WW1 Poems and letters of Robert William Moss
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    • Training, Nov 1914 - May 1915
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    • Back To Ypres, Dec 195 - Feb 1916
    • Arras, France, Mar 1916 - May 1916
    • Machine Gun School, St Omer, Jun 1916
    • The Somme, France, Jun 1916 - Sep 1916
    • Hospital & Convalescence, Oct 1916 - Feb 1917
    • Officer Training, Mar 1917 - Aug 1917
    • Cambrai, France, Aug 1917 - Nov 1917
    • Wounded, A New Chapter Begins, Nov 1917
    • Extracts From Letters To Elsie, Jul 1917 - Dec 1917
  • POEMS
    • Petworth, Training, Winter 1913-14
    • Aldershot, Talavera Barracks
    • Battle Of Hooge, Jun 1915
    • Battle Of Loos, Sep 1915
    • Boesinghe Ypres, Christmas - New Year, 1915-16
    • Ypres, Jan 1916, The Guide
    • To Arras, Mar 1916
    • Delville Wood, The Somme, Jul 1916
    • Tree Of Hope, by Kate Moss, Sep 16th 2001
    • First Tank Attack, Dec 1916
    • Remnants Of A Great War, Sep 30th 2001
    • The Battle Of Cambrai, Nov 1917
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LIFE IN THE TRENCHES
THE POEMS

First Tank Attack, September 1916

A Vickers Light Gun on my shoulder,
Two machine-gun belts on my back.
Was ever man could be bolder,
A pawn in the first tank attack!

Other details that I carried,
Field-dressing, gas mask, and a pack,
By every impediment harried,
Iron rations, steel helmet alack!

There lumbering over Bosche lines,
Steel monsters use enfilade fire,
Dazed Germans surrend’ring betimes
Cry Kam’rad, as others expire!

Bombers now blast out each dug-out,
As tanks attack the next system.
Capture each strong-point and redoubt,
Prisoners galore! We arrest ‘em!

What of these steel cruising monsters,
Some temporarily halted.
Others still mobile giant ogres.
To Germans, surprised, so assaulted!

How are the Infantry fairing,
Following in the wake of the tanks?
Here we shall need all our daring,
The enemy’s thinning our ranks!

Their third trench system resisting,
The enemy holds our attack.
Fierce fire from machine-gunners raking,
Many tanks made immobile, alack!

Our loved Colonel shot in the leg,
Falls in a near shallow crater.
Too late now, more cover to beg.
Shot through the head seconds later.

At this stage the missiles increase,
Zip! Round my tense body spraying.
I pray for a safe quick release,
Rejecting the idea of dying!

A thump on my right arm, terrific!
Down drops the Light Vickers Gun.
A deep crater shields me, it’s magic!
Comes one of my mates on the run.

Quickly retrieving the weapon,
He hails me with ‘You lucky sod!’
Grabbing the gun’s ammunition,
Vanished, not bothering to nod!

Lying deep down in my crater,
I poured iodine on my wound.
Waiting for our lads to capture,
Finish the machine-gunning hound.

Saddened to lose Colonel Benson,
Comparing our separate state.
The depth of the crater, the reason
For each, and our ultimate fate!

Protecting the wound with a bandage
Secured around the wrist and the thumb.
Consid’ring the size of the damage,
That bullet, no doubt, a dum-dum!

No further resistance from ‘Gerry’,
Quick or you’ll run into a barrage.
From tanks and battlefield hurry.
Now home to ‘Blighty’ you’ll manage.

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Dedicated to the memory of all those affected by World War One
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