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Dear all
A hundred years ago this week… Action
petered out to winter “maintenance” level on the Western Front, with
British/Empire forces advancing east of Cambrai (December 10), but losing the
salient between Bullecourt and Quéant to the west of the town (12). Down near
Verdun, the French Army continued their pattern of holding off frequent German
attacks, this time at the familiar battlefield of Chaume Wood (10).
Fighting
near the Eastern front had come down to Russian civil conflict. General
Kornilov, deposed as c-in-c of the Russian Army by the Bolsheviks, continued
fighting via his Volunteer Army, though with no success at Kharkov (December
11; northeast Ukraine), then Belgorod (13; just across the Russian border) –
but his forces were not destroyed and he would come again. On the wider stage,
the Germans and other Central Powers plus Turkey set about negotiating an
extension to their Armistice with Russia (and, incidentally, Romania) – the new
dates, December 17-January 14, no doubt readily agreed by all concerned.
The
Italians, like the other Allies in Europe, still managed to maintain a static
front along the River Piave from Monte Grappa down to the sea just north of
Venice, regularly beating back Austrian and German attacks (December 12;
between the Brenta and Piave rivers) and even regaining some ground (16; Brenta
valley).
The
Allies did reach one successful conclusion when General Allenby walked into
Jerusalem (December 11) – to show respect for the Holy City’s three religions
in response to the Mayor’s message of surrender which hoped “you will protect
Jerusalem the way we have protected it for more than 500 years”. British Prime
Minister Lloyd George described the victory as a “Christmas present” for his
people. But the Ottoman Army had retreated from the city a few days earlier,
then formed new lines to the east and north, and Allenby began his further
pursuit of them on December 13.
[Memoir background: my father, Lance Corporal Signaller Sam Sutcliffe from Edmonton, north London, under-age 2/1st Royal Fusiliers
volunteer and Gallipoli veteran (Blogs September 20, 2015, to January 3, 2016),
had
fought on the Somme Front with his second outfit the Kensingtons (Blogs May 15 to September 25,
2016)…
until
officialdom spotted his real age – 18 on July 6, 1916, legally too young for
the battlefield. So they told him he could take a break from the fighting until
he turned 19. He took up the offer, though with an enduring sense of guilt. By
December, 1916, he ended up posted to Harrogate, Yorkshire, and re-allocated again,
this time to the Essex Regiment 2/7th Battalion. An
interesting year ensued – four months of blizzards, a meningitis scare, special
training in various northern locations, and then a few summer weeks stomping
around Yorkshire on a route march… which in due course led him to hospital again,
to recover from lurking effects of trench warfare’s privations – and prepare for more (he was 19 on July 6, 1917, while in
hospital). He spent several autumn weeks refreshing his signalling skills at an
Army training camp outside Crowborough, Sussex, and, come November/December,
enjoyed what turned out to be the final home leave of his military career. Now,
he’s returned to France with the Western Front coming up once more…]
FOOTSOLDIERSAM SPEAKS
Last week, in December, 2017, my father sailed
to Calais and, to his surprise, found himself enjoying all the fun of a big
Army-camp town – estaminets, shows,
aerobatics over a neighbouring Belgian airfield, and the pleasure of
encountering new cultures (on this occasion, open-natured Pacific Islanders
whom Sam had never met before, and feared for amid the horrors of wintry
European battlefields).
Between
entertainments, he spent some time reflecting on his war so far and thinking
about his brother, still out on the Front somewhere with the Field Survey
Company – spotters of enemy activity, especially artillery positions.
But
now he moves on. And I should mention that my usual this-week-100-years-ago
chronology suffers one of its periodic glitches at this point. It’s simply that
Sam spent maybe three or four weeks idling in Calais and covered it in a few paragraphs,
but then as he moved towards the battlefield his accounts grew far more
detailed – including, eventually, hour-by-hour accounts of his final days on
the Front through to March 28. So, in order to take all that in, the blog is
now moving on to January (as far as I can tell from his writings and my
research in books and War Diaries!) as Sam proceeds towards Arras…
‘Next move forward took me into Arras(2), which town I first
viewed from a hill across a valley. In the afternoon sunshine, among streets of
houses, I saw many gaps, many roofs missing, yet that warm light and shadow
gave the scene an air of quietness as though the war had finished and the
repairers and menders and builders would soon move in and heal the scars…
I had a Regimental
cap badge, but at that stage in my progress from rear to front line, I still
did not know which Battalion I would belong to. I quite liked the Regimental
badge(3) depicting – only roughly, of course – a tower set in some sort of
decorated scrollwork. The genuine Essex lads, I’m sure, felt proud of their
county Regiment and its traditions, but I was merely a wanderer who’d come
along to fill one of the many spaces in their ranks caused by enemy action.
