The tragic death of a teenage soldier called Eddie

It was 1915 and Edward “Eddie” Dawson had just turned 17. Two years below the legal requirement, he was among an estimated quarter of a million under-age soldiers to fight in the First World War.

Small and slight, a farmhand from the Scottish Highlands, he measured just five foot four and was a mere seven and a half stone. Yet within weeks he would be among the men of the 5th Cameron Highlanders who would be ordered over the top into no man’s land. It was a near suicidal assault on deeply entrenched German troops.

General Sir Douglas Haig, who lobbied hard against the attack, was ignored and told to go ahead using “the full extent of your powers” in what became the Battle of Loos.

The simple diary entry for the Highlanders on 25 September 1915 stated: “Attack timed to commence 0630am after intense bombardment. 10 minute delay due to smoke not clearing.”

Though it was unlikely to have been smoke, but rather the greenish-yellow chlorine gas the British had deployed against the Germans that had continued to cling low to the ground in no man’s land.

Ladies from hell

The Germans feared the kilt-wearing Jocks they nicknamed “Die Damen aus der Holle” – ladies from hell. One German machine gunner would later be found handcuffed to his weapon to prevent any retreat.

The fear on both sides would have been palpable. Eddie, who had moved north from Glasgow following the death of his father when he was just six, would never see his beloved Highlands again.

At 0640 whistles blew and the shout went up. Dawson and 820 fellow Highlanders went over the top: “Advance in force all ranks. Advance in four lines.” Within half an hour there was good news: “First 2 lines reported to have pierced German trench Little Willie.”

German trap

But it was a trap. At 0730 the Germans, who had fallen back to the next trench line, began the raking fire which would mow down hundreds of Highlanders: “Whole line of advance enfiladed by heavy machine gun fire. This fire causes us very heavy losses practically having wiped out the first two lines.”

The battle raged for days before another major charge would take place. The war diary kept in Kew said: “This undoubtedly had a great morale effect on our troops in front. It also took the Germans by surprise – many of whom fled.”

But the losses for the unit would be disastrous. The 5th would be all but wiped out, with hundreds killed or missing and hundreds more seriously injured. Just two officers along with 70 battle-scarred soldiers remained standing.

British casualties at Loos were double the German casualty figures. Dreadful delays and mistakes were paid for in British blood as reserves who should have been called forward in the early morning of the assault were not sent until many hours later.

We know Eddie Dawson survived for another seven more weeks as the men fought in trenches just 25 yards, in places, from the German lines. Then at 6pm on 12 November 1915, Captain James Ogilvie-Grant, the 11th Earl Seafield, was shot dead.

Loved and respected

He had been due to be on leave that day but instead he was doing trench rounds when he was hit in the head. The battalion had just “lost one of its most able officers. Loved and respected by all ranks”. The impact on the men would have been immense.

There is no information about exactly how Eddie died. But the next day saw more intense shelling as the men would have struggled to absorb the impact of their captain’s death. As darkness began to fall the deadly accurate German snipers were again reported to be “active”.

It was on this day 100 years ago on 13 November 1915 that Eddie was killed – aged 17. He died alongside one other soldier that day. Whether they fell to sniper fire, shelling or injuries sustained at Loos will never be known.

Several others were also injured, including a Private W McLean, whose service number suggests he had joined at the same time as Eddie in Inverness. They had certainly fought alongside each other, perhaps as friends.

Searing testimony

The Scottish war poet Charles Hamilton Sorley also fought and died at Loos just a month before. His poem, When you see millions of the mouthless dead, is a searing testimony on the price of war: “Scanning all the overcrowded mass, should you perceive one face that you loved heretofore, it is a spook. None wears the face you knew. Great death has made this for evermore.”

Edward “Eddie” Dawson was my great uncle and his name was passed to me.