Googling Maps...

I find it surprising how often I refer to Google Maps.  This device to keep track of my movements, send advertisers to my laptop and keep the FBI aware of my activities has been a boon in so many other ways.  It is not just the local police who can follow me around if they so choose.  These maps enable me to find my way around and I use them daily these days.

During recent months I recall searching out the many places wherein I was once employed, you note I do not use the word 'worked,' this took me back to 1966, too far back for any of you to remember, where I noticed the dim dark fire hazard dwelling that housed my first employment remained dim and dark but in an amended and hopefully less hazardous condition.  Almost all others since then have disappeared and were now housing blocks of flats or small housing estates, the one in North Finchley asking around half a million for a house where I once lugged 15,000 bricks of the back of a lorry by hand, not by myself I may add. Whether anyone realises or cares that under their feet once stood a tank containing petrol for the council vans possibly does not really matter.  The only time that mattered was when the delivery man put diesel in the petrol or was it petrol in the diesel tanks, that mattered a lot to the stream of small vans that died before they left the depot. 

Google maps allows me a remarkably close view on how the world has changed since those days where managers would cheerfully smile while slapping something down on the desk muttering “These are for you.” The days of those insurance cards have thankfully ended.

Google maps are great if you wish to visit somewhere new.  A glance tells you transport links, items of interest and places to avoid.  In the days before such marvels the tourist could wander around a town missing all the good bits and find themselves wallowing in the midst of dank depressing lower-class Britain from where they originated and wish to escape from, at least in my case.  Google saves you that.  With hand held expensive phones in direct contact with both the US and Chinese security systems this makes wandering around much easier than in the days of aper maps.  This system allows you to pick the spots worth visiting, allowing for the Google cameraman only visiting places when the sun shone, and hoping he choose to wander down all the streets you fancy. 

Those house buying would find the maps a great boon also.  Do you remember the lovely cottage on sale by the sea near Dymchurch a couple of years ago?  The pebble beach, the small flowers, the sea, the distance from everyone else, the condition of the house, large rooms, well maintained, all one could possibly wish in such an area.  It was therefore unfortunate that the photographer forgot to include the nearby Nuclear Power Station situated about a mile behind the house.  This may have influenced buyers.  Google maps helped in such circumstances, power stations, roads, railways, scrap yards, petrol stations, schools and other unwelcome happenings are often missed by estate agents for reasons unclear, the maps aid the unwary here.

I found the maps particularly useful when reading about ancient Eridu, the oldest settlement in Sumer.  The map of Iraq, if you work hard at it, shows all those old settlements along with more recent ones such as Nineveh or Babylon.  Fantastic to see such sites from the desk here, especially when rain hits the window and temperatures drop, at that moment watching a dry hot desert under 120 degrees of sunshine can be enthralling. 

Those who take time to study such maps can find themselves lost as I often am staring at out of the way places such as St Helena and wonder why on earth people live there?  There again the world is full of strange and inhospitable places often teeming with life, how do folks end up there and why do they stay?  Why indeed do they fight savagely to keep it to themselves I wonder? 

The way the maps attempt to display the land at the bottom of the sea is also quite extraordinary.  Lines run across the bottom indicating the clash of plates below and the huge number of volcanoes and potential earthquakes especially in the Pacific region.

Similarly watching rivers run down mountains catches the eye.  Mountainous Costa Rico looks high and lush but there was a man in a wheelchair, surrounded by dogs and sheep, bossing people around at one area I noticed.  The USA was a wonder, it intrigues how people could cross such a landmass, plains, hills, deserts and survive yet alone create what some call ‘civilisation’ on that vast acreage.  Nice of the civilisers to keep ‘reservations for the Indians’ even yet.  Apart from those Trump has run oil pipes over of course.  Tucson, Arizona, offers an aircraft boneyard.  Here military aircraft are laid out for observation from above and to lie ready for use sometime in the future.  B52’s and the like sit there burning in the sun’s dry heat.

