'A pretty sight, all the trees glistening white'

An embroidered card sent from France

A letter-writer who pops up frequently in my book is an unassuming soldier from Bristol called Tom Fake. He served on the Western Front (and survived) for two years and wrote regularly to his wife in a style that was plain and simple - he told it as it was. His letters have been beautifully kept by his family and below is a rather poignant one to his wife and young son written at Christmas 1917. It begins with some disappointing news...

Friday, 21st December 1917

'Well my dear I am not in the running for a leave this Christmas, just missed it, but I shall be in the next lot and that will probably be next week, so when you answer this letter, you need not write again till after I have been home.

'Well my dear, it won't be so bad if I am home for the new year will it? All the same I should liked to have been home for Christmas. I hope you will have a pleasant time, but I know it is no good to wish you a merry Christmas, make the best of it won't you, and all being well I shall be home to cheer you up for the new year.'

He goes on to describe the crisp weather they've been having in France, and explains plans for some early festive celebrations because his unit will be back in the trenches on Christmas Day.

'We have had some very hard weather ever since I wrote you last, it must be cruel for the men up the line, but where we are to it's is a pretty sight, all the trees are glistening white or at least it has been up to this evening, but since dark it has started thawing. We are keeping up Christmas Day on Sunday (as we are going up the line again) and I think we shall have a fine time by what I can hear.

'I had a small parcel from the Dowsetts a few days ago, it consisted of a handkerchief khaki colour, and an ounce of tobacco, very good of them wasn't it.'

A HAPPY AND PEACEFUL CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL

'Every day the garrison became weaker'

Kut-al-Amarah in ruins at the end of the siege

Mesopotamia might not rank as one of the best-known campaigns of the First World War, but the stories and letters to emerge from it are every bit as gripping as those from the Western Front or Gallipoli.

I've been lucky enough to discover for use in my book a vivid account of the siege of Kut-al-Amarah, on the River Tigirs, which began on December 7th 1915 when the Turkish Army besieged soldiers of the 6th Indian Division.
 
It lasted five months, during which those inside held out in freezing temperatures and heavy rain against infantry assault, sniper fire, shelling and bombing. Hundreds died of wounds and disease and food quickly began to run short - especially as 6,000 Arabs who lived in the town also needed to be fed. The division's livestock was gradually slaughtered, but hunger was still rife among Indian soldiers whose beliefs stopped them eating horsemeat.

Three attempts were made to relieve Kut but they all failed and at the end of April 1916, on the brink of starvation, the men surrendered and were taken prisoner.

Besieged: Capt Sandes

Among those trapped in Kut was Captain Edward Sandes, a Royal Engineer who wrote a long, journal-style letter which he hoped to send to his mother but was never able to. Extracts from this letter will be used in my book. After the war, Sandes wrote a personal memoir which included a description of his time in Kut, and below is an extract which shows how food came to dominate the men's waking hours.

'Every day, as rations were gradually reduced, the garrison became weaker and less able to take the field. We were now getting only twelve ounces of bread instead of a pound, no vegetables or sugar, two ounces of jam or one ounce of butter, and half an ounce of tea. On the other hand, we received one and a quarter pounds of horseflesh instead of a pound of beef or mutton. Now that the weather was gettiing warmer I found horseflesh more repulsive than before and could never eat the whole of my ration.

'Three camels, the only ones in Kut, were slaughtered one day, and as my 23 men [Indians] still refused to eat horseflesh I indented for camel meat and received 29 pounds as their ration. They roasted it in the couryard below my room and had a great feast; but the smell nearly made me sick and I had to refuse some tit-bits they generously offered me.

'Only the coarsest type of tobcco could now be bought from the Supply and Transport Corps. European cigarettes had vanished, so cigarette smokers bought the Arab variety from a few small shops still open in the bazaar. This consisted of a narrow paper bag filled with tobacco dust and was provided with a tube as a mouthpiece. It was a dangerous contraption and unpleasant to smoke. Burning tobacco dust fell onto one's tunic, and the acrid taste made one's throat sore. Even before the price became prohibitive, I smoked very few.'

