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Old Soldiers Never Die
‘...the greatest account of trench warfare...’ --Phil Carradice, BBC
Arguably the greatest of all published memoirs of the Great War, Old Soldiers Never Die is Private Frank Richards' classic account of the war from the standpoint of the regular soldier, and a moving tribute to the army that died on the Western Front in 1914.
In this remarkable tale, Richards recounts life in the trenches as a member of the famous Royal Welch Fusiliers, with all its death and camaraderie, in graphic detail, vividly bringing to life the trials and tribulations faced by the ordinary rank and file.
326 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1933
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About the author
Frank Richards
3 books2 followersFrank Richards- born Francis Philip Woodruff- (June 1883 – September 1961) was a World War I soldier and author.
Frank Richards was orphaned at the age of nine in 1892 and went to live with an uncle and aunt in Blaina, then a busy and bustling industrial community. It was a happy and enjoyable childhood and he later claimed to have been taught Welsh as a child but, in his adult life, soon forgot the skill.
Detesting school, Richards often played truant and left formal education as soon as he was able – in those days at the age of 12. He worked in a variety of jobs, starting as the door boy in a local colliery. Then, in April 1901, under the combined influence of his adopted brother and the news of the Boer War in South Africa, he joined the army, enlisting in the ranks of the Royal Welch Fusiliers.
Richards served in India and Burma, finally being discharged into the Reserve in 1912. When World War I broke out on 4 August 1914, he was working as a timberman in the mines around Blaina but was immediately called back to the colours. By 7 August, he was en route to Dorchester and 3 days later, he sailed for France with other members of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).
Richards served continuously on the Western Front, taking part in almost every major campaign of the war. He was at Mons during the famous British retreat, fought at all of the Ypres battles and was still serving as a ranker when the Germans launched their final offensive in the mist-filled days of March 1918. He never rose above the rank of private, despite being offered promotion on a number of occasions.
He did not want to move up the ranks, did not want authority. He was content simply to do his job as a signalman and to do it well. Robert Graves, who knew him between 1915 and 1917, described him as the best signalman in the regiment.
Richards won both the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM) and the Military Medal but resolutely denied any particular element of bravery in his character. He was, he said, simply doing his job.
Frank Richards was never seriously wounded during the war but the conditions in damp, unhealthy trenches did affect his health. Returning to work in the mines was out of the question. For several years after his discharge from the army he was forced to rely on a variety of temporary jobs and eventually wound up clerking in the local labour exchange.
He began writing his remarkable story – all the more impressive because he was not a particularly well educated man – in the 1930s. He would write in the evenings and into the middle of the night, often throwing away or burning whole passages because he was unhappy with them.
Somewhere around 1933, Frank wrote to his old officer, the renowned poet Robert Graves, asking him for advice. Immediately impressed by what he saw and read, Graves worked on the manuscript and eventually found a home for it with Faber and Faber. It was an immediate success.
At the urging of Robert Graves, Frank wrote another book, this time about his service life in India and Burma. It was called 'Old Soldier Sahib'.
Like its predecessor, it was a remarkable and fascinating account of the life led by ordinary British soldiers, this time during the high point of the Raj.
Frank died in September 1961 at the age of 78. His 2 books lauded as excellent accounts of solders lives in a time and place that now seem very far away. The final words, really, should be Frank's, simple, unadorned by purple prose but heartfelt in sentiment and purpose:
Frank Richards was orphaned at the age of nine in 1892 and went to live with an uncle and aunt in Blaina, then a busy and bustling industrial community. It was a happy and enjoyable childhood and he later claimed to have been taught Welsh as a child but, in his adult life, soon forgot the skill.
Detesting school, Richards often played truant and left formal education as soon as he was able – in those days at the age of 12. He worked in a variety of jobs, starting as the door boy in a local colliery. Then, in April 1901, under the combined influence of his adopted brother and the news of the Boer War in South Africa, he joined the army, enlisting in the ranks of the Royal Welch Fusiliers.
Richards served in India and Burma, finally being discharged into the Reserve in 1912. When World War I broke out on 4 August 1914, he was working as a timberman in the mines around Blaina but was immediately called back to the colours. By 7 August, he was en route to Dorchester and 3 days later, he sailed for France with other members of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).
Richards served continuously on the Western Front, taking part in almost every major campaign of the war. He was at Mons during the famous British retreat, fought at all of the Ypres battles and was still serving as a ranker when the Germans launched their final offensive in the mist-filled days of March 1918. He never rose above the rank of private, despite being offered promotion on a number of occasions.
He did not want to move up the ranks, did not want authority. He was content simply to do his job as a signalman and to do it well. Robert Graves, who knew him between 1915 and 1917, described him as the best signalman in the regiment.
Richards won both the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM) and the Military Medal but resolutely denied any particular element of bravery in his character. He was, he said, simply doing his job.
Frank Richards was never seriously wounded during the war but the conditions in damp, unhealthy trenches did affect his health. Returning to work in the mines was out of the question. For several years after his discharge from the army he was forced to rely on a variety of temporary jobs and eventually wound up clerking in the local labour exchange.
He began writing his remarkable story – all the more impressive because he was not a particularly well educated man – in the 1930s. He would write in the evenings and into the middle of the night, often throwing away or burning whole passages because he was unhappy with them.
Somewhere around 1933, Frank wrote to his old officer, the renowned poet Robert Graves, asking him for advice. Immediately impressed by what he saw and read, Graves worked on the manuscript and eventually found a home for it with Faber and Faber. It was an immediate success.
At the urging of Robert Graves, Frank wrote another book, this time about his service life in India and Burma. It was called 'Old Soldier Sahib'.
Like its predecessor, it was a remarkable and fascinating account of the life led by ordinary British soldiers, this time during the high point of the Raj.
