SOLDIERS fighting on the western front were keen to share their experiences, and they reached out to the widest audience with letters that were published in newspapers.

And while the historic picture of the war is one of unremitting bleakness and destruction, two servicemen – one an officer, one a private – who wrote to The Herald in 1915 shared another side of the war.

Writing anonymously, both talked about learning to live under constant shelling and machine gun fire until it became routine, and the  bonds they formed with their squadmates - and even the enemy.

The Herald:

The front was a blasted wasteland

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The officer wrote: “Here, amid rain and mud, with  over two feet of water to  wade through in places in the trenches, with trench walls and parapets falling down with the rain, everyone is happy and cheerful and anxiously assist every one and share with the others in a way that makes  one feel that Brotherhood here is reality. There is no lack  of discipline, but very strong bonds of real affection amongst us.”

“Oh, it has been grand experience—rain, mud, wet, and everything. I wouldn’t have missed it all for anything.”

Poignantly, he also believed the war was indeed the war to end wars, writing: “This, I am sure of, that war on this scale can never tried again. You could no more get these men  –regulars or volunteers – to enlist for another war like this than fly in the air, although they would not – in spite of that – think of giving up now till this war is through. To us it seems impossible that such another war could be; it is too ghastly to think of.”

The Herald:

Soldiers eat in the trenches 

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Writing of a brief pause in  the fighting, the private said trenches on both sides had emptied and members of the two opposing armies had met on no-man’s land.

He wrote: “The enemy (I should say opposition) and us are only 15 yards apart in this particular point. We have been conversing with each other for a few days now, but on the morning of November 4 we were a little more brave, showing our heads.

“They invited us over and we invited them, and after a bit of arguing from each side advanced; they shook hands, and immediately a German officer rushed forward and took the hand of the British Tommy that had stepped forward bravely. They cheered and we did likewise, and, Mr. Editor, believe me, I never felt so delighted in my existence. “A few remarks passed by them are as follows: “We no shoot, you no shoot”; “War no good”; “Bombs no good”.

The Herald:

Conditions on the frontlines were terrible

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ALTHOUGH locations and descriptions of troop movements were censored, soldiers’ letters back home were free to talk of the terrible destruction wrought by the war and the brutality of the fighting.

Letters in newspapers included descriptions of infantry charges, devastated cities and hand to hand fighting. In one missive, Private John Mclnrue, from Lanarkshire, fighting with the 2nd Sherwood Foresters, talked of living in a city “as large as Glasgow” where few buildings had been left untouched by the conflict.

He wrote: “Just imagine if you started to walk from Bellshill to Holytown and you met nothing but soldiers, and every house had its windows smashed, every second or third house had large holes in the walls made by the ‘coalboxes’ [shells], in the middle of the street engineers filling up the holes in the roadway, the churches and schools and all prominent buildings lowered to the ground, and week in, week out, you are in the midst of cannons roaring from morn ‘til night.”

The Herald:

Soldiers at the Battle of the Somme

He described a night-time attack as as “one of the finest sights” of his life: “... all of a sudden, about 200 cannons started from over the lines and our guns started in answer. The night was pitch dark, and 1 to 2 miles off the enemy thought they had discovered some weak spot [in] our chain trenches, so their infantry made a charge.

“Up went the searchlights, star shells, and rockets, and the shells exploding in the air.

It was a sight. We would have enjoyed it better had we known there would be no casualty list, but there was; nevertheless, it was a sight I will never forget.

“I was saying, their infantry made a charge but they didn’t get through. 183 got the length of our comrades’ trenches, and only 3 survived; so they paid dearly for the mistake they made in thinking there was any weak links in our chain.  

James McIllwraith, of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, described a battle, saying: “For the last eight or 10 days there have been some bitter engagements fought with the same results to the Germans. Our men are far the better class in a hand-to-hand struggle, and there is nothing on earth to stand against our rifle fire. It is, like our bayonet work, most deadly. It is horrible after a bayonet charge. I would as soon shoot for a year as use the bayonet for an hour.”

“It must, be done and the Germans must get it. We can’t, nor will not, show any sympathy to a German, matter what rank holds. We are fed up them.”

These letters were uncovered by Findmypast.com, a vast collection of historical newspapers, published in association with the British Library.

Findmypast.com is a leading British and Irish Family history website which has been bringing the past to life for millions of members across the globe.

