of the 10th Battalion (Derry Volunteers). The following farewell Order was issued by Lieutenant-Colonel Hessey to his Battalion. “Lieutenant-Colonel Hessey wishes God Speed to all members of the 11th Inniskillings, and thanks them for the loyal support they have given him from the raising of the Battalion to this day. He leaves the Battalion with very sincere regret, but with feelings of great pride that he has had the privilege of Commanding such a fine lot of Officers, N.C.O.’s and men, and that their “esprit de corps” has made the Battalion a worthy part of the 27th Inniskilling Regiment of Foot.” During the following days we spent alternate periods in and out of the trenches, with little excitement to keep our spirits up. On May 16th we again took over from the 13th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles (Downs), and this time a spell of beautiful weather favoured us and the trenches were quite dry and habitable. We had the usual machine gun fire at night, especially from the direction of Thiepval Chateau, also a large number of shrapnel shells and[Pg 48]
[Pg 49] whizbangs fell in our Sector. The enemy was apparently very busy during the night on his front line opposite our Company. We could hear the sound of picking and shovelling going on, and stakes being driven into the ground. During 18th-19th the enemy gave us little peace, between trench mortars, heavies, and whizbangs. Several salvoes of shrapnel managed to do considerable damage to our inspection trench and Whit Church Street. During a heavy bombardment, while the shells went over and round us at a tremendous rate I was lying flat on my stomach to avoid some shrapnel that burst near. I looked round to see if there were any casualties among the men following, and noticed a head emerging from the earth which had fallen in all round; suddenly there was a splutter, the head moved, and a very solemn voice said “Boys o’ boys it’s aboot time the referee blew his whistle,” his thoughts must have been far away on the Balmoral football ground, perhaps he was thinking of a tough fight Malone v. Queen’s, in the old days.

We were glad to notice that the German trenches opposite suffered severely on the retaliation of our artillery. The following nights were busy putting up wire and sending out patrols. On one occasion a sentry reported having seen an aeroplane fall in flames some distance to the east of Thiepval, just before it fell three planes had been observed very high in the air, and the sound of machine-gun fire heard coming from them.

On the 20th there was considerable enemy machine gun activity, and a very large number of flares were sent up during the night from the German lines. At 9-30 p.m. two red flares were sent up apparently from the German salient opposite “Mary Redan.” Immediately afterwards two salvoes of shrapnel were fired, and appeared to burst in the neighbourhood of “Mary Redan,” while enemy search lights could be seen near Serre.

During the 21st the enemy continued his constant machine gun fire, and at night our wiring parties were much hampered on this account, one being forced to come in. At 10-30 p.m. on the 22nd, red rockets were sent up from the German lines north of the river Ancre. Immediately afterwards a heavy bombardment by enemy artillery began, apparently on our lines in front of Thiepval, which lasted about half-an-hour. We had a more or less quiet day on the 23rd, and on the 24th were relieved by the 13th Royal Irish Rifles. “C” Company was sent to Autile, “B” to South Antrim Villas, and the other two Companies to Mesnil. We spent a pleasant few days in billets, the usual rat hunts and bathing in the Ancre gave plenty of amusement to the men. On May 31st we got our orders to join “D” Company in Martinsart, and the following day moved to Harponville via Bouzincourt and Varrennes, where we rejoined our Brigade, and started Divisional exercises on a large training ground known as the Clairfaye trenches. These trenches had been dug from aeroplane photographs, and were an exact reproduction of the German trenches opposite Thiepval. It was here that we heard the terrible news of the death of Lord Kitchener, to whose genius we owed so much. During our period of training the 107th Brigade held the trenches at Thiepval.

On June 15th, at 3 p.m., the Battalion marched off, and with the 9th Royal Irish Fusiliers bivouacked in Martinsart Wood. Martinsart village was already occupied by numerous troops sent up in readiness for the great battle of the Somme. We sent working parties down to Thiepval wood to help in the digging of assembly trenches. Our working party was very unfortunate, and out of No. 11 platoon we had six men wounded, Miller, Lyle, Brown, Galloway, Quinn, and “B” Company also lost eleven men.

On 17th several new Officers joined the Battalion in Martinsart Wood, among them Lieut. J. Marshall, posted to “B” Company, afterwards proved to be the only officer of the 11th Battalion who went over the top on the 1st July without getting wounded. All was bustle and excitement, we heard we were to hold the line from Thiepval Wood to La Boiselle and Fricourt.

On 22nd the Tyrones went into the trenches. We had a fine concert in “D” Company Mess, and I had a last talk to the N.C.O.’s. On 23rd we paraded at 7-45 p.m. and marched to our trenches in Thiepval Wood. Our Company Officers consisted of the following—myself, in command, Captain Ewart, Lieutenants Vance, Ellis, Young, Carson and Murphy. It was a very hot march but a glorious day, and all of us were in good heart. “C” and “D” Companies manned the front line, with “A” and “B” behind, “C” holding from Elgin Avenue to Garden Gate at the head of Cromarty Avenue. “C” Company Headquarters were in Thurso Street, and Battalion Headquarters in Cromarty Avenue. On the 26th, at 2-30, we had planned a gas attack, but there was not much wind, and the gas did not go well. Young and myself happened to be the next casualties, luckily both of us slight. Young was gassed while on duty at a gas cylinder, and I got a touch of shrapnel from a whiz bang. It meant No. 29 C.C.S. for both of us, and very reluctantly we had to leave our men just on the eve of the first and greatest battle ever fought by the Division.

---