The Collection of Medals to the Monmouthshire Regiment formed by Lt. Col. P. A. Blagojevic, O. St. J., T.D.

An early and particularly fine Great War D.C.M. group of five awarded to Warrant Officer Class 1 C. Love, Monmouthshire Regiment, late South Wales Borderers, who was decorated for his gallant work in 1914 and beyond: his compelling account of his wartime experiences was published over 15 instalments in The Free Press of Monmouthshire in 1933

Distinguished Conduct Medal, G.V.R. (2058 A. Sjt. C. Love, 2/Mon. Regt. - T.F.); 1914 Star, with clasp (2058 L. Cpl., 1/2 Mon. R.); British War and Victory Medals (A.W.O. Cl. 1, Monmouth R.); Territorial Efficiency Medal, G.V.R. (4070309 C.Q.M. Sjt., 2-Monmouth. R.), polished, about very fine or better (5) £2000-2500

This lot was sold as part of a special collection, The Collection of Medals to the Monmouthshire Regiment formed by Lt. Col. P. A. Blagojevic, O. St. J., T.D..

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D.C.M. London Gazette 30 June 1915:

‘For great gallantry in going to the rescue of a wounded comrade at night under a heavy rifle and machine-gun fire near Le Touquet. Also for conspicuous good work since 5 November 1914.’

Cornelius Love was born in Newport in May 1878 and removed to Pontnewydd with his parents in the following year. Educated at Cwmbran Roman Catholic School, he enlisted in ‘C’ Company of the 3rd Volunteer Battalion, South Wales Borderers in 1896, in which unit he excelled as a ‘crack shot’ prior to taking his discharge in March 1908, when he was placed on the National Reserve. Then in May 1914, he joined the 2nd Battalion, Monmouthshire Regiment, and was embarked for France in the rank of Lance-Corporal that November.

Thereafter, he witnessed continued and bitter fighting and, as related by one local newspaper cutting, was fortunate to escape with just a graze to his nose from an enemy sniper’s bullet. Indeed the “Life and Times” of Cornelius Love are well-recorded, not least in a 15-instalment biography published in The Free Press of Monmouthshire during the course of 1933, the whole based on his wartime diaries - and compelling reading they make, with accounts of his first experience of a gas attack through to the occasion he was ordered to defend 100 yards of the frontline with just 26 utterly exhausted men. However, for the purposes of a more succinct source of information regarding the period for which he was awarded the D.C.M., not least during the 2nd Battle of Ypres, the following extracts from a letter home to his wife must suffice:

‘Dear wife, no doubt you and the boys are pleased with the honour. I’ve got the D.C.M. I carried Sergeant Wallis into safety when only 50 yards from the Germans. They saw us and kept up a rapid fire while I was doing it. The bullets were playing music over my head all the time, and I was lucky not to be hit. In another part of the trench I had to get the wounded away to safety, and with the help of my mates we put them into a farm safe, where their wounds were dressed ... In the place where the Monmouthshires lost most of the men under heavy shell fire, and our trench was blown flat, I had orders to hold out at all costs, which we did with very few men. The chums kept by me. They said, “We are safe where Love is,” and I believe it was true, as only Alf Nurden was buried when the trench was blown in. His face was all I could see, but I got him out without a scratch. They had him a week after, and broke his leg. I won’t forget poor old Alf, because it was me he would shout for when he was hit. I sent for a stretcher bearer, who happened to be Alf James of Pontypool, but no sooner had he started to dress Nurden’s injury then the snipers had him - he never spoke [Nurden died of his wounds back in England in June 1915] ... I am getting hardened to it now, especially when you see an ordinary chap saying a prayer before burying a chum. Many a tear rolled down my cheek, but it was not from fear, but the poisonous gasses that were burning my eyes ... Give my love to all, tell them there is plenty of fight left in me yet, and anyone who is able and doesn’t join should be ashamed to face a married man who has, when everything is over, because we are fighting for freedom which will be the making of the British Empire, when the Germans, and the dogs who are helping them, are brought to the ground. Speak to anyone who has soldiered in Belgium for six months or more. They would make your blood boil; the Belgians cannot tell you without tears running down their cheeks ... ’

