Sapper W. Elsdon (Rushden), of the 10th Railway Construction Company, R.E., son of Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Elsdon, of 237, Wellingborough-road, Rushden, has been spending seven days’ leave at home, after having been at the front since November 26th, 1914. Interviewed by a representative of the “Rushden Echo,” he said:-

“I left England with my regiment about November 26th and landed in France on the following day. The transport consisted of a cattle boat. On arrival in France we were given four days in the rest camp, which was about the funniest camp I have ever been in. What with wind, rain, and mud, we were jolly glad to leave the place. After four days we were entrained in horse trucks, and did 13 hours’ journey up country. At the end of the journey we were put into some French barracks. Our first job, which took 10 days, consisted of laying a water supply for a big camp, and putting up huts for the troops. We thought this rather a funny job for railway troops, but did it with a good heart.

“We used to proceed to work every morning in four tram cars. We had quite a lot of sport going along the street, what with waving our hands to the Mademoiselles and saying ‘Bon jour,’ etc. The French girls are proper sports, and always ready for a bit of fun with an English Tommy. They are very generous and found us plenty of grub and drink.

“Whilst we were at this first place we found out that our permanent quarters were to be in a train, and our officers told us that a train was being fitted up for the purpose. We finished our job and were then given another long journey in the same first class carriages. We proceeded right round the coast before reaching our destination. During the journey I developed blood poisoning, this having resulted from a pimple on my hand. On arrival at our destination I was sent into hospital, and remained there until just before Christmas.

“Whilst in hospital I met Pte. Frank Smith (Rushden), of the R.A.M.C., who used to work at the Standard Rotary, Rushden, where I was also employed before joining the colours. Frank was orderly in my ward and as he was an old friend of mine I did very well in cigarettes.

“I sometimes used to smuggle a nice juicy steak, and one day the doctor nearly caught me as I was cooking it on the fire. He said ‘There’s the……..of a stink here,’ but I managed to get the steak out of sight before he spotted it. My bed in the hospital was the first I had been in since mobilisation, and on the first night I rolled out of it, as the hospital beds are very narrow.

“I got out of hospital in time for the cold Christmas pudding and Princess Mary’s gift, and our officers bought us a barrel of English beer and we had a pint apiece. It went down good after the French rubbish, which is little better than water.

“On coming out of hospital I went straight back to the train and found that my comrades were still sleeping on the floor as usual. Under these circumstances we all had to go to bed together, as if anybody was late they would disturb everybody else. Anyhow, we sleep pretty warm, as we were all huddled up together. By this time, however, the carpenters had started to fit bunks in the trucks, and in each truck were 18 bunks in tiers of three. We proceeded two miles further up the line and still continued on the construction of the train for our own convenience, and by this time our work in this connection was nearly finished, and we were getting generally fed up at doing nothing that we considered really useful. Our work up to that time was unloading guns for the artillery, and rendering general assistance to troops that came in. It wasn’t until the Kaiser’s birthday that we got to serious work, although we had already lost one man by accident. He was killed during some shunting operations, being squeezed between bales of compressed paper and a railway truck. It took us an hour to extricate the poor chap, and when we got him out we found he was crushed to pulp. We buried him with full military honours in a French cemetery, but as in the case of other soldiers he didn’t have a coffin, but was put in the ground wrapped in his blankets.

“On the morning of the Kaiser’s birthday we were warned to prepare ourselves for the firing line. We therefore filled our pouches with ammunition, and paraded at 5 a.m. We were put in London motor buses and taken to the La Bassee district via Bethune. This was in January and it was the coldest and longest ride I have ever had in a motor bus, not to say the most uncomfortable. Although I was well wrapped up I couldn’t keep warm. We finally stopped at the billets of another of our corps, and the cooks provided us with hot tea and bread and cheese. We here met a lot of our old pals, and had an interesting time talking over former experiences.

