BX April 14, 1917

A Letter Written in Prophetic Vein – Private George Harold Jackson of St. George, Tells of Experiences at the Front – Was With the 125th

“The weather has been grand for a week and another like it and the mud will be all gone, then for the big push, and after that home.”    

It was in prophetic vein that the above was written – and that by a Brant County boy, George Harold Jackson (772025) who went over with the Signalling Corp of the 125th Battalion, and has been in France since last October. He is a son of D. Jackson of St. George. To his sister he wrote:

March 12, 1917
France,

Dear Sister Bertha,

Well I guess it is time I was writing you a letter, as I only received eleven yesterday so you will see I have some answering to do. The weather has been grand for a week and another like it and the mud will be all gone. Then for the big push, and after that home. This weather makes one glad they are alive, and the lord help poor Fritz if it only holds. We’ll finish the job in less than six months. I would like you to hear our artillery throw them at the Huns. Remember what a roar there is on a foggy night when the heavy freights are going over the bridge at home. Multiply that by about five thousand and you have some idea of the nose of a bombardment; a continual roar. The station we were on before this one was in front of some heavies and when they started they made things shake. While sitting there on duty I offered up a little prayer for Fritz, as it must have been hell for him. It is very easy to get the poor devils wound up and he comes back with everything he has, but there is no stopping the Canucks or Tommies when they get going good. You will see by the papers where the Tommies made a big gain on the Somme, so that is the star. You will also notice that they don’t meet with near so much opposition, as in the start of the war. So I guess they realize they are beaten, and take it from me they are. I certainly thank the gods I was born British, as there is something in the blood that the Hun don’t possess. You would laugh if you could only see some of us. Here is a little instance of how quick we change. The last trip in when we were coming out it was as dark as sin. We didn’t want to go over the top as it was pretty muddy and more than slippery, so we decided to follow the trench. We had our overcoats and equipment. With a phone over my shoulder I was leading the way and going along fine when, bang up to my knees in mud and water just sticky enough to hold me. In trying to get out I naturally rubbed up against the sides of the trench, and say, if I didn’t get covered with mud. I laugh as I write about it but it didn’t seem funny at the time. I swore then that I would take a chance on the top next time. I had my fun watching, or rather hearing, the other two following me. I’ve heard some swearing but never like that before.

Fritz was throwing over a few minnies and a hunk of mud filled my ear and completely covered the side of my face. That was too much so I jumped up and fired five rounds rapid in the direction of his lines. I can tell you it relieved my feelings.

We arrived at our station with ought further mishap and as it was a joke station we soon had a good fire going, changed our socks, had a shot of rum and went to bed.

We had some good laughs the next day when we were comparing notes. I am telling you this to give you an idea of our life out here. We are very easily contented, but we chew the fat over everything, more for something to do than anything else. But take it from me the boys are always there when the pinel comes and they are needed.

Will tell you some laughable experiences when I come home. Don’t think it is all hard work out here, because we have some joke times and above all don’t worry as none of us do without here. We just take things as they come. It’s a hard life but a merry one, and we’re here for a good cause. We would all sooner be home, which is only natural, but we will have to kill off the worms so they don’t turn again.

Have found a good thing for little travelers. I rubbed a little creosote on my clothes ones a week and haven’t been bothered for a month. Have been getting baths and clean clothes once a weak lately, so we are fine. There are plenty of shell holes to wash in now that the weather is warm.

I haven’t received the parcel yet but they are generally a little later than letters. Well I guess I had better close for this time, as I think I have overdone myself and I have a lot more letters to write yet. Hoping to hear from you soon. I remain, with love to all the family.

Your loving brother,

Harold

P.S. – Don’t worry

BX June 27, 1917

Twenty Room Dugout Found by Canadians – Private George Harold Jackson, of St. George Tells How the “Big Push is Worked”

Pte. George Harold Jackson, of the signallers of one of the Canadian battalions, having been transferred from a Brant County Battalion, writes home to his sister a most interesting story of twice “going over the top.”  He was formerly a resident of St. George

The letter follows:

May 23, 1917
France

Dear Sister Bertha

Just wrote you Sunday, but as it is a wet afternoon and time hangs heavy, I thought I might as well try to write a little of the last two fights I was in. Will start at the first and try to tell you all about it.

On Sunday, April 8, we left our billets and started towards the line. We had been practicing the attack for some time, and we all had the idea that we were soon going to put it into execution. In the afternoon, about 2 o’clock we arrived at our meeting place, and were told that we would wait until it was dark before moving up.

