66774 Sgt Alfred Arthur Nixon, Bedfordshire Regiment

Synopsis

My great uncle Alf was my grandfather's youngest brother. He was born on 18th January 1897 and almost as soon as he was able to, he joined the Essex Regiment Territorials. I first met Alfred Nixon at my grandfather's funeral in 1980 but it wasn't until a couple of years later that I got him next to a tape recorder at my parents' house in Essex.

Of all the Nixon brothers - and there were five of them - Alf was in khaki the longest. He joined the 6th Essex Regiment in February 1914 (and was given the army number 1716) and so was only 17 when Britain went to war with Germany. He was probably posted to the 2/6th Essex Regiment when it was formed in November 1914 and he was therefore spared a Gallipoli landing with the 1/6th. In any event, a bicycle accident in England left him in hospital with a smashed kneecap and it wasn't until late in 1916 or early 1917 (judging by his new Essex regiment number 34712) that he was posted either to a service battalion or to the 2nd Battalion.

The photograph above probably dates to 1914. Note the protector over his cap.

Alf's memory is at fault at various points during the interview. Mind you, he was trying to recall events from seventy years before and so he can be forgiven. He was not overseas until 1916 at the earliest. Had he been, he would have had a 1914-15 Star instead of the TF war medal. Also, as I mentioned earlier, the 347** Essex Regiment number was not issued until late 1916 at the earliest. Most of the events Alf recalls below, must have taken place in 1917 and 1918.

Alf Nixon died in June 1990 aged 93. He was the last of the Nixon brothers and I have written about his older brother, John Frederick Nixon on my WW1 Remembrance blog.

Interview
AAN:
Well, as I said to you, I was called up ‘cause I was in the Territorials when I was 17. I had a written notice to join the regiment, the 6th Battalion of the Essex Regiment, and I was paid five pounds in golden sovereigns; they all got that I think, that was blood money. In those days, five sovereigns was a lot of money wasn’t it; it was five weeks’ wages for a workman. Then they put us on a train, crowded of course, the train was crowded with troops; pushed them in, and we went down to Brentwood.

PCN:
Were you living in London at the time?

AAN:
I was living at Leyton. They took us to Brentwood at the start off; an old place like a warehouse, dirty it was. Well I and about two others didn’t like laying over where they’d put us and I spent the night in a coal cart out in the open in the yard at Brentwood. We weren’t too dirty though, funny enough. In the morning we shoved down a bit of breakfast and were put in the train again and we went to Shoeburyness where there was a regular barracks for regular troops. The regular troops had gone to France of course, and we took over although we only went in tents. We didn’t go inside the barracks proper but put bell tents there; about 18 used to go in one tent. Half the time I was allocated to do a job of sentry guard which meant on the gate you had to interrogate anybody going in or out; they had to show a pass to go in and out. I was 17 years of age with a rifle on me shoulder; fixed bayonet of course.

From there we went to Norwich. We only stayed there a couple of days then we stopped at a cavalry barracks and we slept in stables there on the floor where the horses used to go. I mean, they didn’t have the accommodation, they put you where they could. There was a thousand men in a battalion, about four companies.

PCN:
What company were you in?

AAN:
I don’t know what company. There was A, B, C and D. We spent about a week or two in there until they found private billets and put us in private houses where they put the rations into [recording is indistinct at this point] … so we had to cook and sleep on the floor of course; there was nowhere to sleep otherwise. The floor and blanket; for a pillow you generally had a kit bag which was full of boots and equipment; nice and soft you know! All the time we were doing drills during the daytime of course, and going on parade and this went on for some time.

Then we went to Cambridge; private billets again. When I say private billets I mean people’s houses and they brought the food rations round for us. I don’t know how much they paid them for it; don’t suppose it was a lot of money but they used to cook the food and the daytime we did the parades.

Eventually we went to Harrogate, in tents again about half a mile out of town in fields. And from there we went to France.

PCN:
What year was this?

AAN:
Fifteen; 1915. In the meantime they asked those who’d volunteer for active service. They didn’t force them to go but they sent us to France, those that volunteered, and eventually there was a medal cast for us for those that volunteered for the new adventure [My italics - PCN. Recording is indistinct at this point]. We was in tents again when we got to Calais. We went from Folkestone. We got to Calais and we were put in tents again: bell tents. We never had anywhere to go so we just had tents for about a dozen of you. You used to put your rifles up against the pole and you used to put your foot to the pole all the way round there. If the weather was alright then it was alright. If it was bad it was bad.

