In Flanders on Independence Day, 1918

Issue #4 Paul Green's Cabin, from his diary, July 1918

In July 1918 Paul Green’s platoon moved in nearer the front lines of battle near Ypres, a municipality in the West Flanders province of Belgium. The town was a strategic stronghold where the British aimed to block the Imperial German Army from breaking though to ports on the coast of France. The flat, low ground of the region was kept dry by a system of dikes and ditches that were ultimately destroyed after three years of fighting. Young Paul Green grabs at moments amid the violence to document the hardships.

July 3rd

Put up barb wire entanglements in front of reserve trenches up near front line. The whole country here covered by network of trenches. Ammunition piled everywhere. Fields of wheat, oats, and rye terribly mutilated by German shells. Awful. More reports concerning cowardice of English. Every Frenchman says that English are poor fighters.

July 4th

Celebrated 4th by building entanglement all day. Day clear and bright. Observation balloons brought down. About sunset terrific bombardment began, directly opposite us on a 2 or 3 mile front. Continued all night. Ground troubled. Shells burst pretty near us, flying over mark. Several air battles occurred above us. No machines brought down.

July 5th

Today’s papers show great allied gains on whole front. Perhaps due to moral effect of our “Independence Day.”

Soon rations grew short as the men continue to drill, awaiting their next orders. They cursed the rain and mud in Flanders. It was necessary to hike two miles for a bath.

July 11th

Went out for drill and school work on aviation field a few hundred yards west of petite ville Proven. Field very muddy and unpleasant. Rained in afternoon. Doubly muddy. Must be terrible here in winter. Flanders mud is as truly difficult as it is proverbial. After supper strolled up to Proven with Sgt. Coulter. Town full of soldiers— Hindus, Negroes, French, British, Belgian, and American.

July 13th

Drilled in forenoon at Aviation field. Half holiday in afternoon. British hold steeple chase race in honor of France’s Day. Went to town in afternoon. Filled with all sorts of soldiers. Spent short while with Belgian maid. Told me of German cruelty. Brother killed, sister ruined and a prisoner of the Germans. At dusk heavy artillery fire began, lasting as long as I kept awake.

July 15th

Did regular work at Aviation field in forenoon. In late afternoon took my platoon for drill. Interrupted by an aviator’s trying to land on parade ground. To avoid killing some men he tried to land in an unoccupied section.  His machine struck the ground too suddenly, turning a somersault and crushing the pilot beneath it. He was extracted, however, with blood streaming from his mouth and nostrils. Haven’t learned whether he was killed or not. Germans are attacking on a vast front today. Must be their long expected drive. Shells are bursting close by every now and then. Expect to move up nearer front tomorrow. My old top sergeant who had been “broken” and put in my platoon for me to drill broke ranks and ran toward the plane to be killed by it.  The pilot soared over him and then struck the ground at too sharp an angle—thus the tragedy. We ran to pull the aviator from the wreck—he said “take care of my gloves.” Later heard he died. The top sergeant—now a buck private—later committed suicide.  In a gas attack he took off his mask, breathed in the gas and died.

This man was the inspiration for the Captain in Green’s play, “Hymn to the Rising Sun.”

July 16th

Drilled in the a.m. Went to rifle range east of Proven, in afternoon, 4 or 5 miles away. Hot. Several men exhausted. Last night about 12 or 1 o’clock Germans bombed Proven. Daring enemy aviator swooped close down to our tents and dropped bomb among us. None of our tents camouflaged nor the ground dug out. Bomb killed 6 of our horses, Supply Sgt. John Huffman of Hickory, N.C., literally blown to pieces and seven other men seriously wounded. Some cannot live. Our 1st Lieut. Church had his bed clothing shot to pieces. Uninjured. Buried Sgt, Huffman this a.m. Band played Chopin’s “Dead March.” Sad and impressive. My platoon with Lt. Hill in command left at 6:30. Boarded little train, rode for an hour; left train near “Dirty Bucket.” Marched 3 ½ hours down big road toward Ypres. Our artillery deafening. Fritz shelling on each side of us.  Reached Ypres about 2 a.m. Tired. Ypres lighted by flaming shells and flares. Awful sight. Big moon looks sadly at it all. Slept in dugouts on left bank of canal. But rats and cooties worried me all night. My head beginning to pulse from the shell-fire.