LETTERS FROM THE FRONT

Officer’s Letter

November 5, 1915. Well, my comrade, here I am sitting in my “dug out after” after our evening meal, and before I lie down (I can't very well call “ going to bed,” as we can’t, of course, take off our clothes) I just want to have a few quiet minutes’ chat with you. I can’t quite make up my mind at times whether this really is War or only a gigantic circus. Tonight, of course, is the great night for fireworks at home, and out here—no doubt that they might show that they really did remember the 5th of November—the brigade on our left arranged to send up dozens of red rockets at 6.30 p.m., to be followed by rapid rifle and machine-gun fire— in the hopes of catching the Germans lining their parapets. Well, at 6.30 I went out into the most perfect starry night I have seen since Loos, I stood looking up at the Plough and Pole Star when the rockets began. They really were very pretty, but were answered by dozens flares and star shells from the Germans that showed up the country all around. Then the rifles and machine guns cracked out for a few minutes. Thousands of rounds were loosed off and probably no one was hurt. It is perfectly marvellous how much lead and old iron can fly about and how little damage it does.

I have been in these trenches since Tuesday and daily we must have had thousands of rounds of rifle and machine-gain fire and from a dozen twenty shells — high explosive and shrapnel -  sent over us and amongst us and not a single one of mv men has been hit and no harm has been done. It is rather wonderful, but makes one think about the appalling waste there is in war. What an amount of money is spent on all that ammunition! How little harm—comparatively—it does! If all this money could have been spent on social work, what Heaven we might have had earth today! And yet —I wonder.

One learns much here with these death-dealing missiles around that I fancy we could never learn at home. Somehow I feel it is all for good. We are getting lessons and experiences brought to us out here that a lifetime social work couldn’t teach to home. Loos has made men the more or less happy-go-lucky lads I brought out here. It has taught them what Brotherhood is. It has brought it to the surface and cemented it as nothing else could. And life altogether has new, fuller meaning to us. We have been through the crucible, have looked Death m the face and have learned that you can do that without any fear but the most wonderful calm and peace. The experience was awful yet subline.

While shells were dropping amongst us and around us we were conscious of the most wonderful uplifting, and “Peace, perfect Peace,” were the words that seemed to breathe through me with the most wonderfully calming effect. And here, amid rain and mud, with over two feet of water to wade through in places in the trenches, with trench walls and parapets falling down with the rain, everyone is happy and cheerful and anxious assist ever other one and share with the others in a way that makes one feel that Brotherhood here is reality. There is no lack of discipline, but very strong bonds of real affection amongst us. Oh, it has been grand experience—rain, mud, wet, and everything. I wouldn't have missed it all for anything. And yet I long to home. I long for the war to end—to be finished with it all. And inside myself I feel it will end when the lessons it is meant teach are learnt, are brought right home to the world large—and not till then, All things work together for good. Yes; this ghastly war, too. It has taught us many lessons: through and through the loss of loved ones it will teach millions of others. This, I am sure of, that war on this scale can never tried again. You could no more get these men—regulars or volunteers—to enlist for another war like this than fly in the air, although they would not—in spite of that—think of giving up now till this war is through. To us it seems impossible that such another war could be; it is too ghastly to think of.

National Service? Yes; all should serve the nation; all should, serve the yet wider Brotherhood of humanity. But Conscription? Never. I was opposed to conscription before. In am ten times more opposed to it now. If these men had not come into this willingly they wouldn't have learned the lessons they have. But here's the Post Corporal come for mv letters, so I must stop.

 All good be with you. May you be richly blessed my friend, in your splendid work.

Private’s Letter

Dear sir, as a reader, not to say admirer, of your paper The Herald,  I think it is my duty to inform you of an incident which I was a party to and which occurred in the trenches in Flanders. In a few words, the Germans and us have shaken hands; it is no lie and not in the least exaggerated. I will try and explain how all came about. Thu enemy (I should say opposition) and us are only fifteen yards apart in this particular point. We have been conversing with each other for a few days now, but on the morning of November 4 we were a little more brave, showing our heads (rather a risky thing to do, as a rotten shot should put a hole in you at such short range); we then showed more of our bodies until they and us were completely visible. They invited us over and we invited them, and after a bit of arguing from each side advanced; they shook hands, and immediately a German officer rushed forward and the hand of the British Tommy that had stepped forward bravely. They cheered and we did likewise, and, Mr. Editor, believe me, I never felt so delighted in my existence.

They gave us cigarettes but refused ours, as they said they had plenty of tabac and cigarettes, and I might mention they looked cleaner and better cleaner and better clad than us. A few remarks passed by them are as follows: “We no shoot, you no shoot”; “War no good”; “Bombs no good”. After about an hour of this their officer asked us to go in; some of our chaps didn’t seem to like the idea, so he ordered one of his men to fire a shot, but of course well over our heads. I expect the reason he had to do this was some Von Gabberstown would be visiting and then no doubt it would be serious for him if the big un’s heard about this. Now what will the  English Press critics think when they know that these men are the very people who were anxious to cut us up (according to our press) – the Bavarians? It’s a clear smack in the mouth for those who are trying to turn the English race against the whole German race, and it proves that the German soldier is only as bad as he is made by his oppressors. It shows that your paper is the only paper worth reading, the only paper of principle, and the only thing that preaches the proper thing – Right before might.