When we were in France we had to go up at night time. The fireworks were going like a fireworks’ display; the bangs and the lights, all this firing of verey lights to see if there was anyone moving about. I thought it was quite fun to start, it was so new. I thought, well this alright; bang, bang, bang, lights going up just like a fireworks display. After about five minutes I realised what was happening, you know, that shells were coming over and bursting and I though they were a fireworks carry-on!

We did that [recording is indistinct at this point]… Arras, a place called Arras.

PCN:
That’s where you went then was it, first of all?

AAN:
We spent a lot of time at Arras. They had a big cave there. When you came out on rest (it was after about a week) you went back about four or five miles from the front line. You had front line, second line and third line. We were in there some time. When you come out of the trenches you had about a week… well the first time I had four days there. When I came back we was in farmhouses and sleeping in the loft. I lay down with my rifle and equipment on and fell asleep, after four days’ no sleep. You had a nap in the trenches of course, but no rest and nowhere to sit really, only on the floor if it was dry. We spent some time in Arras, a long time.

PCN:
Was this still in 1915?

AAN:
Yes. That’s the place where they sent the cavalry to try and get through. They had cavalry in those days. The cavalry got cut up and there was dead horses everywhere. When the shells used to burst you could smell them. They used to call it ‘Dead Horse Corner’. There was a notice up saying ‘Dead Horse Corner’ where the cavalry got it. You couldn’t do the cavalry because there were so many trenches.

They had this great big cave at Arras about five miles wide where we used to go down; two battalions used to go down there for a rest. Night time you had to go out and dig trenches, re-enforce trenches and repair trenches behind the line and make more defences. You didn’t have a rest, you still had drills.

I don’t know the name of it. Two battalions used to stop down there. They could have shelled it but they wouldn’t have hurt anybody.

We were kept backward and forwards at Arras for a long time. There was no movement only for various raids.

PCN:
Did you go on any raids?

AAN:
Yes. The planes used to take photographs of the ground so you knew where all the trenches and dug-outs were. We used to have a fifteen pound canister of explosives to drop down the dug-outs because if you shelled anybody they’d go down a dug-out quick.

One time this Canadian battery was shelling and was supposed to be shelling the German line but they shelled us. The shells were coming right into our trench so we did all we could to get down the dug-out. There were always two entrances and they blocked one entrance up so we all had to scamper out quick out of the other one in case that got blocked. If you got blocked in there you’d never get out again. There was no fortifications underneath, only floor. No concrete steps or anything, just dug-out. It went down about the depth of a house I should think. Sometimes there were a few posts sticking up, but that’s all you had. If a big shell come and hit on the top of the trench it used to blow the candles out because we had an issue of candles. We always carried what they called iron rations. That was bully beef, tea and sugar in a packet in case you couldn’t get any food out there. So we stuck that for ages up there, just sticking there, backwards and forwards.

There was one occasion when they said we’d got to try and see what the positions of the German troops in front were. They told us what time the barrage was going to start. They were firing to see what was returned: sort of, throw your shells into them and see what response you get. If there was a rotten lot of troops in front they’d be a bit weak sort of thing. Anyway, we started. The batteries opened out and we soon got shells into their line. And I’ve never seen such a bombardment as we got back. We had ten times what they got. We shelled them for about half an hour and we got it for about five hours, all night long. It was terrible, cut us up shocking. Of course, when they shelled you had to go down the dug-out, it was no good standing up there.

On another occasion we went to Passchendaele in Belgium. You can’t dig a trench there, it was all water-logged, bogged. Soon as you dug a hole it was full of water so you only had shell-holes there. There we had three battles in nine days, you’ll probably find it in records. Passchendaele, Passchendaele.

When you moved up the line they used to put a white tape down in the daytime otherwise you wouldn’t know where to go. So you had this white line of tape taped quite a long way back - probably a couple of miles - to get into the front line because you couldn’t see the enemy and we were marching along, one behind the other, following this line. Mind you, it was pitch black of a night, there’s no lights in the open fields. A bunch of us got cut off and missed the lot in front so we got stranded, about thirty of us. Of course, we went marching on and we went right past their lines on the railway line. We went past them, past the Germans. They didn’t know it.

