《Jacob's War》Extract from Jacob's Diary, May 2nd 1916
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Captain Charlie Dean died today.
For the past few days our observer corps has been flying overhead mapping the enemy locations for us. Yesterday the order came through that we would raid a trench opposite our own to recover any useful intelligence (code books, maps, battle plans) that the Hun was foolish enough to leave lying around. We looked forward to finally meeting our erstwhile enemy, and if the opportunity arose to relieve some of our frustrations then I doubt any of us would refuse.
A little before dawn this morning we lined up beside our ladders. Our kit was checked, checked and checked again; our rifles clean and oiled, our helmets cinched, even our boots wiped clean. At 06:30 whistles sounded along the line, and we ventured forth.
The second we were out of our trench the Hun machine guns set about cutting us down. The man to my left was barely half-out before he slumped over, and Harry to my right later told me he had bullets go by his ears so close he heard them hum. Someone spotted the emplacement where the machine gun sat and a half-dozen Mills bombs flew in its direction. I believe one or more hit it, as the rattle stopped and did not resume.
Those of us that remained had a job to do, and we strove forward through the mud. On reaching the trench we found it almost deserted, just a handful of thin-looking Germans who had little fight in them. Once the first two went down the others surrendered without delay. It’s while we were getting ready to take them back to our trenches, prisoners being counted almost as valuable as maps to the top brass, that the snipers started. Even now I’m unsure where they were hiding, but in just a few moments we had lost our Lance-Corporal and two of the men.
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We ducked down into the trench for cover, but eventually we had to emerge. Charlie was passing among us to give us our orders and when he got to within a few feet of Harry and I he just… stopped. Blood fountained from his neck, soaking his shirt and splashing over the man behind him before another shot hit him in the head. He fell, a puppet with sliced strings.
I do not recall how we got back after that, or what happened to the prisoners. No-one will tell me much, and I fear I lost restraint. The Company Sergeant-Major tells me everybody understands, that I need not worry, but still I do.
Today was the first time I saw death with my own eyes. Men have come past me dead before, but always beneath a blanket, and always you imagine them asleep. Seeing a life snuffed out like a candle before you, is something I pray most fervently that you never endure.
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