WWI REMEMBERED University’s paper told of horrors and tragedy of those at war

AS THE bloodshed of World War I continued, the students of Cardiff University were left depleted in number and low in morale. Each month brought news of staff and students fighting side by side, while those at home saw the loss of colleagues, peers, sons and tutors.

Now, 100 years later, those heartbreaking, inspiring and even comical tales can still be seen in the student newsletter of the time, Cap and Gown.

Written and published by university students, articles as early as 1913 report the first individuals preparing to be sent to the frontline.

By December, a total of 14 staff and dozens of students had left their positions to help the war effort, including a Professor Hepburn who became an officer commanding the Third Western General Hospital

In his editorial, the newspaper’s editor RM Thomas writes: “The Cap and Gown is passing through a precarious period of its career. Our ranks are depleted by many who found their country’s call too strong to be ignored, though it involves great sacrifice to themselves.”

In the piece, Mr Thomas also explains that the year’s original editor George Thomas had decided to enlist rather than run the paper.

Writing back to the university from his training in England, the solider’s letters are featured in the newspaper a few pages later.

He wrote: “The most prevalent rumour is that early in January we leave Ashtead and England for the military barracks in the South of France for musketry training and for the completion of our general training for entering the firing line.

“For our subsequent fortunes we must politely refer you to the newspapers, perhaps the casualty list in particular.”

Fortunately for Mr Thomas, a second letter more than a year later shows him still in Ashtead, frustrated at the lack of progress.

As the war began in earnest, however, news of soldiers and students fallen in action started to make their way back to Cardiff.

In March 1915, condolences are issued in the paper to both Lord Aberdare, president of the college, and Lord Plymouth, former president, over the loss of both men’s sons.

The death of a Lieutenant Watkins is also marked, described as a “student fondly remembered by present third and fourth year men”.

By 1918, the number of college members killed in war increased by 14 to 45, with 10 individuals awarded medals for their work.

Some aspects of daily life in Cardiff were slowly grinding to a halt, with insufficient numbers to fill the rugby and hockey sides.

Those killed included the respected assistant Latin lecturer Francis Clement Thomas, who received fatal injuries after being sent to Gallipoli.

His obituary in the paper details the last moments of his death: “He kept on saying how sorry he was to put his battery commander into such an awkward predicament by leaving him at a time where there was so much to be done.

“He insisted on explaining to his battery commander all the arrangements he had made for the storing of the ammunition which was to come up to the guns that night.”

Meanwhile, during the last months of action, accounts also continued to flood in from those at the frontline.

One article by a former student at the frontline reads: “Guns are being fired almost all round here.

“One of our big fellows just down the road shakes the windows and even the house every time he goes off.

“Just opposite the house in which I am billeted there is an ammunition train, and if the Germans landed a highly explosive shell on that, we should all be blown to glory.

“Roads are ankle-deep everywhere in mud, and in the trenches in places the mud comes up to one’s knees.”

Throughout the issue of the Cap and Gown, however, one student’s journey continued to feature more than others.

Writing to the paper first in 1915, Cardiff student Max Goodman first weighed up the horrors of war with a more reflective piece.

He wrote: “You ask yourself to what purpose all these forced marches, this unheard of misery and wretchedness in cold water-logged trenches, this unnatural life of hardships piled upon hardships with uncertain death at hand with blasting shells and merciless bullets or gleaming bayonets in lieu of a crooked scythe; but a vivid vision of a happy future comes before