Frank died in September 1961 at the age of 78. His 2 books lauded as excellent accounts of solders lives in a time and place that now seem very far away. The final words, really, should be Frank's, simple, unadorned by purple prose but heartfelt in sentiment and purpose:
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September 18, 2025
Of the thousands of memoirs which appeared after the First World War only a few are still in print and read today. Remarkably, four of these were written by men who served in the same unit, the Second Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Two of them are among the most famous books to have come out of the war, Siegfried Sassoon’s Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, and Robert Graves’ Good-Bye to All That. Sassoon and Graves were friends and appear in each other’s books (lightly fictionalized in Sassoon’s case), although Sassoon thought Graves went too far in emphasizing the incompetence and pettiness of army life.
In addition to these two, there is The War the Infantry Knew 1914-1918, which is the unit history of the battalion, whose primary author was the doctor for most of the war, J. C. Dunn. Many unit histories make for dull reading and are factually suspect, often being more interested in burnishing reputations than accurately reporting events. Dunn’s work, however, is detailed and well written, giving the reader an excellent account of what life was like for the infantry during the war, in and out of the line. Dunn too mentions both Sassoon and Graves, and is mentioned by them in their books.
The last of the four great memoirs to come out of the Second Battalion is this one, Old Soldiers Never Die, by Frank Richards, an enlisted man who had served in the battalion prior to the war. Richards briefly mentions Sassoon and Graves in his book, and is effusive in his praise of Dunn, whom he considers one of the bravest men he ever met, one who would have made a better general than most of those the army served under.
Old Soldiers is engaging and very well written, sometimes feeling more modern than most Great War books. Either Richards was remarkably well educated for a private soldier of the time, or he had a good editor helping him prepare the book for publication. The narrative flows smoothly, and is detailed enough for the reader to get an understanding of the life of an enlisted soldier in the British Army without getting bogged down in minutiae.
The Second Battalion was one of the first units to be sent to France in August 1914. A full strength infantry battalion at the start of the war had about 1000 men, of whom 800 were riflemen in four companies. By the time the battalion returned to England in early 1919, only eight of the thousand who had left England at the start of the war were still with them, including Richards. Not all of the others were dead or seriously wounded; some were promotions or transfers, and some left because of sickness or injury, but the majority of the losses would have been from enemy action. The battalion was in all the major actions the British Army fought in France and Belgium, including the Marne, Arras, Loos, the Ypres salient, the Somme, Passchendaele, and the German Spring Offensive of 1918.
Richards had enlisted in the Army in 1901 and served eight years with the Second Battalion, most of them in Burma. As part of the enlistment contract he also had a minimum commitment of five years in the Reserves, which he had almost completed, and was working in the coal mines when war broke out and he was recalled to the colors. At the beginning of the war, when everyone thought it would be over in a few months, time-expired men, those who had fulfilled their active duty and reserve requirements, could request and be granted a discharge just as had always been the case. Once conscription came into effect they were required to remain in the army For The Duration, and were supposed to be compensated with £20 and a month’s furlough. Richards never records whether he got the money, but he definitely did not get the leave. For many thousands of those time-expired men, For The Duration would be a death sentence, and Richards records the steady drip as one old friend after another is killed.
For most of the war he was a Signaller, one of the most exposed and dangerous jobs an infantryman could have. Although they were trained to use Morse Code and signal flags, in combat much of their time was spent finding and fixing breaks in the wire connecting the company to headquarters. This meant leaving even the minimal safety of the trenches and being exposed to the full force of artillery shelling, traversing machine guns, and rifle fire, including from bypassed Germans popping up out of shell holes to fire at them. When the barrage was so thick the line could not be kept in working order the Signallers became runners, and were again fully exposed to enemy fire as they made their way back and forth.
Like most of the British Great War memoirs Old Soldiers adopts a detached tone when reporting even the most ghastly events, unlike French memoirs, which are often literally more visceral in their descriptions of combat. As a result Richards reports, but does not dwell upon, incidents which seem to the modern reader like they would have been so terrifying it is hard to imagine keeping one’s sanity.
For instance, in July and August 1916, in the early weeks of the Battle of the Somme, the Fusiliers were engaged in attempting to capture High Wood, one of the bloodiest engagements of the war, as attack and counterattack moved the lines back and forth constantly, fighting in an almost impenetrable tangle of thickets and downed trees. During this fighting, Richards was used as a runner, and reports on what must have been a horrific event to witness:
Richards led a charmed life, though he never remarks on it, keeping his narrative focused on whatever he was doing. Nevertheless, he records several close calls that are almost enough to make you believe in guardian angels, but the sad truth is that there are no guardian angels, and all of the front line soldiers would have had similar stories of near misses until one day the near miss was not a miss. Eventually your number comes up.
- After a quiet stretch in the front line trenches, his company was relieved and headed to the rear. Several hours later the Germans exploded a mine under the position they had just left, killing 130 men of the company that was holding the position.
- While assigned to a ration party carrying food up to the front lines, his friend’s puttee came loose, and the two of them stopped for a few minutes to fix it while the rest of the party went on. An artillery barrage started, catching the others in the open and killing them all, while Richards and his friend were unharmed.
- Richards and three other Signallers were in a trench shelter playing cards when a shell landed right outside. One of the men was killed, the other two wounded, but Richards was untouched.
For his efforts repairing communications lines under fire Richards was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, the second highest award for bravery in the British Army. He then stayed out late one night celebrating the medal, was caught, and sentenced to 28 days of Field Punishment Number One, a humiliating ordeal where the man was tied to a wagon wheel with his arms stretched out, and in full view of the rest of the unit.
The life of an infantryman was tedium interspersed with terror. Units would spend a few days in the front line trenches, then move to the reserve trenches a hundred or so yards back, then a few in rest, which was in fact was not rest at all but an endless series of working parties to carry stores, dig trenches, and repair roads. After completing two such sequences of front, reserve, and rest the unit would usually be moved several miles behind the line for training and incorporation of new men.