July 17th

We spent the day flooring dugouts and building cots. At night we went out in parties digging trenches, revetting, etc. Worked where Canadians were gassed in 1915. Tall grass growing about moldy uniformed skeletons. Country low and ill-smelling. Only rats and mosquitoes among marsh grass. All parties returned safe, the snipers were picking at us continually. Terrific artillery bombardment after we went to bed over on Kemmel Hill.

July 19th

Went out for regular work at night. Machine guns and snipers plugging away after us ever and anon. Nearly every night someone gets it. First night we went out one got it in heart. Next night one got it in side. Last night one got it in the leg. . .

July 22nd

Hung around billets until evening. Few shells coming over. Several of us went for a closer inspection of the ruins of the famous Cloth Hall. Whole battalion of British troops are under the ruins where they were buried by sudden bombardment of Ypres. At night two of my N.C. friends, Sgt. Fowler and Corp. Madden, went up to front line trenches. Sentinels on job. Only few men in trenches. One per 15 yds. should say. Patrol went out. Remains of horses and soldiers exhumed by shells smelt awful.

July 23rd

Slept in dugout nearly all day. Received orders to leave at night. Told Tommies good bye and set out thru rain. Shells bursting ever and anon. Marched three miles in pitch black darkness to siding, waited 2 hours, marched back to Br. Hdqts. Found order had been cancelled. Marched back to billets on Ypres canal early in morning. Tired crowd. Had to threaten to shoot mutinous corporal. He gave in.

July 25th

Had air raid last night. Several horses and one man killed at camp near us. Why, oh, why, is it that none of the Allies’ planes are on the job at night? Fritz comes and flies over us for hours with nothing to hinder him. Something should be done. Had breakfast at 4:30 a.m. and marched 3 miles west of Poperinghe to build barb wire fence. Returned at 2 p.m. Saw several peasants moving their belongings out on wheelbarrows. Pitiful! Pitiful! At nearly every house there are refugees. Mothers who know not where their children are. Children who have no parents. Awful! Pitiful!

July 26th

Slept well on floor last night. Rose this a.m. by order and worked on barbed wire fence in same place as yesterday. It was pitiful to see the sad looks of the Belgian peasants, as we trampled through their ripening grain, each a slave of the war god.

July 28th

Never before have I realized what a holy Sabbath can mean to one worn to the bone by outside duties! How I have enjoyed this day’s rest! In the afternoon my brother Hugh came to see me. I had not seen him since I left the U.S. and more than once I had almost despaired of ever seeing him again. His company was caught in one of Jerry’s barrages—well, to cut it short his company got out of it with 22 casualties, among them being his Lieutenant and top Sgt. killed.

July 29th

Went out on barbed wiring. Heavy work thru rain and sun. Our platoon exceeded the former record by 200 yds. Completing 700 yds. with 30 men in 5 ½ hours. Had inspection in afternoon. Sleep at night.

July 30th

Same work on wire fence. In finishing work, Sgt. Fowler cut old man’s hop poles to make portable obstacles. The old man raised such a ruckus that soon a crowd of refugees were clamoring with him.  We had to evacuate. A pretty Belgian girl told me something of German atrocities. Baby’s hands amputated, girls breasts disfigured. Horrible. She was a refugee.  And even the sun shines bright along the River Rhine.  Oh Jupiter! Cease courting Juno and come to the aid of your Greeks—ever faithful to thee and thy cause! In afternoon received order to take full equipment and report to Regimental HQ. For special duty lasting for an indefinite time. With a feeling of sadness mingled with one of relief I told my men farewell. Was notified by Capt. Winthrop that I had been chosen as acting Regimental Sgt. Major.

July 31st

Began work this a.m. about 8 o’clock. Everything new and alarmingly difficult. Files in an awful mess. Worked all day with very little result noticeable at night.  I already realize what a job has landed upon me.

Poet John McCrae wrote the well-known poem “In Flanders Fields.” You may wish to listen to the poem here, recited by another extraordinary poet, Lenard Cohen. In the next edition of Paul Green’s Cabin, the future playwright begins his office job for the military and finds time to get acquainted with Paris.