We took off our equipment and had tea. It seemed more like a picnic as everyone was in the best of spirits, although a little anxious. We moved off about 8 p.m. and although Fritz was shelling the road we arrived at our destination without any casualties. After being supplied with bombs, shovels, picks, etc. we were told to get as much sleep as possible, and be ready to go over at 5 a.m. Along about four o’clock we had some hot soup and tea, also a little rum. Then it was a case of wait until 5.30. Well, sister, I can’t tell you all I was thinking about, but I guess it was everything on the universe. It wasn’t fear, as I was sure that I was coming out O.K., but I was glad when we were told to get out of the trench and be ready. Action is the best thing for jumpy nerves, I find, if it is just rolling a cigarette. We got out of our second line trench, and took our formation not far behind our front line. Here we had to wait until our barrage opened up at 5.30 a.m. Watt and I were lying in a shell hole smoking and waiting when our guns opened up. Talk about noise, I felt like turning and running the other way, but instead we moved ahead. It was a sight that I’ll never forget. Fritz put up star shells galore – red, green, white and yellow, in clusters. You can imagine what a sight it would be with a background of smoke and dust. We kept going forward and soon came to what was Fritz’s front line. It was pounded to a pulp, as our artillery was incomparable. Here we saw a few prisoners, but didn’t bother with them, but it put more confidence in my pal and me. In the confusion and noise of shells, etc., we found ourselves alone, in fact lost, but there was nothing to do but go on, which we did, and before long met some of our company waiting for the barrage to lift. We stopped with them deciding to move when they did. We sat talking and smoking when I suddenly realized that it was raining. I hadn’t taken any notice of it before – too much excitement. I was covered with mud and in some manner had torn my trousers. Believe me, I was a sight, but we were all happy and in the best of spirits. Up until now Fritz hadn’t put up any kind of a scrap. It was just a walk over for us, with very few casualties. We waited in the trench for about two hours, while our artillery was pounding Fritz’s second line. When it lifted we went forward and took our objective at 11.30 a.m. We advanced a distance of 3,800 yards in all, so you see we didn’t do so bad, considering most of the troops were new to the game of going over the top.

Most of Fritz’s dugouts contained prisoners who would climb out and start to run to the rear, both hands over their head whining “Kamerade,” scared to death. If you want a sight that will make you laugh imagine a Nun with glasses on wearing a steel helmet, in a dirty gray uniform running towards you with both hands skyward whining “Kamrade.”  We should kill all of them, but then a person hasn’t the heart, but it’s only what they deserve.

After we had gained our objective we established our company headquarters in a dugout that wasn’t damaged to any great extent. Talk about a home, it was great. My pal and I raided the wine cellar, and after partaking of a few bottles of French wine, we hunted for a place to sleep. After looking in innumerable doors, passages, etc, we found a nice little room with two bunks in it. As we had had a rather hard day it didn’t take long to utilize them for a few hours. Later on we looked around and I picked up a few souvenirs which I am sending home in a few days. The dugout contained about 20 rooms, a well stocked room of wine and plenty of Fritzies biscuits and tinned meats, besides a couple of dead Huns. This dugout was about 50 feet underground, with three outlets, so Fritz imagined himself pretty safe. In some of the last trenches we took from them, there were no dugouts, although we found where they had started to dig some, but they didn’t get a chance to finish them.

The next night we moved up and relieved another battalion, and after a few days were ourselves relieved and went farther back for a little rest up. After a good sleep and clean up we were as good as new, and highly pleased with our success.

Nothing of importance took place until May 1, when we again prepared to hand Fritz a few, and on the morning of May 3, at 3.45 we went over again, as you already know. This time it was more of a scrap, but we got what we went after and held it until relieved. I had a few good experiences the last time, but will tell you about them when I get back. Then, Bertha, that is a little of the “Big Push.”  It will give you an idea of what it is like to go over the wall. I met Roger Bricker from home today. He just joined us a day or so ago. Remember he was wounded at the Somme last summer. One of the fellows was telling me that they met Fernie Taylor lately, so he is still O.K. Well, I guess I had better ring off for this time or you will be tired of reading this. Everything is going fine. We are still having grand weather. I am getting fat since we have been here and am ashamed of my appetite. I can eat all the time and sleep the rest. Am enclosing a shoulder strap taken from a German on May 3. I have two more. I will send them in other letters, so let me know if you get it. I have a cap also, but will send it later.

Good bye for now. Hoping this finds you all as well as it leaves me. Love to all.

