Last week - "somewhere in France", as War Office communiques used to say - a patch of barren land, which a farmer had hoped to use as a rubbish dump, became the site of a memorial to men who fought and died in one of the first world war's most bitter battles. The official dedication was reported, at about item five, on a regional television news bulletin which I was about to switch off. But, on hearing the name of the battle, I paused. The Hohenzollern Redoubt is part of my family's folklore.
I own a penny notebook that an uncle I never knew took to France in 1914. Bert was just 17 and not the sort of young man to keep a diary. But between his embarkation entry - "set sail" - and the autumn of 1915, he occasionally wrote down the bare facts of events that he wanted to remember. The last entry was made on October 15. "Our division made an attack on the Hohenzollern Redoubt. Jack was killed on the same day. We were relieved in the trenches on the fourth day and then went for a rest." After that the page was blank. But towards the back of the notebook Bert wrote: "Jack was killed on 13-15, he was killed in a bayonet charge. I think he was hit in the head by a piece of shell. Jack was 18½ and he was 17½ when he first came to France. The trench which we were attacking was called the Hohenzollern Redoubt and it was a very strong German position. Pte H Timson was killed at the same time trying to bury Jack." The penny notebook and a half-dozen letters from home were sent to Bert's mother after he was killed on the first day of the Battle of the Somme.
The magnificent understatement which ennobles Bert's accounts is revealed by the official war diaries of his regiment - the 1/7th Sherwood Foresters, the Robin Hoods. "Officers were informed that the enemy's machine guns had been most carefully located," the diaries recorded. The plan, which was repeated on the Somme, was simple: "Consistent and severe bombarding was directed upon the German lines." Unfortunately, as the Somme, so the Hohenzollern Redoubt. "The hope that the enemy machine gun positions would be destroyed proved false ... The steady lines of infantry [were] mown down in rows, just as corn falls before the reaper."
The assault that the official records describe was repeated three times in five days. Once, the Redoubt was actually captured by the British, but the Germans counterattacked and regained possession. One fact about the assault is even more extraordinary than the high command's determination to replicate the mistakes which led to slaughter. At the third attempt, the soldiers who survived to reach the parapet sang a popular musical song of the period as they rushed at the enemy: "Hello, hello, here we are again."
Bert, like the rest of his battalion, did not want to got to war. He had been employed, since he was 13, stamping the knitwear manufacturer I&R Morley's trademark on the foot of ladies' stockings, and he joined the territorials so that he and his workmates could enjoy a fortnight's summer camp in Filey. Once in the ranks, he acquired a patriotism that made him more than loyal. He believed that he was fighting for king and empire, and recounted with great pride how he, and 2,000 other troops, had been inspected by George V. No doubt, like his father, he was a rabid Tory whose views on every subject - with the exception of cricket and football - were the exact opposite of mine. Yet, when I hear the name Hohenzollern Redoubt I feel - as well as sorrow for the sacrifice of his young life - great pride that he was one of my relations.
It was an unnecessary war and a million men died in vain. But you do not have to be Rupert Brooke to believe that there was something noble in their sacrifice. Nor do you need to be a pacifist to regret that the waste continues. The real moral of the Hohenzollern Redoubt is that we should pay tribute to the men who died there, and make sure that such a waste of life never happens again in battles that are badly conceived in the hope of securing a worthless advantage.
Roy Hattersley