Free The Book of the Poppy by Chris McNab

instant. With diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which the Russians had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel above their heads, and with a cheer which was many a noble fellow’s death cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries; but ere they were lost from view, the plain was strewed with their bodies and with the carcasses of horses. They were exposed to an oblique fire from the batteries on the hills on both sides, as well as to a direct fire of musketry.
    WINDOWS ON THE PAST
    The account of the bombing in Wakefield perfectly illustrates the value of memories, original documents and first-hand accounts to understand the true nature of conflict during times of remembrance. The types of primary sources we can draw on to open these windows to the past are extremely diverse, but all make their own contribution. For example, the following is from a letter written on 28 May 1918 from one Captain R. Hulbert Dadd, ‘B’ Company, 5th Machine Gun Battalion, to the mother of a soldier killed in action:

    I regret very much to inform you that your son Pte. A.G. Harrison, No. 62732 of this Company was killed in action on the night of the 21st instant. Death was instantaneous and without any suffering.
    The Company was taking part in an attack and your son’s gun team was one of these which advanced against the enemy. The attack was successful, and all guns reached and established new positions. Later in the night the enemy shelled our lines and one shell fell on your son’s gun killing him and wounding a comrade.
    It was impossible to get his remains away and he lies in a soldier’s grave where he fell. I and the C.O. and all the Company deeply sympathise with you in your loss.
    Your son always did his duty and now has given his life for his country. We all honour him, and I trust you will feel some consolation in remembering this.
    His effects will reach you via the Base in due course.

    The letter is a model of self-control, born no doubt from having to write such letters on numerous occasions. Some lines speak volumes. The statement that ‘Death was instantaneous and without any suffering’ was commonplace in such missives, wishing to spare the bereaved the distress of violent details (although of course sometimes the statement was perfectly true). The captain explains that it was impossible to retrieve his body, implying that either the attack had to press ahead with no time to collect the dead, or that the ground was lost to the enemy, or that there wasn’t enough of a body left to take back to the rear. The final line about the return of the effects has an unusual poignancy; a mother would receive a box containing simple personal items, objects that just days or weeks previously had been turned in the hands of a precious son.
    Letters from the frontline to loved ones back home always carry an emotional power. On one level this is because the letters were not written with the intention of publication. As the letter writer was communicating with a specific person or group of people, typically loved ones, the emotions and priorities of the writer seem more visible and real. We also often see soldiers writing letters that significantly downplay the dangers they face, to prevent their loved ones from worrying. However, on some occasions the writer has to face the issue of death openly, and express full feelings about the war in which they are involved.
    John Alexander Raws was British-born and his family emigrated to Australia when he was a child. In 1915 he joined the Australian Corps, and was sent to fight on the Western Front as a junior officer. He was killed in August 1916 in the Battle of the Somme, but left behind him a striking sequence of letters to the various members of his family. The early letters are full of examples of nervous manliness, such as this one to his father, written on 12 July 1915:

    I received your letter this evening, just a few minutes after I had passed