Captain Sandes went on to become a well-respected writer of military history and his excellent book 'In Kut and Captivity' can still be found in secondhand bookshops.

The boy soldiers who served at the Front

Photo of a  young German soldier
(Copyright: John Sherwood)

IT'S WELL known that many recruiting officers during the First World War were happy to turn a blind eye to volunteers who were under-age. 'Why don't you go for a walk round the block and come back a couple of years older, sonny?' they would say.

The legal age at which British men could enlist was 18, and they could serve abroad once they were 19. However, large numbers slipped under the net. My own great-uncle enlisted in Bristol at the age of 17, was serving in France with the Somerset Light Infantry at 18, and shortly after his 19th birthday was killed in the Battle of the Somme. His body was never found.

It was no different on the other side - if anything the German soldiers often seemed even younger. Take a look at the photograph above that was picked up on No Man's Land by Yorkshire artilleryman Arthur Youell and kept as a souvenir of war. The German lad pictured looks as if he should still be at school and is reminiscent of the opening scenes of All Quiet on the Western Front, in which a fiercely patriotic German school teacher urges his class of boys to join the army and fight for the fatherland, which they do.

At 22, Corporal Youell was rather older when he enlisted and happily he survived the war. His family kept the letters, photos and other memorabilia he sent home from the Front and the collection has recently been lent to me by Youell's nephew. It has proved absolutely fascinating.



Tractor pulling a siege Howitzer

One of the most interesting items is Youell's field notebook in which he recorded, among other things, details of targets and ranges he used while serving with the 126th Siege Battery of the Royal Garrison Artillery.


Siege units were equipped with enormous 15-ton howitzers which were used to bombard the enemy with high-explosive shells in high-trajectory, plunging fire, and were so heavy they needed caterpillar-tracked vehicles to move them. Youell wrote: 'We get into queer places with our old gun especially when we are moving, we have been stuck many a time...they take some moving on bad ground.'

While serving in France between 1916 and 1918, Youell wrote regularly to his mother and letters like this one in June 1917 reveal that there was rarely much time for rest:

'I have been in some rough places but I've managed to get out alright so far, so we must pray for God to keep me out of harm's way in the future. I saw nearly all the fighting on the Somme offensives, then the battle of Arras when we took "Vimy Ridge" [in April 1917]. You will see from the papers at home that we are givng the Germans a shock in another place.'

This was at Hill 60, a strategically important area of high ground which the Allies blew up using underground mines at the beginning of the Battle of Messines in June 1917. 'I shall never forget the night Hill 60 was blown up,' wrote Youell. 'I had gone to bed, the ground rocked and trembled. I though I was in a cradle then our artillery opened with a roar. It must have been awfull [sic] in the German lines they would be a mass of bursting shell.'

You can read more of Corporal Youell's experiences in my book 'Letters From The Trenches' which is due out at the end of 2014.

 

Keeping romance alive with a rhyme

 

MANY romances fell by the wayside when men enlisted for war, but Nellie Jones was determined to keep hers going when her sweetheart Harry Poole, right, joined the Army Veterinary Corps.

 

Nellie sent him picture postcards which came with rhyming messages that were lighthearted - but still serious enough to get the point across.

 

'It seems a thousand years ago, the day you went away. I'm lonesome and I'd like to know, how long you're going to stay,' was the message on one of the first cards she sent Harry in March 1916 when he was stationed at the Army Veterinary Hospital at Round Green, Luton.

 

The following month another followed in similar vein: 'I'm truly glad that you have had this chance to be a rover. A trip is nice, but I'll be twice as glad when it's over.'

 

Harry's work involved looking after army horses and he was moved to bases all over southern England including Pitt Corner Camp at Winchester, the veterinary hospital at Bulford, Wiltshire, and the Remount Depot at Shirehampton, near Bristol. This is where 'war horses' that were shipped to Avonmouth from abroad recovered before being put to work.

