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Dear all
A hundred years ago this week… Contrary
to the terrible sense of British failure emanating from the Somme attack on
July 1, the aftermath this week saw advances secured at Mametz Wood (July 3-12,
4,000 38th Division casualties), Contalmaison (7-11, 3,485 17th Division, 4,771
17th Division as the battle concluded with hand-to-hand fighting), and Trônes
Wood (8-14, 2,300 30th Division). On the south of the Somme front, the French
Army, which had done well on July 1, advanced towards Peronne (10), and lost
then re-won Biaches and La Maisonette (15). Of course, the casualty numbers spoke
to the continuing human outcome of defeat and/or victory. Estimates suggest
30-36,000 German casualties July 2-10, 25,000 British 2-13, 17,600 French 2-21;
that was the scale of the continuing battle, often overshadowed by the terrible
memory of July 1.
On
a more micro scale, the German Navy took the war to Britain in an unusual way –
perhaps a stratagem related to domestic morale rather than any wider plan –
when U-boats shelled Seaham harbour on the Durham coast and sank four fishing
boats from Whitby, Yorkshire.
The
Russians remained in the ascendant almost everywhere they fought, their Eastern
Front Brusilov Offensive holding a German counterattack at the Stokhod river
(July 10 onwards), and pushing the Austrian Army back near Buczacz on the
Strypa and at Mikhailovka (13, all current Ukraine). They also progressed again
in Turkey and Armenia. But the Battle Of Baranovichi did start to run against
them, their attack on a German force they outnumbered 6-1 foundering 14,
current Belarus).
Elsewhere,
the Austrians attempt to mount another onslaught in northern Italy failed at
the River Adige (July 12), and the British/South African Armies' processional
occupation of German East Africa proceeded as they took Mwanza and Mpondi (15).
Meanwhile,
my father (now promoted from Lance to) Corporal Signaller Sam Sutcliffe
from Edmonton, north London (his 18th birthday on July 6, 1916), remained on
the Somme Front where he'd been involved in daily fighting from mid-May onwards.
This
followed a '15-'16 winter at Gallipoli, and three months recovering in Egypt, until
his 2/1st City Of London Royal Fusiliers (250 survivors out of 1,000) moved to
France in late April. Shortly after their arrival, to their
bitter chagrin, the Army disbanded the Battalion and transferred the remnants
to other outfits – Sam to the Kensingtons. Because they had enough Signallers
he became an ordinary soldier in the line. The Kensingtons did a long stint in
and around the front line at Hébuterne, opposite the German positions at Gommecourt, including
July 1 and beyond…
FOOTSOLDIERSAM SPEAKS
Last week, in the aftermath of their
overwhelming July 1 experience the Somme front line, Sam and his Kensingtons
comrades spent several night retrieving the dead from No Man's Land – and
restored their spirits just a little observing the heroics of British airmen over
the Front and a rare success for an ack-ack gun stationed just outside their
wrecked and machine-gun-riddled billet at Hébuterne.
Now,
while the Somme fighting never really stopped, there's a partial lull, which
I'm using as editor to turn back to a passage I deferred from May/June because
there was too much pre-July 1 material for the blog. Here my father recalls
reflecting – in the trenches – on the volunteer spirit, the changes recently
wrought by conscription, and his ambivalent attitude to the pros and cons of
that interesting new concept “conscientious objection”. Sam writes:
‘It seemed that, during our sojourn in the Mediterranean
Expeditionary Force*, changes had taken place in England. The original
voluntary-service fervour had quickly expired and heavy casualties on the
Western Front had to be made up by the only means now available, namely,
compulsory service.
These men, my new
comrades, proved more than willing to shed a new light on the behaviour of some
civilians in the dear old homeland. Setbacks on land and sea had brought
realism to the fore. In the early days of the war, natural optimism, faith in
the unbeatable British Navy and our world-beating Army, plus much official
propaganda, had encouraged those who intended to keep clear of personal
involvement in the nasty business to believe that Britain would surely smash
the Kaiser’s forces.
