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ABRIDGED VERSION OF PERCY MICKLEWRIGHT’S DIARY
This is drawn from a transcript of the war diary of Percy William Micklewright , born 25th September 1890 who signed up into the Royal Army Medical Corps to serve in the First World War. He was despatched to France with his younger brother, Richard Wallace Micklewright (Dick) and they stayed together throughout, only being separated on their return to England. The first page of the diary is missing, and the transcript starts as they prepare to sail from the south coast of England in 1917.
……..shortly after six o’clock we heard a commotion outside and found that a tug was preparing to tow us out into the channel. Even now we did not really know whither we were bound for France or the Dardanelles. It was still raining and seemed to have darker than ever. The boat seemed like a phantom ship for we were forging along with all lights out. We could just see the outline of one of the destroyers creeping along by our side guarding us against enemy submarines.
Having missed the tide and having been anchored outside Le Havre for twelve hours we finally unloaded our ambulances, water carts, service wagons, horses etc. We had our first square meal in France but when we got into our tents we found about four inches of water on the floors. We lay down fully dressed but tired out and not particularly caring what happened.
After a long march through mud and water we reached Clanques (a small village pronounced Clank).We were still having some brilliant food – bully beef and biscuits – but luckily we were able to buy some bread.
On the following Friday, in the neighbouring village of Therouatine it was market day. We noticed that none of the women were wearing hats. All had shawls pinned round their heads and the majority of them were wearing black dresses and check aprons. There was a large amount of estaminets or small cafes. In some places every other house in the street was an estaminet.
We left Clanques about three weeks later and after several hours of marching we arrived at Calonne-sur la Lys. We stayed here about ten days and as a matter of fact we spent Christmas Day, just about the same as any other day…..but we did have some Daily News Xmas pudding for dinner.
The following day (Boxing Day) we marched to the Richebourg Front to an Advanced Dressing Station (ADS) where we had a fine billet. It was a large bedroom over an estaminet. We had a long table and benches for meal times and also gas at night which was an unlooked for luxury.
Next we moved to Zelokes and thence to a chateau ‘Mon Blanc’ on the banks of La Basse canal. Whilst there we were able to go into Bethune each night. There were two concert halls, a theatre and five picture palaces all run by the British for the use of the troops. There was also a fine band playing every night in the Divisional cinema. We were able to get some fine suppers. One night the town was bombed. However, when we were watching Charlie Chaplin films at the cinema we did not trouble about shells.
After about a month we were sent to Robecq to open a skin hospital. My brother Dick arrived with the next batch. We were both jolly glad to see each other again. At this time I was in the office, having a fine time.
(At this time Percy was hospitalised to have an operation on his eyes but after a fortnight he re-joined his unit at La Gorgue ‘where all his chums were’)
There (in La Gorgue) I had one of the finest times I could wish to have. We were billeted in a large estaminet. We had the top lot of bedrooms and as there were only about fourteen of us there we had a great time. To make things merrier there were four jolly nice girls (daughters of the landlord) there, and as they had a piano in one of the rooms downstairs and were all jolly good dancers we spent some very happy hours in their company. But all good things come to an end and we left for Flanque where we soon found we should enjoy our stay nearly as much as the one in La Gorgue.
Our Aid Post was about twenty minutes walk from the ADS at La Flinque. It was a shell-proof dug-out and very cosy. We spent some very happy hours there except for two nights when there was a strafe on. We were having a concert in our mess room when we received word to send as many stretcher bearers as possible up the line. Dick and I were lucky enough to be picked to go….The guns all around us were crashing out and it was hard to make oneself heard in the din. We eventually finished about 5.30 in the morning.
On returning to headquarters we were told that we were leaving for the south. After a march of about fourteen miles we arrived at Bailleul-sur-Cornalliers. This was about the rottenest place that anyone could be stranded in. Leaving here, our first march was a very long one, nearly 22miles.It rained continually until we finally arrived at about 3.30 the next morning. We were absolutely wet through. Luckily there was plenty of nice clean straw in the barn so were able to strip and for rest of the morning we slept in our overcoats.
Our march continued to Pushvilliers arriving at about 11.30 at night. It was whilst we were here that we saw the first wounded from the big advance. We made our way to Arquives where we had to bivouac for two days in the middle of an open field. It was quite an experience to go to bed and watch the stars twinkling overhead. (Poet and I don’t know it).
We were then sent to a Collecting Station near Morlancourt. This was our first taste of the big push on the Somme.
