During a march past of Indian troops, a woman pins flowers on to the tunic of one of the soldiers. Each soldier is carrying a ceremonial sword.
The Battle of the Aisne: German infantry advancing over a captured trench during the attack between Montdidier and Noyon.
A captured, British 6 inch howitzer position showing the shells, iron dug-outs and a screen of ruined cottages. Date and location unknown.
The 12th Battalion Saxon Jaeger field kitchen in Macedonia.
A German soldier aims his rifle from a shallow fold in the ground near Fort Vaux with a dead French soldier on his left during the Battle of Verdun in 1916.
Battle of Arras: Walking wounded having their wounds dressed at a German first aid post, May 1917.
1917-An unidentified German official photographer with his camera on the Western Front.
1917 - British tanks salvaged by the German Army after the Battle of Cambrai are prepared for transportation to repair shops in the German rear area.
A patrol crawling forward during the attack on the German trenches at Beaumont Hamel on the first day at the Somme. The slope of the defenders’ hill is clearly visible.
A breakdown in communications caused the 780-man Newfoundland Regiment to be sent forward at Beaumont Hamel on July 1, 1916. The regiment was completely annihilated over the next twenty minutes, with only 110 survivors. Of these, only 67 were available for roll call the following day. In total, the short attack on Beaumont Hamel resulted in ninety percent casualties.
Ernest Brooks: Men of the Wiltshire Regiment waving their helmets as they march along the Acheux road to the trenches.
War’s a joke for me and you,
Wile we know such dreams are true.
- Siegfried Sassoon
Out there, we’ve walked quite friendly up to Death,-
Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland,-
Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
We’ve sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,-
Our eyes wept, but our courage didn’t writhe.
He’s spat at us with bullets and he’s coughed
Shrapnel. We chorussed when he sang aloft,
We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.
Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!
We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.
No soldier’s paid to kick against His powers.
We laughed, -knowing that better men would come,
And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags
He wars on Death, for lives; not men, for flags.
|—||Wilfred Owen - The Next War|