Diary details horrors of First World War
J. Spurgeon Jenkins of Mount Albion recorded harrowing scenes in a diary while serving in the Great War
The scene was one straight out of a nightmare.
“You would think the end of the world had come — with the roar of the guns, sirens, bugles blowing the alarms and with men turning out half-naked with their gas helmets fixed on. You would think they were a lot of spooks.”
J. Spurgeon Jenkins (1891-1975) of Mount Albion, P.E.I. recorded that harrowing scene in a diary he kept while serving in the First World War.
On the morning of Wednesday, Aug. 9, 1916, he wrote about the previous night’s madness in Belgium.
“About half-past ten last night a terrific bombardment started, followed about a hour later by a heavy gas attack.”
Jenkins escaped the worst of the gas attack.
“I didn’t mind it much myself, only my throat and lungs got most infernally dry. Montague turned sick to his stomach and John Doyle and some others took a big fit of coughing … our horses were sneezing and fussing in the lines.”
Jenkins’ son is Ron Jenkins, a lifelong resident of Charlottetown, who is in possession of the precious diary. He says while his father writes that the gas didn’t impact him too much, his father had some breathing issues later in his life that the gas attack may have played a role in.
Ron’s father was 52 when he was born so there was a huge age difference. His father never talked much about the war but he did tell his son about one sad memory.
“In one incident he was in the dugout with his friends, and for whatever reason it was, he left the dugout. Then a bomb hit the dugout and killed them all.”
Spurgeon Jenkins was with the No. 3 Section, First Canadian Divisional Ammunition Column in France and Belgium.
Twelve hours after the gas attack, the 25-year-old witnessed an aerial dogfight.
“A German aeroplane was forced to land by one of our planes. It was sure some fight. They passed directly over our heads and some stray pieces of shell fell around.”
The diary recounts more than just armed conflicts.
“Raiding parties have gone out and returned laden with the fruits of the land … a most appetizing soup (was) concocted from peas, beans, potatoes and onions purloined from nearby fields, assisted by some bully beef, etc., obtained from our own stores. I’ve just done away with a mess tin full and it made a meal for the gods.”
A diary entry on Aug. 15, 1916 also had nothing to do with the fighting.
“In Ruminghem (France), made 18 miles today. Passed through Watten. Saw some swell scenery and nice girls — latest styles, skirts pleated and two inches above boot tops (note boots fairly high).”
Apparently there was great speculation among the soldiers about where they were headed. Adding a bit of humour to his diary on Aug. 16, Jenkins wrote the following entry:
“Am still in Ruminghem, destination as big a mystery as ever. Opinion is rife as to where? Some say India, others Egypt, while Holland, Mesopotamia and Blighty (Britain) come in for a fair share. Some poor misguided mortal said Canada. Ye gods, could it be true. Can I imagine what it would be like to see the old home once again? Myself, I think it is to the Somme.”
Another entry with a dash of humour involved a comrade who had gotten a bit tipsy one night and lost his false teeth. The teeth were found the next day in his mess tin. Jenkins, who wasn’t a drinker, noted that the individual “swore some” upon finding his missing choppers.
On Sunday, Aug. 27, the soldiers slept outside in stocks of wheat to escape the rain.
“This morning the old French woman cried because we messed up her wheat,”
Jenkins wrote.
Another diary entry from Aug. 28 confirmed Jenkins was correct about where the troops were headed.
“Reached Hedauville, our destination, at 9:30. The Somme is sure “some place,” so this is the pleasant surprise they had for us. We are opposite Thiepval.”
Rain and a lack of “grub” greeted the men upon their arrival. The food finally arrived two days after the men but the rain didn’t let up.
“Still raining, mud to the knees and forty miles from nowhere,” writes Jenkins on Aug. 30, 1917. “We are reminded of Salisbury Plains (England). Was flooded out last night, got my a--- wet.”
He was in charge of nine men and a 4.5 Howitzer, an artillery piece.
The diary entries end there and don’t resume until March of 1917. Perhaps Jenkins was too busy to make any diary entries, or perhaps he saw things that stilled his pencil.
Wikipedia says the Battle of the Somme was fought by the armies of the British Empire and France against the German Empire. It took place between July 1 and Nov. 18 and was the largest battle of the First World War on the Western Front.
More than three million men fought in the battle and one million men were wounded or killed, making it one of the bloodiest battles in human history.
On March 16, 1917, Jenkins wrote:
“Here we are billeted near Mount St. Eloi (France). A big fight took place this afternoon between two squadrons of aeroplanes. Three of our planes were forced down. Two passed directly over our lines and one landed quite near. Ran over to look at it … the observer was semi-conscious with machine gun bullet in stomach. The pilot was wounded in foot and had one finger shot off. He was Canadian. Three Germans were brought down, two in our lines and one in no man’s land.”
The next day was St. Patrick’s Day but there would be no celebrating. Fritzie (the Germans) shelled us rather heavily this morning, dropped several within a few yards of our horse lines. Sprinkled us quite liberally with mud and pieces of brick and stone. Make a direct hit within ten yards of our blacksmith’s forge in a barn where some Kilties (members of a Highland Regiment) were sleeping. Killed one outright. Five more died of wounds before they were removed and four were more or less seriously wounded. We had no casualties.”
Jenkins made it through the war and returned to his beloved Prince Edward Island. He married Janie Marie Foster and together they raised four children.
Jenkins’ main occupation on Prince Edward Island was serving as a wildlife officer. He was the only one on P.E.I. and wasn’t popular with many hunters and fishermen when he caught them running afoul of the Island’s conservation rules. He took his job seriously, and on some occasions would sleep outdoors to be on hand to catch offenders in the morning.
“One morning he awoke to a hot breath on his face. It was a cow licking him,” says Ron.
For many years, Jenkins wrote a popular column in The Guardian called “Hunters Corner.”
During the rum-running days on P.E.I., Jenkins was sometimes taken off his conservation duties and made a provincial police constable to try to help stem the flow of the illegal elixir to the province. Ron recalls his father saying that on one occasion, when a car carrying rum broke through a police blockade, the police officer beside Jenkins pulled out his gun and shot out the back window of the speeding vehicle. The vehicle, and its no doubt startled occupants, kept on going.
During his eventful lifetime, Jenkins also had turns at selling insurance, collecting taxes, being a trapper and helping construct dams. Prior to the war, he went out West on harvest excursion trains.