 

As the months passed by Nellie appears to have grown used to separation although she still sent Harry the odd nudge if letters became infrequent: 'Here's a picture of a penny I will very gladly lend, if you'll promise to invest it in a postcard for your friend.'

 

And by the end of 1916 it was Nellie who was doing the apologising:'Oh, what's the use of an excuse, to send along to you! I owe a letter, I should do better, and send it when it's due!'

Harry remained at Shirehampton until demobilisation in1919 and then went to work in Staffordshire as a gamekeeper for Sir Geoffrey Congreve. He and Nellie were finally married in 1923.

CAN YOU HELP?

The postcards have been passed down to the couple's grandaughter, Helen Frost, who also has some lovely informal photographs of Harry's friends in the Army Veterinary Corps, like the picture on the left.

However, she is puzzled by one piece of information which has recently come to light, that at some point in his career Harry was invalided out of  'the Blues' (the Royal Horse Guards) under a 'Sergeant Norman'. It's a shot in the dark, but if anyone knows how Helen could shed more light on Harry Poole's service in the Guards, do contact me at jacwadsworth@hotmail.com and I'll put you in touch.

A taste of things to come in my book ...

This month you can take a sneak preview of my book 'Letters from the Trenches' in the latest issue of Discover Your History magazine.

Among the articles is one in which I examine some of the themes most often found in letters written home by First World War soldiers - and surprisingly, perhaps, they're rather mundane.

The weather, the post and toothache were among the most common talking points, which just goes to show that for much of the time Tommies weren't living lives that could be described as exciting. On the contrary, they were often tedious, boring, dirty and cold, with few of the comforts we take for granted

Discover Your History is a new magazine - this is only the second edition - which is packed with fascinating features and colourful illustrations which will inspire anyone with an interest in social history.

This month you can read about the English secretary who became a French Resistance leader in the Second World War, the man who worked as a film set carpenter at the famous London Film Studios in the 1930s, and Henry Poole & Co, the company which founded Savile Row - the bespoke tailor patronised by royalty, statesmen and the aristocracy.

Discover Your History is on sale now, but you'll have to wait a little longer for Letters from the Trenches which will be out next year.

Look out, the Americans are here!

Sky's the limit: an American WW1 airman

The British are famous for their chippy complaint about American servicemen during the Second World War: 'Overpaid, oversexed and over here!' But from what I've seen in my research, the same was true a generation earlier when Americans arrived in Britain during the First World War.

Many passed through on their way to France in 1917 and 1918 and some were stationed in the UK. Among them were airmen of the 822nd (Repair) Squadron who spent two months at a Royal Flying Corps base at Yate, north of Bristol, receiving instruction in aircraft repair.

One of them, Corporal Ned Steel, later wrote a history of the squadron which reveals just how exasperatingly full of themselves the Americans could be. Greeted by cheering crowds on their arrival, he wrote: 'Talk about appreciation! Those Englishmen saw in us the reserve strength of the Allies come to deliver the knockout blow to Fritz.'

During their sea crossing to Liverpool, the Americans had already amused themselves by poking fun at the British, especially the way every second word seemed to be 'bloody'...

'The bloody ship had been in hospital service beween the bloody Dardanelles and England. This was the first bloody voyage as a bloody troop ship,' was how Steel summed up one sergeant's potted history of the ship they were sailing in. 

The food couldn't be taken seriously either: 'My Gosh! fish for breakfast?'

When the airmen boarded their train to Bristol there were more smirks. 'A squad to each compartment on our funnny looking coaches, we started across 'Merry Old England', the dinky little engine quite surprising us with its speed.'

But as the carriages trundled through the countryside, Steel was taken aback what he saw: 'What a beautiful country...green green grasses covering every inch of untilled ground...stone walls...ivyclad farm houses...red-tile roofs...everything clean and tidy...for once even the Californians were mum [silent].'

