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One young man : $b The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk. — John Shaqi

History

One young man : $b The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk.

World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, British

"We have had much rain the last few days, and, as these tiny
     huts we're in are not waterproof, we wake up in the morning
     soaked and lying in puddles. It's the limit, I can tell you.
     However, we are on active service and so are not afraid of
     H2O. Now, as to my Eastertide. My Good Friday brought
     with it duty. I was on Police Picket, much the same as a
     village policeman. Our duties are to see every soldier is
     properly dressed with belt and puttees before going out, and
     that there are no suspicious persons around, that all lights
     are extinguished by 9.30, etc. It's not a bad job, but on a
     Good Friday it's tough.

     "Sunday was as usual,--Church Parade in the morning, and
     free in the afternoon, when we had a cricket match. Monday
     was the worst day of all. We were called out at 8.30, and
     from then to 12.30 had to clean up the roads, scrape mud out
     of ditches, and make drains in our village streets. Nice
     occupation, wasn't it? The afternoon was not so bad, but we
     might have had a holiday. Instead we had to go and throw
     live bombs for practice purposes. The evening, as usual, was
     free. That ends my Eastertide, and in spite of what sounds a
     far from good one I enjoyed it immensely and count myself
     lucky to be out of the trenches for it.

     "I ought to have mentioned earlier that we are in a village
     behind the firing line, in reserve; we shall be having our
     turn of trenches in a few days, and so we are making the
     best of our time out. The weather is glorious, and we are
     having a good time. I do not doubt that there will be some
     hard work shortly along the front, but it's difficult to say
     what will happen. Only the folk in charge know. We only
     obey, and really it's just as well to be in the dark and so
     escape the worry beforehand."

The death of his chum George was often in Sydney Baxter's thoughts. He
writes:


                                        _May 21st, 1916._

     "I have heard from ----; he also mentions to me the
     opportunity of revenge. I can quite understand and have felt
     that a life for a life would wipe out the debt, but when my
     mind dwells on these things I always try to think what
     George would have me do, and I know his answer would be:
     'Why, the German was only doing his duty. I should have done
     the same myself.' That is true. We fire, but we little know
     what suffering we cause. We do our duty and the Germans do
     theirs. It rests with the Heads as to clean methods or not."

The turn in the trenches soon came, and it was a rough turn too. The
following are extracts from letters written to his mother:


                                        _June 6th, 1916._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

One young man : $b The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk.

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