I must now close, so wishing you, your staff and paper every success. I have pleasure in being (after the war) a supporter of your ideals.

Driving the Germans Back, A bitter Struggle: A Mossend Man’s Experience.

Dr. Barron, House, is in receipt of the following from S. S. James M‘llwraith, 7226, C Coy., Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, British Expeditionary Force:—

Just a few lines to let you lot know that I am still pushing along as usual. I hope you are well. I expect you are kept pretty busy and will not have much more time than ourselves at present. The other night we had a pretty lively time here. I never witnessed anything like it since the war started: It was a pure picture. The heavens were illuminated for miles along the whole battle-front. I tell you for truth that a worm could not have escaped instant death. However, we are beginning to enjoy it, with the sound of the guns never out of our ears.

When we are having our little bit of meat we have to stand outside in the open, because if you go into a house you get twice tile quantity you should have in your mess tin; it is filled with dirt or dust. The people here go about their work the same as in peace time. They are ploughing the land for their crops as usual, while the shells are screaming over their heads like seagulls. They are, like us, are getting used to it.

There is not much improvement as far as I can see but for the last eight or ten days there have been some bitter engagements fought with the same results to the Germans. Our men are far the better class in a hand-to-hand struggle, and there is nothing earth to stand against our rifle fire. It is, like our bayonet work, most deadly. It is horrible after a bayonet charge. I would as soon shoot for a year as use the baronet for an hour. It must, be done and the Germans must get it. We can’t, nor will not, show any sympathy to a German, matter what rank holds. We are fed up them.  

3 Germans Left out of 183.Thrilling Narrative from the Front. We are in receipt the following from Private John Mclnrue, 2nd Sherwood Foresters:—

lt gives me great pleasure to write you this, and I trust it gives you the same to read it. As I- have started to communicate with many of my old friends through your paper) I hope they are all enjoying the very best health as this leaves me in the pink. The weather is on its best behaviour, and I can tell you it is a treat out here at present. When have a holiday out of the trenches and have walk about this-—which was once a beautiful—town, it is most refreshing.

To describe the town would be nearly impossible. Just imagine if you started on walk from the North British Station, Bellshill, to Holy town, and you met nothing but soldiers, and every house had its windows smashed, every second or third house had large holes in the walls made by the “coalboxes”, in the middle of the street engineers filling up the holes in the roadway, the churches and schools and all prominent buildings completely lowered to the ground, and week in, week out, you are in the midst of cannons roaring from morn till night. It makes our blood boil sometimes when we think of the ruin caused the Germans. It is not the towns alone that catch all this; no; all the villages, and even he farmhouses, get the German “coalbox,” but the time is not far distant when we will bring them to their senses.

I think one of the finest sights I ever saw in my life was on the 5th of this month, about 7-30 p.m., but, before letting you know about it, I must tell you that both our and the German artillery fire very little during the night because the flare of the gun, which could be seen for miles, would give their positions away. On this occasion, we were busy numbering our sentries off for the night, when, all of a sudden, about two hundred cannons started from over the lines and our guns started in answer. Thu night was pitch dark, and 1 to 2 miles off the enemy thought they had discovered some weak spot our chain trenches, so their Infantry made a charge.

Up went the searchlights, star shells, and rockets, and the shells exploding in the air. It was a sight. We would have enjoyed it better had we known that there would be no casualty list, but there was; nevertheless, was a sight I will never forget. I was saying, their Infantry made a charge but they didn’t get through. 183 got the length of our comrades’ trenches, and only 3 survived; so they paid dearly for the mistake they made in thinking there was any weak links in our chain. But, mind you, the Germans are no weaklings; they are just a little obstinate, and think that all things earth should belong to them, but they can get no further. In the place where, our regiment is, I could stake my life that the whole German Army could not get through in daylight, and, mind you, we are only 100 yards from their trenches. But supposing there was no opposition to them, it would take them about three hours to cover the distance.

I cannot mention the name the town we are in, but it is, or was, a very large city, just about as large as Glasgow. I don’t want to take up too much of your valuable time at present, I intend on sending you another note shortly. I will then do my best to describe this country, and the ways of the few people left in it. I see the employees of my old work (Clydesdale Iron, and Steel Works) are contributing to the Relief Fund every week. You might let them know how much I, and comrades-in-arms, appreciate their action. I consider they are doing as much for their country as we are doing out here. I will close by sending my best respects from the trenches to all my friends in the district.