It wasn’t trenches it was shell-holes. You was just stuck in a shell-hole. We were lucky really because we were cut off from the main battles, we was behind them you see. Now and again there was Germans used to be walking back with their hands up. One occasion, I was with a fella and a German was walking up, and the fella got his rifle and fired at him. And I knocked it down. I mean, you couldn’t shoot a prisoner like that. So I knocked his rifle down. He was going to shoot him, point blank.

Of course, shells were dropping all over and flying about, and we were there for some days. We couldn’t get rations up, there was now way you could get any food up. So when it was getting dark you used to crawl out of your shell-hole and look for bodies, turn ‘em over and see what they’d got in their packs. I’m not making this up. I used to crawl out and get water. You always had candles in your pack and you used to put water in your army can, water from the shell-holes. You couldn’t get water otherwise, there were no taps. Well, I used to get this water and after about two hours with three candles underneath you make yourself a cup of tea. Mind you, you was there all day so it didn’t matter. At the finish I went down there and it was getting light and the shell-hole I was crawling to and getting the water from there was a German in it, torn inside. All his insides hanging out and I was getting the water for making the tea! Mind you it was boiled so it probably didn’t matter. He was lying at the bottom of the shell-hole covered in water. Most of the water had green stuff on it.

You couldn’t dig a trench. When you dug a hole it was full of water. It was only shell-holes.

PCN:
Were you aware at the time what you had to attack and what the Army's plans were?

AAN:
Well at that place there were about thirty of us cut off behind the lines. You used to pass the word along; everything was passed by mouth. There was a saying once that you passed the word along, “The Colonel’s going to advance, send reinforcements” and they said when it got to the other end of the line it said, “The Colonel’s going to a dance, send three and fourpence.” That was a joke at the time. You had to pass the word along when you were in the trenches. If you wanted a message to go anywhere you couldn’t just get up and write a letter and pass it on, you used to pass the word along. If you were walking along it was, “Mind the ole”.” You always went in the trenches of a night time when it was dark, you couldn’t go at daytime.

In the meantime you’d got planes flying over. I used to fire at them but I never hit one. Planes used to be flying down repeatedly all day long while you were in the trenches. I used to fire my rifle at them but I never knocked them down. I saw plenty of them brought down in fights. Course, the air force those days wasn’t what we’ve got now; those quaint old things.

My brother Edgar used to do the rigging because half of it was made of wood. He could never get a flight because there wasn’t any planes down. Well one day he got a flight ‘cause nobody was there to go in it. He gets in with all the equipment on and goes up with this Major. They had the same ranks as in the Army in those days. Now they’ve got Flight Lieutenants and Squadron Leaders, they wasn’t known as those in those days. He went up in this flight and the man started stunting. I mean, those planes weren’t meant to stunt. He was going up and down, turning over, and he thought, “Well I won’t be long, I’ll soon be dead.” Cause he sees the sky up there one minute and down the next. Of course, the reason he got a flight was because the other blokes knew the pilot as the Mad Major and they used to run away when they saw him coming. If you repaired a plane you had to go up with the pilot to make sure that what you’d done was safe. Not mechanical, not the engine. He used to do the woodwork: struts, all out in the open really, not covered in like they are now. That was his first flight with the Mad Major. Of course, they all laughed when he came down but he didn’t think he ever would come down alive. He was twisting his plane around and they weren’t made for that. He was known as the Mad Major and that was his experience of his first flight.

PCN:
Did you see the mines go up on Messines Ridge?

AAN:
No, I never saw the mines. As I say, we got cut off ‘cause the man in front broke and didn’t keep up to them and we walked through a German line, a railway line. Of course, it was all smashed up but we must have gone miles because the Germans, when they did come out, were this side of us; they worked through this railway line. Being all pitch black I mean they wouldn’t know us.

PCN:
When you first went out to France you said you went to Arras. That was 1915 so were you there right through 1916 or did you move?

AAN:
I was at Arras for ages. Various times we used to be brought out. If they wanted reinforcements they used to send out but I can’t remember the names of the places.

PCN:
Did you not take part in the battle of the Somme because that was in 1916.

AAN:
No, I wasn’t on the Somme.

PCN:
Whereabouts did you have trench fever?

AAN:
That was on the last one… [recording is indistinct at this point]

PCN:
Was that before you were wounded?

