He was a teacher and lived on Kelly Street, Greenock.
Lance Corporal Isaac Jackson, (formerly on the staff of Greenock Higher Grade School).
Letter published in Greenock Telegraph, Friday 30th July.
One typical day’s work for me was to go with others to a ‘nullah’ or narrow ravine. We were building a sandbag shelter and also cutting a road over and round a corner. A sniper was shooting steadily down the valley at this exposed corner. We heard the bullets, but worked on. Then a man stopped and chatted for a few minutes, asking what we were doing. He was pleased, as he showed me a large dark stain on the roadside -the life blood of a man who sat joking and laughing there the day before - I felt sick. We worked on until 6.30pm (from 5.a.m.) and finished the road and three sandbag shelters. The sniper could not have been a good shot as about 50 of us were working in a bunch at the third shelter for half-an-hour and no one was hit!
We had a bayonet charge at 5p.m. on the 12th and won five trenches. I was one of the first out, but had no luck, my rifle was shattered in my hand by a shot, we crossed some barred wire, then I was winded by a shot which hit my bullet pouch and just broke the skin above the heart. I got up again and helped to take the second trench, but was shot in the groin. I could hardly move. I lay on my face and the attack passed on. I crawled back some forty yards to the previous trench and was helped in. Safety at last! unless the Turks should counter-attack! They did unsuccessfully, but I had a nightmare of twelve hours alone, sleepless and lost, I took my bearings by the North Star, and trenches cut me off. I was lost again! I crawled ten yards, pitched forwards and rested. Then on again, I must reach our trenches by dawn. I stumbled into a nullah full of dead Turks, picked my way across them to the water and drank long and fiercely. Delicious, although full of lime and highly insanitary with mud and dead Turks! I emptied my water bottle long before. I crawled slowly out again, crouching in the grass, and scratching myself plentifully with thorns. Sniping going on continuously. After sixty yards I heard a Scotch tongue, hailed, the speaker, and was carried in and stared at! Dawn and Safety! Thank God!
Since then, I’ve journey away from the hateful war. I lie on my back, eat, drink, smoke like a Lord in luxury on the hospital ship Asturia. Wound doing well.
Wounded 12th July 1915.
