Writing home one local man, a local dentist in civilian life, Sergeant Harry Odams of the Army Service Corps, described how he spent 1 July 1916:
"The voyage was simply delightful, as the sea was like a mill-pond, and as we passed through the Grecian Archipelago the sight was a picture: islands on one side or other all the way, and creeks between them, which appeared ideal refuges for submarines, but we were escorted all the way by the destroyers and mine-sweepers and escaped all right, arriving in harbour on Saturday, July 1st".[1]
Back in Nottinghamshire, it was a bright and clear, sunny and warm Saturday summer's day. In Hucknall, men and women went about their work. The mines were working at full capacity and many women were busy filling the gaps left in industry by the more than 1,000 local men who had gone away to the war by that time.
In Linby, the Great Northern Railway Company apologised for any inconvenience caused by the closure of the station to passenger traffic. In Greece, Harry Odams spent the day helping to unload the ship that had carried him safely to Salonica. In German East Africa, modern-day Tanzania, the owner of Newstead Abbey, Major Roderick Beauclerk Webb, was fighting his way through the bush. In France, 100,000 British soldiers were counting down the time towards 7.30 am - the time set for the start of the Battle of the Somme, known amongst the troops as "The Big Push".
By the time night fell, a new shift had started in the mines; Linby residents had worn away a little more shoe leather; the men in Greece were getting bitten by malaria-infected mosquitoes; Major Webb was a little short of breath; and over 56,000 khaki-clad men lay dead or wounded on the rolling countryside of the Somme. Sixteen of those were from Hucknall. This is the story of what happened to just three men who were lucky enough to survive.
One of the objectives for the day was the capture of the German-held ‘Mouquet Farm'. To the Tommies, including some from ‘Mucky Hucknall', it was, inevitably, "Mucky Farm'. The 11th Sherwood Foresters were assured that the week-long British preliminary bombardment would have wiped out everything in front of them. It didn't.
After an unsuccessful attempt by the 9th York & Lancaster Regiment, the Foresters were sent in to renew the attack. Private Frank Carroll, of Glebe Street, remembered what it was like to be there:
At six o'clock the whole guns opened fire along the line for an hour's bombardment before we went forward. The earth shook with the guns and the mines, somewhat resembling an earthquake. At the end of the hour the guns lifted from the Huns' front line to his second and the time had come for the infantry to go over to the Huns' first line. They took Fritz with surprise, and he was soon on the run. The next line were more prepared for them and got their machine guns to mow them down."
"At nine o'clock our time had come. We had waited - Oh! the waiting - and we were in a hurry to get over. At last the words came - "Sherwoods over!" We were soon over but not a man out of my platoon got over 60 yards. Nothing could live in it. We were enfiladed by machine gun fire on both sides, also on our front. I think I was the last one on my pins in our lot; I got one in the right elbow, and went down close to one of our officers, who had the calf of his leg blown away." [2]
The officer commanding 11th Notts & Derby, Lieutenant Colonel Watson CMG DSO, was amongst those wounded. Writing to a fellow officer during his convalescence, he described his experience:
"I personally was wounded about 100 yards from the German line about 10.30 am, and by that time, the advance, as far as our Brigade was concerned was practically at a standstill. Every man who endeavoured to follow me to the German line was hit, and a very large number of our men lay dead close to our wire." [3]
Frank Carroll was not dead but pretended to be so to avoid any further attention from the Germans. He continued:
"I crawled into a shell hole and began to remove the pack as best I could. I dared not show myself much, as Hun snipers were about, and I could hear the crack, crack of the explosive bullets as they were picking off our wounded as they tried to crawl back to our lines.....I then decided to be dead for a few hours. It is not very nice being dead when there is someone whom you can't see keeps having a pot at you. After four hours, things began to steady down a little, so I crawled out of the shell hole, but when I had gone a few yards I had to give up. I was weak through loss of blood. After a time I thought I would risk it, so I got up and walked the rest of the way." [4]
Lieutenant Colonel Watson had to wait a little longer. He owed his life to three of his men who carried him back to safety, one of whom was local man, Private Alfred Tolley:
"Most of the wounded crawled back to safety after dark. I was carried in by three unwounded men of the Battalion, Ptes. 17953 H Meakin, 17949 F Sadler and 17764 A Tolley of D Company about 11 pm, who got back from the German trenches, and did not leave me until I was got back into an ambulance about 1 am" [5]
Alfred Tolley's reward was a silver pocket watch as a token of thanks from his commanding officer [6]. Others were left with a different kind of souvenir to remind them of the Somme's opening day.
Further north, at Gommecourt, the Robin Hood Rifles were given the job of diverting the Germans away from the main attack. They attracted enough attention to suffer some of the worst losses during a day of appalling casualties but did not manage to divert a single German from what was going on elsewhere.
One of several Hucknall men with the battalion was Albert Street resident, Robert Edwards. He described what happened when they went over the top, "It was like going into hell, and I thank God I got through alive, as there are not many Robin Hoods left. I was wounded between the first and second of their lines, and we were still advancing when I got pipped by their murderous machine gun fire. We were going strong, but it was costing us a lot of lives." [7]
The Robin Hoods got nowhere and the few that made it as far as Robert Edwards were quickly mopped up by German counter-attacks. But he remained philosophical:
"I have several wounds, which are going on all right except one in my left hand. The bones are shot away and I don't think I shall use it any more. So if you hear of any one-handed jobs just think of me. I thought I should have lost the arm altogether, but I am spared this. But, never mind, it was for the good of Old England. I am a lot better off than some who have been killed, and others who have had legs and arms shot away." [8]
In only one section of the line did the British achieve all of their objectives; it was a small return for the expenditure of so much blood. And it was far from over. As Lieutenant Colonel Watson reflected after the war, "Now there is time to indulge in reminiscence ... then there was little time left for reflection. It was the hour of action and the Battle of the Somme was only in its first phase." [9]
Few not involved could have any idea of what that might mean. One who gained some idea was Elizabeth Calladine, teacher and singer, living in Titchfield Street, Hucknall. She joined a touring party organised by Lena Ashwell and was in France when the battle started. On the evening of 1 July, she was travelling back to where she was staying when:
"On our way home, the ladies' car had a puncture. It happened close to the spot where there is an English officers' cemetery. One can remained [sic] unmoved by the pictures of hundreds of little wooden crosses, but the actual realization is not so ineffectual." [10]
Indeed.
Sources:
[1] 'The Mansfield and North Notts. Advertiser', 25th August 1916.
[2] 'Hucknall Dispatch', 17th May 1917.
[3] Lt. Col. Watson, quoted in Fryer, Percy, "The Men from the Greenwood. Being the War History of the 11th (Service) Battalion Sherwood Foresters", p.57., Creswell & Oaksford (Nottingham).
[4] 'Dispatch', 17th May 1917.
[5] p.57 "Men from the Greenwood".
[6] 'Dispatch', 4th October 1917.[7] 'Dispatch', 17th August 1916.
[8] Ibid.
[9] p.60 "Men from the Greenwood".
[10] Elizabeth Calladine, unpublished diary, Hucknall Library.
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Article and images contributed by Jim Grundy.
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