All posts by Arthur Linfoot

10 July 1916; Monday

July 1916, ,

Up at 7 o’clock. Spent morning cleaning up. Paraded at 3 o’clock in the afternoon with full pack and had good inspection. The C.O. read letter from General Head Quarters thanking us for our services in the most impossible conditions and also stating that the men appreciated our work. Walked to the next village Y.M. and looked round. Received newspapers from home and read them. Beautiful night. Everything so peaceful away from battlefield. Rather cold.

I lost service cap and sunshade at the trench.

Had sergeant and 6 men in our ambulance down with nerves and shell shock and 2 men slightly wounded. Noticed larks singing above the trenches while the battle was in full swing.

9 July 1916; Sunday

1976

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

When in the Line hurt knee on barbed wire. Now swollen and painful. We moved back to Albert for a rest. Germans shelling the town so taken back to Laviéville. All worn out so taken in ambulances – four kilometres. Good billets in barn. Washed and shaved after few days without either. Parcel from home. Meal of bully beef, biscuits and tea and real butter from parcel. Slept well.

(Diary written up when out resting. Some incidents remembered years later, omitted.)1

  1. This footnote by ALL probably refers not just to this day’s entry but to most prior entries too. ↩

9 July 1916; Sunday

July 1916, , ,

Lay down on stretcher to sleep as Germans were putting Jack Johnsons1 into the wood a few hundred yards away and we were in easy range. They were trying for the batteries behind us. Hurt knee on barbed wire on the night before and it was very painful. Marched down to Albert. Germans commenced to shell the town again. Were all done up, and were taken back to Laviéville by our motors. Got decent billet in a barn. Scraped clothing and cleaned up generally. Had a bathe and shave. First wash for 3 days. Plenty of tea. Bully again. Bread ration served out and I used some fresh butter received from home. Turned in early and slept well. Notes on front. Most horrible sight – men dying on top of dead. Coolness of some soldiers. Two soldiers trembling with fear who were to go over the top last Sunday morning. Our aeroplanes complete mastery of the air. German artillery not to be compared with ours.

  1. Jack Johnsons: German 150 mm heavy artillery shells, which burst with characteristic black smoke. After the boxer Jack Johnson (1878-1946), the first black American world heavyweight champion (1908-1915). ↩

8 July 1916; Saturday

1976

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

Moving again at dawn. Helped a 59th F.A. man to carry a case to the dressing station. Coming back met Capt. Johnson who told me to rest, to lie down. Everywhere covered with watery mud. Found some of our men in dugout eating biscuits and drinking tea. Had some. Got another case and carried it down with the usual struggle to get past men coming up, and everybody weary and bad tempered. More biscuits jam and tea at about 5 o’clock. Felt faint and utterly. Everybody tired out. Sketchy meal revived me. Shoulders back and feet aching with carrying heavy men. Back to headquarters. Capt. Johnson thanked us for work done under appalling conditions and asked for volunteers to bring in a few more before we lay down. (Now quite dark) About halfway across old No Man’s Land Germans laid down a box barrage. A few men in front hit and the leading officer decided it was not worth the risk so we returned empty handed. I slept in a trench. Germans dropping Jack Johnsons1 in a wood just behind us to knock out some guns there.

  1. Jack Johnsons: German 150 mm heavy artillery shells, which burst with characteristic black smoke. After the boxer Jack Johnson (1878-1946), the first black American world heavyweight champion (1908-1915). ↩

8 July 1916; Saturday

July 1916, ,

Called out at 7 o’clock. Assisted with a case to the 59th bearers. Captain Johnson met me and told me to lie down. Couldn’t find any place to lie. Sat crowded in dugout and had some most welcome tea, bully and biscuits and jam. After the usual delay got a case and carried down to château. Had biscuits, jam and tea. Stayed all afternoon and had bully, biscuits and tea at 5 o’clock. Everybody tired out. I thought I was going to drop first thing, but felt better afterwards. Shoulders, back and feet tired. Everything mud, and in most awful condition. Appalling stench from dead men and horses. Captain Johnson made a speech and thanked us for the manner in which we had done our work in the most difficult circumstances and then asked for volunteers to bring in a few more men. I volunteered. We set out and were shelled terribly. Had marvellous escapes and were struck by pieces of flying mud. Two men of the 59 slightly wounded but we all got clear. Returned to château with no wounded.

7 July 1916; Friday

1976

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

Hauled up at 7 o’clock and told we should be on parade. Grabbed biscuits and got a drink of tea and marched off to the ruined chateau; a new place. Very heavy bombardment going on. Marched from dressing station up the line and our guide got lost as usual. Hopelessly mixed and Paddy and I carried a stretcher with two regimental bearers. Had to cope with a man who was mad with shell shock. A man died as Paddy and I carried him (I was at the back). Convulsions, sick and died. Carried him to relay post at old German front line. Sergeant there swore at us for wasting time on a “stiff” and threw him over into the old No Man’s Land. We are in the Heligoland Redoubt Land trenches and where parapet blown down get occasional glimpses of far country behind Albert. Carried all day. Just before dark Captain Johnson met us xxxx directed us to a dugout to rest until daylight. All day many troops moving through trenches and making stretcher bearing in the narrow space very difficult.

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.