Monthly Archives: July 2016

7 July 1916; Friday

July 1916, , , ,

Called out of bed at 7 o’clock and told that we should have been on parade at 7. Hurried up, packed our kits†, and grabbed breakfast as best we could – biscuits and tea. Marched up to château1 where we found * bother†. Some very heavy bombardment going on most of the while. * * *. Sat in the ruined château in ruins. Marched up the line. Got lost as usual and squads were hopelessly mixed up. I kept with Paddy Graham and we carried a case along with some regimental bearers. I assisted a man who was suffering from shell shock. Returned and carried a man, he died as I was carrying him. Had violent convulsions, tried to vomit, and then died. Beautiful sunset. Night worse than in nightmare. Rained heavily later. Troops passing up trench made stretcher †pair miss†. Sat down steps on dug out until done. Wet through, cramped and too crowded <to> sleep. Horrible night. Nearly * dead in trench * *.

  1. “Château” and “the ruined château”: very probably Fricourt Château (approximate location shown on map), just north of the village, known to have been ruined by shelling. ↩

6 July 1916; Thursday

1976

This is an extract from Arthur Linfoot’s own transcription of his diary, written in 1976.

Moved off at dawn to village just captured by infantry. Red brick dust told of houses once being there. Several German dead lying around. Picked up wounded at a dugout. Coming back had to re-cross the old open space between the lines and a German field gun was shelling the only place where we could get across our old trench system – frequently but regularly. Each squad in turn crouched with the stretcher on their shoulders and as soon as the expected shell burst and the splinters stopped buzzing, ran across the space. Some close shaves but all made it. Quite thrilling. Back to Albert for a rest and slept in the estaminet with the red tiled floor.

6 July 1916; Thursday

July 1916,

[At top of page (pencil very faint) – ] A lot of dead bodies lying about and it was ghastly. Sat in the [continues below date-line – ] mud in our dug out all night. Very cold and legs horribly wet. [Pencil continues very faint; much of the following is surmise constructed around words which can be fairly safely deciphered, aided by ALL’s own free transcription.] Fell in about 7 in the morning and moved across to the village which the men had taken1. Passed more dead and some Germans. Saw a man lying on a heap of dead with the back of his head smashed in and dying. We were shelled on the open road on the way and returning. The squad in front of us had a very narrow escape. We had to forage ourselves for tea and my share was nearly† straight through. Very grateful when we arrived at dressing station. Returned to Albert. Had baths in a bucket. Returned to old billet in the wine shop. Went to bed after tea and after writing home. Heard that both the 57 and 592 had suffered† the loss of one† killed and * *3 injured.

  1. “The village which the men had taken”: possibly La Boisselle. ↩

  2. “57 and 59”: these may have been Field Ambulances; there is a reference on 8 July to “the 59th [what I read as] bearers”. ↩

  3. The shorthand appears to say “ninety four”, but is now too faded to be sure. Ninety four seems too high. ↩

5 July 1916; Wednesday

1976

This is an extract from Arthur Linfoot’s own transcription of his diary, written in 1976.

Up at 7 a.m. Paraded at 9.15. Marched back to trenches about 12. Reached aid post about 2.30. Shelled. Waited a short time then sent down with walking case to advanced dressing station. Had drink of tea. Very heavy shelling by both sides. Turned out bright and fine. Trenches in fearful condition. Wet to the skin wading up and down. More bodies about than last time I was here and smelling badly. Bearer in a squad in front of us lost his nerve, but recovered in a few minutes. Felt remarkably fit and cheerful. Had to wade waist deep in one stretch of trench. Left stretcher at aid post and was sent down with about a dozen walking wounded. Lent one of them my tin hat. He had lost his. Wet to the waist. Took off puttees and boots and tried to scrape off thick mud. Back to aid post again where we resumed carrying until about midnight. Ordered forward again and led over old No Man’s Land where the first attack had been made. Heaps of dead like sheaves of corn at harvest time and smelling pretty bad in the dark. Ordered to lie down until daybreak.

5 July 1916; Wednesday

July 1916, ,

Got up 8 o’clock. Breakfast and paraded at 9.15. Marched back to trenches. Went up about 12 o’clock. Arrived about 2.30 after being shelled on the way up. Waited a bit and then came down with a walking case. Had some tea. Very heavy shelling on both sides. Turned out bright and fine. Trenches in fearful condition and I was wet through all the way in wading up and down again. Scraped off clay but horribly wet. More bodies in the trench than last time I was up and a bad smell. Man in stretcher squad in front of us lost his nerve for a few minutes but recovered again all right. I felt ever so fit and quite happy. Arrived at dressing station. Was sent back with some walking cases. Got up to the waist in watery mud and took off boots and scraped trousers after getting to the dressing station. Squads formed up again at night and returned about midnight. Went across the open. Had to fall flat several times on account of Germans’ star shells and snipers and * * * [too faint to read].

4 July 1916; Tuesday

1976

This is an extract from Arthur Linfoot’s own transcription of his diary, written in 1976.

Marched off at about 2 o’clock and back to Albert. First went to main dressing station and then taken to lie down by a wall on the ground. Paddy Graham and I lay together and shared a ground sheet. Took nothing off – not even boots – too tired. Immediately commenced to rain heavily. Wet through. Capt. Johnson came and took us to a stable full of vehicles which had not been in use from the start of the war. Everything filthy. I found a two wheeled trap leaning forward on its shafts and sat on the seat with my legs out in front. Went to sleep for hours. Woke up stiff and filthy with cobwebs. Had good feed of biscuits. Sent field postcard home. Received parcel with cakes in it. Rained heavily. Lot of men had German helmets. A rat ran up my shirt sleeve as I leaned out of barn window writing up diary. Wash and shave; first since Friday. Heard that 10,000 walking cases and 1,000 stretcher cases had been treated by our main dressing station in Albert. Went to sleep in badly damaged estaminet on red tiled floor. One man slept on billiard table and said cloth made it softer.