“We eventually fell in at 8 p.m. and were told that our job was to build a dam in an adjacent canal, as the Germans had blown down one of the lock gates, and were trying had to knock down the others. If they had been successful in this business they would have flooded our trenches, but they were not. As we fell in I noticed that the motor bus drivers were on top of their buses watching the star shells, and as they were watching these star shells an attack developed. There were pom-poms and machine guns going like blazes, and I noticed the drivers and conductors falling over each other in their eagerness to get down the stairs. This made us laugh, and we asked them what was the matter. They said that the air above the buses was alive with bullets, and we soon found out what was the matter ourselves. Fortunately for us we had just been ordered to take five paces to the rear, and we had no sooner moved than the bullets were spattering the road just where we had previously been standing.

“A very sad incident occurred at this time, as the driver of the tool waggon was struck in the head just as he was mounting his horse. We picked him up and found he was quite dead.

“We proceeded from this spot up to the canal and there unloaded our sand bags. We were ordered to carry the bags up the road for about a quarter-of-a-mile, and this wasn’t a pleasant job as we were continually under the fire of snipers. I had a very narrow escape myself as a bullet passed so close to my face, that I was compelled to drop my bundle. There was a mill close by and I could swear that the bullet came from there, although it was behind our lines.

“We arrived at the canal, however, without any mishap, and filled our sandbags and completed the building of the dam the same evening.

“Whilst we were at work there, one of the regiments were standing to in preparation for a charge and we had orders to stand by with fixed bayonets. However, this didn’t come to anything for some reason or the other, and on the completion of the job we returned the same way as we came.

“About four days after this we were again moved, and our next job was to make a big railway siding for the storing of all sorts of war materials, and this job kept us busy for the next three months, during which time we were continually up to our knees in slush and mud and we were jolly glad when it was finished. I was then given a job on a crane for about a month. We were then again moved to a place just behind the firing line, and here we were engaged in putting down another railway track in order to cope with the heavy traffic. We extended all the stations as we went up. Finally arrived at a place which was under shell fire, and I was put on driving the engine on the train taking our chaps to work. All the three months we were there we were heavily shelled every day, and several times the line has been broken and had to be repaired.

“Twice, in going up in the morning the train has been as near as nothing hit. On the first occasion the Germans were bombarding an adjacent village and making a special target of the church, which on the night before they had fired by means of incendiary bombs. It had been absolutely burnt out and the steeple had been knocked down. As we were proceeding up the line one of the enemy’s shells knocked a part of the steeple off and then exploded just in front of my engine. Seeing this I stopped the engine, and, reversing, pushed off back as hard as I could make her go, as I had to think of the chaps behind, not the mention myself. We stopped behind until the bombardment was finished. At this time I was not only driving my own engine but had to take over all sorts and conditions of engines from French drivers who were not allowed to pass the railhead, and I found this rather difficult for a start as their engines are quite a different design from ours. However, I soon fell into it, and always managed to get my load up. We were continually getting all sorts of shells thrown over, and on one occasion one of our 9.2 guns burst, and killed all the men who were serving it. All of them were practically blown to pieces, and it would sicken me to tell you more minute details.

(To be continued next week.)

