Star Shell Reflections, 1914–1916: The Illustrated Great War Diaries of Jim Maultsaid

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the memory of Michael Maultsaid and Maureen Rosborough, the son and daughter of Jim Maultsaid.

Both took a deep interest in their father’s war diaries and were looking forward to their publication.

Michael passed away in February 2014 and Maureen just five months later.

First published in Great Britain in 2015 by

Pen & Sword Military

an imprint of

Pen & Sword Books Ltd

47 Church Street

Barnsley

South Yorkshire S70 2AS

Copyright © Barbara McClune 2015

ISBN 978 1 78346 369 5

eISBN 9781473857834

The right of Barbara McClune to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Contents

Foreword

Introduction

From the Original Diary

Get Out

My Diary Notes

Foreword

James Alexander Bovaird Maultsaid was my grandfather, always affectionately known to our family as ‘Nim’, and, while growing up, I was always aware of his diaries.

It was not until after he died that I had the chance to read them and to find out more about his life.

As a young man in Donegal one of his hobbies was amateur journalism and he produced his own magazine called The Emerald. This included articles on aeroplanes, sport – especially boxing and football – and scouting, all of which he took a keen interest in; moreover he started one of the first scouting groups in Ireland.

Also from his early days another pastime was sketching and freehand drawing, for which he won many prizes in school. The one career he would have relished, as he said in his own words, was to be ‘a black and white artist on a good newspaper’.

I am very happy and proud that I have been given the opportunity to have his works published, as I believe without doubt that in doing so I am fulfilling his heart’s desire.

Barbara Anne McClune

Introduction

This book is not intended as a history of the Great War or a continued story in the usual sense of the word. It is just a record of events that appealed to me as interesting to sketch or ‘make a note of’ during those hectic years when this old world was upside down – 1914–1919. During all my travels I managed to carry a little pocket diary (some parts of the original book appear in these pages) and it is all from these notes and sketches that Star Shell Reflections came into existence.

You will, of course, appreciate the fact that conditions on active service were sometimes very crude and rough, yet I somehow managed to sketch and write at every opportunity – down below the earth in dirty dug-outs; in the trenches; under shellfire; out in the open spaces of the Somme or in the forests of Picardy; in old French farmhouses; billets; or in barns; beneath the sky itself – in fact ‘anywhere’ and ‘anytime’, so you will overlook any little faults you may detect.

I have tried to place before you a true and faithful picture of the life we boys lived during those years. Many writers of war books (and some of the best sellers) have made their name in describing the filth and misery, the horrible sights, the pain and suffering of war and all that starkness. Let me give you a glimpse of the bright side and an insight into the lives of those wonderful chums of mine. Kind true hearts beat beneath war-worn khaki tunics – read between the lines and find that indomitable spirit, the spirit that went on to win the war, that swept through the boys from Ulster in the 36th Division, that made the K of K’s [Field Marshal Lord Kitchener of Khartoum] men (the first hundred thousand) one of the most magnificent civilian armies that ever left the shores of old England and met the finest professional soldiers of Germany and did not come off second best.

Hats off to those boys!

Our life, day by day, is all here. Our sorrows, our trials and troubles, the tears and sadness, then the smiles as the old band strikes up ‘Pack all your troubles in your kit bag – and Smile! Smile! Smile!’ How we joined in the chorus and our worries faded away. No wonder our Tommies were a mystery to the French and the Belgians, not to mention the Germans with their serious outlook on life.

If you detect any spirit of boastfulness or a little too much of the ‘personal’ in this book I ask your forgiveness as it is not intended. I gloried in my physical fitness and simply loved the ‘contest’, be it on the running track, inside the ropes of the boxing ring, or on the football field. With me it was a case of all out to win (not for self glory) but the ‘Old Battalion’, the Royal Irish Rifles, and, later, the Labour Corps, the Harp and the Crown, the pick and shovel.

As an artist? Well! I never had a lesson in my life. The sketching and writing was simply a hobby from boyhood; all fun to me but I hope you enjoy them all. If you do, I am more than satisfied. Some unique, historical and interesting photos, pictures and cuttings are included; these should hold your interest.