Early man trekked vast distances, sometimes through the need for food or shelter sometimes just to see what was over the hill.  When you study the size of the world it is amazing how he moved so far in a relatively short time.  Of course so little evidence has been found and many conclusions jumped to that we really don’t know much about how he spread, nor how he managed to change colour to so many different hues.  We were informed at primary school this was because we were black but lost the colour as we moved north into cold regions.  Hmmm I wondered then how Indians were brown and Chinese yellow?  The equator runs across many of them also. 

A TV programme offered a trip on a train into the north of Siberia, the furthest north you can travel that way.  Some of the workers when challenged about the cold just shrugged their shoulders and laughed that anyone would query working there.  They were used to it.  Siberian troops were brought by Stalin from the Japanese border to defend Moscow in 1942 and they thought fighting in minus 8 degrees was warm!  They had experienced minus 40 regularly.  Excuse me while I huddle the heater.

You might be surprised to note that I have made use of Google while searching for Great War sites.  To view Ypres or Mons from the air and to compare with old maps or photographs is an interesting waste of time.  I especially like looking for remnants of old trench lines which have not yet been obliterated by the plough.  It is amazing what remains as well as what is now no longer visible.  

This adventure can take a lot of my busy time sadly. 

2nd Battalion Essex Regiment, Somme 1st July 16

The Somme battle was a result of war co-operation between the allies Britain, France and Russia for the offensive's in 1916.  While Britain and France 'pushed' from the west Russia was to launch an attack in the east on the Austro-Hungarian forces.

The Germans however got in first by attacking at Verdun in such a manner as to 'Bleed France white.'

Such was the weight of the battle that the French began to drift from the Somme attack and left this to General Haig to command.  Haig did not wish to fight at the Somme but the London government were in awe of France and insisted that he follow their lead as they had done the year before when forcing the then Commander in Chief Sir John French to fight at Loos.  That was a disaster and the fighting there continued until 1918.

A huge logistical operation was undertaken and a line sixteen miles long became the battle line.  Over 1500 guns were to spend an entire week firing at the German line in an attempt to break the enemy wire and damage their trench system.  Shortly before the attack mines spread along the lone were to be exploded, damaging the trench system and the shock allowing the allies to penetrate the enemy line.

The majority of battalions participating in this battle were the men who volunteered willingly in 1914.  Over two and a half million men volunteered between August 1914 and December 31st 1915. Some had been in France since Spring 1915 and seen action of some sort, others arrived on the day of battle and few of these had fired a shot in practice let alone in anger.

On 1st July 1916 the mines went off, the barrage lifted to the second line and over 100,000 men left their trench and advanced on the enemy. 

Only then were the failures to be revealed.

The enemy wire in many places was uncut, trenches often undamaged and the early firing of the Hawthorn Ridge mine ensued the Germans were ready and waiting when the attack came.  Many of the million and a half shells had failed to explode or went off early.  The shock element was limited and with both machine gun and artillery, and artillery which had been 'hidden' by the Germans, opening fire the attackers came under a hail of fire and advance bent over as though walking through heavy rain.  In some places the front line and further was reached but in many the British fell within yards of their own trench.  

Two men from this region fell that day. 

Robert Leslie Ratcliff a 19 year old Bocking man was one.  Born Bocking in 1897 a resident of Panfield Lane Robert enlisted in the 2nd Battalion of the Essex Regiment.  It is most likely he did so with friends from the area at the time.  Also serving in the 2nd Battalion was 19 year old George Leonard Smoothy from Chapel Hill.  George came from a family of ten children, not uncommon for the time.  George had enlisted in the 12th Battalion of the Essex Regiment, a 'Kitchener battalion comprising local volunteers and been rejected because of faulty vision.  However with a brother a 'regular' in the 2nd Battalion he turns up there in time for this battle.  His brother fought through many major battles surviving the war yet died from appendicitis in 1919.

The battalion advanced and came under heavy machine gun and artillery fire the moment they left their trench. Firing from the residue of the towns of Serre and Beaumont Hamel on either flank hindered the advance however some parties advanced 2000 yards into the enemy line reaching to  Pendant Copse until enemy bombers forced a return to the trench system known as the 'Quadrilateral.' Here a stand was made until relieved during the night.

