Two Hours at Passchendaele - The Death of a Regiment (WW1 Documentary)

My British Grandfather took his fifth and final wound there; shot in the foot. He remembered lying in a shell hole, nearly drowning and a German leaped in to take cover. The Jerry pulled Pop's greatcoat off hjs pack and covered him with it against the cold and rain and told him in excellent English to hang on, his pals would counter attack soon and find him.

In the early 1980s I did some work for an old English gent who was living in a house in Auckland New Zealand. We got to talking after a day or so and in conversation it transpired he had been in the British Army and at Passchendaele in the first war. He related this story , He and some fellow soldiers were walking along a road just back from the front lines and a shell exploded close by, killing most of the group, he was (relatively) uninjured, apart from having an eyeball blown out from the shock/pressure of the explosion. The eye was still attached and functioning and he had to walk back to an aid station to be attended to. I asked him how he ended up in New Zealand and his reply was "to get as far away from that bloody place as possible" an absolute classic response.

My great grandfather died in battle first day of Passchendale. I guess it’s a blessing he didn’t have to live through too much of the terror. Left behind a wife and son. RIP John Fife Campbell.

My great-grandfather fought in Passchendaele, aged just 18 having had his birthday in the trenches. He was lucky enough just to get shot in the shoulder. He was shipped back to a hospital in England and ended up proposing to the nurse that looked after him. She was my great-grandmother and my family kept the bullet that was extracted from his shoulder as a good luck charm.

During my training to become a coldstream guard we visited this battlefield the advances where so small for so much life given

My Grandad was York & Lancs regt, he was involved before the third battle with a particular tunnelling company though he was infantry. He was wounded on his birthday, 5th October during the third battle, he received a serious gunshot wound, luckily he was rescued from the mud and taken to the field hospital where he was told the limb would be amputated as it was fairly well severed. By a miracle his doctor from home was serving at the hospital and they recognised each other, the doctor promised he would try everything to save his arm and he did though it was paralysed mostly. Saving his arm cost him, he was awarded a lower War pension than an amputee, he had also shrapnel injuries and had lung issues due to gas, he lived to his 80’s though spoke little of it, he had said he had seen men decapitated by shell fire and the body kept running, and the smell of captured German trenches was a mix of Sauerkraut and decomposing bodies. Corned beef made him feel nauseous because they ate so much of it. I wish I knew him when I was older and could have spoken to him about it. I have his medals which I treasure.

You’ve probably heard that expression “it’s a small world”. My great uncle Sidney, dad’s father’s brother was killed in action at Passchendaele, South Staffordshire Regt. Five days later my wife’s grandfather Frederick, 31 Bn (Alberta) was badly wounded on the same patch of land. Those two men are part of our shared family. That was more than 100 years ago and they lived almost 7000km from each other.

In a foreign field he lay Lonely soldier, unknown grave On his dying words he prays Tell the world of Paschendale Relive all that he's been through Last communion of his soul Rust your bullets with his tears Let me tell you 'bout his years Laying low in a blood filled trench Kill time 'til my very own death On my face I can feel the falling rain Never see my friends again In the smoke, in the mud and lead Smell the fear and the feeling of dread Soon be time to go over the wall Rapid fire and end of us all Whistles, shouts and more gun fire Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb Be reunited with my dead friends soon Many soldiers eighteen years Drown in mud, no more tears Surely a war no-one can win Killing time about to begin Home, far away From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away But the war, no chance to live again The bodies of ours and our foes The sea of death it overflows In no man's land, God only knows Into jaws of death we go Crucified as if on a cross Allied troops they mourn their loss German war propaganda machine Such before has never been seen Swear I heard the angels cry Pray to god no more may die So that people know the truth Tell the tale of Paschendale Cruelty has a human heart Every man does play his part Terror of the men we kill The human heart is hungry still I stand my ground for the very last time Gun is ready as I stand in line Nervous wait for the whistle to blow Rush of blood and over we go Blood is falling like the rain Its crimson cloak unveils again The sound of guns can't hide their shame And so we die on Paschendale Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire Running straight at cannon fire Running blind as I hold my breath Say a prayer symphony of death As we charge the enemy lines A burst of fire and we go down I choke a cry but no-one hears Feel the blood go down my throat Home, far away From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away But the war, no chance to live again Home, far away From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away But the war, no chance to live again See my spirit on the wind Across the lines, beyond the hill Friend and foe will meet again Those who died at Paschendale

Wow the story of the German soldier returning the photo is amazing. Thank you for sharing this often forgotten piece of history!

Incredible timing. I'm off to clean some soldier graves and two that have memorials to 2 of the 846 New Zealanders killed at Passchendaele on the 12th of October, 1917.