AAN:
Yes, before I was wounded. I can’t remember where the place was, I think it was Arras, somewhere like that. Winter time it was, trenches full of water, duckboards were up. Somebody had dug a little cubby hole in the side of the trench and I lay in there. I couldn’t sleep. I lay there two days and I thought, I can’t stand this. If you were sick you’d go down the First Aid which was about a mile behind the line that you’d got to walk. When I got down there I met one of the colonels. The colonel was walking in the line with another officer who I met as I was going down there. I spoke to him but I can’t remember what he said, I was too ill really. Well I got down this First Aid place which was only a dug-out and there was a doctor there attending to someone with frozen feet. When feet were frozen they cut the toes away because they went bad, black. The stench was shocking because it was all bad flesh; it was all like congealed and the smell was shocking. I was in the Army with a fella who’d got all his toes off and they had to teach him to walk afterwards because you can’t walk without toes properly. Anyway, I got down there and after a while this doctor who was attending to the bloke with frozen feet came up to me and took my temperature. He must have asked me what the matter was and how I felt. He said, how did you get here? I said I walked. There was no other way to get there, you had to walk. He said, Good God man, called the orderly over and put me down on a stretcher right away, blankets on top. Night time they come and carry you over the top of the line because they couldn’t move you until dark. They carried me over the trenches and they marked me PUO: Patient Under Observation [No. Pyrexia of Unknown Origin - PCN]. From there I went to hospital. I had no food for about three days. It was given me but I didn’t want any. They used to sponge me don in the morning with cold water because it was supposed to get the temperature down but I learned afterwards they said it was through lice.

The lice were worse than the Germans, you was alive with them, absolutely. You never had a bath or anything and you couldn’t get a change of clothes. You were laying in dirt and living in dirt. Not in your head. I know we had short hair but they weren’t head lice they were body lice and you’d see fellas killing them, cracking them. I used to take me shirt off and hold it in a coke brazier, make ‘em all run. The lice were terrible though, shocking - lice and rats.

Rats were another thing. You had droves of rats, swarms. We used to put a bit of cheese on the end of a bayonet, stick it over the top and when the rats used to come, press the trigger. Of course, you never found them, it blew them to pieces.

PCN:
Wasn’t that [practice] banned by the Army later on?

AAN:
No, not to my knowledge anyway. We used to do that for a bit of fun in the daytime.

I was always in the front line unfortunately and on the front line you’d sometimes have to go in what they called a sap and there you couldn’t peek. You know, you could hear them talking, you could hear them guttering. You’d go there of a night and the first time I went in they said [to] be careful [and] be alert because they took the lot last night. They come over and took the lot of them, they come creeping over and got ‘em. Well anyway, I was there with a fella - there were only two of you - and they gave you a box of Mills bombs. You pulled the pin out and the lever flies back and starts it off, about twenty seconds’ timing. Well I was on with this fella and he kept falling down asleep. Of course, it put the wind up me so I used to kick him to wake him up; [kick him with those] big army boots! And I was there all night for about a week.

You couldn’t do anything at daytime so we used to prime these bombs. Little device with a wick on the end of it and when you struck it it started. You used to do it with your teeth. You had to put it in your mouth and bite it to ready the primer. Otherwise, when you got ‘em, they weren’t all primed. You had all the wicks and cords to prime it but that was separate, otherwise boxes of bombs would be going up in the air. When you threw it you had about twenty seconds before it went off. There were several cases where men threw themselves on them to save the lives of the others. Sixteen pounds they weighed, Mills bombs they were; each bomb weighed a pound. You threw them and [of] course, when you threw them you had to take the pin out to start it off and when you took the pin off: [sound of a loud clap], the spring on it started. We had a fella and he used to let it go off in his hand for two or three seconds before he threw it. Of course, when he threw it it immediately exploded so they couldn’t throw it back at you, but he got charged for doing that.

PCN:
Did you see many men punished? There was Field Punishment Number One wasn’t there?

AAN:
Oh yes, you seen tons of that. [When] you was going on a place, you was moving, you’d see a barracks or something like a shelter and there’d be a poster on there: “The following people were shot at dawn today…” You know it was posted up outside these places where they’d been done. I didn’t see any cowardice but I saw the notices where they’d been shot and the names. I don’t think they ever sent home and said they were shot. I think they said they were killed in battle. They never did that, they never told the truth.