While in the line men tried to sleep during the day, and spent the night repairing and extending the barbed wire, and frequently conducting reconnaissance or raids on the German lines. Richards reports that during a light period in the line, only about eight men in the battalion would be killed or wounded, but losses of around fifty were more common. In Siegfried Sassoon’s Memoirs of an Infantry Officer he recounts a conversation with one of the battalion’s rear-echelon officers, who said they turned over personnel every four months, the result of a steady attrition of dead, wounded, sick, and transferred, so that someone returning would find all new faces.
The book also includes some interesting facts about Army life during the war. For instance, during the first years of the war, French newsboys were allowed to come up, even under shellfire, all the way to the start of the communications trenches leading to the front lines, where they sold English newspapers to the soldiers passing by.
Army life is army life, everywhere, so soldiers were never far from the absurd and the pointless. Even after three years of grim war, during one of their stretches behind the lines the battalion commander thought the best use of the men’s time was for them to spend three hours in parade formation practicing saluting.
The last chapter of the book tells the story of Richards’ life after the war. He went back to his job in the mines, but when the Great Depression hit he struggled financially. He complains that many of the men who had safe jobs in England throughout the war were receiving medical and pension benefits far greater than the fighting men could get. He also tells the story of one of the Signallers he served with, another private, who returned to his job as a bank clerk and was promoted. Reporting to him were two junior clerks, one who had been a captain during the war, and one a lieutenant. Fate can be whimsical.
This book is excellent and highly recommended for anyone who wants to understand what the day to day lives of the Poor Bloody Infantry were like.
In addition to these two, there is The War the Infantry Knew 1914-1918, which is the unit history of the battalion, whose primary author was the doctor for most of the war, J. C. Dunn. Many unit histories make for dull reading and are factually suspect, often being more interested in burnishing reputations than accurately reporting events. Dunn’s work, however, is detailed and well written, giving the reader an excellent account of what life was like for the infantry during the war, in and out of the line. Dunn too mentions both Sassoon and Graves, and is mentioned by them in their books.
The last of the four great memoirs to come out of the Second Battalion is this one, Old Soldiers Never Die, by Frank Richards, an enlisted man who had served in the battalion prior to the war. Richards briefly mentions Sassoon and Graves in his book, and is effusive in his praise of Dunn, whom he considers one of the bravest men he ever met, one who would have made a better general than most of those the army served under.
Old Soldiers is engaging and very well written, sometimes feeling more modern than most Great War books. Either Richards was remarkably well educated for a private soldier of the time, or he had a good editor helping him prepare the book for publication. The narrative flows smoothly, and is detailed enough for the reader to get an understanding of the life of an enlisted soldier in the British Army without getting bogged down in minutiae.
The Second Battalion was one of the first units to be sent to France in August 1914. A full strength infantry battalion at the start of the war had about 1000 men, of whom 800 were riflemen in four companies. By the time the battalion returned to England in early 1919, only eight of the thousand who had left England at the start of the war were still with them, including Richards. Not all of the others were dead or seriously wounded; some were promotions or transfers, and some left because of sickness or injury, but the majority of the losses would have been from enemy action. The battalion was in all the major actions the British Army fought in France and Belgium, including the Marne, Arras, Loos, the Ypres salient, the Somme, Passchendaele, and the German Spring Offensive of 1918.
Richards had enlisted in the Army in 1901 and served eight years with the Second Battalion, most of them in Burma. As part of the enlistment contract he also had a minimum commitment of five years in the Reserves, which he had almost completed, and was working in the coal mines when war broke out and he was recalled to the colors. At the beginning of the war, when everyone thought it would be over in a few months, time-expired men, those who had fulfilled their active duty and reserve requirements, could request and be granted a discharge just as had always been the case. Once conscription came into effect they were required to remain in the army For The Duration, and were supposed to be compensated with £20 and a month’s furlough. Richards never records whether he got the money, but he definitely did not get the leave. For many thousands of those time-expired men, For The Duration would be a death sentence, and Richards records the steady drip as one old friend after another is killed.
For most of the war he was a Signaller, one of the most exposed and dangerous jobs an infantryman could have. Although they were trained to use Morse Code and signal flags, in combat much of their time was spent finding and fixing breaks in the wire connecting the company to headquarters. This meant leaving even the minimal safety of the trenches and being exposed to the full force of artillery shelling, traversing machine guns, and rifle fire, including from bypassed Germans popping up out of shell holes to fire at them. When the barrage was so thick the line could not be kept in working order the Signallers became runners, and were again fully exposed to enemy fire as they made their way back and forth.
Like most of the British Great War memoirs Old Soldiers adopts a detached tone when reporting even the most ghastly events, unlike French memoirs, which are often literally more visceral in their descriptions of combat. As a result Richards reports, but does not dwell upon, incidents which seem to the modern reader like they would have been so terrifying it is hard to imagine keeping one’s sanity.
For instance, in July and August 1916, in the early weeks of the Battle of the Somme, the Fusiliers were engaged in attempting to capture High Wood, one of the bloodiest engagements of the war, as attack and counterattack moved the lines back and forth constantly, fighting in an almost impenetrable tangle of thickets and downed trees. During this fighting, Richards was used as a runner, and reports on what must have been a horrific event to witness:
Down in the valley below us a company of Argyles were occupying some shell holes and shallow trenches: they seemed to be just outside the barrage. I had to pass by them when I was taking back a message to Brigade Headquarters, about a hundred yards beyond. I had just reached Brigade when it seemed that every German artillery gun had lengthened its range and was firing direct on the Argyles. This lasted about fifteen minutes, and then the shelling slackened. I waited awhile before making my way back, and when I did pass by the Argyles’ position I could only see heads, arms, legs, and mangled bodies.
