The first full day in the trenches was reported in the War
Diary as largely quiet, although it was acknowledged that “enemy MGs traversed
our parapet frequently”. In fact, two men from ‘A’ Company were killed. The
circumstances of their deaths were described in great detail by Lt. Robert Stewart Skinner Ingram (see 17th September) in a
letter to his brother Jim, which he would write two days later:
“Friday was rather a tragic day, and Friday night up till
late was more than exciting and interesting for me and my 2 patrols. This is
what happened. In the No Man’s Land in front of these particular trenches there
are various ditches and willows. Some of the ditches are four feet deep in
water, and ice on top, though quite thin. At Dawn on Friday, four of our
Company snipers went out in pairs to lurk out in front all day and come in at
dusk. They had their day’s rations with them. One pair were out all day, and,
with due caution, did well, and came in at dusk; with this pair we have no
interest. Pair number 2 were altogether too rash and got absurdly near the Bosch
lines. Just here the lines are about 400 yards apart. Well, as was only
naturally the case, one of these two, a man named Cardwell (Pte. John
Cardwell, see 11th September), was wounded badly, right out
there, not more than a hundred yards from the Hun. The man with him (Pte. Thomas
Robinson (16490), see 11th September) got him back a little
way till the pain became so bad that Cardwell asked to be left. Why Robinson
was not also killed will always be a mystery. Robinson got back by some miracle
to a certain ditch and thence back to our lines through a sap. On his way to
Company HQ to report Cardwell wounded, he told L.Cpl. Bennett (L. Cpl. Noel
Bennett, see below), our Company
NCO sniper, what had happened. Without orders and without permission, Bennet at
once went out with a man named Tuddenham (Pte.
James Tuddenham, see below). They got to the ditch before mentioned. From
that part out to where Cardwell lay wounded there was not cover for a rabbit,
as I discovered late in the afternoon when it was more or less dark and quite
safe (needless to say). Bennett must have known the spot was being watched with
eagle eyes from opposite, but nevertheless he set out to crawl to where he
imagined Cardwell to be. He hadn’t crawled 7 yards before he was killed, shot
right through the temples. The man with Bennett got his body back to a tree in
a certain ditch and then came back. The sad part was that Bennett’s idea of
where Cardwell lay was entirely wrong. Cardwell was 200 yards further south.
Bennett had mistaken the tree from which the direction as to Cardwell’s
position had been given by the first survivor.
Can you follow all this? I’m afraid you can’t, and if you
can follow, I hope it is not boring you frightfully. These little things go to
make up trench life, and “on the Western Front there is nothing to report”. The
sequel will be of more interest to you. When I get home I’ll draw you a little
plan of that bit of No Man’s Land, and explain what happened that evening.
All day, as we feared, Cardwell had been lying out wounded,
but the M.O. said, when he saw the wound later, that he could not have lived at
all long, which is something to be thankful for. At 3.45 in the afternoon, as
it was beginning to get dusk, I went out with 3 picked men, but it was too
light to do much. The only way, as far as we knew, was via a ditch four feet
deep in ice, water, mud and barbed wire on bottom and overhead. It’s a long
story how the four of us were nearly scuppered by a very strong Bosch patrol.
The Bosch does not love patrolling, and when we fell back to a ditch they seem
to have thought that we were merely retiring to the rest of our party, and
wouldn’t come on. Two of us had bombs, one man a revolver and another a rifle.
The correct line of action at once became clear. Leaving the bodies to take
their chance, I got my three men back to our trenches. With the permission of
the C.O. my Company, I got 15 picked men together and we went out, determined
to blow a Hun or two to pieces if we could. Couldn’t find them, but they seem
to have been watching us, as a patrol from another Company saw them late in the
night, though a long way away.
It’s rather fascinating controlling a large offensive
patrol, ie a patrol out for blood, and not merely to reconnoitre. We worked on
a definite plan, but unfortunately the Hun didn’t give one a chance to test the
little bit of tactics. I knew these 15 men could protect us against any 30
Huns, so I personally was quite safe. Bodies act as an irresistible magnet to
both sides. That Hun patrol was sweeping for these bodies just as much as we
were, and had they been a little more daring on the first occasion, when it was
a case of probably 15 Huns v. four of us, they must have got both bodies, and
the four of us as well. But the Hun is compelled, and I believe they seldom
risk an officer. Even second rate patrollers will go anywhere as long as an
officer is with them.
Each of these two patrols were out about two hours. The
first located L.Cpl. Bennett’s body, after about two hour’s search and crawl
out. With two men of the second patrol, the three of us came on Cardwell’s
body, only about 100 yards from the Hun parapet. He was quite dead, and one can
only hope he died quite soon. After four hours, the original four of us were
nearly dead with cold, and some while before we could come in, we all got
cramp, quite painful. Have you ever had cramp of the stomach? But we got in our
dead, which was what we were after.
The whole Company had wanted to try to get in the wounded
man at once, but after one splendid man had lost his life trying to do so, the
O.C. ‘A’ Company, and later the C.O., refused to allow anybody else to try till
evening. And quite right too, though at the time neither the subalterns nor men
of the Battalion knew what an awful place the body was in, and grumbled
accordingly.