PCN:
Because men were tied to wagon wheels as well weren’t they? Field Punishment Number One.

AAN:
I don’t know. I never saw any but I’ve read of cases. You had to do it, you’d have set everybody alight and frightened the others wouldn’t you? I never saw any cowardice but I’ve seen people shell-shocked when I was in hospital. They lose all sense of people. His sweetheart used to come up and his parents, and he didn’t know them. I’ve seen them absolutely gone.

PCN:
Was that when you got back home and went into hospital?

AAN:
Yes, I come back, I was a stretcher case. I think I went to Nottingham.

PCN:
What year was that, was that 1916?

AAN:
Or 17, it must have been getting towards the end.

PCN:
What, after Passchendaele?

AAN:
Oh, it was after Passchendaele.

PCN:
Because you went to the Beds after Passchendaele didn’t you?

AAN:
Yes. What we used to talk about in the trenches was food: “How’d you like a steak pudding now?”, you know, “All that gravy…” Cor!

PCN:
You used to have the food parcels come up didn’t you?

AAN:
I never had a food parcel in my life. My sisters had plenty of money but I don’t think they realised what it was like.

When I first went to France we was in this place and it was near a farmhouse. The chickens were there roosting and if a chicken was laying, one of the girls or one of the youngsters would stand by it till it had laid the egg because the troops would have pinched it you see. When you came out of the trenches, if you got near the old farmhouse about five mile behind the line, you could get egg and chips. That was a good buy. The chickens laid the eggs and they could grow the potatoes. You couldn’t buy any meat or anything like that.

PCN:
And there used to be white wine in the cafes.

AAN:
Yes, but I wasn’t interested in wine in those days and I didn’t smoke.

We came out of the line one day and they said, “Right, we’re going to do some shooting now, practice shooting.” Well to my amazement I was the crack shot of the regiment. I put six bullets in the same hole, sort of thing, so I was made into a sniper. This meant of a night time, creeping out just before it got dark and going over the barbed wire. Sometimes it was only a hundred yards away from the Germans. There was three of us: a sergeant, me and another fella and we used to crawl and pick ‘em off. You’d see their hats, their tin hats, and you knew if you got a bullseye because their hats flew off; their helmets rather. We used to fire a few and then get in quick ‘cause once you killed anybody out there they’d be after you pretty sharp. They couldn’t come after you but they could throw the bombs.

That’s another thing we used to do when we were in the trenches. When we came out of the line we didn’t have a rest. Of a night time we used to pick up and carry shells up to the front; not to the front line but the front. The transport couldn’t get up the line, the transport could only get three or four miles behind. You had to go up and meet the transport and they had pack ponies in those days. They used to do a lot of the carrying. They had motors but most of them were done by mules. They used to tie the ammunition on either side and you had to go up there and take it off and carry it up to where it was wanted.

The artillery were behind and my brother Wally, Walter, was with the Garrison Artillery - heavy artillery - and they were behind farther still and that weren’t so bad.

PCN:
Did you meet any of your brothers out there?

AAN:
No, but two of them did meet. That was Jack who was killed and your grandfather [Walter] but I never met any of them.

AAN:
I was wounded in the neck during our last advance… final assault. We could see them coming over and I could hear a machine gun on my side: rattle, rattle and I felt this whack. It was like someone hitting me with a sledgehammer, a terrific bang. It wasn’t big, it was only a bullet, but the force… You’d have thought it would just touch you and you wouldn’t feel it but I felt it. There was a fella next to me who’d got one in the neck and every time his heart beat the blood was pumping out. I couldn’t do anything for him.

I [went] down the line and the first thing I saw was a bloke with his leg off. It was all torn off, ripped off, all the bare flesh like, all jagged. He was laying on his stomach and he just turned around. When he heard my footsteps he just turned around and looked, he could hear someone coming. I couldn’t do anything for him. That was the sort of thing you had to put up with. First thing I saw when I got to France I mean was a pair of legs. Putties up to here, just the legs. You had to get used to it and didn’t take any notice.

