An experience of World War I.

Veteran's Day: A Memoir

World War I was a war of indescribable horror, fought by a generation of diarists and poets who tried nevertheless to describe it. Of the many trench journals still being uncovered in attics and drawers is one below by British Captain Alexander Stewart. Like many men who fought in that war, he returned alive by God's miracle or random chance, depending on your point of view. The majority of men who experienced this hell actually were able to live again in a civilian world. Such can only be explained by marveling at the resilience, or perhaps capability for denial, of the human mind.

This 1916 battle is grimly memorable for the worst one-day loss of troops in British military history: 58,000, one third of them killed. In all 620,000 allied troops were killed or injured in this battle. Territory gained from the Germans (who lost 500,000): 12 kilometers.

--Ross Collins

Horror and dark humour of the Somme

Excerpted from The Guardian, London

By Steven Morris
November 8, 2007

As Captain Alexander Stewart advanced on the German trench, he appears to have been mildly concerned about the machine-gun fire and "some blighter" who was hurling a stick bomb in his direction.

But frankly, he seemed more upset at being compelled to take his lighted pipe out of his mouth and stash it in his pocket so he could return fire more accurately. Doing so might have cost him a singed jacket and, perhaps, the loss of a few flakes of precious tobacco.

"After my third or fourth shot," he later wrote in his journal, "I found that the bowl of my pipe and the smoke from it was obscuring my line of vision. Much to my annoyance, I had to put my pipe in my pocket alight as it was; it was lucky that it did not burn my jacket.
"Just as I got my rifle working I saw a man in the trench calmly kneeling down and taking careful aim at me. At the moment I saw him he fired. But in some miraculous way he missed."

Capt. Stewart's account of life in the mud and blood and guts of the Somme is being published by his grandson Cameron Stewart, 80 years on and just ahead of Remembrance Sunday.

Since the first world war the diary, which Capt. Stewart typed up himself and modestly entitled The Experiences of a Very Unimportant Officer, has been passed around members of the Stewart family, a source of private pride.

But Cameron Stewart, a television and stage actor, decided the account of life in the Scottish regiment the Cameronians merited a wider audience. "It's been sitting on family bookshelves for 80 years, where it hasn't been doing much good," he said.

Ashamed at today's fussing

Mr Stewart, 49, who lives in Bristol, added: "When I looked at it again in detail, I found it fascinating. I'm ashamed at the things I've made a fuss of when I see what people like my grandfather went through. I'm proud to have those genes in me."

The events described are terrifying, but the tone remains steady and laconic. Take, for instance, Capt. Stewart's description of the mud with which the Somme will be for ever associated:

"Mud is a bad description as the soil was more like a thick slime than mud. When walking one sank several inches in and owing to the suction, it was difficult to withdraw the feet. The consequence was that men who were standing still or sitting down got embedded in the slime and were unable to extricate themselves."

During the summer of 1916, Capt. Stewart said, the flies "were an absolute plague". He continued: "Great big, fat, sodden, overfed, bloated brutes, bluebottles and large house flies. Most of them must have come from and lived on the dead."

Rats like hair gel

But the diaries are barbed with dark humour June 2 1916: "The dugouts in this part of the line were infested with rats. They would frequently walk over one when asleep. I was much troubled by them coming and licking the brilliantine off my hair; for this reason, I had to give up using grease on my head."

It is clear throughout that Capt. Stewart had great admiration for the men under his command.

He had little regard for some of the generals, especially one who cut the soldiers' cherished rum ration. He was a "blasted ignorant fool of a general damned in this world and the next" who ought to be "taken up to the line and frozen in the mud".

On another occasion he recalls being asked to account for the number of pairs of socks his company had. "I reply 141 and a half. Back comes a memo: 'Please explain at once how you come to be deficient of one sock'. I reply, 'Man lost his leg'."

There are many moments of horror, for example when a shell-shocked soldier is putting others at risk.

"I had to order a man to fix his bayonet and to put two inches into the poor mad man if he gave any more trouble. What happened in the end I do not know."

Hit in the throat

Capt. Stewart's war ended in September 1917 when a shell fragment hit him in the throat. Happily he survived to describe the event. "I started to cough and brought up some blood and a bit of the shell which must have stuck in my windpipe."

His servant retrieved the iron from the mud, remarking that Capt. Stewart might like to keep it. "This I did and my wife has it now."

Capt. Stewart died aged 86 in 1964. The shell fragment picked out of the mud has been lost, but through the diary the voice of the man can still be heard clearly.

Extract

My next recollection is that I had no more shots left in my revolver and was still not yet in the trench. As I had no intention of getting into the trench unarmed, I proceeded to unsling the rifle with fixed bayonet I had over my shoulder ... Much to my annoyance, I had to put my pipe in my pocket alight as it was; it was lucky that it did not burn my jacket. Just as I got my rifle working I saw a man in the trench calmly kneeling down and taking careful aim at me. At the moment I saw him he fired. But in some miraculous way he missed...

"When walking, one sank several inches in [to the mud] and, owing to the suction, it was difficult to withdraw the feet. The consequence was that men who were standing still or sitting down got embedded in the slime and were unable to extricate themselves. As the trenches were so shallow, men had to stay where they were all day. Most of the night we had to spend digging and pulling men out of the mud ...

"Every man in the ranks who slowly clambered out of the protecting trench and at the bidding of his officer laboriously started on the journey across no man's land to attack an entrenched enemy deserved the highest honour .... There was no sound of drum, pipes or trumpet to encourage him, no gallant charge, no cheers from onlookers, no excitement, only a tired and often very weary man heavily loaded with ammunition, bombs, kit and gas mask and rifle getting out with difficulty from his trench and slowly moving across an open space with a certain knowledge that [there was a good chance] he would be killed or wounded."

Captain Alexander Stewart's diary is available to download from www.grandfathersgreatwar.com and an audio version, read by Cameron Stewart, is available from www.talkingissues.com.