BX May 25, 1916
A Letter From the Front
Heather Bowling Club
Dear Friend,
You will no doubt be surprised at hearing from me, but when it gets along towards May 24 one is bound to think of bowling and of the good times spent on the green.
I hope you had a good turn out on the 24th and that this year will be as great a success as usual.
I wish I could have been one of the “jolly bunch,” but here’s looking forward to next year.
I had hoped by this time to have had a few “running shots” at the Germans, but the fates have ruled it otherwise. However, I am in hopes of having an “end” or two with them yet, and you may be sure I’ll try and get the “Kitty.”
In the meantime I am seeing a bit of Old London and the garden of the world. England is certainly a most beautiful country and I have enjoyed my stay here immensely.
Please give my kindest regards to all “the boys.” With best wishes for a very prosperous and successful year.
Sincerely yours,
Glad Raymond
BX November 8, 1916
Four Days Spent in a Shell Hole – Pte. Glad. Raymond Had a Trying Time After Having Been Hit by Shrapnel
Very thrilling is the descriptive account of the battle in which he was wounded as given by Pte. William Gladstone Raymond, son of Postmaster W.G. Raymond, in a letter home. The letter was written at Whalley, Lancashire, where he is recuperating, and gives an interesting portrayal of the time from when they left for the front lines on Saturday. He also tells how he was wounded in the right hip, a stretcher-bearer killed in coming to his assistance, and how he stayed there in a shell hole till the next Thursday, when he crawled out and met a patrol of the 75th Battalion. The letter is as follows:
October 24, 1916
Whalley, Lancashire,
I will try and give you a description of what happened from the time we left camp on the Saturday night until we reached here.
We had been in the front line just to the left of Courcelette for two days, we were relieved about 11 p.m. on the Thursday night and after about a six-mile march we reached our camp near Albert. The march was a very trying one – through heavy mud. We were all very tired when we reached camp. We rested here until the Saturday afternoon. On Saturday afternoon we started up the line again, knowing we were to make an attack on the Sunday. Each man, beside his regular 120 rounds of ammunition, carried a bandolier, containing 50 rounds, also 4 Mill’s hand grenades. On the way up we picked up picks and shovels, and water and rations for 48 hours, so we were pretty well loaded. But as the last few days had been fine the roads had dried somewhat, and the marching was very much better. We went up independently by companies. Our company was supposed to have a frontage of 100 yards, but when we took it over about midnight we found it was nearer 200 yards. The company mustered about 70 men. The attack was to be made in three waves, that is three lines of men with an interval of two minutes between lines. Nos. 1 and 2 platoons of our company formed the first wave. We had about 25 men altogether, covering a frontage of 200 yards, so you see we were almost 10 yards apart. The artillery opened up at seven minutes to five and raised the barrage at 5 a.m. We went over and when within about 30 yards of their line I looked to my right and left to get my bearings; I couldn’t see one of our men, but in Fritzie’s trench I could see about 20 of the enemy, so realizing that I could do no good alone, I dropped into a shell hole and opened up with my rifle. I was lying among the remains of his entanglements. The artillery had wrecked them pretty well. Suddenly from a shell hole about 7 yards in front I saw a rifle and a Bosche’s head appear. He tried to get a line on me, but I got there first. I then opened fire again on those in the trench. Without any warning a bomb sailed over from the hole where Mr. Hun was lying. It landed a couple of feet short of my dugout, however, so I escaped all damage by ducking down low. Then thinking two could play at that game, but hating to waste a grenade on one of the beasts, I let him have one of my Mill’s, and luckily dropped it nicely into his shell hole. I heard nothing more from that quarter. Whether there was one or two of them there I cannot say positively, but I firmly believe I got the first one with my rifle.
By the time I was getting fairly light, and as I could see nothing of our men, decided I’d make for our lines. I ran about 30 yards, and then dropped into a shell hole. A very sad thing occurred here. One of our stretcher-bearers, seeing me jump into this hole, thought I was wounded, and came dodging over to me. When he found I was all right he started looking around to see where he was needed. He got his head a little too high, poor fellow, and got one in the brain. He never knew what struck him. When I found I could do him no good, I started again for our lines. I only got about 15 yards this time, when I felt something catch my right hip, like a kick from a horse. I went down like a log; but there was a good big shell hole very handy, so rolled into it. I bound myself up then and had quite a time stopping the bleeding, but with the aid of my belt I managed it. Then I spread out my oil sheet and lay there until dark at least, then might be picked up by stretcher-bearers or a patrol. It was a very bright moonlight night and Fritz was pretty lively, so there was nothing doing Sunday night. The next three nights were pretty much the same and my leg was rather hard to move on. I felt I could crawl on my hands and knees, but it was very difficult for me to get into that position. Some of our large shells were busting pretty close and bits of shrapnel were often digging into the far side of my shelter; several times I got large chunks of mud on the head, but my “tin hat” saved all damage. I was lying on my back with my knees up and stretched my oil sheet tight over me fastening it under my head and feet; this kept a good bit of mud off, but I got one bit on the knee which gave me a nasty bruise. Food and water were entirely exhausted by Thursday a.m. Thursday night was cloudy and as my leg was feeling a bit more limber I decided to get out. Slipping a couple of clips in my pocket I left everything but my rifle, which was lying where I fell.
After wandering around for about an hour I was picked up by a patrol of the 75th Battalion who took me to the dressing station. I could never have been more than a couple.
We are in a sort of a salient and you see Fritz flares no matter where you look which makes it very confusing. In my next letter I’ll give you a description of what happened between the dressing station and here.
Had a very nice letter from the ladies of Peel House, saying how sorry they were to hear of me “getting hit,” and asking if there was anything I needed, so you see I’m in good hands.
Love to all,
Glad