I saw several lots being buried. They used to bury them out in the fields. They put a blanket round them and just buried them, no service or anything. It was nowhere near war graves or anything like that. You took no notice of it because you saw so much of it. I mean, you’d be in a trench and if they dropped a shell sometimes you’d find half a body or a leg or a foot sticking out, or arm. There was a cook and he used to go round the dead bodies and pull their mouths open to see if they’d got any gold teeth. Horrible weren’t it? Just shows you how callous you can get, and he was a cook! I’ve turned the bodies over to see what they’ve got on them to eat. Mind you, you were out in the open and you were really hungry, and being young, you know…

You only carried biscuits about and I sent one of the biscuits home once when I was in England. They were so hard. I put a stamp on it and it got home.

PCN:
After you were wounded did you then go back to England again?

AAN:
I went to England because I was a stretcher case again. When I got to the First Aid Post mind you, there was a queue just like a queue at a food shop, you know lining up for bread or something. Some of them were dropping down because they’d got bad wounds and were bleeding badly but you had to [get] in the queue to get dressed. Out in the open there wasn’t no hospital or anything but I didn’t trouble about this, it wasn’t bleeding too much. I might have it still in my body, I don’t know, they never x-rayed me. Must have been a bullet but it was a terrific whack.

PCN:
How long did you spend in England?

AAN:
Only a matter of a few weeks, two or three weeks that’s all, then I went back again.

PCN:
What rank were you at this stage?

AAN:
I was corporal I think and I went back again as Sergeant Instructor.

PCN:
So when were you made up into corporal, was that about 1917?

AAN:
Something like that I suppose it was.

PCN:
I suppose that was because you were more experienced.

AAN:
Oh yes, I knew all the tricks of the trade, well I’d had five years of it.

PCN:
Did you ever play Crown & Anchor?

AAN:
No, but going over on the boat we played Housey Housey. Course, we had five pounds mind you, you got five gold sovereigns when you were called up. It was alright when you was in England, you didn’t want for anything much. I know I used to buy dates for three ha’pence a pound.

When I got back I was training and bringing up the youngsters then. The war was finished and we were part of the Army of Occupation. The [German] factories were being dismantled and we were on guard there. I was marching the troops through a factory once in Germany and felt this pulling on me. I thought, well what’s that, and it was a crane with a magnet attached which was picking up the shell cases. It was actually pulling me, I could feel it.

PCN:
You were saying you went to hospital with your knee, was that another time?

AAN:
That was in England, I didn’t go to France with that.

Anne:
The Armistice was in November 1918, did you stay out there quite a time after that into 1919?

AAN:
Oh yes, quite a time, I don’t know when the Peace was signed.

PCN:
… Passchendaele then. You had about 300 men left out of the battalion and so then you went to another regiment.

AAN:
That’s right, Bedfordshire, can’t remember what number it was. On my medals though, it’s got my name on it as Private in the Essex Regiment whereas I was a Sergeant Instructor.

PCN:
Did you go with the Bedfordshires right from 1917 until the end then or did you go back to the Essex?

AAN:
No, it was after the war was finished when I went back again. I was bringing up young officers. They had to be taught, same as the Army, and I used to shout at them just the same as the troops. In Germany it was a crime to talk to the people. If you were caught, the police would be after you although we used to talk to the girls. But if there were any police about you’d be for it.

They used to call you out in the middle of the night. You’d be back in your billets, wherever you were, and about two o’clock in the morning the alarm went and you’d got to get up and dress in the full marching order. Then you’d go for a march of about two miles and then back again. There was no rest; it was in case of an emergency should the war start again. But in Germany it was a fine life. I was a sergeant and I was waited on in the Sergeants’ Mess and had two batmen to make my bed and polish my buttons if I wanted them.

PCN:
Do you remember where it was in Germany?

AAN:
Bonn. There was sport in the morning and education. I used to take classes although an officer was supposed to. He asked me to take over though and I had six of them who couldn’t read or write: youngsters, eighteen years of age. I used to march them up and down and curse them. I said, you want to be taught English before you learn German.

PCN:
Did you ever shout out to the Germans when you were in the trenches?

AAN:
No, that was in the beginning in 1914. Never took the chance to stand up and call them either [laughs].

PCN:
Mind you, you could hear them couldn’t you?

