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Willie Shaughnessy was in the 6th Battalion of the Connaught
Rangers.
For the
greater part of the Great War, the 6th Battalion was led by Rowland Feilding.
The
following are extracts depicting the life of this Irish Battalion.
The first is where he describes the trench raid in which Willie
was killed, the Battle of Messines and then going into what was formerly no
man's land, and finding the body of Willie Shaughnessy:
June 8, 1917 (Rossignol Wood)
At 10.30 on the night of June 4 I launched my raid with 250 officers and men
under Captain Tuite. The objective was the third line of the enemy's
trenches, in Wytschaete Wood. Tuite was to advance
behind a creeping artillery barrage and was given twelve minutes to reach his
final objective. The guns were then to form a 'box' barrage till the raiders got
home again. He was allowed forty-five minutes in which to do the whole
business. In such active times it was not possible to interfere with the
ordinary work of the artillery for longer than this.
The raid was skilfully led and was entirely
successful. These affairs sometimes seem to go off better when done on the
spur of the moment than after long fussy preparation. About sixty Germans
were killed and seven prisoners were brought back, including an acting
officer wearing the iron cross. The raiders returned in rags, their clothing
torn to shreds by the enemy's wire, and today, after four more days of
fighting, their clothes are in no better condition, as you can imagine.
We lost three officers - two killed and one blinded for life, I am afraid, by
a bullet which penetrated his eye. There were about forty casualties among
the men, mostly slight.
... One of the three principal shelters 'Harley House' - the one in which I
had received my shaking two days before, was however, flattened
and Murphy - one of the regimental police who was on sentry duty - was
killed... Poor Murphy had a photograph of his children in his pocket - a
delightful-looking family.
After midnight (June 5-6) we were relieved from the actual front line by the
6th Royal Irish Regiment....
During the night a lance-corporal of mine, who had been reported missing on
the night of the raid - Fielding by name - was found in Noman's
land, by another regiment and brought in. He had been lying there twenty-four
hours with six wounds! His finders were greatly impressed by his stoic behaviour.
The 6th Connaught Rangers were to be broken up for the battle in order to
provide “mopping up” and carrying parties for the attacking battalions... I
moved to my Battle Headquarters - a deep mined dug-out in Rossignol
Wood, above which I am now writing this letter. The wood reeked of gas
shells, to which the enemy further contributed during the night.
Yesterday morning (the great day) I got up and went out at three o’clock. The exact moment of
the assault (known by us as “Zero”; by the French as “l’heure
H”) which had been withheld by the Higher Command, as is usual, till as late
as possible, and had been disclosed to us as 3.10 am.
I climbed onto the bank of the communication trench, known as Rossignol Avenue,
and waited. Dawn had not yet broken. The night was very still. Our artillery
was lobbing over an occasional shell; the enemy - oblivious of the doom
descending upon him - was leisurely putting back gas shells, which burst in
and around my wood with little dull pops, adding to the smell but doing no
injury.
The minute hand of my watch crept on to the fatal moment. Then followed a
“tableau” so sudden and dramatic that I cannot hope to describe it. Out of
the silence and the darkness, along the front, twenty mines - some of them
having waited two years and more for this occasion - containing hundred of tons of high explosive, almost simultaneously,
and with a roar to wake the dead, burst into the sky in great sheets of
flame, developing into mountainous clouds of dust and earth and stones and
trees.
For some seconds the earth trembled and swayed. Then the guns and howitzers
in their thousands spoke: the machine-gun barrage opened; and the infantry on
a 10 mile front left the trenches and advanced behind the barrage against the
enemy.
The battle once launched, all was oblivion. No news came through for several
hours: there was just he
roar of the artillery - such a roar has never been heard before...
I went forward to study the results. German prisoners were already coming
back wounded. I, as everybody else was doing, walked freely over the surface;
past and over the old front line, where we have spent so many bitter months.
How miserable and frail our wretched breastworks looked! When viewed - as for
the first time I now saw them - from the parapet instead of from inside - the
parapet only a sandbag thick in many places - what death-traps they seemed!
Then over Noman's Land. As we stepped out there, my
orderly, O'Rourke, remarked: 'This is the first time for two years that
anyone has had the privilege of walking over this ground in daylight, sir.'
We visited some of the mine craters made at the Zero hour, and huge indeed
they are. Then we explored Petit Bois. and Wytschaete Wood - blown into space by our fire and
non-existent - the scene of our raid of the night of June 4. We found the bodies of an officer and a man of ours
missing since that night, which I have since had fetched out and buried among
many of their comrades.
I cannot hope to describe to you all the details of the battle on this scale.