On the third night we marched to an Aid Post just outside Mametz village. All this time our artillery were crashing all kinds of shell over. The air was thick with them and the din was terrific. We were all too excited to rest, so we went outside the dug-out to watch our lads going over the top. It was a glorious morning, perfectly bright and clear.
Prompt to time our infantry left their trenches and started advancing toward a small wood. It was a night I shall never forget, the cool way these gallant fellows went forward through terrific machine gun fire, and also heavy artillery fire from the German guns. They never faltered although a large number of them were being hit. Those that were wounded crawled back if they could; if they were too badly wounded their chums would put them in shell-holes until we fellows could fetch them in. About a quarter of an hour had elapsed since they started to advance when the first call came for the R.A.M.C.
We were jolly glad to hear it too, for we were too excited to stay in one place….we found there was plenty of work for us to do and we found plenty of poor fellows waiting to be carried in. I shall never forget that journey back (to the A.D.S) for the German artillery was making a curtain of fire to prevent our infantry getting reinforcements. As we climbed up the slope the machine gun bullets were pinging into the bank on each side of us. A shell burst just in front …….by a miracle we escaped unhurt.
From here we had a six hours train journey to Ypres and enjoyed every yard of it. The scenery was beautiful; a complete change to seeing ruined villages and shell-torn fields. Finally we arrived at Watou. This was a ripping place. We had our hospital in a convent. All the people were very good to us. There was also a cinema there run by the M.T.A.S.C. They had an orchestra too. There were also some very nice girls in the shops and they used come to the pictures too. We had a great time.
A month later we were sent to take over a hospital just outside Ypres. Our first billet was a fine little place; very cosy and bearing the name above the door ‘The abode of love’. There were heaps of rats there which used to chase each other each night across the roof.
It was during this time that Dick and I contracted trench fever. We were not in hospital very long but when I came out Dick was cutting drains and we have hardly done anything else since.
About the middle of December we were told that we were going back to Watou for a rest. We were in high glee for we know what great times we had there in August. At this time we had £8.10s.sent from some Welsh fund, and it had been decided to have a good time at Xmas. We celebrated on arrival at Watou with a feed of fish and chips. On Christmas Day we had a splendid time, ripping food, a football match in the morning and a concert at night. It was almost as good as being at home.
On the 12th of January we went to take over a hospital at Proven, just four miles away. Whilst there we found a home with some Belgian people. They were kindness itself and nothing was too much trouble for them. There were four daughters, two of them dressmakers and they all spoke English like a native due, of course to having so many English soldiers there for two years. All our spare time was spent chatting or playing cards. We had many hours of fun.
Eventually Dick and I were lucky enough to be sent as part of a small detachment to a village called Esquerdes; and a right royal time we had. We could always get a pass into St.Omer from 11.00 am to 9.00 pm. It is a beautiful town with some lovely shops and buildings, also a fine park. Here we met a lot of the English khaki girls, the W.A.A.C and proper nuts they were too. Each Sunday two bands played in the park, so everything in the garden was lovely. Our hospital was in a large chateau with some large gardens at the back, full of red and black currants, gooseberries etc. We had many puddings and tarts as a result. There was scarcely any work to do.
(After a period digging dug-outs –‘when Fritz was never quiet’- and ‘bags of route marches’, and a brief reunion with ‘their little dressmakers’ they were transferred to the Front Line.)
Our infantry held the line for ten days during which we had a rotten spell. At about eleven o’clock on Sunday night Fritz started sending over gas shells. Dick and I answered a call for stretcher bearers and we found wounded men to be carried down. We had got about halfway down the trenches when a host of gas shells fell round us. The trenches were thick with gas and we could not see through our gas masks so we had to take them off. Unfortunately a German shell had brought down a tree right across the trench and in trying to save the patient both Dick’s and my own gas mask came off and we got two mouthfuls of the beastly stuff. By this time we were dead beat, nearly choking and could not see where we were going. I had to stay at the Dressing Station for several hours until I got a little better and then went back to the Aid Post.
That ends the diary but the following is drawn from Dick’s personal account to his son, also called Percy : ‘ After the gas attack the brothers returned to England, in Dick’s case to Shropshire while Percy, because he had inhaled more gas than Dick was sent to a military hospital in West Bridgford near Nottingham. There, although well on the way to recovery he contracted influenza, an epidemic of which was sweeping the country at the time. This proved too much and he died on 10th February 1919.
[Extracts from Percy's diary courtesy of Greg Miller]
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