I would like to share My Great Great Uncles War Diaries with you all today. Alfred Edward Trathern Alfred Trathen, of the Royal North Devon Hussars, had been born in Clovelly, but had lived in Ilfracombe for many years with his wife Bessie and daughter Winifred. He was 41 years old when he was killed by a sniper’s bullet on November 26th, 1915, at Gallipoli. He is buried at the Green Hill Cemetery in Turkey. Ilfracombe Chronicle, 25.12.1915. Trooper A. E. Trathen Killed SHOT BY A SNIPER WHILE RIGGING UP A KITCHEN It is with deep regret we record the death of another Ilfracombe soldier. Trooper Alfred Edward Trathen, R.N.D.H., who was killed by a sniper in Gallipoli. Mr Trathen was well known and highly respected in Ilfracombe. For many years he carried on business at 21 St James’ Place as a restaurant proprietor, while he was also a painter and decorator. In Sept. 1914, he joined the Royal North Devon Hussars, and volunteered for foreign service. At the time of his death he was serving with the Mediterranean Ex. Force in Gallipoli. Although rumours of his death had been current for some days, the first intimation of the sad event reaching the widow was conveyed in a letter she received from Capt. M.H. Salaman, of the deceased soldier’s regiment. Mr Trathen, who was 41 years of age, was of a remarkably cheerful and pleasant disposition, and made friends everywhere. The painful news of his death was received at Ilfracombe with general sorrow, and much sympathy is felt for the widow and daughter in their sad bereavement. The letter received by Mrs Trathen from Capt. M.H. Salaman is as follows: 1st 7th R.N.D.H., M.E.F. Dear Madam, - You will have heard before you get this the sad news of the death of your husband. As he was in my squadron, and was cook to us officers, I would like to write and condole with you. His death was great blow to me, as he had been such a brick and comfort to me. If I had been his son he could not have done more for me – in fact I don’t think I should have been able to have lasted out the last time we were in the trenches if it had not been for the care he took of me. He was always most cheerful in the most trying circumstances, and somehow managed to rig up kitchens which became a by-word in the regiment wherever he went; and alas it was while improving his last kitchen that he was shot by a sniper. He had been pretty seedy during the last few days, but wouldn’t give in, and was cheerful till the last. He was a general favourite, and all the other officers envied us having such an excellent fellow to look after us. The night of the day he was killed we had an awful storm of rain, followed by a blizzard and frost, and we had a very hard time of it, and lost a lot of our belongings. I had nearly all mine washed away, among them a diary your husband had kept; I am so sorry it should have been lost. The only other belongings of his are a watch and a shilling, which are being sent to you. Once more I offer you my sincerest sympathy, and I know you have the sympathy of the whole squadron, for your husband was greatly liked and respected by all of us. I only trust that the fact that your husband did his bit, and did it better than any other man could have done it, will be some comfort to you. With sincerest sympathy from M.H. SALAMAN, Capt. Ilfracombe Gazette, 3.3.1916. DIARY OF THE LATE LANCE-CORPORAL TRATHEN. Mrs Trathen, St James’ Place, has received the following diary which was kept by her husband, L/C Trathen, R.N.D.H. while at the Gallipoli Peninsula. It was forwarded by the Captain of his company with this accompanying letter: 1st R.N.D.H., M.E.F. Base, Egypt. Dear Madam, - In answer to your letter about the last wishes of your husband, L/C Trathen, I was within a few yards of him when he was killed, and his death was instantaneous. I am glad to be able to send you the last part of his diary which I find was picked up after the flood and put in another officer’s kit bag. It is a good deal damaged by the wet, but I think you will be able to make it out. Yours sincerely, M.H. SALAMAN. The Diary of L/C Trathen Nov. 11th:- The night experiences have told on poor old P.R.T. King. Its shock to his nerves has made him very depressed. Now he has been made full Corpl. for his bravery but I think he deserves something more for his bravery if ever anyone did. Wong the D.C.M. is asking that at least he ought to be mentioned in despatches, if nothing else as his experience has made quite a change in him. So now we are all busy preparing to go back to the base and now we left Lonetree Gully at 8 p.m. and arrived about 12 p.m. over quite a different route than the way we came, over a very rough road, and we went about 4 miles with the convoy out of our road, so by the time we got to journey’s end every man was glad of a rest, and now, after giving the officers some soup, I am