After getting out at night to where the body lay, I can say
that, by daylight, there was not even a million to one chance of getting the
body back. It was 150 yards from even enough cover for a rabbit. So two gallant
men died, one trying to save the other, though it was, in a sense, madness to
try. L.Cpl. Bennett has been recommended, I believe, for high decoration. It
may be some little comfort to his people. No man could possibly have died
better. You can have no idea how nearly we were surrounded by that strong Hun
patrol sweeping for the bodies. The trouble of getting to a body which has been
perhaps visible from their lines is that they may have an Emma G (machine gun) trained on it which they
pop off occasionally. The only thing to do is to wait until one Hate is over,
and then rush in and get the body, and drag it away. On such occasions I’m
afraid there is very little reverence shown to the dead. It’s not possible.
I got a double ration of rum for each man who had been out
with me, and soon braziers and hot tea were the order of the day, and there was
considerable satisfaction that ‘A’ Company had not been the first to allow the
hated Alleyman to collar their dead.
It’s surprising how sleepy one is after being out for even a
few hours, especially as their Machine Guns were fairly playing havoc all
round, and a few feet over us again and again, firing at our parapet, but from
low down. Then our artillery saw fit to burst a few shrapnel shells over the
Bosch front line and one burst rather prematurely and … well, on the whole, it
certainly was pretty good hell. And so life goes on out here, and on the whole
a jolly good life too. In Summer it must be a grand life. You would love it. I
do wish you were in our Div. Train. But just now being soaked up to the chest
in iced water for four hours is not guaranteed to make one very cheerful just
at the time, but nobody is any the worse. And the Hun didn’t get ‘A’ Company’s
dead, which is the chief thing, and I lost none of either of my two patrols
last Friday evening.
I’m afraid this letter is all about only one little
incident, but the way Bennett died is by far the finest thing I’ve seen yet,
and it made rather an impression on me, in fact on the whole Battalion”.
Pte. Thomas Robinson would subsequently be awarded the Military
Medal for his courageous attempt to save his friend Pte. Cardwell, and Thomas
Robinson’s recollection of the incident (very kindly shared with me by his
grandson Gary Robinson, to whom I am most grateful) adds some fascinating
personal detail to Ingram’s account,
“I have spoken separately to both my father and mother about
the incident and they both recalled in detail what my grandfather told them.
Both told me that my grandfather was told he did not have to go back out into
no man's following his exhaustive effort to get Pte. Cardwell back whilst all
the time trying to remain alive himself. However, he volunteered to go back out
with part of the larger patrol in the evening, having informed his officer that
they would never find Pte. Cardwell's body without him.
My grandfather recalled the story to family members on very
few occasions but when he did, he always stated that John (Pte. Cardwell) had
had a little too much rum and was feeling a bit braver than perhaps he
should have been. It was this that had caused him to attempt to move further
forward from an already exposed and vulnerable position. My grandfather
actually had to move forward to stop him and it was at that moment they were
spotted and John was shot.
Thirdly, and perhaps something that people may raise an
eyebrow to but it is somewhat of a legendary story within the family. My
grandfather told family members when he returned home that during the incident
he saw an angel, an angel that protected him and guided him safely back to the
British lines. That angel had the face of his young sister Isobel. She had
recently died of meningitis and we think he may have been completely
unaware at that time that she had died”.
 |
Ptes. John Cardwell (standing) and Thomas Robinson (seated)
Image by kind permission of Gary Robinson
|
Noel Bennett was
the only son of Walter Everard Bennett and his wife Mary Elizabeth. Walter
Bennett was Station Master at Sedbergh and Noel was a railway clerk at
Carnforth. He had volunteered in January 1915, aged eighteen, and had joined
the Battalion during training in England.
James Tuddenham
(known as ‘Tudd’) was one of the original members of ‘A’ Company, having been
one of the Earby recruits who were added to Tunstill’s original contingent. He
was originally from Dumfries but, as a child, he had moved to Earby, where he
lived with his married sister, Isabella, and her husband, John Squires. He had
volunteered aged eighteen and had previously been working as a weaver at Grove
Shed (Messrs. R. Nutter and Co.'s.), Earby.
Joshua Richmond travelled, via Folkestone, to Boulogne to
visit his brother, Pte. Fred Richmond
(see 18th November) who
was being treated in hospital there for serious shrapnel wounds.
The weekly edition of the Craven Herald published an extract
from a letter sent home by Pte. Willie
Waggitt (see 5th November).
Willie Waggitt would join Tunstill’s Company early in 1916.
LETTERS FROM THE FRONT - WOUNDED MAN'S THANKS
Private Willie Waggitt, who has been wounded in France, and
has had to have one of his fingers amputated, writes from the War Hospital,
Surrey:- "I got your parcel all right. It has been on the way a few days.
This is the second hospital I have been in since I left Woodford on October
30th, but everything was quite good. Thanks very much for your kindness. I am
getting on all right and expect to be home for a few days before long."
No comments:
Post a Comment