In addition to his D.C.M., Love was the recipient of a large civic reception back at Cwmbran in September 1915, when he was presented with a certificate of honour ‘as a permanent record of your fellow citizens’ admiration of your thrilling deeds of labour’. Of his subsequent wartime career, which included two periods of hospitalization, no better record survives than his own diaries of the period, as published in The Free Press of Monmouthshire in 1933, and by way of illustrating the vivid nature of these memoirs, the following extracts are printed below:

Christmas Truce 1914:
‘While we were in the line over Christmas [1914], we had a strange experience. The enemy and our men commenced shouting to one another across “No Man’s Land” (the distance between the trenches was about 150 yards). It came to offering cigarettes and bully beef to one another as souvenirs. Then the heads began to bob up over the parapet. A couple of the bolder spirits went out and met the enemy and exchanged small gifts. There were several dead lying about in “No Man’s Land” and we took this kind of armistice as an opportunity to give them a decent burial ...

After a few more greetings, there was a kind of wind-up on both sides, as no one knew the meaning of this miniature armistice. One of our Company Sergeants was spotted in “No Man’s Land” and was fired at from the enemy’s reserve trench and hit in the breast. I honestly think it was an act of a maniac. I could see he was hit badly. He staggered to where I was standing and just managed to reach our wire. I helped him in and commenced to bandage and treat the wound where the bullet had entered, but when I turned him over I could see it was a hopeless case. The bullet had entered his lung. We did our best for him. He was sent on a stretcher to the M.O. but he did not live long. I did not see him again. That night in Orders I was posted as Sergeant ... ’

A gruesome casualty:
‘Our new troops were told to get across the open road by crawling on their hands and knees, because this part was under enemy fire and observation ... I warned them not to show their “fringe” but one little chap appeared over-anxious to see a German. Instead a sniper saw him! In the whole of my experience in the War, I never saw a skull emptied so cleanly. The bullet entered the right eye. The back of the head was completely missing, and the inside of the head was quite empty ... ’

Poison gas attack:
‘I saw the first green cloud of poison gas come over our front line troops and in a short time we felt the effects of it. But the worst poison had gone to the ground before it reached our trench. Even so, we had to protect our mouths and breathing with body belts that we carried with us. Unfortunately, the men in the front line had no time to consider what to do before the poison gas had done its deadly work. Many fell on the way back, and those I witnessed die left the world in agony. The gas caused the tongue to swell to the full extent of the mouth, and then a gradual choking took place, until the life was squeezed out of the person affected. It was the worse gas attack I witnessed during ther whole of my experience ... ’

Growing responsibilites:
‘During the 2nd Battle of Ypres, I had no Platoon Officer. This added to my responsibilities as I had to find my Company Officer during the attack to get direct orders. I made an effort to find him on our second day in the line. I had the luck to meet him crawling along for a bit of cover. He wanted to see me to issue an order which I shall ever remember. It was “The present line must be held at all costs, even to the last man”. He was cut about the head and face, and he was covered with blood and dirt, of which he was not aware. He was holding his shirt away from the skin, as it was sticking and causing added pain. I really thought he was “going on”. I suggested to him that it would be better to get his wounds dressed, as he was bleeding badly, but he had no intention of leaving the line because we were so short of officers. He was sick and becoming weaker, and the C.O. gave him instructions to go that evening. I felt a bit lonely without Captain Bowen, who was one of the best of the officers and always with his men when the “dirty work” was on ... ’