AAN:
Hear them, yes. Couldn’t understand what they were saying, specially when you were in a sap, little bits jutting out, getting nearer, little bit nearer. The worst time was when I was on a patrol. That was near the end too because they sensed the Germans were going to get desperate and I was sent out on a patrol. That means going out when it’s dark, go out along the trench for about a mile. “Patrol going out”, password is so and so so they didn’t shoot you because otherwise you could have been coming back again and they’d get frightened and panicky and bang! So we crawled out and took two Mills bombs. We didn’t have a rifle because you can’t crawl with it. All you’d got was Mills bombs, one in each pocket, all ready to throw. You crawled and you crawled on all fours and it was a bit weird because sometimes you came across a body and didn’t know if he was alive or dead. You’re between the two lines then. You go through your own wires and there’s only a hundred yards between the two wires. You had to watch to see if there were any signs of the wire being cut because if they were going to come at you they’d cut the wire. Of course, the barbed wire was all along and it was thick. You couldn’t just shove over it, it was too wide and high and it was only put out there when it was dark.

Anyway, we gets between the wires and we’re creeping along - about three or four yards from each other, looking and listening - when they must have spotted us. A fella who’d only been out about a month got up to run and get to another hole and of course, he got shot. He was killed. That left us two and we got in a scamper because we didn’t know which was our line and which was the other line. There’s not a pure white line I mean the trouble is, which way are we going? This fella said, this way but I was right close to the wire and I could see it had a big sprong. Ours was a shorter wire so I thought, I’m near the German wire. The other chap would have gone in the German lines but I remembered that their wire had bigger prongs. The Germans was big prongs, ours was shorter. Anyway, I was right. Anyway, we got back and said so and so’s out there, so they sent out another patrol to fetch him in. We didn’t know where he was. We heard the machine guns going on him but while you were lying down, often in a shell-hole, you couldn’t move because they’d have seen you move. They fired lights up, verey lights; fired them like a pistol and it lights the sky for a little while so you can see, and we daren’t move because that would have given the game away, and there’s bullets flying around you. Eventually we got in anyway. It was only a couple of days after that that the war started to finish. Our people must have known because patrols went out every night. You’d have a raid and get some prisoners just to see what they’re like and the condition of them. Are they young, are they old, are they well fed?

PCN:
Did you go on many raids? [second time I asked this question! - PCN]

AAN:
Only about three or four. We used to black ourselves up but we was black already, it was a thing you got so used to. Sometimes you’d get downhearted but it was something you got used to. It was worse when you came out of the line. You had to dig trenches in the dark and they’d give you so much to dig an’ all. There was no larking about either. You had to dig a six foot trench in about four or five hours. You’d got the front line, the reserve line and another line behind that, all depends what they’re like. You never had a rest.

We had a rum ration and that used to save your life. After you’d been out all night, your hands would be blue and your rifle covered in frost. Then the rum used to come round and you’d be able to move again. Of course, some of them wouldn’t take it. Several died because they had too much rum and lay down and froze to death. You couldn’t give it to nobody else but if a fella didn’t drink, he’d give it to his mates. It was raw stuff, no dilution about it. The officer or sergeant used to come round with it in the morning before it got light and dish it up straight from the jar.

You imagine it out in that frost. Sometimes there’d be a week of rain and all you ‘d have was a rubber sheet to keep you dry. There wasn’t any dug-outs in the front line. Sometimes they used to light a fire down these dug-outs and the smoke used to choke you nearly. Mind you, some of the weather was bad; ’16[/17] was bad. We had to dig trenches in that and our pick axes would fly up because they couldn’t get into the ground; it was too hard.

I know I was going round with an officer in the trenches on a tour of them to see what they were like and a fella slipped into the water. I’ve never heard so much foul language in all my life. I think he knew every swear word there was and he let rip too. I said, are you done? Because the officer was there. He stepped to one side to let us walk by because there’s not much room on a duck-board. Under these duck-boards was about two foot of water and in the latter part of the war you had to put whale oil on. They thought it was more important about the whale oil than it was about any food. Clean socks used to come up from the transport and we were supposed to rub this whale oil into each others’ feet. It was a crime if you got trench feet but this stuff smelt terrible. I don’t think I did it ‘bout more than twice.

PCN:
Did you have the waders?

AAN:
No, never had any waders.

PCN:
Did you come up against any gas attacks?

AAN:
No. In the trenches you used to have a shell case hanging up and you hit it in case of any gas attack but we never had any. We had the masks on several times but in those days they weren’t like you’ve got today. They used to call them P helmets. It was only a bit of rag with a little rubber tube on it. You used to twist it round and stick it down your neck but it wasn’t a proper gas mask. It smelt of carbolic and they used to make you play football in them. You couldn’t breathe in them and you couldn’t fight in them really either because you couldn’t see properly.