Your loving brother,

Harold

BX December 17, 1917

An Attack on the Hun Line – Private George Harold Jackson of St. George Writes Home a Graphic Story of “Going Over the Top” by the Canadian Forces in France

The following very interesting letter was received by Miss Rose Jackson, St. George, from her brother, Harold Jackson, with the C.E.F. in France. It gives a most vivid account of a recent attack upon the German trenches in which the writer took part. By error it was yesterday announced that he had been killed in action. This is incorrect.

Dear Sister,

Here goes for a more detailed account of the recent fight. We moved up to the front line by degrees and established our headquarters in one of the famous Hun pill boxes. You have probably read considerable about them, as they are what Fritz depends upon these days of mud and water. They vary in size, some being just large enough to hold a machine gun and crew, but the one we were using was about 50 feet long by 20 wide, containing five compartments, connected by a hole large enough to crawl through, with an entrance at the back. Some had an opening in the top to work the gun from. They are built of concrete, the walls being about two feet thick, sometimes more, but they are strong enough to turn one of our guns, but the occupants are generally killed by the concussion, if a direct hit is registered. The way Fritz has been doing lately is to keep his men and guns inside until our barrage lifts, then they come out, establish themselves in shell holes and proceed to thin out the attacking troops. The remedy for this method is to follow the barrage close and then get busy with bomb and bayonet. When they do work the guns from the top they are overcome by the flanks. But taking everything into consideration, they very seldom cause any trouble. About 9.30 on the night of the fifth we went out to our jumping off trench – as it is called. Now comes the most trying part of going over the top, waiting until 6 o’clock. Had a little sleep, but spent most of the time smoking, tried not to think as thinking only makes one more nervous. Don’t think any of us were really frightened. Guess it must be the uncertainty. Anyway, about 4 a.m. old Fritz took a notion to strafe us, which he did in fine style, but we fooled him, as he did not know our location. He threw everything except Krupps works at us for an hour and a half, but lucky for us he never registered a hit on our trenches, so we had no casualties. He had us hugging old Mother Earth, but we kept saying to ourselves, you’ll get yours at 6 o’clock. After a while he quit. Suppose he was saying to himself, “I’ve stopped them today.”  About 5.45 a.m. we got our rum issue and we sure needed it, as we were nearly frozen. If the W.C.T.U. has anything more to say about our rum let them come over here and put in a winter. Think it would broaden some of those narrow minds, if such a thing were possible. Soon, the word came “two minutes to go; get ready.”  We grabbed our bombs and rifles and looked for a good place to climb out of the trench. At 6 o’clock our guns opened. Believe me it was grand; think it had the 9th of April beat for noise. As soon as it started away we went at a nice walk, but it was more of a climb, as the ground was one mass of big shell holes. As far as I could see on both sides I saw men going ahead, most of them smoking. We kept rather close to our barrage and got clear of all the shells the Huns threw back. Was on the lookout for the famous pill boxes, as there were a few on our frontage that we thought would give us trouble, but didn’t notice any on  the way over, so when we reached our objective I asked our officers where they were. Am telling you that so as to give you an idea of what little trouble they are. We reached our objective somewhere around 7.30, and commenced to dig in. We advanced in all 1500 yards, which was 300 yards over our objective. We were on the left of Passchendaele village, which was also captured that morning. We took some prisoners, among them the officer in command of the troops that were in reserve. He had been visiting and couldn’t get back, hence the reason for Fritz not counter attacking. The prisoners taken were a good bunch of men, varying from 18 to 28 years. Had good clean uniforms, so I guess they must have been new troops and hadn’t been in the line very long. Saw one poor kid, couldn’t have been over 17, crying and saying “Kamerade.”  I felt sorry for him at the time. It’s a wonder they are not all crazy considering the barrage they go through. No wonder there is no fight left in them. One fellow told us that when they saw it was the Canadians that were coming they just turned and beat it. Poor devils, we’re the best friends they have if they only knew it. One thing we fight clean. Guess their conscience must bother them. Well, no wonder.

After we had consolidated Fritz started shelling, but he was shooting high, wide and handsome, and the best he could do was make us keep our heads down which wasn’t any too agreeable, as it was raining like fury and I never did care much about sitting down in a puddle of water. He bothered us a bit the next day, but was very quiet when we were relived. There was a good feed and another shot of rum for us when we got back to the tents. Also heaps of mail had a good sleep and after I had cleaned up a bit felt as good as new. There that’s the account of my third time going over the top, so am getting plenty of experience. Will have to ring off now as I am nearly asleep. 

Hoping this finds you all well I remain, your loving brother.

Harold

P.S.: War is hell, but it’s worse for the Huns