The war had by
then become a vast, impersonal machine into which human bits and pieces could
be inserted as the need arose. In the course of my unhurried journey from coast
to front line(4), evidences of efficiency in the conduct of military matters
deeply impressed me. Small towns and villages, much battered, were now being
repaired, albeit temporarily – roofing often consisted of corrugated-metal
sheets… but homes becoming habitable once more.
Such observations
induced one to seriously consider the possibility of war ending at some future
date, a thought entertained by very few soldiers a year or so earlier, say
after the Somme battle. Someone high up in the military organisation had faith
enough to give forth instructions enabling French farmers and their few
remaining workers to move back into some former battlefield areas. With the
impending great German attack expected by, and freely discussed by, all those
who would have to meet and endure it, such rebuilding of places which might
once again suffer damage could have seemed ridiculous. But actually it did much
good for the morale of the troops. Somebody up above believed that, in time, we
should win the war… so optimism spread along the Front.
The consciousness
of a distant rumble, a continuous underlying vibration when local noises
subsided, and, by night, brilliant flashes, or even the illumination of large
areas for some seconds, sharply reminded me that the days of peace and
relaxation had once again passed from my life. Edgy unease and a wary eye on
anything happening in my vicinity would henceforth be necessary features of my
continued existence. A quick decision might preserve me from injury or even
death, as it certainly had done several times previously on front-line service.
Temporarily on standby
because nobody needed Signals replacements, I remained for a while as a general
dogsbody at Brigade Headquarters(5). Anything connected in the remotest way
with communications, I tackled with enthusiasm, from humble verbal messages to
written ones delivered by me personally, a relief stint on phones or telegraphs,
and cross-country checks of lines above or below ground. I felt glad to be back
on the work I had done in the early days of the war and would have continued
doing had our first dear old Battalion(6) not been disbanded for lack of
casualty replacements.’
(2) Arras: 68 miles
southeast of Calais, population 26,080 in 1911; scene of battles throughout the
war around the town and region, see map http://www.greatwar.co.uk/places/french-flanders-artois-towns.htm. Going with my father’s
implied dates his first sight of Arras was probably sometime in January.
(3) Many images are available online
if you search “Essex Regiment Cap Badge WW1”. My father obviously did feel
“unattached”, but Ian Hook of the Essex Regiment Museum, told me he was listed
as a member of the 2nd Battalion when he returned to France, that is the 2/7th
still, where he’d been administratively parked on December 18, 1916, when sent
to Harrogate to train until his 19th birthday (on July 6, 1917, during a
hospital stay in Sheffield).
However,
Mr Hook also noted that “soon after” December, 1916, Sam was transferred “to
the 4th (Reserve) Battalion at Halton [Buckinghamshire] near Tring [Hertforshire]”
(two towns that Sam never visited as far as I know). Not only that, but his
post-War “Award Sheet – First Award” (that’s about pensions, not medals) says
his Battalion was “3 Essex”. Well, that’s likely just a slip of the pen, but…
blimey O’Reilly, guvnor, the Army did do a nice line in admin. tangles to
confuse the ’umble researcher! At least this one substantiates his recollection
of knocking about within the system on his own for quite a while, following
orders as and when they were directed his way.
(4) My father doesn’t specify, but
he left the Front solo in September/October 1916 – hitching lifts, catching
trains – and I get the impression here he returned the same way, in his
spare-part filler-in role. I don’t know whether that was common.
(5) That would (probably!)
be the 12th Brigade HQ in Arras – the 2/7th Essex was one of its eight
Battalions; it also included a Machine Gun Company and a Trench Mortar Battery.
(6) The 2/1st Royal
Fusiliers my father joined in September, 1914, after Gallipoli disbanded in
France, late April, 1916.
All
the best –
FSS
Next week: Sam gets a temporary assignment and a
billet in Arras Prison. He strikes up his final true friendship as a Tommy… the
bloke who’d keep him company until the day on the front line when his Battalion
is ordered to fight to the last man and bullet…
(1) In his 70s, Sam
Sutcliffe wrote Nobody Of Any Importance,
a Memoir of his life from childhood
through Gallipoli, the Somme, Arras 1918 and eight months as a POW to the 1919
Peace parade.
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