going to my dug-out rather fatigued. Nov. 12th:- We all appreciate a little rest. We have had a very easy day, not a lot of shells and no casualties, but occasionally our side would pipe a few shells into the Turks. Nov. 13th:- There has been not much going on today of any interest to mention except the usual shrapnel from the Turks. Nov. 14th:- Sunday, grand weather, and orders to move off again tonight so anyone can imagine our rest has been cut short. We had orders to go south of Chocolate Hill, which is about six or seven miles from where we are at Suvla Bay, further south, so we had our convoy about 7 p.m. and got turned in about 2.30 a.m. south of Chocolate Hill. We were not halted here at a base. We were put in the trenches. All cooking and everything done in the same trenches, some just wide enough to draw one’s body through, and to see the Tommy carrying all the necessities for the troops in and down those winding trenches was not an easy task. We got in our trenches and made ourselves as comfortable as we could for the night with the Turks only a few yards ahead. Their shots are whizzing over our heads, but we sleep as if there was nothing happening. This is the commencement of our going into the firing line. Nov. 15th:- We are here in the reserve trench for a few days but under the circumstances I suppose the poor old Tommies must grumble. When we get a shift it is not quite as good for one reason or another but things quickly find their level. We have only been a day or two with bully and dog’s biscuits. The lads here have most of the day easy and work by night. We don’t show ourselves much by day. We get quite enough shrapnel as it is. The weather has been glorious through the day but about 7 this evening there was a terrific thunderstorm. The lightning was simply awful. At one time it seemed as if the trenches were all in a blaze and very heavy rain fell, so anyone can just imagine how nice it was to spread out a waterproof sheet and blanket and roll up for the night. But this is only one of the discomforts of war so we all turned in and woke up on the 16th Nov. rather seedy, but as the splendid sun rose and the usual day’s routine went on we felt better. The guns each side began to rumble and the shrapnel burst here, there and everywhere. The British Tommy has to feel devilish bad to fall “sick.” Nov. 17th:- It seemed today as if the weather had turned into winter. The wind and sand storms were simply shocking, almost blinding poor old Tommy as he went on with his usual work. We have had only one or two slight casualties since we have been here so far, but now we have just had orders to move up in the advance line, so we all expect to have a little more sport there. At about 4 p.m. things seemed a little livelier for about an hour. I witnessed the biggest bombardment that I have seen since I arrived in Gallipoli. The ships and artillery seemed just as though they intended to blow the hills that were near our front down level. The Turks replied, but their fire seemed much weaker than ours, and during this one hour we never lost a single man in our trenches. As I peeped over the parapet I saw our shells burst in the Turkish trenches. It was the sight of a lifetime. Now about 7 o’clock we are annoyed by another of those thunderstorms, so we had to put up with another uncomfortable night. Nov. 18th:- Today we are busy preparing for a fresh move to the ---- trenches, and these are close up to Chocolate Hill, a little to the south. We are now situated with Anzac on our front, W. Hill and Green Hill on our left front, where there has been very heavy fighting, so after advancing a considerable distance through the communication trenches we arrived at this point and here we found a few old dilapidated farmhouses nearly razed to the ground by shot and shell. We at once began to select our dug outs and cooking places, and after a very busy evening, and taking very little notice of the rumbling guns and crack of the maxims we turned into rest. Nov. 19th:- We had reveille at 5 and stand to from 5.30 to 6.30. Breakfast 6.30 a.m. and so to our dug outs with plenty of work. Of course it all had to be done under cover, as we were so close to the Turkish line that you would very soon get potted if you showed yourself too much. Digging parties would work by night. The fighting seems more active today, with heavy guns, but our brigade has been very lucky for the last day or two. Weather has been very good today. Nov. 20th:- Reveille as usual, and rations and things seem to be finding their level again after the move, so I hope we shall hang out a few days here, but I expect not long, as we shall have to go up a bit nearer to the Turkish lines. In some cases now our trenches are only about 200 yards from them and where we are is just like a draught board, and the place is nothing but earth and