Once settled in at Yate, the visitors had to get used to the famous British Army disipline - polished boots and buttons, rigid respect for superiors, and the purposeful way all men walked whether they were on or off duty. At drill each morning, the NCO's indecipherable barked instructions caused high amusement. 'The Tommies understood, however, and executed every movement with a snap, and unison was nothing short of perfection,' wrote Steel.

Local girls swarmed around the Americans

There was also reluctant admiration for the British way of working. 'Swinging the lead' (taking it easy) was quite universal in the workshops when the flight sergeants and officers weren't around. When it came to turning out first class products, however, Tommy was there.'

Local girls swarmed around the Americans, who loved the attention - especially when it put the Tommies' noses out of joint. Steel still couldn't resist a sly dig though: 'The girls complimented us on our fine teeth, and we could not return the compliment.'

But however patronising the Americans could be, Steet made it clear that he, at least was aware of their shortcomings. How did the Tommies view a typical Yank? 'As tho' he owned the world' he admitted!

• You can read more about the Americans in Britain during WW1 in both my books: 'Bristol In the Great War' is being published in July 2014, and Letters From The Trenches' is due out at Christmas 2014.

The man whose memories spanned 100 years

Father and daughter: William Cole and Wendy

 

ONE OF the pleasures of research has the been the friendships I've made with people who have shared their letters and stories with me. In particular, William Cole whom I first met one bitterly cold afternoon in January when I visited him at home in St George, Bristol.

 

His daughter Wendy had already shown me the postcards his father had sent him from the Western Front when he was a boy. And that should give a clue as to one of the reasons William was so special. He was 103 years old.

 

Not that you would have known it. His quick mind, excellent memory and ready laugh made him charming and entertaining company. I visited again in the spring and he chatted about what it was like to grow up in in the early 1900s, recalling stories in wonderful detail.

 

Most recently I visited William - better known as 'Sid' to his friends - on July 4th for a wonderful party to celebrate his 104th birthday. Sadly, he died in his sleep a couple of weeks later.

 

I feel privileged that he and I were friends, and as a tribute to his long life and wonderful memory, here is a lovely account of his early working life in the retail trade...

 

***

WILLIAM Sidney Cole grew up in Salisbury and left school at the age of 14. 'I wasn't ambitious, I just took the first job that came along which was as an errand boy for a shop that sold groceries and provisions,' he said. 'My first job in the morning was to go into a little room at the back and put a pot of water on to boil, then I would have to scrub the shop floor and dry it before the customers came in. I remember the floor was tiled black and white.'

 

Can we help? A branch of the Home and Colonial Stores

Later in the day came the grocery deliveries which William made on a tricycle with a box attached to the front, rather like an ice cream seller. One particular trip was five miles. 'It was hard work!' he smiled. Next door was Boots the Chemist, where William's sister Ivy worked, and the pair used to run a mile or so home for sandwiches each day during their half-hour lunch break. Their sister Rosie worked nearby at the Penny Bazaar, which was later bought out by Marks and Spencer.

The business William worked for was the Home and Colonial Stores, one of Britain's earliest retail chains with branches all over the country. 'Everything we sold was produced either at home in Britain or in our countries around the world like Australia and New Zealand.'

At the age of 20 William's loyalty and hard work were rewarded and he was sent to stores around the country as a relief manager or assistant during holidays. One part of the job involved window dressing: 'Every Monday there had to be a new shop window and headquarters in London would tell you exactly what to put on display.' This often involved some rather delicate balancing of tins and packets, and every item had to have a price card.

Those prices still tripped easily off William's tongue: 'Twopence farthing for 1lb of sugar, twopence and three farthings for sugar cubes, 4d for a 1/4 lb of tea, and 7d for best tea.'

• More of William's wonderful memories - and Great War postcards - will be included in my book 'Letters From The Trenches', to be published next year.