4 July 1916; Tuesday

July 1916,

Marched off about 2 o’clock. Back to Albert. Received tea at our hospital and then were taken to lie down by wall. Paddy Graham and I went together. It started to rain heavily. We got very wet. Captain Johnson came for us and took us to an old stable. I found a cab and lay curled up in it all night. Trousers wet and ground sheet soaked through. Just took off puttees and boots. Had good feeds of biscuits. Sent field postcard home. Received parcel with some cakes in. Rained heavily most of the day. A lot of men had German helmets. A rat ran up my sleeve as I leaned out of the barn window writing up my diary. Received first wash <and> shave since Friday. Heard that 10 thousand walking and 1 thousand stretcher cases and 80 German cases had been treated at our hospital. Went to bed in a broken down wine shop. Two fellows slept on billiard table. Washed feet in bucket. Slept well. Got *.

3 July 1916; Monday

1976

This is an extract from Arthur Linfoot’s own transcription of his diary, written in 1976.

Led by Sgt. Brown. A heap of 8 or 10 bodies lay like sardines in a sap next to the dugout door. Our squad got last man from the dugout. A man on heap of dead with piece out of his skull still alive, so next squad brought him down to dressing station. Went back from dressing station with Sgt. Brown. Lot of wounded. Stretcher squad had been blown to pieces in trench. We walked over mutilated bodies, with the stretcher. Man with genitals blown off. Infantry still advancing. Heavy fighting and gunfire in front. Heard that Sgt. More and two privates had gone down with shell shock. Dead beginning to smell badly. Got orders to return to dressing station. Saw a man on a stretcher who had gone insane. Saw a German . . . . . . . (cannot read) Joined Bill Jolly (Welsh boxer) and two B section men and went up to aid post. Very heavy shelling just in front and Jolly and one man lost nerve. Persuaded them to go on. Found N.F. sgt. with big wound in thigh who had been in a funk hole since first attack. Brought him down. Trench blown in just in front of us. Sheltered in small sap until shelling eased off. Had drink of tea. Fell in again and went up with Sgt. Brown. About 70 squads ( ? bearers surely ? ) . Lot of wounded. Water in trench. A sap full of water with several dead in it. Water pink. One of our snipers near me had his right thumb blown off by a German sniper. “He saw me first”. he said. Dressed his thumb with my 1st field dressing.

3 July 1916; Monday

July 1916, ,

I fell in with Jolly and other two. Got lost in trench again. Were shelled and had some very near escapes. Jolly and another chap wanted to go back and dump the stretcher. The other men and I won. Found a N.F.1 in a dugout, been there since first charge. Brought him down. Parapet blown in a few yards in front. Very narrow escape. Went back to dugout and waited until bombardment ceased. Brought him down safely. Had to drop out. Fell in again and went up with Sergeant Brown. A lot of wounded and about 70 squads helped. Piles of dead men fearfully mutilated in the trench. Had to step over them with the stretcher. Man on our stretcher had privates shot off. Still advancing slowly. Awful heavy bombardment by our guns. Sergeant More and two privates’ nerve broke down. Received orders to return. Waited until nearly midnight. Lying on the side of the road †commenced first aid for a man with a thumb gone† in his hand. Saw some German prisoners [continued at top of 4 July page – ] Used part of field dressing to bandage man’s hand, injured with explosive dart. Too many things to note.

  1. “N.F.”: Northumberland Fusiliers; the 4 battalions of the Tyneside Irish formed the 102nd Brigade, and the 4 battalions of the Tyneside Scottish formed the 103rd Brigade; these, with the 101st Brigade, formed the 34th Division. The 102nd Brigade was the body specifically designated to capture La Boisselle (see 1 July.) The 102nd and 103rd Brigades sustained higher casualties than any other brigade in the first assault. ↩

2 July 1916; Sunday

1976

This is an extract from Arthur Linfoot’s own transcription of his diary, written in 1976.

Left the road for a communication trench. Left our skeleton equipment at an aid post and were given two shell dressings each. Moved up the trench in single file led by the guide. Trench full of men: reinforcements, carriers of ammunition, rations, and water. Others coming down. Progress desperately slow. Guide lost his way three times and we had to move back. Machine gun and sniper fire and just about dawn we crossed No Man’s Land and entered a trench just captured where one of our regimental M.Os. was attending men in a dugout. We were given a man with a compound fracture of left tibia. Germans now shelling our front line heavily and we had to wait until they eased off. Trench a sea of mud here. Most difficult to get loaded stretcher down trench, especially round traverses. Took ages. Were nearly down when regimental stretcher bearer followed us and asked us to go back with him. Found several wounded unable to walk and carried them back to aid post. (No idea of time: now dark again.) Gas alarm and we had to wear masks. Lay down for a rest. Very heavy bombardment and heavy fighting in front. (some lead pencil marks too faint to read.) Sgt. Brown took several squads of bearers and led us out of front line trench on to open ground. Green flares going up all round. Crawled close to ground with machine gun bullets just overhead. Troops in trench (9th Welsh I believe) ready to go over at dawn. Noise, confusion and darkness. Led to a waterlogged empty trench and waited there until dawn in a few inches of water. At dawn collected stretcher cases at a German dugout just captured.