At Ypres with Best-Dunkley

In Short

This book serves as a firsthand chronicle of a British infantry officer’s experience during the build-up to and execution of the Third Battle of Ypres in 1917. Blending diary entries with personal letters, the narrative documents the mundane exhaustion of trench life, the camaraderie of the mess, and the immense, terrifying scale of the artillery-driven conflict. It remains a significant historical document not for its tactical grandeur, but for its honest preservation of the "obscure" soldier’s perspective, centered on the leadership and eventual sacrifice of Colonel Bertram Best-Dunkley.

The Story

The narrative begins in the spring of 1917, as the narrator moves toward the Ypres Salient, filled with a mixture of skepticism about Western Front offensives and a soldier's resignation. He describes the grueling reality of life behind the lines—the "bull ring" training, the damp misery of living in a local prison, and the persistent, thunderous background noise of artillery. As he settles into the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers, the focus shifts toward his commanding officer, Colonel Bertram Best-Dunkley. Initially viewed with a mixture of awe and trepidation due to his strict reputation, the Colonel becomes the central gravity of the battalion’s world.

The story moves through quiet days of letter writing and military instruction into the mounting tension of July. The battalion rotates through the dangerous, shell-pocked trenches, where the rhythm of war is marked by gas attacks, working parties in the mud, and the shared, dark humor of men trying to survive in subterranean mine-shafts. The narrator provides an observant, grounded account of his surroundings—the beauty of the French countryside during rest periods contrasted against the grotesque destruction of the Salient.

As the date of the offensive approaches, the tone grows increasingly somber. The preparations are meticulous, involving map studies, rehearsal on models of the battlefield, and the quiet arrival of new officers. When the assault finally begins on July 31, the narrative shifts from the observational to the urgent. The narrator describes the terrifying beauty of a massive barrage at dawn and the subsequent struggle of the battalion to advance across no-man's-land. The battalion faces brutal machine-gun fire, confusion, and heavy casualties, yet they manage to reach their objectives through the sheer force of the Colonel’s personal gallantry. The book concludes by honoring the human cost of these gains. Best-Dunkley, having rallied his men under fire and secured their position, ultimately dies of his wounds. The final chapters offer a poignant look at his posthumous Victoria Cross—a symbol of the "sainthood" ascribed to those who fell—and the lingering, bittersweet memory held by the survivors who returned home.

How It Unfolds

The arrival at the front The narrative opens with the author’s arrival in France, documenting his initial impressions of the base camps and the anticipation of a major offensive. He balances his personal skepticism about military strategy with the practical demands of preparing for the coming conflict.

The life of the battalion As the author integrates into the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers, he details the daily routine of the soldiers. He describes the persistent shelling of their quarters, the informal debates among officers about politics and history, and the harsh discipline enforced by the leadership.

The meeting with the commander A pivotal moment occurs during a formal inspection where the author finally encounters Colonel Best-Dunkley. This interaction transitions the Colonel from a distant, formidable figure into a human presence who dictates the culture and morale of the entire unit.

The return to the Salient The unit moves back into the active war zone, where the pace of the narrative quickens. The author describes the sensory overload of trench life, the constant danger of gas, and the grim realization that their time in reserve is nearing its end.

The final offensive The climax centers on the morning of the assault, detailing the deafening chaos of the opening barrage and the subsequent advance. The narrative captures the confusion of the battlefield and the desperate efforts to maintain cohesion under fire.

The aftermath and legacy The final section reflects on the heavy toll of the fighting and the news of the Colonel’s death. It concludes with a tribute to those who were lost, grounding the history of the battle in the intimate, sorrowful reality of the families left behind.

The People

The narrator serves as our guide, a thoughtful and observant officer who records the war with a blend of intellectual detachment and genuine empathy for his men. He does not claim to be a hero; he is a chronicler of his peers. His interactions with his sergeant, Baldwin, and his fellow officers like Allen and Captain Andrews, show the essential, fragile bonds forged in the face of death.

Colonel Bertram Best-Dunkley stands as the book’s tragic anchor. Described as a man of moods, he is capable of both harsh discipline and surprising warmth. His journey is one of absolute devotion to his battalion; he refuses to remain behind, choosing instead to lead his men into the chaos of the front line. His end is definitive, yet his influence persists through the recognition of his bravery, culminating in the awarding of the Victoria Cross. The soldiers under his command appear as a collective of "frail" men doing impossible things, their individual personalities—like the mournful Priestley or the diligent Sergeant Clews—serving to humanize the massive statistics of the conflict.

In Its Own Voice

The narrator reflects on the sensory experience of the war, where the danger is as much an auditory assault as a physical one.

"So I was, at last, introduced to that strangest of all music--the screech of a shell: Whoo-oo-oo-oo-oo-UMP!"

Following the intensity of the assault, he notes the grim reality of the casualties and the sheer necessity of pushing forward.

"The Commanding Officer, Lieut.-Colonel B. Best-Dunkley, put himself at the head of all men in his immediate vicinity, and led them on through intense machine-gun fire."

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the nature of duty and the preservation of identity in a machine-like war. The author explores how individuals—both the "obscure" rank-and-file and the commanding officers—find meaning within a conflict that often seems indifferent to their existence. It asks how one maintains a sense of self and community when the world is reduced to the "booming" of guns and the "screech" of shells. It is a meditation on the cost of the "good" being "overthrown," and the subsequent responsibility of the living to bear witness to those who grasped the "key of Paradise" in the mud of Ypres.

Why Read It Today

This book is for those who seek the unvarnished reality of the Great War, rather than the polished distance of formal history. Its power lies in its modesty; the author does not attempt to explain the "Big Picture" of the war, but instead offers a granular, tactile look at the life of an infantry officer.

Readers will find the diary-like structure deeply immersive, though they should be prepared for the dense, period-specific military jargon and the occasional, jarring shift between the horrors of the trenches and the polite, educated discussions of the mess. It captures the specific emotional landscape of 1917—a time of immense stress, shifting loyalties, and the constant, gnawing presence of death. What stays with you is not just the tactical success of the battle, but the quiet, human observations: the taste of a bowl of milk in a French village, the sound of a military railway, and the lasting, melancholy image of an infant being presented with a father’s cross. It is an honest, often harrowing piece of personal history that remains remarkably accessible, preserving the voices of a generation that were, in the author's words, "the lonely ones."