Rail track at Beaucourt, National Library Scotland, D619 |
I had not gone twenty
yards before I encountered the mud, mud which was unique even for the Somme. It
was like walking through caramel. At every step the foot stuck fast, and was
only wrenched out by a determined effort, bringing away with it several pounds
of earth till legs ached in every muscle. No one could struggle through that
mud for more than a few yards without rest. Terrible in its clinging
consistency, it was the arbiter of destiny, the supreme enemy, paralysing and
mocking English and German alike. Distances were measured not in yards but in
mud.*
Cemetery at Beaumont-Hamel |
A.P. Herbert was a young officer with
the Royal Naval Division (RND). His unit
was virtually obliterated in the fighting at Beaucourt: of the 435 men who attacked
the village, only 20 escaped serious injury or death and were able to continue the fight the following day. Herbert was one
of the twenty; his poem “Beaucourt Revisited” recounts the haunted memories of a
survivor.
Beaucourt Revisited
I wandered up to Beaucourt; I took the river
track,
And saw the lines we lived in before the Boche went back;
But Peace was now in Pottage, the front was far ahead,
The front had journeyed Eastward, and only left the dead.
And saw the lines we lived in before the Boche went back;
But Peace was now in Pottage, the front was far ahead,
The front had journeyed Eastward, and only left the dead.
And I thought, how long we lay there, and watched across the wire,
While guns roared round the valley, and set the skies afire!
But now there are homes in HAMEL and tents in the Vale of Hell,
And a camp at suicide corner, where half a regiment fell.
Beaumont-Hamel |
The new troops follow after, and tread the land we won,
To them 'tis so much hill-side re-wrested from the Hun
We only walk with reverence this sullen mile of mud;
The shell-holes hold our history, and half of them our blood.
Here, at the head of Peche Street, 'twas death to show your face;
To me it seemed like magic to linger in the place;
For me how many spirits hung around the Kentish Caves,
But the new men see no spirits – they only see the graves.
I found the half-dug ditches we fashioned for the fight,
We lost a score of men there – young James was killed that night;
I saw the star shells staring, I heard the bullets hail,
But the new troops pass unheeding – they never heard the tale.
I crossed the blood-red ribbon, that once was No-Man's Land,
I saw a misty daybreak and a creeping minute-hand;
And here the lads went over, and there was Harmsworth shot,
And here was William lying – but the new men know them not.
And I said, "There is still the river, and still the stiff, stark trees,
To treasure here our story, but there are only these";
But under the white wood crosses the dead men answered low,
" The new men know not BEAUCOURT, but we are here – we know."
–
A.P. Herbert
Sober and reflective, the poem tells of a
soldier who passes the scene of an earlier battle. In the First World War, trench lines hardly moved at all, and so it was not uncommon for battles to
be fought repeatedly over the same ground (Edmund Blunden’s poem “Festubert,
1916” also revisits the site of a previous battle and is a thought-provoking companion piece to Herbert’s poem).
Ancre British cemetery |
New recruits have been brought up to replace
the dead of the earlier battle, but the fresh troops “pass unheeding,” neither
wanting nor needing to know the personal stories of those who will never return
home nor join the fight again. But the survivor remembers: he lives alone in a
surreal world of memory.
Edwin Dyett |
In his novel, Herbert writes,
Dyett's grave: "If Doing Well Ye Suffer, This is Acceptable with God" |
As Herbert so poignantly argues in his novel and in the poem “Beaucourt Revisited,” perhaps it is only the young and the dead who can fully grasp the hard truths of war.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Rogerson, Twelve
Days on the Somme: A Memoir of the Trenches, 1916. Mary Borden’s “Song of
the Mud” is another source that vividly describes the mud on the Western
Front as a hungry, living thing.
**Herbert, The Secret Battle, pp. 250-251.
Many thanks for this piece. I love this Herbert poem and have walked the ground of this attack. Its extraordinary that the regiment has so much changed in a few short months by dint of the churn of men and the forward movement of the fighting line. Only last night I heard a reading of Vere Harmsworth's moving and gallant last letter home on tv - his leading of the attack and 2 woundings prior to his death surely deserved a gallantry award but many were heroes on these days I guess. I have visited Dyett's grave - one of only 2 officers to be shot? He was no coward.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for sharing your experience; it must have been something to have walked the ground of this attack. Certainly Herbert didn't think Dyett was a coward.
DeleteYes, it's a privilege to walk the ground and I was assisted by the brilliant Linesman programme that overlays the original trench maps onto your tablet's modern map so believe I got to within a few yards of where Harmsworth fell.. Herbert was such a great writer . many have said that a man has only so much nerve and it dribbles away until it is absolutely depleted and gone. Whisky papered over the cracks for many an officer - Dyett very unlucky.
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ReplyDeleteThank you Connie for remembering this poet and facilitating an opportunity to take us back to walk in his steps. We should tread carefully in any place we go and remember that each step we take crosses the paths of others. We can't easily step back in time as walk the roads that the weary trod. "We Will Remember Them!" Dyett would have likely numbered among the dead, had he gone over the top earlier. The suffering that haunted him was with him to the end, he was selfless to the end as his final concern was that the boys did not see him suffer too.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Alan, for reading and for your thoughtful comments.
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ReplyDeleteA sad, tragic tale. "The new men do not remember". It is an apt analogy for today's debates in society. People have forgotten the context of things. No reflection and no lessons from history seems to have us poised to repeat the same mistakes or at least to be willing to throw away, without a fight, the freedoms and values that these people died to create.
ReplyDeleteThanks for these insightful comments, Graham.
DeleteA very moving poem that illustrates the tortured soul of the survivor who has been through hell and back. I have always found it deeply troubling that the lives of such young men could be taken for alleged cowardice. To me, the mere fact that these men were at the front exonerates them. Many had fought previously, as Dyyet had, but couldn't face it again. Shameful and tragic in equal measure.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and for your perceptive comments, Jeremy.
DeleteNot read this poem before. How moving and personal it is. Heartbreaking. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jude, for reading and responding.
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