A wet day. The Battalion marched five miles east to Arques
and was there entrained for Italy. There were two trains; the first carried A and
B Companies and the second C and D Companies, with the Battalion transport
split between the two. The trains were under the command Lt.Col. Francis Washington Lethbridge DSO (see 8th November) and Capt.
William Norman Town (see 8th November) respectively.
The first day’s journey was described, with much
elaboration, by Sgt. George Richard
Goodchild (see 8th
November),
“Reveille on Friday November 9th was at 5.30
am. We were up with the bugle and, after
a good breakfast – prepared by the people of the house – we marched away to
entrain at Arques, a few kilometres the other side to St Omer. We arrived there at 11.45 am and very glad we
were too to reach the station for a blanket additional to the usual army
equipment does not make marching any easier or the pack lighter. Notable on the march were the welcome of
English nurses – always respected and admired by the Tommies – at the hospital
at Arques and the naming of the main street of the town Rue Miss Cavell as a
token of respect, aye, and veneration, for the heroine who so nobly met her
death at the hands of our murderous enemies.
It is when one contemplates our brave women, their readiness to suffer
even more than soldiers do – for inward suffering is more terrible and lasting
than outward wounding – and our loved ones left behind in the homeland,
untouched by our ruthless enemies and safe from their clutches, waiting and
longing with an awful and intense longing and love only women know for the
return of their menfolk, that one realises the “worthwhileness” of carrying on
this ruthless war until the Prussian War God is thrown to the dust once and for
all. God bless our Women!
No time was lost in entraining at Arques. We were quite punctual in moving off – 12.49
pm, Friday November 9th, 1917.
I and my confederates of the Orderly Room together with two runners
occupied third class compartment number 8874 on the coach immediately in front
of that occupied by the Officers. Anyone
who has travelled on the old steam underground trains of London will have a
very good idea of our new home, for our compartment was very narrow and the
only practical difference between it and the London trains mentioned was that
it had a long cushion on both seats. At
night two of us slept on each seat – rather huddled it is true and causing us
to be careful when we stretched for fear of kicking a comrade – and one on the
floor. In this manner we contrived to
get a few hours sleep every night – and day – of our journey to the south.
Our route on Friday lay via Calais – which brought back to
me many memories for I had only left it a short while before to go on leave to
dear old England to be married and a shorter while to return to my Battalion
when the joyous ten days were over – Wimereux, Boulogne, Etaples, Abbeville and
Longueau. After leaving Calais prisoners
in plenty were to be seen working all manner of tasks and being apparently
quite satisfied with their position as well they might be for we English are
poor taskmasters. Noticeable too was the
fact that nearly every bit of land was under cultivation. This indeed is noticeable of practically the
whole of France for there is really very little pasture land anywhere
there. Would that England were more like
France in this respect. Then could we
have cheaper food, be more self-supporting and practically do away with a lot
of unnecessary political haggling. But
this is not a political screed.
Approaching Wimereux our eyes beheld that narrow strip of
water that separates us from England.
Whilst looking across the water – aye, and straining the eyes in the
hope of catching the mist blurred outline of England’s beloved shores – what
thought must have passed through the minds of all of us; sacred thoughts, too,
which are locked in the heart and not spoken aloud, passing along the coast and
through many tunnels – strange things to men who, for many, many months have
been in Belgium and the north eastern frontier of France where these things do
not exist – Boulogne was reached at 4.15 pm.
Here memories again crowded in upon the mind for was it not here that
the majority of us first set foot upon French soil? Crossing across the bridge could we not see
the harbour where our transport was berthed?
Yes, we could: and these memories lengthened a little later when we came
to Etaples where we became acquainted with that mysterious place known as the
‘Bull Ring’ and therein on a shifting sandy surface underwent a fortnight’s
hard training preparatory to “going up the line”.
By now night was rapidly falling and we could see very
little of the landscape which had been so beautiful, as indeed it was
throughout the whole of the journey especially towards the latter end where the
climate became noticeably warmer and the chilly winds of winter had not yet
stripped the trees and shrubs of their foliage.
The late autumn colouring was perhaps more beautiful than any of us had
ever seen in England. There was more of
it and a seemingly greater variety of colour.
From the palest and most delicate of yellows the tones graduated to gold,
russet and brown until in the distance the earth met the sky in mystic
blue. Glorious although the foregoing
colours were their beauty was enhanced a thousand-fold by the glinting autumn
reds which tinted every leaf and, in the setting rays of the sun, made them as
fiery gold. The further south the more
beautiful the scenery did become as in addition to the colours aforementioned
came the green of the pine on the mountain slopes bridging as it were the gulf
between the brown of the woodland and the blue of the horizon. At times when the sun was at full in a
cloudless sky the beauty of the panorama which gradually unfurled to our view
as we sped on our journey exceeded that which it is possible for pen to
describe and took our minds right away from the terrible business which lay
ahead. Nature is indeed a good mother
and would that we, her children, would take more notice of her. Then would the world be better for our
presence. Here I will leave our first
days travelling with a promise that more will be said of nature before this
narrative is ended. Abbeville – where a
short halt was made and a few men who had left the train only just caught it as
it was leaving the station (one man actually missed it) – was reached at 8.10
pm, and Longueau at 10 o’clock. Here hot
tea was obtained, we again entrained, and by 11 o’clock most of us were asleep,
whilst the train sped on its way to unknown lands”.
Pte. Ernest Wilson (11751)
(see 14th October) was
reported absent and missed the departure for Italy.
Pte. Arthur Cerenza King (see 23rd October) was transferred from 6th Convalescent Depot at Etaples to 24th General Hospital, also at Etaples, for further treatment to the wounds he had suffered on 20th September.
Pte. Basil Middleton
(see 22nd June), who had
been in England since having been wounded 0n 7th June, was
discharged from hospital and posted to 3DWR at North Shields.
A package of the effects (contents unknown) of the late L.Cpl. Thomas Ward (see 22nd August), who had accidentally drowned whilst
bathing, was sent to his family. The family would receive no payment as there
was found to have been a debit balance of £2 14s. 2d. on Ward’s pay account at
the time of his death.
A pension award was made in the case of the late Pte. Michael Gallagher (see 27th August), who had been killed in action in May 1917; his mother, Mary, was awarded 12s. per week, later, in July 1918, increased to 13s. 6d. per week.
The weekly edition of the Craven Herald carried news of Ptes. Jim Coates (see 12th
December 1915) who had originally volunteered with Tunstill’s Company but
had been discharged as unfit and had subsequently re-joined the Army. There was
also news of the brother of James
Wilkinson jnr. (see 21st
May), who had also originally volunteered with Tunstill’s Company.
A pension award was made in the case of the late Pte. Michael Gallagher (see 27th August), who had been killed in action in May 1917; his mother, Mary, was awarded 12s. per week, later, in July 1918, increased to 13s. 6d. per week.
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| Image by kind permission of Andy Wade and MenOfWorth |
BOLTON-BY-BOWLAND
Wounded. Mrs. Coates, of The Lodge, Closes Hall, received
the unwelcome news on Saturday morning that her husband, Corporal Jas. Coates, West Yorks. Regiment, had been wounded, and is at present
in hospital in France,
suffering from a shell wound in the head, received during the morning of
October 27th. The Chaplain writes on behalf of him that he is very
comfortable and looking forward to being sent to the base and then to England.
Corporal H.T. Wilkinson, eldest son of the late Mr. James
Wilkinson, of the Coach and Horses Hotel, has been home on his first leave
since the war broke out. He was attached to the 25th Company of Supply in the
Egyptian Expeditionary Force, having been stationed at Alexandria all the time
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