Richards led a charmed life, though he never remarks on it, keeping his narrative focused on whatever he was doing. Nevertheless, he records several close calls that are almost enough to make you believe in guardian angels, but the sad truth is that there are no guardian angels, and all of the front line soldiers would have had similar stories of near misses until one day the near miss was not a miss. Eventually your number comes up.
- After a quiet stretch in the front line trenches, his company was relieved and headed to the rear. Several hours later the Germans exploded a mine under the position they had just left, killing 130 men of the company that was holding the position.
- While assigned to a ration party carrying food up to the front lines, his friend’s puttee came loose, and the two of them stopped for a few minutes to fix it while the rest of the party went on. An artillery barrage started, catching the others in the open and killing them all, while Richards and his friend were unharmed.
- Richards and three other Signallers were in a trench shelter playing cards when a shell landed right outside. One of the men was killed, the other two wounded, but Richards was untouched.
For his efforts repairing communications lines under fire Richards was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, the second highest award for bravery in the British Army. He then stayed out late one night celebrating the medal, was caught, and sentenced to 28 days of Field Punishment Number One, a humiliating ordeal where the man was tied to a wagon wheel with his arms stretched out, and in full view of the rest of the unit.
The life of an infantryman was tedium interspersed with terror. Units would spend a few days in the front line trenches, then move to the reserve trenches a hundred or so yards back, then a few in rest, which was in fact was not rest at all but an endless series of working parties to carry stores, dig trenches, and repair roads. After completing two such sequences of front, reserve, and rest the unit would usually be moved several miles behind the line for training and incorporation of new men.
While in the line men tried to sleep during the day, and spent the night repairing and extending the barbed wire, and frequently conducting reconnaissance or raids on the German lines. Richards reports that during a light period in the line, only about eight men in the battalion would be killed or wounded, but losses of around fifty were more common. In Siegfried Sassoon’s Memoirs of an Infantry Officer he recounts a conversation with one of the battalion’s rear-echelon officers, who said they turned over personnel every four months, the result of a steady attrition of dead, wounded, sick, and transferred, so that someone returning would find all new faces.
The book also includes some interesting facts about Army life during the war. For instance, during the first years of the war, French newsboys were allowed to come up, even under shellfire, all the way to the start of the communications trenches leading to the front lines, where they sold English newspapers to the soldiers passing by.
Army life is army life, everywhere, so soldiers were never far from the absurd and the pointless. Even after three years of grim war, during one of their stretches behind the lines the battalion commander thought the best use of the men’s time was for them to spend three hours in parade formation practicing saluting.
The last chapter of the book tells the story of Richards’ life after the war. He went back to his job in the mines, but when the Great Depression hit he struggled financially. He complains that many of the men who had safe jobs in England throughout the war were receiving medical and pension benefits far greater than the fighting men could get. He also tells the story of one of the Signallers he served with, another private, who returned to his job as a bank clerk and was promoted. Reporting to him were two junior clerks, one who had been a captain during the war, and one a lieutenant. Fate can be whimsical.
This book is excellent and highly recommended for anyone who wants to understand what the day to day lives of the Poor Bloody Infantry were like.
November 10, 2016
This book is a remarkable account of life in the trenches from a soldier (the author) who served in France from the beginning of the war in August 1914 to the Armistice. Never once was Richards wounded in all that time! He served with the 2nd Battalion, Royal Welch Fusiliers, which also numbered among its ranks Robert Graves and Siegfried Sassoon. Unlike Graves and Sasson, Richards did not become an officer. Nor did he want to be one. He was a Private throughout his years of service in France.
Richards saw action from the earliest clashes between British and German forces at Mons (Belgium) in August 1914, to First Ypres, to Loos, the Somme, Arras, Passchendaele, and the decisive battles in the late summer and autumn of 1918.
For anyone with an interest in an engaging memoir about a man who managed to survive combat service throughout the First World War, "OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE" is a must-read.
Richards saw action from the earliest clashes between British and German forces at Mons (Belgium) in August 1914, to First Ypres, to Loos, the Somme, Arras, Passchendaele, and the decisive battles in the late summer and autumn of 1918.
For anyone with an interest in an engaging memoir about a man who managed to survive combat service throughout the First World War, "OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE" is a must-read.
September 24, 2013
“We received a message that no more visual signalling would be carried out, and that we would be employed as runners between Brigade and High Wood. Down in the valley below us a company of Argyles were occupying some shell holes and shallow trenches: they seemed to be just outside the barrage. I had to pass by them when I was taking back a message to Brigade Headquarters, about a hundred yards beyond. I had just reached Brigade when it seemed that every German artillery gun had lengthened its range and was firing direct on the Argyles. This lasted about fifteen minutes, and then the shelling slackened. I waited a while before making my way back, and when I did pass by the Argyles’ position I could only see heads, arms, legs and mangled bodies. I have often wondered since then, if all the leading statesmen and generals of the warring countries had been threatened to be put under that barrage during the day of the 20th July 1916, and were told that if they survived it they would be forced to be under a similar one in a week’s time, whether they would have all met together and signed a peace treaty before the week was up.”
November 11, 2025
What these men went through is always something beyond my comprehension, especially those who served on the front from the beginning of the war. This is easily one of my top ten WWI memoirs, maybe even top five.