clayey soil, and makes it a bit softer for the poor old Tommy to dig than the rocks in some of the places around here. We don’t get quite as much shrapnel here as they pass back over us, but plenty of bombs and trench mortars, and snipers cracking away at you all the time. No casualties today. Nov. 21st:- Sunday has arrived again, and after toiling all week one begins to think another week has passed and God has been good enough to carry us through it safely. Yet we in the firing line cannot see that we get any nearer to the end – but I suppose there is an end to all things, and of course there will be an end to this, with victory for the British flag. To be in a place like this is to see what that end is to cost and will cost. The British race should be proud of every man who has put his foot on the soil of Gallipoli for centuries to come. Here we are face to face with the enemy between Baba Baba and Anzac with the sea on our right and Chocolate Hill on our left and looking around to see what a battlefield is like is beyond any imagination. We find the bodies of our own men as well as the Turks, some getting covered with earth and some not at all. One we discovered had probably been there for months with his watch by his side and his bandage by his hand. No help came, and he grew too weak. Hundreds of these cases could be saved if one could only get the poor old Tommy when he was first knocked out, but no, the continual roar of the guns keeps away all help, and there he lies and dies a noble death. Now at the time I am writing this note, I am not only molested by the thunderous bombs, mortars and cannon, but there is a confounded sniper who keeps popping away at my parapet, right over my head. He may see a glimmer of my light, but he ought to know I am well under six feet of cover and no possible chance for him. Now I will try to rest for the night, after a very cold day – like a March day in England. Nov. 22nd:- Weather very wintry, very cold wind. Fighting with heavy guns very strong. This morning’s news has made the day go very pleasantly for me. I have had loving letters from my darling wife and daughter at Ilfracombe, England, where, if it wasn’t for my country’s call I should be having a comfortable time with them, but instead of being there I am here in my pit, dug out of the earth of Gallipoli Peninsula where hundreds of younger men ought to be as well if they were not selfish and cowardly, but they will have to face the heroes on their return, and to think of those that died for them, because they had not heart enough to go and fight for themselves. The Turks have been sending quite a few shrapnel on Chocolate Hill today and our heavy artillery and ships have been sending them over some very heavy shells, which as I watch them strike, raise clouds of smoke and dust. I have only heard of two casualties today, and these are with the Somersets. The situation is not too grand. We are just at the bottom of Chocolate Hill, and in a marshy, wet part, so if the rain comes on rapidly we shall certainly get flooded. The trenches in most places have planks and sand bags to walk on, with water underneath. There is plenty of long grass and bulrushes as cover between the trenches. Our lads have found any amount of dead bodies. Some have P.C.s from relatives. Corpl. King has had two from his sister. I am glad to see that King seems to have recovered from the shock he received a few days ago, which I have already mentioned. We only have a couple of days left to stay here before we move on again to the firing line. Just as we get settled we have to move, but still, we keep busy all the time, improving the dug outs and trenches for those who come after us. Nov. 23rd:- Weather rather cold, plenty of shot and shell flying about, and today Capt. Salaman has just informed me, quite unexpectedly, that he had put me in order to be made lance-corporal, so I thanked him, and now of course I date Lance-Corporal Trathen from today. I appreciate it very much, because I think a stripe got in battle is worth twenty stripes got in peace-time. The life of a soldier in peace-time and the life of a soldier on the battlefield are two different things. No nice uniform and plenty of horses, no bright buttons, but in the fighting line the only thing poor old Tommy has to do is to keep a good clean rifle and bayonet ready for his foes. In wet weather a soldier’s life is a cruel one. To see us trudging up and down those narrow, winding trenches, nothing but mud and water, rubbing our sides against the clay trenches, and then to go and lie down on a bed made of the same material tries the constitution of the strongest man that was ever born. Three days later, Lance-Corporal Trathen was shot. May he be Resting In Peace.
Posted on: Thu, 10 Jul 2014 21:52:56 +0000
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015