October to November 1916
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Irish Voices from the First World War a blog based on PRONI sources Photograph of Major Terence Duffin [D2109/20/1]. -1- October and November 1916 Photograph taken in October 1916, during the battle of the Ancre Heights [D1421/F/4/D/4,] The Battle of the Somme continued to rage throughout October and November with action taking place at Ancre Heights from 1 October until 11 November and Le Transloy from 1-18 October. Nugent and the 36th Division have relocated to northern France to St Jans Cappel and are holding the line and carrying out raids. At the same time, the Division is facing an uncertain future with the prospect of either being amalgamated or having to recruit from the UK. Following the battle of Ginchy in September, the 16th Division has also moved north. Document 1- Stephen Gwynn, an Irish Parliamentary Party MP, serving as a Captain with the 6 Connaught Rangers to his cousin, Amelia on 20 November 1916 [D2912/1/18] My dear Cousin Amelia I head much when I was at home of your kindness and was very sorry not to have been at home when you were there. Now, I have just got this magnificent parcel with all sorts of things to eat & wear. I – or we, rather – have started on the former and the others -2- will be a present[?] help in the cold. We had very bitter frost during four[?] days of this present line of trenches but now it is warm. This part of the line is absurdly safe and I as[?] commanding a company hardly ever see a shell burst within a hundred yards of me. That is the advantage of having had it rather rough in the spring. The men are splendid but the battalion was rather disappointed[?] by[?] the complete change of officers. I followed it back on the Somme & they are glad to see any of their former officers coming back. We are close neighbours of the Ulster division & get on admirably[?]. I dined at their General Headquarters the other night & made great friends with Col. Sanderson’s[?] son – I hope that comradeships may establish themselves which will be of use in Ireland some day – my brother[?] Charlie is also near here & I look forward to meeting him this week. He is one of the Greater Gods in this way of life & I shall salute deferentially. – My son Denis has just got his commission in the Munsters & will shape up[?] in the same brigade with me before very long. Lucius is now either at the Cape or near it on his way to Gurthalia[?]. It is a great event & wonderful blessing. Thanking you once more I am Your[?] faithful Stephen Gwynn Document 2: Letters from Captain William Montgomery commanding A Company, 9th Battalion, Royal Irish Rifles, with the 36th (Ulster) Division in France, to his mother on 13th October 1916 [D2794/1/1/15] My Dear Mother, Very many thanks for yours of 30th ult(imo) written from Portrush. Also for your parcels of homebaked bread. You should just see how it disappears. Awful it is. I am writing to you on this Sunday notepaper because I think perhaps you will like to receive a letter from a real live Battalion Commander who at the same time happens to be a quite near relation of your own. It is very temporary of course being only for 5 days in all, but they are 5 days in the trenches & it hasn’t happened accidentally, as the real C.O. knew of it when he went on leave himself & discussed it with the Higher Powers that be & they didn’t object. -3- It is an extraordinary condition of affairs though when one thinks of it. Just imagine the thoughts & expressions of one of the real old regular Field Officers if they come to hear of such rank madness. Why! they wouldn’t even trust me to command one of their companies on a Barrack Square under close supervision, much less fight a Battalion in the line. And yet a lot of imitation soldiers like me are doing a heap more responsible work than I am & a lot of pukka regulars are either at home or taking orders from them. I have been much grieved to hear of Matt’s condition. If he is still alive please tell him I think of him here often. If he is to go we shall all miss him badly in the office. Still you know he dies quite comfortably with his boots off & plenty of warning. Our fellows don’t do that here. One is very apt to get callous I fear. I -4- passed a couple of men this morning pushing a truck. As I approached of course the truck stopped & the men came to attention and saluted. (All very proper as it should be) I giving my usual well known imitations of dignity (Maynard Sinclair can describe it, but perhaps not to you) returned the salute & passed on. I did not know or hadn’t noticed what was on the truck until an officer who had been walking with me rejoined me & said, ‘They were men of ___’ I said who were? And he replied – those on the truck. It appears there were 4 of them. At least the parson buried 4 this afternoon. I suppose it really is a dreadful state to get into but honestly I almost touched that truck in passing and never noticed its load. I have just passed mu Battalion Orders for issue. Very nice it looked too, neatly typed at the top of a sheet of foolscap :- Battalion Orders By CAPT. W.A. MONTGOMERY D.S.O Comdg. 9th Battalion Royal Irish Rifles Funnily enough, the men love these decorations & are most careful that everyone knows there officers possess them. They get most annoyed if they see a personal letter coming to me for insistence if it is improperly addressed! My present servant was in a fearful state a few days ago, I understand, because a box I had made for me did not have the letters after my name. He told the men who brought it that it was of no use to him like that – to take it back and finish it. Men are children, only more so. He has bought some white paint, I hear, with a view to some decorating on that box on his own account. He will do it too although I have expressly forbidden him to. He simply can’t bear the sight of it as it is. And it is most extraordinary how a good servant regards one’s odds & ends of things. They really regard them as their own personal property. My feelings in the matter are quite secondary. Any good servant is or ought to be frightfully hurt if his officer dares to know where to find any of his own things. He looks upon it as a personal insult of the blackest shade for worse than if one cast hateful aspersions on his -5- immediate ancestry. This red headed Judas I have now for instance, has put on the most frightful side since we came to Battalion H.Q. I didn’t see him myself but when I arrived at my own Coy. H.Q. this morning, they told me that my servant (Russell) had been looking for me, dressed up as an H.Q. orderly, if you please. I hadn’t told him to come there at all, much less turn himself into an orderly but there you have it. He deliberately went up to the front line from his quite safe & quiet place simply to talk down to his own pals. He took damned good care I didn’t see him through. In some respects, mother mine, we are worse than women. Seniority in a company mess of servants is much more strictly observed than even by the officers. The Coy. Commander’s servant for instance is a very important person indeed. He doesn’t even need to go on working parties. And woe betide the silly young Coy. Sergeant Major who tries to cross him in any way. He usually finds himself in hot water very soon. The servant quite casually lets him down or gives him away in some way or other. Taking them all in though they are more fun than yours & of course at least 90% would always die for their officers. And some of the things they do. Ye Gods! The awful things they do with food, clothes & kit all for the best. I would die of boredom if they didn’t keep on doing them too. This one I have now, for instance, is almost too good a thief. He uses no discrimination at all. It is a disease with him. He has also a mistaken idea that he is a bomb & explosives expert. I was awakened this morning by a hammering noise and there he was with a knife…busily engaged in hammering & prizing off the end of a German grenade in order to get at the explosive (T.N.T.). When he got it out he started digging at it with a large spike thing he had & then capsized it out on a piece of a board on which he had laid his lighted cigarette butt. (We both smoke the same cigarettes by the way). He moved the lighted cigarette a little to one side & said quite calmly –It’s very like brown sugar, Sir, soft and wet. As I had more than a shrewd suspicion that he was doing all this either to get me up quickly or to try out my nerve or both, & as I happen to know almost as much as he thinks he does about this particular explosive.