Thiepval, France, June 28th 1916. It has been several days of artillery bombardment. My ears are in pain and I have not been able to sleep –not even a few bad hours as usual-: none I have! I have seen the miserable conditions of the artillery men; the uncountable hours they work. Their hands are black and burnt by used ferrules. There are huge mountains of them back there –as Wales' little hills! I saw a man’s ear bleeding by the excessive noise. The poor men have got to sleep among the cannons and piles of new shells after working eighteen hours-a-day. It rained all yesternight and part of the morning, so general Rawlinson posponed the attack until July 1st at 7.30 A.M. Therefore, there would be good visibility for the artillery. It should smash the German trenchers at all and all the way to victory is going to be like a nice walk for the French countryside. But I do not think the men took the new very well. The moral could be affected because they were very excited about getting into combat for the first time. God they’re young! It is obvious they are too young and innocent, haven’t finished highschool yet. But if they survive the next days they will become MEN. Not because they will become more mature, because they will see what men are capable of! At noon I went translating some things at IV Army headquarters. I saw several French officers and they seemed pretty willing to attack. They are also very worried for the situation in Verdun. Then I had the chance to have a word with Liutenant McConelly. He is one of the very few veteran officers left. He has been here since the Marne, is the only one remaining of his original batallion of 1914. In the other hand we have only unexperienced, silly boys just graduated from Sandhurst who cry for their mommies when they hear the first shots. * * * * * I can not sleep. Nobody can. There is a bloody flood in the Trenchers. There are bloody water and mud all around, my toes’ high! Bloody rats are swimming over there, using my boots as boats… -I hope the bastards shall drown, and I do not mean the rats-… But I think the expectation, the anxiety; whether to die or not is more important than water. That thinking, that feeling is smashing our mortal and weak minds as our guns are smashing the German positions. I ordered the men to rest and I am disobeying my own order, what example am I to the men? Lt. William A. Jolly (Glasgow, 1894-Strasbourg, 1968), West Yorkshire 10th Batallion.
Come on, men! I will post the rest of the story later, including all the slaughtery on 1st July. There are excellent descriptions of the horrible dog-fight there was. The butchery called Somme battle and its 70.000 casualties in a day.