Somewhere during the battle Robert and George fell, their bodies were never recovered and their names are engraved on the Theipval Memorial along with almost 72,000 others from the Somme conflict.

Battalion Casualties were 22 officers and 400 other ranks.

Total casualties that day were around 19,000 British dead and another 40,000 wounded.  By the end of the battle, or series of 'battles' there were almost 400,000 British and similar German casualties.  However in context of the time the 'Brusilov Offensive' where the Russian forces attacked across what is now Ukraine against the Austro-Hungarians some 1,350,000 were casualties.  

By the end of the war Britian lost less men that France, Germany or Russia and their Generals were not hounded as some of the British Generals were by politicians, like Prime Minister LLoyd George trying to avoid responsibility for the deaths. 

Braintree & Bocking Great War Memorial 

Her Privates We, Frederick Manning

Normally I am not one for novels.  Story books tend to find themselves flung out the door quickly while I look for something worthwhile.  With regard to the Great War I find a great many people writing novels depicting, they say, the situation one man or more went through.  I dismiss them myself.  However when a man who has served in the trenches writes of the war I am more inclined to hear what he has to say and see his description of his war.  The men who served are the men to listen to!  Frederick Manning spent months on the Somme with the 7th Kings Shropshire Light Infantry, a 'Kitchener Battalion,' and claims all the situations recorded in his book occurred to someone, often he himself.   

Manning was born in Australia in 1882 and moved to Lincolnshire in 1903 to live with a family friend who had become vicar at Edenham.  Here he read widely in classics, studied philosophy, and produced a book, 'The Virgil of Brunhild,' others followed but while literary circles admired his writing mass circulation was not to be expected.  In spite of his asthma Manning continued to smok to much, he also spent a lot of time in local public houses an exercise that would lead to troubled times in the future. 

His poor health did not stop him attempting to enlist in 1914.  In spite of London life, where he became regarded as a minor poet and literary critic mixing with some important people from that world, he shared the desire to join the army like so many others of his day.  He was rejected several times until in October 1915 he was accepted by the Shropshires, numbered private 19022. His educated background led him to being selected for a commission, which he failed, he joined his regiment in France during 1916.  The 7th attacked Bazentin Ridge on the 14th of July, the wire was uncut and the second wave were hit by their own barrage, 200 men and 8 officers being lost.  Manning was promoted to lance corporal, possibly after this battle.  In November the battalion attacked the well defended Serre, on the Somme, another trying time. 

Manning received a commission in 1917 as a second lieutenant in the Royal Irish Regiment. This did not suit either he nor the British Army.  Being a bit of a loner, drinking heavily, and failing to adhere to the army way off life he soon found trouble with superiors.  His regard for the men as distinct from officers and his dislike of much military thinking and its effects on the 'poor bloody infantry,' increased his revulsion of much concerning army life.  The effects of trench life were said to be responsible for his drinking and attitude but the commission was resigned in 1918.  He had continued to write, poems, items in magazines and by 1923 Manning took a commission to write the life of Sir William White.  White had been a leading man in the admiralty late in the 19th century.  

Ten years after a war men's minds begin to demand they tell the world what they have endured. Life has, for most, returned to some sort of normality but the experiences have never healed, indeed they never do.  Manning was encouraged to write about his experiences and take advantage of the emotion of the day as books were beginning to fall off the shelves and typewriters were melting under the desperation to publish memoirs   He produced his work quite quickly and published in a limited number as 'The Middle Parts of Fortune.'  The introverted Manning takes the reader inside the hearts of men in battle, and quite unlike any other book we see something of the mind of a real everyday soldier.  The 'soldiers language' was considered too strong for the time and an expurgated version was published as, 'Her Privates We,' the title a quote from Shakespeare. 

Unlike many war books this one contains comparatively little war action even though it begins as an action is ending.  We read instead much of the emotions of a soldier in battle, the relationship of officers to men and vice versa at the time, the attitudes and responsibilities of NCO's, the men who really run an army, and as they withdraw out of the line the scene changes to the dull monotonous routine of army life.  This however is not the somewhat sentimental emotions seen is American movies, here we are confronted with the everyday man.  After the return from the line the men spend a few days settling their nerves, dwelling, without much exchange of confidences, on the stirred emotions within, helped, though they may not think it, by the routine of life.  The dead are an ever present reality for the soldier, one day he may join them. 