When they started with this mustard gas they had a dug-out in the training areas to test the troops and prepare them for an attack. They take you down there and put your gas mask on and then switch this gas on just to show you what it was like.

Then they had tear gas which blinded you. It wasn’t poisonous, you couldn’t open your eyes. They used to take us down in there and then make you take your gas mask off. It didn’t hurt the eyes but you couldn’t open them. It was shocking stuff.

PCN:
Wasn’t that the one that smelt like pear drops?

AAN:
Yes, something like that. But I’m sure a lot of the chaps put a bullet through themselves. I know this fella did who I knew and he was a nice chap. We was on rest and we were going up the line to dig; generally there was always someone got shot because we were close to the front line. He said to me, if anything happens to me tonight you can have what’s in my kit. He never came back and I’m pretty sure he shot himself though I didn’t say so at the time.

PCN:
You said a shell landed near you didn’t you, a dud.

AAN:
Oh that was a good one that was. I was all alone in the trench and the shells were going over. You didn’t bother unless you heard them coming, whizzing near your ear and then you ducked automatically. I heard a thud and thought, blow me. About a foot away and about stomach height a shell had landed and stuck in the trench wall next to me. It never went off.

They reckoned on three tons of shells to kill one man. That was reckoned the number of shells, the waste of shells was thrown over during that war was three ton of shells to kill a man. I mean, a lot of them were killed by bullets, but it took that much. Of course, if you go over the top there’s shells all over the place.

PCN:
What’s it like advancing under all that then?

AAN:
Well, you’d have a creeping barrage where they’re gradually moving forward all the time so that you’re being protected providing they’ve got the range properly.

PCN:
You had quite a lot of equipment to carry as well didn’t you? Quite heavy wasn’t it?

AAN:
Full marching order was 120 pounds. That included about 100 rounds of ammunition. That wasn’t battle order. If you were having a raid they’d take off your identity discs because they said what regiment you were and what number. If you were in a raid you had to take them off. You mustn’t have anything on you in case the Germans caught you.

I was on a demonstration out there with all the big heads. I spoke to Robertson who was one of the chief Generals there. We was on parade once and he come up and spoke to me. Sometimes you’d have the big Generals come up and inspect you when you were behind the lines. Robertson was second in command of the whole lot. Being a sergeant I was in front of the others but I can’t remember what he said.

On another occasion I had a lot of Generals come up. The trouble was getting stuff into the trenches you see and they had a big square arrangement which you put the stuff on and could carry half a ton on your back. You had a stick to walk with. It was like a big square with hooks on it to hook petrol, bombs and what have you. It was supposed to be good enough for half a ton and you had a stick because you had to lean forward a little. But they never used them, you couldn’t hardly move. I gave the demonstration. They loaded me up but you couldn’t manage with it because in the trench you could only walk sideways with that on.

Well then they brought out soup[1] in like vacuum flasks with screw lids. It was Simonson’s soup; it was only water, like pea soup. You walked round the trench with these flasks on your back and I got fed up of keep screwing and unscrewing the lid. You had to walk a long way when you were seeing to a battalion. Well, I got fed up with these big screws, it didn’t half weigh something, whacking great cannister on the back of you. I thought, well I’ll just put the lid on there, and I wandered round dishing out this hot soup. All of a sudden a shell come over, wheeeeeeeee eeeup! Of course, I ducked and the soup went all over me. Half the soup went over me and I’d got to feed them with it. I was giving them a little tiny drop, a spoonful, “What do you call this?” with a few fine words in it, “What’s that?” I was all sticky down my neck with this Simonson’s soup. Well, naturally you ducked when you heard a shell but I shall never forget that. I only did it once. When they asked me why I was only dishing up a couple of spoonfuls I said, well you can have a lick of my shoulder. It was a funny thing.

[1] From, The War The Infantry New by Captain J C Dunn, Page 176

“Another innovation about this time [January 1916] was soup for issue during the night, sent up in thermos containers. It suited the New Armies but the Old Soldiers and the Drafts who adopted their ways denounced it blasphemously. The Old Soldier liked to cook and eat what he saved of his ration in his own way and time; he resented the diversion of any of it to this communal cooking, and he feared that broth might be substituted for rum; besides, to fetch it was another fatigue. (Soup was not issued during the next two winters.)