The Rushden Echo, 8th October, 1915, transcribed by Gill Hollis Rushden Sapper at Work - Meeting with Rushden Boys Ypres a City of The Dead - Terrific Explosion of a Jack Johnson Germans Try to Flood British Trenches - And Make a Special Target of a Church Sapper W. Elsdon (Rushden), of the 10th Railway Construction Company, R.E., son of Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Elsdon, of 237, Wellingborough-road, Rushden, has been spending seven days’ leave at home, after having been at the front since Nov. 26th, 1914. In last week’s “Rushden Echo” we reported an interview with Sapper Elsdon. Continuing his report our representative gathered from Sapper Elsdon the following interesting particulars:- “Every day aeroplanes, both enemy and British, were passing over our heads, and I have seen several aerial encounters, but usually a Taube will not engage a British aeroplane as they know what to expect. I have noticed, however, that their aeroplanes are faster than ours, and can usually show a clean pair of heels. I saw a Taube brought down on one occasion when one of our shells burst right under it. It gave a sudden dip forward and came down like a stone, nose first, and spinning like a top as it fell. “On another occasion one of our own machines came down into our lines, and I walked over to see what was the matter and arrived just in time to see them taking the observer out of his seat. He had been killed by a piece of shrapnel, but the pilot stood by quite unconcerned and quite cool, although he must have been through a veritable hell. “Towards the finish of our work at this spot, one day about 9 a.m. we heard a noise like an express train coming. We all knew what it was, and took whatever cover was at hand. A “Jack Johnson” fell in an adjacent street and knocked three houses flat. There was nothing left but a heap of stones and mortar, and we left the spot with all haste, as it was evident that the Germans were concentrating on that spot. Fortunately for us we did the right thing, as the next Jack Johnson, which arrived 20 minutes after, fell right in the place where the company had been working. This one did enormous damage. All the slates were shaken off the surrounding houses, and cobbles and stones were flung round for a 300 yards’ radius. These were almost as dangerous as shells, and the place afterwards looked as if it had been visited by an earthquake. We went up to look at the hole the shell had made and found it was 30 feet in diameter by 14 feet deep. A small granite building that was previously standing on the spot had completely disappeared, and we found that a lot of tools, in addition to several of the men’s coats, had vanished. This was one of the most exciting days we had, as the enemy never left us alone for a minute. Shells were falling all day. “We were next put on repairing the line, so that a mule could draw a trolley to take rations up to the trenches. We gradually worked up right through the field batteries to the third line of trenches. The job took three weeks, and we were taken up by motor. On one occasion when we were passing through a shelled village the enemy started dropping gas shells close at hand, and we had to put our respirators on. It was a weird sight to see the chaps in smoke helmets and respirators, and it reminded me of the pictures you see of the Spanish Inquisition. “Whilst on this job I met Trooper H. Smith (Rushden) of the Northants Yeomanry. He is Frank Smith’s brother, and it is singular that the only two persons that I have met at the front from Rushden should be brothers. Trooper Smith was guarding a barrier on the railway line, and I don’t know whether he is aware of it or not be he has had a very lucky escape, as the men who relieved him were all killed on the following day through the house in which they were stationed being knocked down by a German shell. “All the time we were in this district we carried our lives in our hands, as we were compelled to work entirely in the open. Moreover, we were surrounded by our own guns, which put the breeze up us almost as bad as the enemy’s shells. It is proper nerve-wracking with the guns firing close at hand. One night I was at work about 20 yards from a battery of guns, which I didn’t know was there, owing to its clever concealment. I heard some sharp words of command, and these were followed by a salvo, which was deafening. I thought my ear drums had burst, and for a second or two couldn’t think what had happened. “On another occasion our advance party were at work with a saw, cutting the broken rails, when a sniper got their range and proved so troublesome that they had to abandon the work. However it was completed on the following night, and we were glad when it was finished. We are still on the same work, and are continually having to repair the line. So far as I am concerned I am still driving the old loco, and I am jolly glad to get home for a few days, especially for the Feast. I should like to take this opportunity of saying that the gifts of cigarettes, mittens, and warm clothing that are being sent out to us are thoroughly appreciated by all the troops. I am also glad to receive the “Rushden Echo,” which my father sends me every week, as I like to read about the doings of my chums. “Ypres might well be called a city of the dead. It was an important Belgian town, but not a single house has escaped being hit. One day a regiment were badly caught whilst in the Cloth Hall, which was struck by a Jack Johnson. No fewer than 180 men were buried under huge masses of masonry. Whilst the rescue party were at work they came under heavy shrapnel fire, and 40 of them were put out of action.”