The outstanding feature, I think, was the astounding smallness of our
casualties. The contrast in this respect with Loos
and the Somme was most remarkable. Scarcely
any dead were to be seen. The German dead had been mostly buried by the shell
fire...
as is always the way, we lost some of our best. A
single shell - and a small one at that - knocked out twelve, killing three
outright and wounding nine - two of the latter mortally. Among the victims of
this shell were Major Stannus, commanding the 7th Leinsters, and his Adjutant (Acton), and Roche, the
Brigade trench-mortar officer. I passed the last-named in my wanderings,
lying by a dead private on the fire-step. He was, I think, one of the
wittiest “raconteurs” I have ever met, and as brave and ready a soldier as I
have ever seen. As Brigade trench-mortar officer he was a genius. In
conversation he was remarkable. I lifted the sandbag which some one had thrown over his face. It was discoloured by the explosion of the shell that had killed
him, but otherwise was quite untouched, and it wore the same slight smile
that in life used to precede and follow his wonderful sallies. In peace-time
he was a barrister.
Willie Redmond also is dead. Aged fifty-four, he asked to be allowed to go
over with his regiment. He should not have been there at all. His duties
latterly were far from the fighting line. But, as I say, he asked and was
allowed to go - on the condition that he came back directly the first
objective was reached; and Fate has decreed that he should come back on a
stretcher....
PS My men found a dead German machine-gunner chained to his gun. This is
authentic. We have the gun, and the fact is vouched for by my men who took
the gun, and is confirmed by their officer, who saw it. I do not understand
the meaning of this: whether it was done under orders, or was a voluntary act
on the part of the gunner to insure his sticking to the gun. If the latter,
it is a thing to be admired greatly.
As always seems to be my fate on these occasions I was reported seriously
wounded!!
The following extract is from captured correspondence:
“Today the seventh alarm was given. Terrible drum fire was heard all during
the night. A terrible firing has driven us under cover. To the right and left
of me my friends are all drenched with blood. A drum fire which no one could
ever describe. I pray the Lord will get me out of this sap. I swear to it I
will be the next. While I am writing He still gives us power and loves us. My
trousers and tunic and drenched in blood, all from my poor mates. I have
prayed to God He might save me, not for my sake, but for my poor parents. I
feel as if I could cry out, my thoughts are all the time with them.
“The slaughtering takes place behind Messines, which place the English have
taken.
“I have already twelve months on the Western Front; have been through hard
fighting, but never such slaughter.”
The first is where he describes the
trench raid in which Willie was killed, the Battle of Messines and then going
into what was formerly no man's land, and finding the body of Willie Shaughnessy:
June 8, 1917 (Rossignol Wood) At 10.30
on the night of June 4 I launched my raid with 250 officers and men under
Captain Tuite. The objective was the third line of the enemy's trenches, in Wytschaete Wood. Tuite was to advance behind a creeping
artillery barrage and was given twelve minutes to reach his final objective.
The guns were then to form a 'box' barrage till the raiders got home again.
He was allowed forty-five minutes in which to do the whole business. In such
active times it was not possible to interfere with the ordinary work of the
artillery for longer than this.
The raid was skilfully led and was entirely
successful. These affairs sometimes seem to go off better when done on the
spur of the moment than after long fussy preparation. About sixty Germans
were killed and seven prisoners were brought back, including an acting
officer wearing the iron cross. The raiders returned in rags, their clothing
torn to shreds by the enemy's wire, and today, after four more days of
fighting, their clothes are in no better condition, as you can imagine.
We lost three officers - two killed and one blinded for life, I am afraid, by
a bullet which penetrated his eye. There were about forty casualties among
the men, mostly slight.
... One of the three principal shelters 'Harley House' - the one in which I
had received my shaking two days before, was however, flattened
and Murphy - one of the regimental police who was on sentry duty - was
killed... Poor Murphy had a photograph of his children in his pocket - a
delightful-looking family.
After midnight (June 5-6)
we were relieved from the actual front line by the 6th Royal Irish
Regiment.... During the night a lance-corporal of mine, who had been reported
missing on the night of the raid - Fielding by name - was found in Noman's land, by another regiment and brought in. He had been lying there twenty-four hours with six
wounds! His finders were greatly impressed by his stoic behaviour.
The 6th Connaught Rangers were to be broken up for the battle in order to
provide “mopping up” and carrying parties for the attacking battalions... I
moved to my Battle Headquarters - a deep mined dug-out in Rossignol
Wood, above which I am now writing this letter. The wood reeked of gas
shells, to which the enemy further contributed during the night. Yesterday
morning (the great day) I got up and went out at three o’clock. The exact moment of the assault
(known by us as “Zero”; by the French as “l’heure H”)
which had been withheld by the Higher Command, as is usual, till as late as
possible, and had been disclosed to us as 3.10 am.
