Sweethearts Bob Brimson and Mabs Attrill exchanged letters during the First World War. As the nation marks the centenary of the end of that war, Alan Stroud tells the story of one man’s experience of life in the trenches, through the letters he wrote.

THIS week marks the 100th anniversary of the end of the First World War.

For most of us, it is something we read about in history books — but not for Richard Brimson, of Newport, because through his grandparents he has a direct and very personal link to the war.

His grandfather, Ernest Brimson, known in the family as Bob, joined up within two weeks of war being declared in 1914 and spent the next five years in the Royal Engineers.

From the trenches of the Somme, he wrote to his family back in Newport, and in particular to his fiancee Mabel Attrill (Mabs). In turn, they wrote back to Bob.

Luckily, someone in the family all those years ago decided to keep the letters and for 100 years more than 400 of them lay hidden away in the family home until they were discovered three years ago, and were then passed to Richard.

The letters make compelling reading. They are full of the human minutiae and detail that war histories rarely cover and they provide an extraordinary glimpse into how an ordinary Island family coped with one of their own serving in the trenches.

Bob began his training in August 1914 in barracks at Gillingham, Kent. Back home, Mabs was working in the family pub, The Bedford, on The Mall at Newport from where she would write to Bob: “My dearest boy, Ben Sykes, Frenchy Flood and Mr Chaplin were in last night.

“They were wedged up in a corner while a crowd of soldiers took possession of the rest of the room.

“If it wasn’t for the soldiers, we should have scarcely any trade at all.

“We were worried to death with regimental police last night. They have had a lot of trouble with soldiers this week and we have had a new order. Nine o’clock every night we have to close.

“There is a rush and scramble from half past six until nine every evening now and we mustn’t serve any soldiers after eight o’clock; they must be out of the pubs by five to eight unless they have a pass.

“If any are caught without passes, the pub is to be put out of bounds.”

Bob was posted to France, eventually ending up in the Somme area.

Within months, the reality of war began to reach the Island. In February 1915, Bob’s younger sister, Kath, wrote: “I suppose Mabel has told you about poor old George Urry.

“It was Saturday morning when Mrs Urry came staggering round here — she could hardly stand — with a letter in her hand from his sergeant major to say George had been shot through the head — died instantly.

“She made mother read it to her, poor woman. She was dreadfully upset. He had been so lucky all through, up until now.”

Parcels from home became very important to men at the Front. On February 19, 1916, Bob wrote to Kath: “You don’t know how I look forward to a parcel. I have almost forgotten the taste of mother’s cake and yours as well. I wish I had some now.

“We had torrents of rain last night. I was wet through, the rain running down into my boots.

“I was lying in bed this morning when the Germans started shelling. They passed over our head like an express train. I thought if one happened to drop through the roof how nice it would be to snuff it in bed, comfortable.”

Six weeks later, spring reached the muddy battlefields. “Dear Mabs, we are having the most beautiful weather out here; the trees are beginning to look green. Sometimes when the guns stop firing you would hardly believe there was a war on.

“Everything is so peaceful and quiet and the larks are singing too, but if you had been round this way last night you would have thought all hell had been let loose — such an awful bombardment on both sides. It was a proper stream of fire.”

A letter to Mabs in May 1916 returned to the subject of food: “Dear Mabs, I received the parcel all right. Thanks very much.

“It was a treat to get such a lovely load, and fresh butter and the eggs — I can tell you I had some good feeds. We have been awfully short of food lately.”

In August 1916, Bob wrote to his parents: “I suppose there will be a time when this affair will come to an end. We get fed up at times, especially the sights we’ve seen lately.”

Perhaps the letter from Mabs a few days later lifted his spirits a little. “Mother and Doris and I went to the pictures. It was all very nice until the interval, then someone came on to sing.

“Well, she warbled Come sing to me and at the very first line Doris groaned out, ‘Oh goo’ Lord.’ In fact, we all groaned, and there was various not complimentary remarks passed by us.

“I couldn’t put up with it, so I stuffed my fingers in my ears. There was a person sitting next to Doris who kept glaring at us. We had a great shock when after the critter had stopped ‘singing’, this woman went out with her — it was her daughter!”

Bob survived the war and returned to Newport. He and Mabs were married in 1920 and set up home in Trafalgar Road, Newport.

They were there until they died, Bob in 1970 aged 85 and Mabs in 1982 aged 88.

  • A collection of the letters, From Newport To The Somme, by Alan Stroud and Richard Brimson is available from Island bookshops priced £12.95.