As is the way companies break down into two or three men getting together to make their life bearable.  The hero of the book, named Bourne after a small town Manning once stayed in, speaks French tolerably and is used by many to get help from local women regarding obtaining food and wine and having these prepared for them.  One causes Bourne much laughter when lady of the house misunderstands a soldiers use of the word, 'cushy.'  This was a common army word from the Hindi for 'comfortable.'  The woman instead hears 'coucher,' a word which has a differing meaning and results with her fetching the language ignorant solder a slap round the head.  Manning himself 'liked to drink,' as they say and soldiers often while away what is left of their lives in making merry. 'Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die,' means more to a soldier in such a war than it can ever mean to another.  

The action, if this is action, continues with Bourne posted to the orderly office. Here again the 'office politics' of army life is centre stage.  It isn't good. Nervous adjutants, greasy sergeant majors, and the strange feeling that a soldier prefers the real army with his pals rather than this 'cushy' number.  At least he avoids all those hard fatigues men at rest are lumbered with.  However army parades continue, seen as needless by many but insisted upon by an officer core with reasons of their own.  One such is interrupted by two shells which take out several men, much to the battalions disgust.  An aircraft is blamed but it soon becomes obvious that it is British shells falling short, a not uncommon occurrence.  Men sent on raids or to the line on fatigues when to all minds such is not possible is made worse when casualties, often popular officers, are injured.  The regiment returns to the line and Bourne and his mates act as runners, suffering the delight of a German bombardment while doing so.  Again this is used to describe both Bournes reaction and that of his companions.  They then return to prepare for yet another chance to go 'over the top.'

What we read in these glimpses of army life is not so much the action but the reality seen from deep within the authors mind.  The mist or fog is described almost as if it is alive, the countryside, even in the dark, allows us to know that men in war are touched by their surroundings like everyone else.  We also note the attitudes in the towns behind the lines, and the class difference that results in unfair treatment of the men. This impersonal, dangerous army, becomes a family for the men, a man once part of a regiment, sharing the dangers, has a kinship, a clan, that outsiders can never enter.  Indeed many men today with more recent experience of warfare understand Bournes mind and recognise their thoughts and emotions as identical to the men of 1916.   Some form close bonds, but many avoid this as men disappear without trace and never heard of again as injury, death or confusion reign in war. Frederick Manning attempts to tell the inner soldier, himself, while contemplating the men around him.  He seeks their unspoken thoughts, he describes their unsaid words, he reveals men as they are.  War books are often full of dangerous action, sometimes sugary, sometimes unbelievable.  This one is the real deal. War is impersonal, men go 'over the top' together but fight alone.  Men work as a unit, for one another, but fight and die individually.  

This is the best book on the war I have ever read!  It does not give all those little details we often seek, but provides sufficient to understand the sights and sounds, the pleasures and daily trials of army routine for the common soldier. Instead in the midst of a great conflict we see the individual whose name appears on the local, unnoticed, war memorial.  On each memorial is a Bourne, a Martlow his young friend, or his pal Shem the Jew, there we find the many sergeants and officers who ordered their lives and led them to destruction.   

This is a great book!  This book gives us the men and their hearts as it really was during their time on the Somme.  

Wiki

1st July 1916

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On the first day of July in the year 1916, after several days of heavy bombardment British troops advanced over open ground to attack the German defences on the Somme. A million and a half shells had fallen, their intention to break the wire and damage the defences clearing the way for the men following. The wire was rarely broken, the shells badly made and difficult to set were also of the wrong type for the job. Howitzers were insufficient in numbers but effective in damaging dugouts but as most of these were 40 or so feet underground this was to prove an impossible job with so few.