October 22, 2023
Frank Richards did for WWI what Eugene B. Sledge did for WWII when he wrote “With the Old Breed”. Frank Richards was in the war from beginning to end. A “rifle and bayonet man” then changed over to a signaler. Neither job was easy, and both exposed him to the hardships of trench warfare. He writes in a clear concise manner. Richards does not embellish his nor does he try to make himself out to be anything more than he was- a soldier like millions of others just trying to survive and make it home. His stories are told in a matter-of-fact manner with some humor and a lot of what might be construed as callous or with gallows humor. He relates many anecdotes in a cold manner having become numb to the death, cold, wet, rats, rotten food, bad officers and even the death of his many close mates. What life and death were like in the trenches of France. In the four years he was there, he fought in every major battle from being with the original British Expeditionary Force (BEF) and witnessed the coming of Kitchener’s Army of young soldiers; at which time he and others became old soldiers, which he often refers to he speaks of other soldiers. He speaks for the local population, getting drunk and hoping for the” blighty” (a wound just serious enough to get sent home but not one that maims). In WWII this would be the “million dollar” wound in American G.I. terms. Other British slang he uses required me to find the meaning such as “pukka” which meant solid, reliable or first class, and “go West” which means to die or be killed for example. With 17 plus years in the Army, he is demobilized and sent home to a country far different than the one he left 4 years ago. As he struggles with a medical condition he had while in France, he is continually frustrated in getting medical help with Rheumatism he also contracted while overseas. Yet because he didn’t report to an Aid Post for treatment, his medical sheet remained clear of this problem. All the while those who didn’t “see the sky from the trenches” but served in the home guard and reported such maladies as his received large pensions or medical benefits for years to come. So, he simply soldiered on like all soldiers he didn’t die but just faded away. I was very impressed with this author’s ability to tell a straightforward account of his time in the trenches of World War I. A rare account of senseless death in a senseless war. Every WWI history buff needs to have this book prominently on the bookshelf. I’d give it more than 5 stars if possible.
November 4, 2021
An incredible memoir by a private soldier that spans the whole of the Great War. It provides an almost unique insight into how men endured the war, persevering, often with remarkable good humour.
Though understated, clearly the author was an individual of incredible courage being awarded decorations twice for bravery. Frank Richards reflections on what made the war easier or harder at fascinating, the impact a good officer had on his men or indeed a bad officer, is stark.
A stunning insight from a man who fought in many of the most famous battles on the western front, and survived.
Though understated, clearly the author was an individual of incredible courage being awarded decorations twice for bravery. Frank Richards reflections on what made the war easier or harder at fascinating, the impact a good officer had on his men or indeed a bad officer, is stark.
A stunning insight from a man who fought in many of the most famous battles on the western front, and survived.
July 28, 2016
Excellent read.
A basic account of life in the trenches by a normal everyday soldier who managed amazingly to survive the full four years at the frontline and his subsequent and rightfully his disgust at the non distinction between survivors of the trenches and those who never put themselves in danger and still picked up the same or even better war pensions than him.
A basic account of life in the trenches by a normal everyday soldier who managed amazingly to survive the full four years at the frontline and his subsequent and rightfully his disgust at the non distinction between survivors of the trenches and those who never put themselves in danger and still picked up the same or even better war pensions than him.
December 30, 2023
A very sober and readable account of the First World War from a ranker. Unusually for a World War One memoir it was sometimes laugh-out-loud funny and Richards has an eye for the absurd: the Bangalore Torpedo chapter being one especially good example of this.
November 13, 2014
I would highly recommend this to anyone reading Robert Graves' "Good-Bye to All That" as both men served in the Royal Welch Fusiliers and provide an interesting juxtaposition.
December 3, 2025
Along with Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That and Siegfried Sassoon’s Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, this book completes a trifecta of the Royal Welch Fusiliers Regiment’s experience in The Great War. However, whereas Graves and Sassoon were both officers, Richards served as an enlisted man and his memoirs provides a much-needed perspective from the lower ranks. Further flavoring Richards’ account is his vast experience in the prewar British Army. Having served with the Royal Welch, in India and Burma, before World War One, Richards is very much a Kipling-esque figure and his prewar service makes him a colorful if not exactly careful observer of the comings and goings of the Royal Welch, during the war. If you are a fan of Graves and Sassoon, as I am, you are in for a treat, as both officers make an appearance in this work. I highly recommend this work and I am looking forward to reading the author’s account of his prewar service in his follow-on book, the prequel Old Soldier Sahib.
March 7, 2018
This is my second foray into the wild with Mr. Richards, the first being "Old Soldier Sahib," a freewheeling memoir about his time serving with the British army in occupied India.
"Old Soldiers Never Die" is a graver book than the former, for the obvious reason that life in the trenches was a lot less merry than that in the colonies. That said, it is heartening to see that the Old Soldier's resolve and sense of humor remaining still intact through some of the most grisly moments in the Great War, to which he was both witness and participant. "Old Soldiers" differs from most memoirs inasmuch as its narrator was already a "lifer," as we say in the Army, meaning he had committed to a career with the Royal Forces before the outbreak of hostilities (which he gets wind of, naturally, while drinking in a pub with fellow veterans).
Mr. Richards was in the Signal Corps, and his profession affected his writing style, as Robert Graves pointed out somewhere. The prose is rendered in clean, precise language with no more ostentation than what one would expect to find in a military dispatch, and the emotion it arouses tends to occur organically, and almost in reluctant counterpoint to Richards' unsparing and unsentimental description of daily life in the trenches. He reports on the deaths of men, draft animals, pets, close friends, and his own (many) brushes with shrapnel and bayonets and gas without ever "going windy" as he might have had it. He reports on men committing suicide or going mad and stripping naked in the same even tone he describes a change in weather.
"Old Soldiers Never Die" is an improvement on "Old Soldier Sahib" (which wasn't bad), and functions as a worthy compliment to that book, or a good standalone testament to the feats and integrity of a man who is, statistically speaking, probably 1 in 25,000. He should have been killed many times over, and the fact that he wasn't makes this book both an essential historical record and an experience the reader owes it to the dead to read. Too many in the rear echelon collected ribbons and medals while those in the trenches collected shrapnel and psychic scars, with only a pension of a few shillings to show for their agony, if they were lucky enough to live. Frank Richards conveys the hard reality of life on the front-line and what it was like to be an ageing enlisted man, who was directed by well-fed generals located safely to the rear. But he also doles out credit to those brave officers in the brass who merited laurels (I believe the "Sassoon" he makes reference to repeatedly in the book is none other than Siegfried Sassoon, the famed English war poet). Recommended, in any event, for those curious about the Great War or about an age that produced men of iron, in contrast to our era of millenial meringue manlets.
