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Claggett Wilson, Grenadier Cut Off in the Flaming Woods, ca. 1919, watercolor and pencil on paperboard,Smithsonian Art Museum

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George "Pop" redding, an Australian soldier from the 8th Light Horse Regiment, shown picking flowers during the war. 1918.  

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War is all around a little girl, as she plays with her doll in Reims, France, in 1917. 

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Senegalese soldiers serving in the French Army as infantrymen take in a rare moment of rest. 

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Village in Belgium devastated by artillery fire

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Claggett Wilson, Dance of Death, ca. 1919, watercolor and pencil on paperboard,  Smithsonian American Art Museum

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This is one of many letters sent by staff of the Great Western Railway (GWR) Audit office at Paddington who had enlisted to fight in the First World War. (RAIL 253/516)

Jonathan George Symons, 10 November 1915, France. Born: 22 August 1875, Joined GWR: 28 October 1889, Regiment: 13 County of London Regiment (King's Royal Rifles Corps), Regiment number: 6389, Died: 1941

Transcript

Dear Bert,

Just a few lines to let you know I am alright, hoping you are the same... At the present time we are in dugouts. The weather is simply awful, raining day after day and especially night after night...To tell you the truth, while writing this letter I am wet through to the skin and not a dry thing for a change. We have got our winter fur coats and gum boots, but the latter cause more curses than you can imagine, for instance last night I was sent off to select dugouts for our platoon, which is number 37. It was pitch dark, no light allowed and in a strange place, well honestly I fell over at least 20 times got smothered in mud from head to feet and on the top of that wet though for it rained in torrents. On a round of inspection this morning to see if all were 'comfortable' I was 'blinded' up hill and down dale, 'Sergeant this' and 'Sergeant that'.

How can you expect men to live in this, and then to put a dampener on the lot, was the language from the occupiers who unfortunately were in a residence that fell in during the night. They took shelter under a tree from 2am after looking for me for half an hour or so, but they could not find me, for the only thing that would shift me, after settling down, if I may call it that, would be a 'Jack Johnson' and then I would have no option.

While in the trenches last week John and I were up to our knees in water and got our gum boots half full. The line is a bit quiet lately and only now and again do we get a shelling, but one gets used to it. That, to give you an idea, is like sitting at Paddington and hearing the engines screech.

After our stretch this time I shall be looking forward for a short leave for I have been here nearly three months now and we stand a good chance. Well I must now conclude...Yours sincerely

Jack Symons

P.S. Every other home down near the rest camp is an Estaminet ( small French café) where they sell what they call 'beer', and as much as I like a drop of good beer I have given the stuff out here 'best' for is awful muc.

Photo caption: Sgt. J.G. Symons K.R.R.

(With crutches)

Taken at the Duchess of Connaught's Red Cross Hospital. Taplow.

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Trenches: 'up to our knees in water' - The National Archives

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This is one of many letters sent by staff of the Great Western Railway (GWR) Audit office at Paddington who had enlisted to fight in the First World War. (RAIL 253/516) Jonathan George Symons, 10 November 1915, France. Born: 22 August 1875, Joined GWR: 28 October 1889, Regiment: 13 County of London Regiment (King's Royal Rifles Corps), Regiment [...]

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If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;

A body of England's, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Poetry Out Loud Note: This poem has had two titles: "The Soldier" and "Nineteen-Fourteen: The Soldier". The student may give either title during the recitation.

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The Soldier by Rupert Brooke | Poetry Magazine

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If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam; A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

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Soldiers of an Australian 4th Division field artillery brigade on a duckboard track passing through Chateau Wood, near Hooge in the Ypres salient, 1917

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During the First World War, Britain came under attack from the air, putting civilians in the firing line for the very first time. At the start of the war, Britain was ill-prepared to deal with the threat from enemy airships and aircraft. Traditionally its home defence focussed on defending the coastline rather than its airspace and with most of the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) operating overseas, few aircraft remained to defend Britain.