At 7:28 several mines were blown along the line, however Jerry knew this would happen as foolishly one was blown at 7:20 at Hawthorn Ridge and gave warning the attack was about to commence. At 7:30 officers whistles blew along mile after mile of trench and the British attacking force climbed out of their trenches into a hail of machine gun, rifle and artillery fire. Within minutes thousands lay dead, dying or wounded, many having failed to clear their own parapet or make it through their own defensive wire. Only in the southern section of the line was a clear advance made, elsewhere determined attackers continued, heads bowed as though facing heavy rain and not bullets, and a few gains were made in the enemy line. 


McCrae's Battalion, the 16th Royal Scots, along with their sister battalion the 15th, plus the Cambridge and the Grimsby Chums, remnants though they were, fought on in an attempt to keep hold of their part of the line. Defying flame throwers and repeated heavy counter attacks they succeeded, a few continuing and even making it to their final destination at Contalmaison, where they found themselves outnumbered and soon were made prisoner.   


Around 60,000 British men became casualties, approximately 20,000 were dead. 


General Haig had strongly opposed the idea of fighting in such an impossible theatre as the Somme region but had been overruled by London. "Do as the French say," was the command, in spite of the military opposition. The same had occurred a year earlier at Loos when Sir John French had been forced to fight there against his wishes. That too was needlessly costly. Blame is easy to offer, especially from this distance and the book 'First Day on the Somme' by Martin Middlebrook is the place to begin when researching what actually happened that day. This book is regarded as a 'classic' of its type and comes well recommended. 
        


                     


An official cameraman was on hand to record the 'Big Push' and the Imperial War Museum has made this film available, excerpts of which are online. I have this video and while it is of course a silent movie it nevertheless conveys something of the attitudes of the day. When shown in cinemas later in the year women would faint, men weep, and occasionally one would cry out in recognition of an individual. Unlike today that generation had no idea of front line reporting and many refused to believe the tales told by returning soldiers. It is not difficult to understand why the United Kingdom became a very different place after 1918, society changed in a way unimaginable in 1914, and we do well to ponder how this war, and this battle in particular, has an effect on us even today. 


Some soldiers asked whether the losses were worth it, and it is difficult not to sympathise with them.  However had we not fought the French would have been defeated and we would have a Germany dominating Europe, and this would have caused a war between Britain and Germany sooner or later in any case.  That would have been a more difficult fight for us had that been the case. In that way it was worth it, however with 750,000 dead British troops, plus the 'Empire forces of India, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the rest losing another 250,000, plus about three times as many wounded it is hard to comprehend today whether this really was a war worth fighting. 


The last fighting men have gone now, only a few relatives and their memories remain. As I research the names on the local war memorial I am surprised by how difficult it is to find a record of many of them online. Not being a native of this town  doesn't help, as does not having the money to pay for research, yet I am still surprised how quickly these men have been forgotten.  Their houses have often been swept away, their relatives move on, and later generations are too involved in life today to remember them. Village memorials do not gather large crowds on Armistice Day each November as the village has been taken over by incomers and the families of the day have often gone into towns and cities for a better life. Few now remember those named on the memorial, even those from a later war. That all seems rather sad to me. 

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1st July 1916

On the first day of July at seven thirty precisely thousands of British soldiers got up out of their trenches to begin the 'big push' that they hoped would soon end the war. Nine out of ten of these battalions were 'Kitchener's New Army' battalions. There were fears they would not be good enough for the 'Territorials' so Kitchener had to call them the 'New Army.' Most had volunteered in the heady emotional days of 1914 desperate not to miss the excitement of a short European war. By now they realised just how 'real' war differed from the imaginary.

For over a week the guns had been shelling the enemy trenches. More than a million and a half shells had headed towards the Germans and hopes among many were high, success in some minds appeared inevitable. The long blister educing marches, the combat training, learning how to dig trenches, understanding the army and its many peculiar ways, and most of all quickly understanding that the British soldier is better than any other at moaning about his lot, yet just gets on and does it well! All this had been suffered over the past year or so, and now it was going to be put into practice. Few had any experience of trench life let alone war. Most were enthusiastic about the adventure but apprehensive about how they would behave in action. All feared the bullet with 'their name on it.'