"Old Soldiers Never Die" is a graver book than the former, for the obvious reason that life in the trenches was a lot less merry than that in the colonies. That said, it is heartening to see that the Old Soldier's resolve and sense of humor remaining still intact through some of the most grisly moments in the Great War, to which he was both witness and participant. "Old Soldiers" differs from most memoirs inasmuch as its narrator was already a "lifer," as we say in the Army, meaning he had committed to a career with the Royal Forces before the outbreak of hostilities (which he gets wind of, naturally, while drinking in a pub with fellow veterans).
Mr. Richards was in the Signal Corps, and his profession affected his writing style, as Robert Graves pointed out somewhere. The prose is rendered in clean, precise language with no more ostentation than what one would expect to find in a military dispatch, and the emotion it arouses tends to occur organically, and almost in reluctant counterpoint to Richards' unsparing and unsentimental description of daily life in the trenches. He reports on the deaths of men, draft animals, pets, close friends, and his own (many) brushes with shrapnel and bayonets and gas without ever "going windy" as he might have had it. He reports on men committing suicide or going mad and stripping naked in the same even tone he describes a change in weather.
"Old Soldiers Never Die" is an improvement on "Old Soldier Sahib" (which wasn't bad), and functions as a worthy compliment to that book, or a good standalone testament to the feats and integrity of a man who is, statistically speaking, probably 1 in 25,000. He should have been killed many times over, and the fact that he wasn't makes this book both an essential historical record and an experience the reader owes it to the dead to read. Too many in the rear echelon collected ribbons and medals while those in the trenches collected shrapnel and psychic scars, with only a pension of a few shillings to show for their agony, if they were lucky enough to live. Frank Richards conveys the hard reality of life on the front-line and what it was like to be an ageing enlisted man, who was directed by well-fed generals located safely to the rear. But he also doles out credit to those brave officers in the brass who merited laurels (I believe the "Sassoon" he makes reference to repeatedly in the book is none other than Siegfried Sassoon, the famed English war poet). Recommended, in any event, for those curious about the Great War or about an age that produced men of iron, in contrast to our era of millenial meringue manlets.
April 1, 2021
This is an interesting read. It's a blunt account of World War One, written by a Welsh private. Richards had been in the army - in India - before World War One began and was called back up once the war began. He managed to survive the whole war despite the best attempts of both his own Generals and the Germans to kill him. He ended up with rheumatism and piles, for which he seems quite grateful.
It isn't a literary masterpiece. There are better-written books about World War One, but this strikes me as one of the most honest. Initially, I wondered if there was some bullshitting going on. He paints a picture of the British Army in World War One that you don't often see: malingering, scrounging, looting, and swearing. It's almost as if he's deliberately going out of his way to show things at their worst. The British Army certainly doesn't come out of this well as an organisation. Richards is scathing about staff officers, the French, ridiculous officers and NCOs who demand standards that can't be met on the front line and some of his fellow soldiers.
But he also does a fine job of paying tribute where it is due: to his mates, to some of the Officers he served with and to soldiers. He despises false claims of heroism and soldiers who did little or no fighting. Both Robert Graves and Siegfried Sassoon make guest appearances and Richards pays tribute to both of them. They both appear to have been good Officers and brave men.
The funny thing is the one group that Richards never really criticises are the Germans. There's a tendency in the book to suggest that the German army has better equipment and weapons than the British and is better led and better informed than the British.
However, the reason I don't think this book is bullshit is that he's bluntly honest and modest about his own war. He knows he is a good soldier. He knows he is a survivor, but he knows that it is as much by luck as judgement. He never boasts about his own war. He won a DSO and a MM but never shows off about either. He did, he often says, only what other men would do in those circumstances. But that's blatantly not true. He's told enough stories about the 'windy' soldiers, NCOs and Officers he's met to know that.
This is a book I recommend. Yes, it isn't as well-written as a lot of the better-known memoirs and novels, but it doesn't need to be. This is an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances, which turn him into an extraordinary survivor. He never broke, like a lot of men on the front line in World War One, which in retrospect is perhaps the most astonishing thing of all.
It isn't a literary masterpiece. There are better-written books about World War One, but this strikes me as one of the most honest. Initially, I wondered if there was some bullshitting going on. He paints a picture of the British Army in World War One that you don't often see: malingering, scrounging, looting, and swearing. It's almost as if he's deliberately going out of his way to show things at their worst. The British Army certainly doesn't come out of this well as an organisation. Richards is scathing about staff officers, the French, ridiculous officers and NCOs who demand standards that can't be met on the front line and some of his fellow soldiers.
But he also does a fine job of paying tribute where it is due: to his mates, to some of the Officers he served with and to soldiers. He despises false claims of heroism and soldiers who did little or no fighting. Both Robert Graves and Siegfried Sassoon make guest appearances and Richards pays tribute to both of them. They both appear to have been good Officers and brave men.
The funny thing is the one group that Richards never really criticises are the Germans. There's a tendency in the book to suggest that the German army has better equipment and weapons than the British and is better led and better informed than the British.
However, the reason I don't think this book is bullshit is that he's bluntly honest and modest about his own war. He knows he is a good soldier. He knows he is a survivor, but he knows that it is as much by luck as judgement. He never boasts about his own war. He won a DSO and a MM but never shows off about either. He did, he often says, only what other men would do in those circumstances. But that's blatantly not true. He's told enough stories about the 'windy' soldiers, NCOs and Officers he's met to know that.
