Frank Carroll Wounded 1st July 1916

Former miner, Private Frank Carroll, 11th Battalion Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire Regiment, lived at 3 Glebe Street, Hucknall. He was wounded on 1st July 1916, leaving the following account of what happened.

“It rained shrapnel in that wood for five days, and as so many of the men got wounds they called it “Blighty Wood”.

“At last the great day for an attack arrived. It was a grand morning. The sun shone beautifully, and I thought to myself, “How many of us will live to see it set?” I was up early, hunting about the wood, when I saw a picture which thrilled me through for the moment. For there was the Indian Cavalry and the Bengal Lancers, lined up every man a living statue as he sat upon his horse with his lance gleaming in the sun. Could we infantry get through and pave the way for them, it would be all up with the Kaiser’s Army.

“At six o’clock the whole guns opened fire along the line for an hour’s bombardment before we went forward. The earth shook with the guns and the mines, somewhat resembling an earthquake. At the end of the hour the guns lifted from the Huns’ first line. They took Fritz with surprise, and he was soon on the run. The next line were more prepared for them, and got their machine guns to mow them down. At nine o’clock our time had come. We had waited – oh! the waiting – and we were in a hurry to get over. At last the words came – “Sherwood over!” We wer soon over, but not a man out of my platoon got over 60 yards. Nothing could live in it. We were enfiladed by machine gun fire from both sides, also on our front. I think I was the last one on my pins in out lot. I got one in the right elbow, and I went down close to one of our officers, who had the calf of his leg blown away. I crawled into a shell hole and began to remove the pack as best I could. I dare not show myself much, as there were Hun snipers about, and I could hear the crack, crack of the explosive bullets as they were picking off our wounded as they tried to crawl back to our lines.

“The Hun sniper had evidently seen me move, for he sent a shot which didn’t reach the mark he meant. Just before going over I had four bombs fastened to my chest. I did not feel comfortable, so at the last minute I decided to take my bandoliers out of my pouches, and put two bombs in each pouch. That saved my life. Why? I will tell you. Every soldier knows as that his left popuch fits over his heart, and that hand grenades or bombs are made of cast iron on the outside. The bullet from the Hun hit one of my bombs, which turned it upwards, and it ripped the top off my pouch and went in just under the arm hole. If I had only ammunition in the pouch, it would have gone right through the heart, and then nappoo!

“I then decided to be dead for a few hours. It’s not very nice acting dead when there’s someone whom you can’t see keeps having a pop at you. After four hours things began to steady down a little, so I crawled out of my shell hole, but when I had gone a few yards, I had to give up. I was weak through loss of blood. After a time I thought I would risk it, so I got up and walked the rest of the way”.

‘Hucknall Dispatch’, 17th May 1917.