My great grandfather was there. 4th Territorial Battalion KOYLI (Kings Own Yorkshire Light Infantry). The battlefield was a quagmire. Nothing but mud, water filled shell holes, body parts and destruction everywhere. Ypres itself had been blown to blazes. The whole town was nothing more than a few ruins and heaps of rubble everywhere. As they marched on the way up to Passchendaele, it rained and rained. Day and night it rained. My great grandfather called it nothing more than a slaughter of good fine men on both sides, a sea of blood, a complete and total waste of human life. No wonder that there is so much growing there today on the old battlefield. That ground was once drenched in a sea of human blood. Great grandfather had never talked about the war too much outside of a close circle of friends, veterans of the war, he met regularly at the pub every Sunday. But as he recounted his experiences at Passchendaele to my father, the tears streamed down his face. I was only a small boy, and hidden away, but I still heard what was said and I glimpsed his face. 'Can you tell me where the glory is in men shot dead, men blown to pieces, and men maimed for life? Of men drowning in mud in water filled shell holes in full pack, of wounded men calling out for help slowly slipping into water filled shell holes and drowning. Where is the glory in that?' I remember that being said as the tears streamed out of his eyes. He was not just upset, but annoyed. Annoyed that the military in their infinite wisdom had by their strategies and actions procured the death of so many good fine men. This place was literally hell on earth. The battlefield littered with stinking rotting corpses and body parts. They were even in the trench walls. See the veterans of WW1 hardly ever talked about what they had experienced with their wives and relatives. And do you know why? Because these people would either tell them to shut up or intimate that they were telling a pack of blatant lies because it never could have been that bad. But these people had not been there, never seen the conditions, and had swallowed the lies they had been fed by others. So, a veteran normally would only converse about WW1 with a veteran, because both of them knew that what they were conversing about and their experiences in that damned bloody war were completely true. God bless those men that survived and died in that damn war. They were prepared to sacrifice everything. When they returned, they came home to unemployment, poverty, and pity. That and a few medals was their reward for all they had done, seen, and suffered. And the footage here has not been seen for years. And do you know why? There was miles of film footage of WW1. But most of it was never seen on television, the reason being that someone might see a friend , relative, or loved one who never returned. The first time any footage was seen mainly was in the BBC's Great War series in the 1970's, by which time many of the mothers, fathers, wives and sweethearts of the fallen men would have passed away themselves.

My Great Grandfather was in the 5th Canadian Mounted Rifles at Passchendaele. He was awarded the Military Cross for his leading a platoon in overtaking a pill box and rescuing prisoners. Thank you for making this documentary. It helps many learn more about their history and their families.

My grandfather's brother, Bertrand Nihell, was killed at St Julien on 9th September 1917 at "Hackney Villa" , the British name for the German bunker Kaserne 2 Herzog Albrecht, that is briefly shown in the video. He is buried in the St Julien Dressing Station Cemetery, 330m away from where he died. I therefore found this video very poignant and thanks for all your efforts.

Brilliant video. My grandfather took part in this battle as a member of the Auckland regiment from New Zealand. He made it home having been wounded here. I visited Tyne Cot cemetery near Passendale in 2017, thousands of soldiers' graves representing countries from all over the world. It was a somber and memorable visit, I'll never forget it.

My father's eldest brother died on that day, aged 23 years, in the Third Battle of Ypres, at Klein Zillebeke, Ypres. He served as a Corporal in the 20th Bn. of the Durham Light Infantry. His body was not retrieved and his name is remembered on the Menin Gate, Ypres. Several years later our family received a memorial plaque (Death Penny) and a scroll, issued by the war office. We still have the plaque, but not the scroll. He had enlisted in 1915 and married in 1916. My father never talked of his brother and I knew nothing of this event until a few years ago when a book 'Durham Men in the Great War' came to my attention. It is shocking to see and read about this battle and others, even more so when you know that one of your relatives was killed in these circumstances and his body never recovered. The Durham Light Infantry (DLI) museum in Durham City was closed in 2016 by the then Labour-led Durham council, saying that there was a lack of interest in the attraction. This was a very shameful and disrespectful act, as families had spread the ashes of relatives who had served in this war in the grounds of the DLI museum and it was always busy when I went there. Fortunately, the equipment and records held at the former DLI museum was put into storage and the current Durham council are incorporating some form of gallery dedicated to the DLI into a council records building currently under construction.

My grandfather fought with the Post Office Rifles at Passchendaele and was wounded there by shrapnel. He was sent back to England and given less than 6 months to live. He died in 1982 aged 87.

Brilliantly put together! As a Brit who was brought up in Belgium and having lived in the vicinity of Ypres for 25 years, you cannot help but be absorbed by WW1 history. Harry Patch, the last tommy, fought at Pilkem ridge. Subscribed!

My great great uncle had already been killed 13months prior to this battle at the battle of Estaires (Worcestershire Regiment - Private Aged 22), first battle to use a rolling barrage. I have walked most of the battlefields and stood in the field where he was killed. So humbling, just to sit in the graveyards and reflect the sacrifice that was made. Great well presented video. Looking fwd to more.

Touching lecture. Honorable Josef Wilczek. High morality is doing the right thing even if no one sees it. War brings out the worst and the best in people!

My grandfather was at paschendale, he was on artillery, deaf in one ear as I knew him, he loved gardening and spent all his time gardening, this was in the 70's and he was in his 70's but incredibly active, he never mentioned the war but my granny told me, I was in awe of my grandfather.