My father, Daniel Ralph Conning, who was born in Oakland, California on August 20, 1897, fought in the First World War for Canada. He kept a diary.
December 6, 1917
I did not attend Reveille Stables but went on the usual 9 a.m. parade. The day was spent in harness cleaning. I have only seen one place that was as desolate and sad as the Souchez Valley [1,2]. It was horribly depressing. This was due to two things: the wet weather; the horrible desolation of the place. The dreadful shell-scarred valley, the ruined village, the wood by the marsh torn up by shell fire until only a few stumps stuck up, the endless lines of stables and bivoucs. Saddest of all were the numbers of French graves - simple white crosses with a tri-coloured rozette pinned to the wood. At the foot of the cross a shattered steel helmet. Sixty thousand Frenchmen lay beneath our feet. No wonder the valley had an air of gloom. The white ruins of Notre Dame de Lorette [3] bespoke the parting sacrilege of the Boche [4]. How could life ever come back to this valley - the valley of the dead.
Walking over the fields towards the marsh I came upon a trench. The sides had begun to fall in but there was still evidence of the battle that had taken place two years before. Shreds of uniform here, a bayonet there and most horrible of all - human bones. The field in front of the trench was ploughed up by shells. But the shell holes were overgrown with grass and weeds.
December 24, 1917 On the afternoon stable parade the Sgt. Major detailed me to work in the Orderly Room during the absence of the Sergeant. Nothing else of note. Just mud, more mud, and still more mud, and the interminable drizzly, cloudy days. Hopeless days them seemed.
December 27, 1917 Back to duty as a mule-skinner [5] again! I was on stable piquet from 2-6 a.m. It was a fine clear night. The snow which had fallen the evening before lay thick upon the ground and the trees, bushes and houses were covered with a white mantle. But it was bitterly cold and the water in the troughs froze three inches thick. I got very hungry just before dawn and ate a whole tin of Nestle's milk! Before reveille blew I got my towel and soap and broke the ice in the trough to have a wash. Then I went out to the stables again. Then came the first glow of dawn and with it the trumpeter.
"I bought a Horse.
I bought a Cow.
I bought a donk-ee.
I sold the horse, I sold the cow,
I sold the donk-ee
But the S.O.B. he died."
Reveille! Then black figures came stumbling out of the baraques. Men walked up and down stamping their feet and swinging their arms to get warm. The mules began to get restive. There was a rattling of head chains from the stables. A whistle blew and the men lined up. The sergeants barked the names out. The officer of the day took sthe salute of the Sgt. Mjr. "All present and correct, Sir!" "Carry on with the grooming Sgt. Major!", and the day's work began.
December 30, 1917 In a sub section there were always three distinct groups of men who were rather inclined to despise the other fellow, but nevertheless making up a happy family. These groups were the signallers, the gunners and the drivers. The efficiency of a sub section largely depended upon the harmony in which they worked. If the sergeant bullied the men they would invariably "buck" him by skipping fatigues, leaving the work unfinished, etc. However, if he knew how to treat me and made no attempt to show his authority unnecessarily the boys would back him up; and when the time came for one of the useless and irksome metel-polishing jobs it would be done without complaint. The lot of a sergeant was not a happy one. If he was a friend of the men, stuck up for their rights and tried to make things pleasant for them - he was unpopular with some of the officers and vice versa.
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1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File: A.Y._Jackson_-_Vimy_Ridge_from_Souchez_Valley.jpeg
2. http://www.cwgc.org/find-a-cemetery/cemetery/62202/ZOUAVE%20VALLEY%20CEMETERY,%20SOUCHEZ
3. Notre Dame de Lorette, also known as Ablain St.-Nazaire French Military Cemetery, is the world's largest French military cemetery.[1] It is the name of a ridge, basilica, and French national cemetery northwest of Arras at the village of Ablain-Saint-Nazaire. The high point of the hump-backed ridge stands 165 metres high and - with Vimy Ridge - utterly dominates the otherwise flat Douai plain and the town of Arras.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Notre_Dame_de_Lorette
4. Boche /bɒʃ, bɔʃ/ Show Spelled[bosh, bawsh] Show IPA
noun, plural Boche, Boches /bɒʃ, bɔʃ/ Show Spelled[bosh, bawsh] Show IPA. Disparaging .
a German, especially a German soldier in World War I.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/boche
5. Someone who drives mules
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