The section dealing with my service in the Chinese Labour Corps and my life among the ‘wee yellow men’ from the Far East is in a way most unusual as I have never yet had the pleasure myself of reading a single article or book dealing with this phase of the Great War from this angle. It should indeed hold your attention to the end: of how we lived, and slaved, on the lines of communication all for ‘the cause’.

I set out to study the Oriental mind (how different in outlook from ours my stories will explain to you) and my admiration for many of their very fine qualities is unbounded. Of course, I also give you a ‘close up’ of their weak points – to my way of thinking. And how on the day I said ‘Farewell’ to them forever they all formed up on parade and presented me with a beautiful banner as a keepsake – a gift I treasure beyond all wealth.

Star Shell Reflections is dedicated to those chums of mine who soldiered down the years with me – side by side. Many whom I mentioned in the book sleep their last long sleep on soil that is foreign to us – yet for evermore a little part of England.

Their youthful forms and faces I can often picture again as I sit and dream – as I turned these pages backwards. Others took the ‘Road Back’ maimed for life, or health and nerves shattered, to fight a new battle in a world that was somehow all changed since we left it as boys in 1914.

Turn again the pages of Star Shell Reflections and live with me through some of the darkest days the world has ever known – and marvel at the spirit of those glorious boys who … ‘Kept right on to the end of the road’.

Jim Maultsaid

There would have been no Star Shell Reflections had it not been for my platoon officer, Lieutenant Monard. He knew I kept a little pocket diary with my precious sketches and drawings. You may imagine my surprise many months after the 1 July 1916 battle when I was in hospital on receiving my book. I was simply overjoyed as I had given it up for lost. He had searched my old ‘rucksack’ in the village of Martinsart, found the book, and, well, here is the result.

Cut from the original diary at random the notes on these first pages will give the reader an idea of how the little black book was kept by me. These stories that follow are all from these notes and sketches are also shown – in many cases as sketches on the actual spot. Note the censor’s mark as the book passed through his hands. This book was written with the aid of these cuttings from my diary.

You may have read many war books but I venture to say that up to the present nothing just like this one has yet come your way.

Many years have been spent in making Star Shell Reflections into book form. The work involved has been tremendous, a spare time job of course, but a work of love. A miniature five years’ CAVALCADE.

All the world stood still on this fateful day … waiting! … watching! … to see what old England would do. All the world knows what she did do. A little scrap of paper, yes! But it was our bond to Belgium … and that was enough. War! War! Newsboys screech – and their papers sell like wildfire. How I was thrilled! In my heart this was ‘The Day’. We had to fight the Germans, and my mind was already made up … I was going to be a soldier. Such were my thoughts on Tuesday 4 August 1914.

Get Out

WHAT THE H*** DO YOU WANT?

To join the Skins [Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers] you say? Get out! It is men we want, not boys. This was my greeting from a big fat tummied, red-nosed recruiting sergeant in Clifton Street on Wednesday, 5 August 1914. My answer was unprintable. Me! That could do the hundred in eleven seconds and feared nothing on two feet weighing in and around nine stone seven pounds. Fit? Yes! As fit as a fiddle as I have been an athlete all my life. I almost fell to the temptation to plant a punch in that mid-section, then beat it.

This was a setback.

Wandering down town again I fell in with some chums; they were all YCV men (Young Citizen Volunteers). I was impressed with the news that this body of young men were going to be taken over as a complete battalion of the Royal Irish Rifles. Would I throw in my lot with them? I jumped at the chance and my name and address was passed over. In due course, notice arrived to report my humble self at the Old Town Hall for medical inspection, etc., etc.

I can still remember this day as we pushed, shoved and rushed frantically from room to room in hundreds to pass through the various tests. Ears, eyes, lungs, limbs and all the rest of it, then the shilling pressed itself into my hand and, lo and behold, I was a soldier of the King.

Called to arms we boys (most of us were boys – anything from sixteen to twenty-two) served our first few weeks in drilling in Davidson’s yard, on the Mountpottinger Road, but got home each evening. Funny soldiering! What? And no uniform yet. Just civvies. A request for any man who knew the Morse code and signalling found me in charge of the squad. My knowledge of this was gained through being an ex-scout and railwayman. Eager and willing to learn, it was easy work teaching them, but I had no fancy for this department personally.

How we drilled. Marched. Doubled. Formed up. Reformed over and over and over. By numbers! One –two, one –two.

Then came a day the order was ‘get your