WW1 Poems and letters of Robert William Moss
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  • LETTERS
    • Training, Nov 1914 - May 1915
    • Ypres, Belgium, Jun 1915 - Oct 1915
    • Machine Gun School, St Omer, Nov 1915
    • 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

Petworth, Training, Winter 1914-15

Badger then spoke truly
 At Petworth, here we are.
Entered billets duly
I thank my lucky star!

Clean sheets at the butcher’s;
Quartered in the main street.
Bathroom, no more itches,
Rump steak, fresh meat, a treat!

Squad drill in the great park
Bayonet practice also
Hear Sergeant’s husky bark
‘Attack the bloody foe!’

As from gibbets hanging
Row of straw-filled dummies
Left, right, parry pointing,
Cold steel thrust in tummies!

Maybe three times weekly
Route-marching is ordered.
Tender-footed, nightly,
Blisters, corns, discovered.

After much foot-slogging,
More used to Army shoes,
Stepping-out more pleasing
Sing-songs, and air our views.

Chant, ‘Pack up your troubles’,
Also ‘Tipperary’,
‘The long long trail,’ doubles
Scots woo ‘Highland Mary’.

Sergeant-major’s halt call
‘Fall-out on the right side’
Loosen pack and down fall,
Smoke ‘fag’ as here we bide.

‘Don’t stray away, you there!’
Relieve aching muscles.
When whistle’s blast you hear,
Fall in for more tussles!

Machine-gun section needed,
Volunteer if you care,
From Rifleman ceded,
Might do much better there.

Find me now studying
That Light Vicker’s Gun there,
On tripod a’standing,
A water-cooled affair.

Minutely learing it’s
Parts and potential.
Lock, assembled in bits,
Each part, how essential.

Belted ammunition,
Learn too how the gun’s fed.
Know ev’ry position,
Ejected and loaded.

Anon came the order,
Machine-gunners hurry,
Move over the border,
To Cranleigh, in Surrey.

Down a deep Surrey lane,
Comfortably settled.
On the floor, mattress lain
Six gunners are bedded.

Hear the Nightingale sing
From evening till dawn.
Thrilling music of Spring,
Blackbird too on the lawn.

Day’s work more strenuous,
Much cross-country running.
Stragglers pant, furious,
The leader’s pace stunning!

Yet all looking hardy
And bronzed by the sun.
For cider, none tardy,
When returned from the run!

From Cranleigh departing,
Kind friends sadly leaving.
‘Sixtieth’ rejoining,
Aldershot returning.

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