I climbed onto the bank of the communication trench, known as Rossignol Avenue,
and waited. Dawn had not yet broken. The night was very still. Our artillery
was lobbing over an occasional shell; the enemy - oblivious of the doom
descending upon him - was leisurely putting back gas shells, which burst in
and around my wood with little dull pops, adding to the smell but doing no injury.
The minute hand of my watch crept on to the fatal moment. Then followed a
“tableau” so sudden and dramatic that I cannot hope to describe it. Out of
the silence and the darkness, along the front, twenty mines - some of them
having waited two years and more for this occasion - containing hundred of tons of high explosive, almost simultaneously,
and with a roar to wake the dead, burst into the sky in great sheets of
flame, developing into mountainous clouds of dust and earth and stones and
trees. For some seconds the earth trembled and swayed. Then the guns and
howitzers in their thousands spoke: the machine-gun barrage opened; and the
infantry on a 10 mile front left the trenches and advanced behind the barrage
against the enemy. The battle once launched, all was oblivion. No news came
through for several hours: there was just he roar of the artillery - such a roar has never
been heard before... I went forward to study the results. German prisoners
were already coming back wounded. I, as everybody else was doing, walked
freely over the surface; past and over the old front line, where we have
spent so many bitter months. How miserable and frail our wretched breastworks
looked! When viewed - as for the first time I now saw them - from the parapet
instead of from inside - the parapet only a sandbag thick in many places -
what death-traps they seemed!
Then over Noman's Land. As we stepped out there, my
orderly, O'Rourke, remarked: 'This is the first time for two years that
anyone has had the privilege of walking over this ground in daylight, sir.'
We visited some of the mine craters made at the Zero hour, and huge indeed
they are. Then we explored Petit Bois. and Wytschaete Wood - blown into space by our fire and
non-existent - the scene of our raid of the night of June 4. We found the bodies of an officer and a man of ours
missing since that night, which I have since had fetched out and buried among
many of their comrades.
I cannot hope to describe to you all the details of the battle on this scale.
The outstanding feature, I think, was the astounding smallness of our
casualties. The contrast in this respect with Loos
and the Somme was most remarkable. Scarcely
any dead were to be seen. The German dead had been mostly buried by the shell
fire...
as is always the way, we lost some of our best. A
single shell - and a small one at that - knocked out twelve, killing three
outright and wounding nine - two of the latter mortally. Among the victims of
this shell were Major Stannus, commanding the 7th Leinsters, and his Adjutant (Acton), and Roche, the
Brigade trench-mortar officer. I passed the last-named in my wanderings,
lying by a dead private on the fire-step. He was, I think, one of the
wittiest “raconteurs” I have ever met, and as brave and ready a soldier as I
have ever seen. As Brigade trench-mortar officer he was a genius. In
conversation he was remarkable. I lifted the sandbag which some one had thrown over his face. It was discoloured by the explosion of the shell that had killed
him, but otherwise was quite untouched, and it wore the same slight smile
that in life used to precede and follow his wonderful sallies. In peace-time
he was a barrister. Willie Redmond also is dead. Aged fifty-four, he asked to
be allowed to go over with his regiment. He should not have been there at
all. His duties latterly were far from the fighting line. But, as I say, he
asked and was allowed to go - on the condition that he came back directly the
first objective was reached; and Fate has decreed that he should come back on
a stretcher.... PS My men found a dead German machine-gunner chained to his
gun. This is authentic. We have the gun, and the fact is vouched for by my
men who took the gun, and is confirmed by their officer, who saw it. I do not
understand the meaning of this: whether it was done under orders, or was a
voluntary act on the part of the gunner to insure his sticking to the gun. If
the latter, it is a thing to be admired greatly. As always seems to be my
fate on these occasions I was reported seriously wounded!! The following
extract is from captured correspondence: “Today the seventh alarm was given.
Terrible drum fire was heard all during the night. A terrible firing has
driven us under cover. To the right and left of me my friends are all
drenched with blood. A drum fire which no one could ever describe. I pray the
Lord will get me out of this sap. I swear to it I will be the next. While I
am writing He still gives us power and loves us. My trousers and tunic and
drenched in blood, all from my poor mates. I have prayed to God He might save
me, not for my sake, but for my poor parents. I feel as if I could cry out,
my thoughts are all the time with them. “The slaughtering takes place behind
Messines, which place the English have taken. “I have already twelve months
on the Western Front; have been through hard fighting, but never such
slaughter.”
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