Book review: With a Machine Gun to Cambrai by George Coppard

It is not often that I'm moved by a personal narrative or memoir, but "With a Machine Gun to Cambrai" by George Coppard has done just that. If you look through the articles written over the past few months, you will see that my interests in wargaming and military history generally end with the conclusion of the second Anglo-Boer War, and it was only by rare chance that I gave this book a second. Needless to say I was enthralled with this story of the First World War, the importance of which was summed up by a respondent when the book was first published in 1968:

"It is from such accounts of the experiences of the man who served in the ranks that we get the true history of the war."

So what do you get from this book? The first 136 pages tell the story of a 16 year old from Croydon, near London, who lies about his age (you had to be 19) to join the Queen's 2nd of Foot. After basic training, he is sent out to the Western Front where he serves as a machine gunner until late 1917 when he is invalided out and sent back to England. He had missed his promotion to sergeant by only a few hours.

The book is alive with detail and atmosphere. The description of the dull horror of trench warfare, the constant threat of snipers, shell shock and malaise are revealed as Coppard's biography unfolds:

"Lulled by the quietness, someone is foolish and carelessly lingers with his head above the top of the parapet. Then, like a puppet whose strings have suddenly snapped, he crashes to the bottom of the trench. There is no gradual falling over, but instant collapse. A Jerry sniper with a telescopic sighted rifle, nicely positioned behind the aperture of an armoured plate, has lain patiently, for hours perhaps, watching our parapet for the slightest movement. His shot is successful and a Tommy is breathing his last, not quite lifeless, but dying. The back of the cranium is gone, and the grey brain flecked with red is splashed out."

A more ignominious death awaits others:

"There were latrines at intervals along the line, which generally took the form of a small culs-de-sac cut back in the trench. The sites were shifted when necessary, as Jerry snipers watched them very closely for the careless. Many a poor Tommy met his end in a latrine sap."

Go To Page: 1 2 3

Articles in this Topic    Discussions in this Topic