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THE GERMAN WITHDRAWAL TO THE HINDENBURG LINE, MARCH-APRIL 1917

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During the First World War, Britain came under attack from the air, putting civilians in the firing line for the very first time. At the start of the war, Britain was ill-prepared to deal with the threat from enemy airships and aircraft.

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Gas-masked men of the British Machine Gun Corps with a Vickers machine gun during the first battle of the Somme, 1916

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Otto Dix, Dead Sentry in the Trench, 1924

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Otto Dix, Shock Troops Advance under Gas, 1924

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To Germany by Charles Hamilton Sorley | Poetry Foundation

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You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,

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Roundel by Vera Mary Brittain | Poetry Foundation

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Because you died, I shall not rest again,

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“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

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“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.”

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Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen | Poetry Foundation

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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

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https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/documents/education/trenches-awfully-desolate-spot.mp3

This is one of many letters sent by staff of the Great Western Railway Audit office at Paddington who had enlisted to fight in the First World War. Image shows part of letter (RAIL 253/516)

R.C.S. Frost, 22 May 1915, France. Born: 30 January 1888, Regiment: 8 th Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders; Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, Regiment number: 1998; 300470, Rank: Private; Second Lieutenant, Died: 1962

Transcript (extracts)

... I am much nearer the front now, and we moved here last Tuesday. It was a long march and of course done at night, and our present billet is a farm (or the remains of one) in a large village about ¾ mile from the trenches, more north than we were before, and nearer the Belgian frontier.

It is an awfully desolate spot and constantly under shell fire. This morning I was trying to get a sleep on the grass, when a shell burst in a tree, not fifty yards away, and sent a shower of leaves to the ground. Fortunately no one was hit, another burst in the same field ten minutes afterwards, then I thought it was time to shift! So went into a barn. There are a number of dugouts around, but they are so cold, and you might get buried inside. The farm is a vile place, with a lot of stagnant water around, and a lot of German soldiers are buried here. The barn where we sleep would be improved if a shell struck the roof, and ventilated it, in our absence! As the smell inside is bad, and makes it nearly necessary to wear a respirator! The rats seem to object to our company as they often have a free fight on top of us.

Last night was my first experience in the trenches, and we returned to billet this morning. The din is simply awful, and just lately the big guns have been giving the enemy 'beans' every night. I am glad to say we had no casualties, although the rifle fire was heard at times, especially on our left, where the Germans made an attack on the Indian troops. The British gun fire was simply terrific, all night, and the Germans did not reply very much. It was fine to watch the flashes of our guns at our backs, although the screaming of the shells overhead is at first rather 'scaring' to say the least of it!

However the news we hear from day to day at this part of the front is very cheerful, and encouraging. Yesterday I came across an Indian soldier who could speak English very well, and he thought another month would see the war over, also a German officer captured near here, said it could not go on very much longer. I for one hope these remarks will prove correct!

The church here is practically demolished, just some of the walls and tower standing, and the churchyard is in a bad state. Great holes have been made and bones exposed. In these holes is water sufficiently deep to drown anybody. Great stone vaults have been opened, and coffins and bodies can be seen.

Of course the place here is not inhabited except by soldiers. I have been through some of the big houses, and plenty of good carved furniture, pictures, fittings etc. still remain in them. I also have been in some of the gardens, and roses just coming into bloom can be seen in great numbers. I should like to see them at home!

Well I must close now, and hope you are all keeping well. Again thanking you all for our good wishes. Sincerely yours, S. Frost

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Trenches: 'an awfully desolate spot' - The National Archives

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https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/documents/education/trenches-awfully-desolate-spot.mp3 This is one of many letters sent by staff of the Great Western Railway Audit office at Paddington who had enlisted to fight in the First World War. Image shows part of letter (RAIL 253/516) R.C.S. Frost, 22 May 1915, France. Born: 30 January 1888, Regiment: 8th Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders; Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, [...]