Herbert Coles


Roberts Road (picture from SWOP website)	Memorial inscription for Herbert Coles in High Wycombe Cemetery


H Coles, courtesy of the Royal Grammar School

Herbert Coles 1898-1917

I was born on the 24th September 1898 to Frank and Gertrude Edith Coles. I was their third child and there were two more after I was born. There were my older siblings, Frank and Ada and the two younger ones Alfred and Edith. Our house, 22 Roberts Road was always full of noise and laughter. My father Frank was a clerk and worked in the offices of one of the many chair factories in the town. My mum, Gladys was at home working hard and doing her best to look after all of us.

In 1909, my parents were so proud of me when I was offered a place at the Royal Grammar School. I was there until 1913 when I left to become a railway clerk, working for the Great Western Company. Soon after this, the Great War broke out. I was very keen to go to fight the Boche and two months after my 18th birthday in November 1916, I joined up to fight for King and Country. Initially I joined a unit called the Artists Rifles although I was later transferred to the Rifle Brigade.

By July 1917, I was in France. My battalion was heavily involved in the Third battle of Ypres, better known as the Battle of Passchendaele. This was an attempt to break the German line and push through in the direction of Bruges. The preliminary barrage was exhaustive, but it needed to be to crush the barbed wire surrounding six lines of deep, well-protected German trenches. When we finally set off, we were protected by a rolling barrage. By midday our objective was to take the higher ground of Pilckem Ridge but the Germans launched a counter attack. We were getting low on ammunition and at this point pandemonium ensued. The heavens opened and as the torrential rain beat down on us, the fighting came to a close.

From then on, our troops endured the worst rains seen in the region for 30 years. It was a very tough time indeed since there were only a handful of rainless days. I remember the 16th August 1917 very well. We went into battle at 4:45 am and attacked the Germans around the Ypres-Menin road to the North of the village of Langemarck. Mud, artillery fire and determined counter attacks meant that we could, however, only make limited gains.

October 1917 saw my promotion to Second Lieutenant. The photo that you can see here is one of me proudly wearing my new uniform. From now on, I knew that it would be my job to lead my men across ‘No Man’s Land’ to fight the Boche and hopefully gain victory. The Battle of Passchendaele lasted 99 dreadful days until the 6th November. Progress was always slow as we had to wade and haul one leg after the other through a deep sucking bog like glue and we often sank above our waists. Almost a year later, the poet Siegfried Sassoon mentioned the battle in one of his poems and he wrote, ‘I died in hell-they called it Passchendaele’. He certainly got that right.

On the 16th November, we were at the small village of Caestre where we trained. By the 17th we moved into the line, NW of Passchendaele to relieve the 47th Canadian Infantry Battalion. We were heavily shelled all through the day and night with the enemy several times putting down an intense barrage. I was killed in action on Sunday, 18th November 1917. I didn’t see the shell that hit me. It was so quick. My body was never found but my name is engraved on the Tyne Cot Memorial and on several memorials around High Wycombe. My favourite one is the memorial plaque in my old school, the RGS. I’m fourth down on the list.

Researched by Neill George, Gill Evans, and the girls of Wycombe Abbey School
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