Blown up by a Shell - How Fritz got “Frit”

  Rifleman W. S. Dickens (Rushden), of the K.R.R.’s, has recently spent ten days’ sick furlough at home, after having been in Hospital at Mitcham, and the 4^th London General Hospital, Denmark-hill, for two months.  He was sent home from the Western front on March 17^th, having been in hospital there for one month suffering from shell shock incurred during the fighting at Vimy Ridge.

  It was just at the commencement of the big push that Rifleman Dickens experienced what resulted in shell shock.

  Interviewed by a representative of the “Rushden Echo,” Rifleman Dickens said:-

  “It was on February 16^th, after a continuous bombardment of the enemy’s lines for about 24 hours, that Fritz got the wind up.  We had received no orders to advance, but Fritz got so “frit” that he sent up a mine he had prepared, and I went up with it, together with a great many more of my comrades.  I was very badly shaken, but did not immediately have to leave the line, although my nerves were all of a ‘ditherum,’ but I had to stick it as Fritz was making a struggle for the crater, and had actually got into it, but we drove him out again, and he left behind him five prisoners, all of them mere lads.

  “These boys were in a state of abject terror when we captured them, and screamed and went into hysterics when they caught sight of us, as they had been told by their officers that we should cut their heads off.  One of them could speak English, and we told him that they would be all right if they proceeded to our lines quietly.  When they got into our lines the English-speaking Boche said ‘Give me a fag,’ and his request was complied with.

  “Subsequently we stormed Fritz’s trenches with bombs and succeeded in driving him out of two lines, which we were ordered to hold.  However, towards the evening we had to abandon the Germans’ second line, as the enemy directed a heavy barrage on to us, but we were successful in maintaining our hold on the enemy’s first line until 5 p.m., when a party of us were ordered back for rations, a new party relieving us.

  “As I was returning with five comrades, carrying up rations, the enemy’s bombardment was so hot and shells were falling so thick all round us that we were obliged to take shelter in a tumble-down dug-out.  This served us as a fair protection against shrapnel that was falling all around us.  It was falling round us so thick that all of us were practically panic-stricken, and my pals were so nerve-wracked with the shelling that they were contemplating making a rush for it.  If they had done this their number would have been up, so I persuaded them, as much for my sake as theirs, to stick where they were.  I said, ‘Stick it, chaps; if it has got your name and number on you will have it,’ and no sooner had I spoken the words when a shell burst right under the dug-out and up went the lot of us.  This was on Saturday, February 16^th, at 6.30 p.m., and after that I remembered no more until I regained consciousness on the following Tuesday.  I then found myself in the Field Hospital, and for days I was feeling round myself to see if I was all there, and was surprised to find that no part of me was missing.

  “The concussion of the shell must have affected my spine, as my legs seemed dead and I found I couldn’t walk at all.  For all I could feel of my legs they might not have been there.

  “A week later I was moved to another hospital, and there I met the Lance-Corporal who was in charge of us when we went up, and I found that he was in the same condition as myself.  I shouted across the ward to him one morning when feeling a little better, and asked him what had become of the other four pals, but he knew no more than I did, and thought that they must have ‘gone west.’  It was at this hospital where the doctor pulled me through the worst, and I afterwards showed improvement.  In about a fortnight’s time I was sufficiently recovered to be moved, and I was moved to another hospital near the railway in readiness for transportation to ‘Blighty.’  I left France for England on March 17^th, arriving at Dover on the same day.  A few days after that my wife was allowed to visit me, and I was pleased also to see my father, who accompanied her.”

  Rifleman Dickens, during his sick furlough at home had the luck to see his brother, Pte. Ray Dickens, of the Northants Regiment, who was home on his final leave.  Rifleman Dickens left Rushden on Monday for Tipperary to rejoin his unit.  A brother, the late Pte. F. A. Dickens of the Coldstream Guards, was killed in action in France last year, as reported in the “Rushden Echo” at the time.

  Rifleman Dickens enlisted about 15 months ago, and has been in France for the whole of the winter.