As the shelling stopped they stood in the trenches crowded together as they had been all night, many sleeping standing up. With the taste of strong army rum in their mouths, expect for the chap lying on the ground being kicked by the Sergeant Major for drinking too much and having passed out, the watched the sun rise in the blue sky and listened for the sudden silence. At seven twenty eight the mines dug under the German front line exploded. There was a sudden trembling under the feet, the earth began to shake quite violently in some places and then, erupting like a volcano and spewing earth, and sometimes men, hundreds of feet into the air the result of sixty thousand pounds of amonal explosive appeared. The noise was deafening and high above spotter aircraft were thrown about as the air swept past them. Two minutes later the men attacked.

Now a great deal of planning had gone into this operation. The French being 'bled dry' by Von Falkheneins army at Verdun were desperate for a united Anglo-French attack to relieve pressure on them. Haig had insisted on attacking at Ypres over well known ground, but Joffre the French commander wanted an attack in the Somme region. Haig had no choice but to agree, reluctantly, to attack over what he saw as difficult ground. The plans were laid and much effort was put into training the men involved. They listened eagerly as this was the reason for their enrolment and they were not intending to fail. Morale was high.

In 1914 many had derided the 'sportsmen' of the land for not rushing to the colours when war was declared. Many wrote indignant letters to the press demanding 'sport' should be stopped and all players enlisted. Women, with no idea about war other than a romantic one, gave out white feathers in the street in an attempt to embarrass men into enlisting. Football players in particular were subjected to abuse with many demanding the League was stopped until wars end. In November 1914 the Heart of Midlothian first team squad enlisted. This brought to an end the debate about football and sport in general being played during the war. The announcement of their joining the colours brought others from Raith Rovers, Falkirk and Hibernian to join them, along with over a thousand other citizens. The Mossend 'Cowpunchers' as Mosend Burnvale F.C. were known enlisted en masse. Many of them destined never to return. They took their place with the rest on this fateful day.

The problem, as any general will tell you, with plans is a simple one, they always fall apart the minute the battle begins. The end of the shelling followed by the mines erupting indicated to the surviving Germans, hidden deep underground in well constructed shelters, that the attack was on. The two minutes between the mines going off was sufficient for them to place the machine guns at the ready and prepare for defence. As the men clambered out of their trenches and made their way through their own wire the defenders sent up coloured rockets asking for artillery aid. The attackers then found themselves subject to intense machine gun, rifle and artillery barrage. From all sides the seemingly destroyed enemy were firing at them. Those that made it to the enemy wire found that most of it had remained intact, the shells that had fallen were either dud or incapable of cutting wire. The tac-tac of machine guns, the crack of falling shells mixed with the screams of the wounded and shouting men. Confusion reigned everywhere.

In the southern attack some distance was achieved and enemy trenches captured and held, however further north little advance was made. The footballers of George McCrae's battalion,* the 16th Royal Scots, did manage to find a place in the enemy line they held on to. This small group comprising the four regiments in the brigade and stragglers from elsewhere, fought a lonely hard battle yet managed to keep the ground taken. Others continued the advance and reached the target of Contalmaison only to be taken prisoner. One of the few successful advance in that part of the line. Possibly the furthest advance of any brigade that day. Their division, the 34th, suffered over eighty percent casualties on the first of July. The Tyneside Irish being wiped out! Making the footballers effort all the more remarkable.

Just under sixty thousand casualties fell that day, almost twenty thousand dead. Three Hearts players died, and several were severely injured. The nation suffered it greatest ever defeat at that time. The Heart of Midlothian never recovered from the effects of the war on their playing staff and the potential Championship side were regarded by the whole of Scotland as winners in a differing sense after the war. Those who demanded others 'go,' rarely went themselves, few made much effort to aid the returning wounded, and some would say in that respect life for those who served has not changed all that much, has it?



Jack Alexander's excellent book 'McCrae's Battalion' tells the story of these men. It covers the Edinburgh story leading up to and through the war, and what happens to the survivors. For those interested in the Great War, Edinburgh or the Heart of Midlothian this book is a 'must read!'