Clive Ward - Trench 31

We arrived at the cemetery near Ypres and we couldnt have picked a better day for our visit. The sky was blue, the surrounding countryside was a sea of green and the birds were in full voice. However, fifty years ago, on this same date, the day had been very different. It had taken my mother, Charlotte Anne Butler, half a century to come to terms with her loss and now she was about to attend the grave for the first time.

We pulled into the car park and sat in silence, gazing out through the window at the expanse of graves. After a while, my mother spoke.

Im ready now, might as well get it over and done with eh ducky.

She always called me ducky. Being Derbyshire born and bred, my mother called everyone ducky.

The grave was a short distance away. Its gravestone stood alongside those of many hundreds of others that signified soldiers and airmen who had given their lives. This is where he was buried. A place of peace, where just a mere fraction of Britains honoured dead lay resting forever.

I knew where the grave was. Id been here before, a few years ago on my own. I turned my mothers wheelchair around so that she faced the grave stone, one amongst so many. My mother didnt say a word, she just sat in her wheelchair in silence with tears running slowly down her face. I took a few steps back and lit a cigarette, leaving her alone with her thoughts. I felt sad, but I also felt very proud of the sacrifice that this man and his comrades had made for our country. My mother held a silver locket in her hand, she clasped it tightly and began to weep openly. This was the silver locket that she had worn around her neck since that day in 1916 when it was returned to her. My mother always said that the day they came and told her hed been killed in action had been bad enough but receiving the locket had been even worse.

Mother wasnt on her own, thousands of families had received the same sad news. The awful notification that their loved ones had been cut down in their prime before theyd had a chance to live their lives, and for what? So many bodies were never found. The Sherwood Foresters alone, lost eleven thousand four hundred and nine men during active service, the vast majority of them on the Western Front.

Immediately north of Ypres, near the Comines Canal at a stretch of ground known as the Bluff. The poor bastards never stood a chance.

There were so many hazards, exploding artillery shells, snipers and grenades. If they thought the craters were a safe place to take cover from the mayhem, they would have to think again. Those craters became so waterlogged that men could easily sink and drown in the swamp, never to be seen again. Heavy and prolonged rain had turned the landscape into a sea of lethal mud. Now only the dead and the dying littered No Mans Land.

During a lull in the constant bombardment that had started a few days earlier and whilst a dense fog covered No Mans Land, both sides sent out stretcher bearers to retrieve what was left of the dead and wounded. The stench from the bodies strewn across the divide rose up from the ground to assault the senses of the living.

Two British stretcher bearers scrambled from place to place, availing themselves of every shell hole, clinging to whatever cover they could find, calling out to the wounded. The work of the stretcher bearers went on day and night and even under fire these brave men went out to rescue their wounded comrades.

The two stretcher bearers came across yet another body, a member of the 10th Battalion, Sherwood Foresters, lying alongside the bodies of his dead opponents.

Oh, bloody hell look at this poor bugger, is that who I think it is? I was wondering what had happened to him, at least his body is complete, not like the rest of them.

A second soldier, a Corporal, knelt down to see if there was any sign of life.

It looks like he died quickly, a shot to the head, unlike the rest of them.

Most soldiers died from such dreadful injuries that it was more or less impossible to identify them or find complete bodies to provide a proper burial. Some died slowly, alone and helpless in No Mans Land. Their cries for help would go on for hours, gradually weakening until they were no more.

Whats that hes holding in his hand Corporal?

The Corporal prised open the hand of the dead soldier.

Its some sort of locket I think.

The corporal opened the locket to reveal a photograph of a beautiful smiling young girl.

Look at that Fred, such a bloody shame, look at her. Shes got some bad news coming her way.

Come on, lets head back, this is the last one for today, the rest will have to wait. The fog is starting to lift, we dont want to join them do we.

The two soldiers lifted the body onto the stretcher and headed for the safety of their own lines.

On a hot summer evening, in a lush green field, at a place called Parkers Piece in Derby, a young courting couple lay in each others arms, making the most of their time alone together.

It was August 1914 and Archibald Butler had just turned nineteen years old. War had not long broken out and Archie, along with most of his childhood friends had answered Kitcheners call after seeing the famous posters that encouraged them to join up. In just eight weeks, over three-quarters of a million men in Britain had been recruited for the army. In one months time, Archie would be joining the newly formed 10th Battalion of the Sherwood Foresters Regiment as an Infantry soldier. Archie was the youngest son of Jack Butler, a hospital porter, and his wife, Bridget Butler, a nurse.

Arent you scared Archie? Charlotte asked.

Scared of what? Archie replied frowning.

You know, the war and what you might have to face out there.

Nah, me, never. Ill wager you we dont even see any action, itll be over by Christmas, thats what theyre all saying, youll see Charlotte.

I hope so. Youre so brave Archie, my Archie, said Charlotte. And if you do have to fight youd better look after yourself, dont you go getting too brave! Charlotte warned him sternly.

Bloody hell Charlotte! I swear I dont know whatll be worse, facing the Hun or facing you if I dont look after myself!

Charlotte gave him a playful slap as they embraced once again. They lay on their backs, staring up at the cloudless blue sky.

I want to give you something Archie, Ive been saving up for it. As soon as I saw it, I had to have it. I bought it from a stall in the Market Hall at the weekend.

Charlotte sat up, leaned over and swung a locket and chain above Archies head. With the sun in his eyes, he couldnt make out what it was at first. Archie sat up and took the locket in his hands.

Open it then, Charlotte urged him.

Archie opened the locket and smiled.

Do you like it Archie? Do tell me you like it, its a picture of me.

I know its a picture of you, silly. There isnt anyone as beautiful as you Charlotte. It must have cost you a fair few shillings. How much did you pay for it?

Archie, you dont ask questions like that, its rude. It doesnt matter how much it cost. I want you to wear it always and never take it off, promise me, itll keep you safe.

Thank you, its lovely, I will Charlotte. I promise.

Archie smiled, leant towards her and kissed her on the lips, then held her close.

Thank you, Ill wear it forever.

Archie then looked at his watch. Its getting late Charlotte, its time for you to head home, or your brother and father will be on the war path.

Youre right, Im sorry that my brother is a little over protective Archie, hes a really good person when you get to know him you know.