Extracts from letters sent to his parents at 40 Havelock Road, High Town, by Cpl William Henry Wooding (528195 Royal Engineers) about his experiences in Palestine were reproduced in the Saturday Telegraph of November 9th, 1918. He had been a motorcycle dispatch rider in the East for about three years.
The former Luton Modern School student had met many Luton men during his serving, including, he found after a football match, seven who had played for Luton Town.
Writing on September 21st, 1918, he said: “We're in the field again at last. Now that out offensive is successfully progressing I can explain that last weekend when I wrote to you I was having a very busy time following my return from Jerusalem. By Tuesday we were all ready for anything, but we did not know when things would start. We were all fed up and irritated at the delay and uncertainty, but at last on Wednesday evening we moved up to battle HQ in the plain on the edge of an orange grove.
“There was no prolonged bombardment of enemy positions as at Gaza, but the whole start was to be a great surprise. We turned in on Wednesday night knowing that zero (the hour when operations would commence) would be some time about dawn.
“After a night disturbed by the goings and comings of less fortunate dispatch riders, I was aware that zero had been struck. Our sector was quiet to start with, but on the left guns of all sizes were sending over drumfire at a wonderful rate. My watch showed 4.30, and it was still dark.
“Picture a sleepy crowd of orderlies, D.R.s, batmen and officers in little groups around the trenches protecting the HQ offices. No Man's Land was shrouded in a mist, and a black cloud bank hung above the hills where Johnny [the Turks] lurked. The flashes of the guns shot into obscurity, and out first objective was distinguishable at that hour as a roaring hell of shell bursts.
“The night passed. Verey lights from the hills grew pale in the coming dawn, and soon the gun's real disc pepped above a hill crest, and its roseate hues change everything as if by magic. Our objective was invisible under a cloud of dust and smoke, and white puffs marked the shrapnel barrage Johnny was putting on our forward positions.
“I had breakfast at seven, and at nine started out with another dispatch rider to the French detachment on out right. We had a rough ride of several miles into the hills and reached them in an hour. Returning, we called at the canteen and drank a quart of ginger beer in record time.
“On returning we found that our objective had been taken and preparations were in progress to move our HQ there. The first of our company up there was a cable detachment. They crossed one hill crest under fire from rifles and machine guns as our infantry came up the valley. Later, when Johnny and they had reached the wadi bed they were heavily shelled, and lost seven animals but no men.
“My next journey was not until evening, when our first office closed down and I had stuff to take to one of our brigades. We followed a track which crossed what that morning was No Man's Land. It was the roughest track I had ever ridden (and we've found a few). It was choked with transport, man and camel teams, and light cars going one way and ambulance cars frequently meeting us.”
Continuing his story as to the next day, Cpl Wooding wrote: “Reports came through during the day that everywhere we were doing well – 7,000 prisoners and 70 guns. I did not know where out forces had reached, but at the end of the first day it was pretty general knowledge that in places an advance of 20 miles had been achieved, and the operations were three days ahead of programme. The evening report ended, 'Troops tired but cheerful'.
On Sunday it was very hot sitting about all day amongst the rocks, but we had very little work to do and made the most of the rest. I reached our old position about 7 o'clock, just in time to share a brew of cocoa. Had a chat with one of our officers, who told me he had purchased a '56' of beer, a case of Bass and case of cigarettes, which he was taking along. He gave me a bottle of Bass, which I put in my haversack.
“At the canteen I had a refresher and bought tinned fruit, beans, peas etc for private consumption. The lorry arrived with the cigarettes, and I sold them in a very short time.
“Just as I was about to turn in a straggling mob came down the wadi, and proved to be a party of 100-odd Turks, escorted by Frenchmen. The men looked very rough, but about a dozen officers were in very fair condition. I found one who knew about as much French as I do and, watching my opportunity, had a few words with him, which resulted in the exchange of a pair of plated spurs for two packets of Gold Flake.
“This morning I turned out about 7 o'clock and found enough water available for me to draw a bucketful for washing purposes. After breakfast I cleared a space of rocks and thistles and spread out a lorry sheet. A petrol can was my dressing table, and so I had one bathroom complete!
Twenty yards away the padre was holding the Sunday morning church parade. After that I had a complete change and washed all my spare clothes (that is, two pairs of socks, one shirt, one handkerchief). We are not supposed to have a spare shirt really, and only one spare pair of socks. But I have brought most of my stuff along – it's the best way on these stunts.
“Our cavalry are reported to have been in Haifa yesterday, but there was no food or water for their animals. The reason that we have not gone further is because the idea of the stunt is to get round the enemy. Thus the people on the flank have gone further and then swept round behind, whilst we engaged the centre. Our brigades and the French have done splendidly.
“At one point one of our regiments charged an steep and rocky hill. On reaching the top their bombs were exhausted and they threw stones, and held on until the French came up with more bombs.
“Several thousand prisoners have gone through a cage near here. Today a message came through to prepare for 20,000 during the next two days.
“Our aviator scouts have discovered the two main lines of retreat, and 45 planes bombed one route and 60 the other, inflicting 10,000 casualties and choking up the roads with men and transport. So sudden has been our advance that our airman have not returned to their bases for petrol, oil and bombs, but have been using enemy supplies that have been abandoned.”
Writing from Zimmirin on October 1st, Cpl Wooding continues his story of the great victory, and adds: “Yesterday brought us to comparatively civilised surroundings again. The inhabitants are quite friendly, but not hospitable. We can buy bread from them at 1s 6d and 2s a loaf, three or four eggs for 1s, and I heard of a man being asked to pay for a drink of water. I wonder if they realise what our advance means to them?
“The site of our present HQ is upon an English Jew's estate, several hundred feet above the plain and overlooking the sea. The hills are covered with scrub and bushes, and around the village are many kinds of trees, which are most pleasing after the drab monotony of the foothills, where we only saw the grey-green of olive trees. We expect to stay here for a day or two until the forward supplies are better organised. We are going through to Haifa, but at present the bully beef and biscuit supplies are not sufficient.
“One day last week we had a very heavy thunderstorm and the 'bivvie' was washed out, but it occurred during my absence 20 miles away. I was racing the storm nearly the whole of the way there in the morning.
“Am pleased to say I am quite fit and enjoying my travels immensely, although the going is very rough in places. The Turks' idea of a road is not ours by a long way, but the bikes stand up to it wonderfully well.
“Today we have heard about Bulgaria. With that on top of our advance I cannot think it will be long before the Turks see the hopelessness of their position. We have bagged two of their armies and most of the third on this front. Today Damascus has fallen, and the remnant of their army is wandering in the hills with no communications and no supplies.”
[William Wooding was repatriated in 1919, and in 1925 married Ethel Eleanor Ellingham in London. He became an insurance agent living first in Claremont Road and later in Ludlow Avenue, his home at the time of his death in 1973.]