This is a book I recommend. Yes, it isn't as well-written as a lot of the better-known memoirs and novels, but it doesn't need to be. This is an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances, which turn him into an extraordinary survivor. He never broke, like a lot of men on the front line in World War One, which in retrospect is perhaps the most astonishing thing of all.
December 23, 2017
Most of the memoirs of the First World War are written by officers and are often people who were not exposed to the complete totality of that dreadful war. Frank Richards was different in that he was already a time served private soldier at the outbreak of the war and that he served throughout the whole four years. Indeed we have to thank another war author, Robert Graves for helping the largely uneducated Frank Richards to put this book together some 30 years after the events described.
I am no fan of military service memoirs although Undertones of War by Edmund Blunden sits on my shelf demanding to be read because of my love of his poetry.
But Richards book was appealing as it is the tale of the common man and also because he lived in Blaina not 8 miles from where I live.
It is an extraordinary book because of the rugged and non-nonsense style of prose and because you come to realise that survival was very much a matter of chance. Standing in trench the man next to him is killed by the weight of a falling bomb that fails to explode. Time and time again events conspire to spare Richrads life when all around there is such terrible carnage. That people would shoot themselves in the foot to get relief from the trenches demonstrates the level of desperation.
There is some of that dark humour that is associated with such desperate times and there are tales of life set well behind the front.
It is well worth a read to gain a real insight into the lives of ordinary soldiers, often civilians, propelled into the carnage of war. A tremendous read.
I am no fan of military service memoirs although Undertones of War by Edmund Blunden sits on my shelf demanding to be read because of my love of his poetry.
But Richards book was appealing as it is the tale of the common man and also because he lived in Blaina not 8 miles from where I live.
It is an extraordinary book because of the rugged and non-nonsense style of prose and because you come to realise that survival was very much a matter of chance. Standing in trench the man next to him is killed by the weight of a falling bomb that fails to explode. Time and time again events conspire to spare Richrads life when all around there is such terrible carnage. That people would shoot themselves in the foot to get relief from the trenches demonstrates the level of desperation.
There is some of that dark humour that is associated with such desperate times and there are tales of life set well behind the front.
It is well worth a read to gain a real insight into the lives of ordinary soldiers, often civilians, propelled into the carnage of war. A tremendous read.
March 10, 2022
This memoir about trench warfare was written by a poorly educated, working-class, twice-decorated Welshman who chose never to rise above the rank of private, the lowest rank in the British army. He arrived in France in August 1914 and left after the Armistice, having fought in almost every major campaign on the Western Front: the disastrous retreat at Loos, the battle of Ypres, the final offensive in March 1918. He was never wounded. He was a signaler, a highly dangerous task, yet refused any claims to heroism. One by one, he lost his pals.
This is not a literary book: relying on memory, he called pushing a pen "a wearisome occupation." His style is matter-of-fact and anecdotal. And it is this very lack of theatricality that magnifies the impact of, say, the third battle of Ypres in Polygon Wood. He and his trench-mates cook their bacon and brew tea on a smokeless fire, savouring what might be their last breakfast. Advancing through heavy bombardment and bursting shells, the ground heaving, Richards couldn't stop to help a shrieking, badly wounded German, even though he was (it doesn't have to be a contradiction in terms) a humane soldier. As machine guns rattled around them, "...we did some wonderful jumping and hopping...how we were not riddled is a mystery." Howitzers pitched to the mud. Men were blown into the air. In the midst of it all, a mate of Richards' stole rations from the dead and "we all had a muck-in."
He puts faces to slaughter with such economy that at times I had to put the book down.
This is not a literary book: relying on memory, he called pushing a pen "a wearisome occupation." His style is matter-of-fact and anecdotal. And it is this very lack of theatricality that magnifies the impact of, say, the third battle of Ypres in Polygon Wood. He and his trench-mates cook their bacon and brew tea on a smokeless fire, savouring what might be their last breakfast. Advancing through heavy bombardment and bursting shells, the ground heaving, Richards couldn't stop to help a shrieking, badly wounded German, even though he was (it doesn't have to be a contradiction in terms) a humane soldier. As machine guns rattled around them, "...we did some wonderful jumping and hopping...how we were not riddled is a mystery." Howitzers pitched to the mud. Men were blown into the air. In the midst of it all, a mate of Richards' stole rations from the dead and "we all had a muck-in."
He puts faces to slaughter with such economy that at times I had to put the book down.
June 5, 2020
You can never read too many Great War memoirs. Old Soldiers Never Die by Frank Richards does not disappoint.
A career enlisted soldier in the Royal Welch Fusiliers of the British Army, he served in British India and Burma in the first years of the twentieth century. When World War I broke out, his unit was sent to the Western Front where he served the entire four years of the war. He participated in nearly every major battle of the war. Miraculously, he avoided major injury and was one of the very few members of his unit who lived from the beginning to the end of the war. Thanks to his bravery and leadership skills, he was offered promotions several times, but each time he turned them down. He remained a private throughout the entire war.
Interestingly, he served with and knew Robert Graves, whose memoir Goodbye to All That is one of the most famous WWI memoirs. Richards does not have nearly the same elegance of style, but I prefer Richards's account. He comes across as more authentic, less political, and ultimately more interesting than Graves. Some of Richards's stories are beyond belief. It is difficult for twenty-first-century mankind to comprehend the enormity of killing and suffering that those brave men endured. Today, every WWI veteran is dead and the very last WWII veterans are nearing 100. As that generation passes into history, it is more important than ever to read their memoirs and learn from our history so we don't repeat it.