Many at home
already earned more money than they had in peacetime, and they intended hanging
on to their jobs come what may. Should call-up papers pop through their letter
boxes they could appeal to tribunals. Deferment of their conscription to armed
service might be arranged if, perhaps, their employers could prove their work
important to the national effort. Who, would you guess, comprised the membership
of those tribunals? Local bigwigs. If an appellant was by way of being
acquainted with a member, ’twas said he might secure deferment almost forever.
So the next best
ploy was to change jobs and get work in one of the new armaments or ammunition
factories being built at a great rate. These places paid well, perhaps two or
three times more than in peacetime factories, because of the urgent need to
speed up production. They employed many women too and one conscript told me
bullets and shells were not the only products of some folks’ work on the night
shift.
Moreover, some
prominent people concerned with improving the status of working-class people
had promoted the idea that, if a man had religious convictions strong enough to
forbid him taking part in warfare, he should be allowed to state them before a
special tribunal, the members of which might decide that he should do “national
work” other than join the armed services**.
As World War I
progressed the numbers of men who held or adopted these strong pacifist beliefs
increased, and some men thus avoided all the risks and sufferings to which most
were exposed. I heard that if the tribunal disbelieved the heart-rending yarn you
spun, if you still refused to take up arms you would be imprisoned, or put to
work in agriculture, or something of that sort. In any case, you avoided all
the pains and hazards of the battlefield – that had its attractions. Some of
these “conchies”, as the “conscientious objectors” were contemptuously called,
were politicians, and some later achieved high positions, after the prejudice
against “war dodger” types had subsided.
And yet… here too
was a concession which appeared to indicate that one fence separating The
Workers from the rest had been demolished — in part, the “conscience clause”
entailed an admission from on high that the dwellers in the terraced side
streets were capable of thought, able to form, maintain and explain a
conviction reached after study and evaluation.
Naturally, we
volunteers, enduring hellish conditions, would think on these matters and wish
that, in 1914, we had conducted ourselves more artfully, had possessed
sufficient courage and foresight to know where proper self-interest lay – and
act on it. I could have remained at home and then, when my “call-up papers”
arrived, I could have claimed exemption on one ground or another and perhaps
sidestepped active participation altogether.
The conscripts’
up-to-date description of life among some working people in the changed
conditions of wartime made me feel that I, and many others, had been foolish to
cut ourselves off so completely from our occupations much sooner than
necessary. Of the four of us who enlisted together***, the elder three would
have been conscripted more than a year after they’d actually volunteered, and I
was still under-age and, allowing for the usual period of training, would
probably not have been sent on active service for a further two years…
Probably, I would
have thought little about these matters had our original Battalion been
reinforced after our tremendous efforts to prove ourselves worthy of special
treatment – and even then, that scheme having failed, had we been allowed
visits to England before once more going to the front line.
The tales I heard
about goings-on in England – the good times many enjoyed while thousands of
their fellows were maimed and killed in France – gave rise to some pretty
bitter thoughts and made me decide to take advantage of any opportunity which
might arise to bring about an improvement in my condition. Living among
strangers, one felt free of any loyalty or obligation, except to the extent
imposed by military regulations.’
* As per background
section above, when he says "our" here he means his former Royal
Fusiliers Battalion, not the Kensingtons.
** The right to
conscientious objection had been recognised in the UK since the 18th century,
but only for Quakers, apparently; it became a general right in March, 1916,
after the Government introduced conscription. The same Military Service
Tribunals that heard appeals against conscription on all other grounds decided
on conscientious objectors’ appeals (which comprised about 2 per cent of the
750,000 cases the tribunals heard 1916-18). In all 11,500 appeals on grounds of
conscience were upheld during World War I, while 6,000 appellants were refused,
conscripted, then, potentially, jailed if they refused to obey orders.
*** Sam with brother Ted
and their friends Len and Harold, whom they lost touch with in Gallipoli.
All
the best –
FSS
Next week: Sam, still
with no home leave since early 1915, thinks if his Dad could write to Lloyd George,
maybe… The while, he realises how he's wasting away on the battlefield – and
escapes death by lucky hair's breadths a couple more times…
[I know I said the last
bit would be this week, but I decided to redistribute the material – for some
reason my father didn't write his Memoir in handy blog-size chunks!]