Settling old scores:
‘Next day we suffered again by cross-fire, which was coming from our right. It was miserable because we had to keep low all day. On our right front we could see Jerry walking along getting water and performing his ordinary work as though there was nothing amiss. I thought of the damage to my nose, and spoilt a few of their happy walks! They were quick after the first shot to take cover, so I arranged for three or four to fire together. I could only hope that I was successful in removing the bark off one of their noses ... ’

Receipt of his D.C.M. ribbon:
‘I was ordered to appear at Fourth Division H.Q. and the General told me that I had been awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal. He expressed the hope that I would continue the very good work, and have the best of luck. The General then presented me with a bit of D.C.M. ribbon attached to a letter of compliments signed by General Wilson. After a hearty shake of the hand, I went back to work. My chest seemed to have expanded inches, but it returned to normal shortly afterwards ... ’

Hospital:
We lost a few on the journey down to Le Havre [on a hospital train]. There was a great amount of suffering and the work was very hard for the attendants. When I got to Le Havre I began to realise that I was really ill. I could not walk and was like a big baby. I was conveyed by stretcher to the ambulance and then to hospital. I was a bed patient and could see only the 19 other “Tommies” who were in the same ward. The hospital treatment was excellent. There was a big nurse who should have been a C.S.M.! No answering back with her! The third day after I entered the hospital I asked her permission to sit up in the ward. This she permitted me to do, after the M.O. had been around ... ’

The Somme - July 1916:
‘I was now in Yellow Line in reserve after six days’ and nights’ continuous shelling from our side and a smart return from the enemy. We were working under both fires and our nervous system was completely shocked. No one could rest under it. Each Battalion received a few words of advice from the General. He told us we could write home and say that he was proud of us. We discovered afterwards that it was a farewell letter for many, because we suffered heavy losses on 4 July 1916 ... My company was ordered up to hold the original front line. You can imagine the sights we saw going up and while holding the front line ... We were digging an advance trench as a jumping off place for the new attack. Jerry disrupted it, and pummelled us flat while we were sinking it. We were practically under his very nose and he shared between us all his spare ammunition! We lost heavily on this work, but it had to be done. A trench mortar dropped where three of us were working, and we were buried alive. Captain Cumbley got me out. I told him that two others were buried with me. When got out one was dead and the other in a bad state. This continued night after night until the trench was completed ... ’

Morbid humour:
‘We were under canvas at Mountaban, and what a lovely target we presented for Jerry’s long range guns! Every morning and evening he sent over a few high explosives. They were bound to “meet” somebody as the place was as lively as Piccadilly Circus all round. The Aussies dump was close by, and there were any amount of Brigade and Battalion Headquarters types. Jerry dropped a few on the Aussies’ dump and I saw one poor chap go up in the air. His body was completely in half, with a leg and an arm of each part quite 30 yards high. One of our wicked pals said that one arm was wishing goodbye to the other ...’

Ticket to Blighty
‘I felt a bit sick about everything. There were no doubt a number of causes for this, principally through lying in the open in front of Monchey and of losing my job. My fighting spirit was partly gone and the C.O. recommended me down the line for the well-known rest. I reported to our M.O. and my next move was to an advanced hospital and then to a clearing station. On the way down I had no doubt I picked up a temperature, followed by trench fever and Neuritis. By the time the train arrived to clear us to the base, I was almost too ill to be moved. Anyway, I got on the train amongst the last few. Of what happened on the long journey down I know very little. I must have slept for a long time, partly in this world and partly in the next! When I came to myself I was lying in hospital at Etaples ... the next excitement was provided by a Jock orderly who broke the news that I was booked for England ... ’

Love was indeed evacuated to the U.K., where, after making a recovery of sorts, he was ordered to undertake “light duties” at a regimental depot at Oswestry, but he was back in France before the war’s end, where he barely noticed the arrival of the Armistice: ‘My only intimation of an armistice was that I was withdrawn from the fighting line. I know very little otherwise. I simply carried on with the usual work.’

Cornelius Love died at his residence in Woodside Road, Cwmbran, aged 60 years.