A career enlisted soldier in the Royal Welch Fusiliers of the British Army, he served in British India and Burma in the first years of the twentieth century. When World War I broke out, his unit was sent to the Western Front where he served the entire four years of the war. He participated in nearly every major battle of the war. Miraculously, he avoided major injury and was one of the very few members of his unit who lived from the beginning to the end of the war. Thanks to his bravery and leadership skills, he was offered promotions several times, but each time he turned them down. He remained a private throughout the entire war.
Interestingly, he served with and knew Robert Graves, whose memoir Goodbye to All That is one of the most famous WWI memoirs. Richards does not have nearly the same elegance of style, but I prefer Richards's account. He comes across as more authentic, less political, and ultimately more interesting than Graves. Some of Richards's stories are beyond belief. It is difficult for twenty-first-century mankind to comprehend the enormity of killing and suffering that those brave men endured. Today, every WWI veteran is dead and the very last WWII veterans are nearing 100. As that generation passes into history, it is more important than ever to read their memoirs and learn from our history so we don't repeat it.
September 26, 2023
At first I found the author's writing style a bit strange as he seemed somewhat blase about things that were happening...but after a while I realised that he was a soldier for some years prior to being sent to France and had had a lot of soldiering experience already in India and Burma. I found his account of day to day happenings on the front fascinating. He gives the reader an easy to understand account of what it was like from the point of view of a Private soldier (he mentions later in the book that he refused promotion many times). Incredibly he went through the whole war missing death countless times while vast numbers of soldiers were being killed and injured around him (on both sides). The reader quickly gets a sense of what a terrible waste of people and resources occurred in this horrible war. Overall, a good read.
March 2, 2024
Seeing books written by those who have been there at the center of battle makes a big difference.The truth is always better than someones idea of how "tough " it really was(fiction).But no matter how you cut it "War is nothing more than senseless slaughter of young men being led by idiots".True to life.
March 25, 2024
Published in 1933 this first hand account is written by a member of the British Army at the outbreak of war in 1914 who served until the Armistice with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. Richards had seen service in South Africa prior to WWI and was therfore one of the "Old Contemptables" who were the first British troops to land in France in 1914 as part of the BEF.
July 9, 2021
Amazing memoir by a man who spent the entire war in the trenches, fought through all the major battles, never sought glory or medals, a powerful.and real story about the experiences of an ordinary soldier
December 24, 2021
What an incredible man. Best book on war I have ever read.
My grandfather served throughout the Great War, in the middle east and the western front. I now have some idea of what he, as a private soldier went through.
My grandfather served throughout the Great War, in the middle east and the western front. I now have some idea of what he, as a private soldier went through.
June 20, 2023
honest book
It was written in a way that an old fried from the neighborhood would tell you a story. Simple, nothing glamours, but it definitely opens a window to those terrible days.
It was written in a way that an old fried from the neighborhood would tell you a story. Simple, nothing glamours, but it definitely opens a window to those terrible days.
March 11, 2024
An Excellent Narrative from a Front Line Soldier
A thoroughly enjoyable read from cover to cover. His matter-of-fact narration style makes me believe I'm hearing his story in a pub from some old-timer!
A thoroughly enjoyable read from cover to cover. His matter-of-fact narration style makes me believe I'm hearing his story in a pub from some old-timer!
January 5, 2022
Top notch read. Very candid and raw storytelling. A classic must read for any WW1 enthusiast.
June 15, 2022
Visceral, stupefying, educational.
July 26, 2022
Astounding cover to cover.
December 14, 2023
Raw, gritty and moving. No glossing of the brutality, humour and horrors of war.
April 5, 2024
Telling it how it was.
A raw account of real WW1 in the Trenches
How insane it all was
Cold wet miserable, random death at any moment
With nothing really to gain
A raw account of real WW1 in the Trenches
How insane it all was
Cold wet miserable, random death at any moment
With nothing really to gain
October 28, 2025
AS JUMPY AS A BAG OF FLEAS. A master of the simile, Private Frank Richards’ gritty memoir of life in the trenches during the Great War of 1914-18 is worth reading just for the colourful language of a Welsh miner coping with life and death in the blood bath that was WW1. Though, of course, its place in history is earned for its detailed, candid, and almost battle by battle, account of the horrors of war. Written at a time when working-class people rarely went beyond the confines of their village, it does, of course, have its fair share of xenophobic stereotypes that might shock a modern reader, but esteemed war poet Robert Graves certainly thought Richards’ uncensored memories were worthy of support, ultimately helping to turn them into an international best seller - rated highly enough by the Library of Wales to print this version in 2016. Originally published in 1933, if the terrifying scenes described by Richards weren’t shocking enough, his commentary on the appalling way many old soldiers were treated after the war, is truly horrific. Full of images you will recognise from many of the recent films on the subject, one surprising connection I was able to make was that the Lieutenant ‘Sassoon’ of whom Richards speaks so highly, was as I’d suspected, war poet Siegfried!
October 1, 2024
Great Perspective
Finally finished this one. Haven’t been reading as much since I started classes this fall, but it was good. The dude was an old reservist before the war. Most of the originals died out, but this guy survived in the front lines as a rifleman then as a communications lineman. He doesn’t really get emotional about anything in the book, but just lays it out super matter of fact like. It’s just his experience through the war on the front lines.
Finally finished this one. Haven’t been reading as much since I started classes this fall, but it was good. The dude was an old reservist before the war. Most of the originals died out, but this guy survived in the front lines as a rifleman then as a communications lineman. He doesn’t really get emotional about anything in the book, but just lays it out super matter of fact like. It’s just his experience through the war on the front lines.
April 17, 2025
I was surprised to learn that Robert Graves and Siegfried Sassoon were both officers in the author’s regiment (Royal Welsh Fusiliers) and were both known and well-liked by the author. Apparently Graves helped him with this book. Since this is the Kindle edition I’ve finished, there was no Introduction or other expansionary commentary, and I had to rely on Wikipedia for the above info.
In any case, than this book there’s none better.
In any case, than this book there’s none better.
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