Recent Additions    & Updates Contact author Revealed: an unknown soldier of Ypres Old Allies honoured on Remembrance Day Great War veterans lead Cenotaph march past The youngest casualty Unveiling of plaque to Capt Bruce Bairnsfather Limited edition Bruce Bairnsfather postcard issued First-hand stories by surviving US veterans Story with a happy ending... News Clips 2001-3 Survivor of first world war dies at 108 Evening whispers on the Somme (poem) Scotland's oldest man turns 107 The Soldier's Sweetheart New Writing by new writers Memorial Gates Trust Search the site Private William McBride Buried far from the battlefield Private Sydney Bone Unusual or intriguing war memorials The Accrington Pals Amazon Bookstore Site Information Contents FAQ Contact Author   Resources Index of Poems Newsclips 2001 Further Reading Notes & Queries Can you help Useful links original content © 2002

from the Observer 17 March 2002

Stuck in the mud
The men in The Trench are not being shot at or gassed. And they're always being filmed. As a record of the reality of war, it leaves a lot to be desired

A fusillade of criticism has been launched at The Trench for its ersatz recreation of the First World War. Yet in at least one respect the programme has a very similar effect to that of the 1914-18 campaign. In both cases the bewildered observer is left asking: How on earth did it happen? For the viewer, the puzzle takes the form of a chicken-and-egg question. What came first, the subject or the concept? Did someone want to make a programme about the First World War and then decide to do it as a reality-TV show? Or - and this hurts if you think about it for too long - was it the other way round? The First World War, wrote A.J.P. Taylor, was imposed on the statesmen of Europe by railway timetables. Perhaps, then, The Trench was imposed on BBC controllers by television schedules.

Just as Channel 5 is contractually obliged to run a profile of Hitler at least two nights a week, it may well be that BBC2 is remitted to screen a Great War history programme each year, and this year the only slot available was on Friday evening. Competing against Channel 4's comedy night would, therefore, demand a more entertaining approach.

Whatever the reason, the BBC recruited 24 male volunteers from Hull to inhabit a purpose-built trench in northern France, living in exactly the same conditions as those endured by soldiers from the 10th Battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment, the 'Hull Pals', back in 1916.

With just two differences. The present-day recruits were not going to be shot at or bombed or gassed. And they would have a camera crew filming their every move. Apart from those minor details, it was 1916 all over again. The idea behind The Trench smacks of what's known in executive circles as thinking outside the box. Such cerebral escapology, on reflection, might have proved more effective if whoever was responsible had also taken the time to think about the box. For the problem with The Trench is not that it makes for sanitised war, which is probably unavoidable, but dull television, which is not.

We know from enough accounts that war, and especially trench warfare, produces two paralysing emotions: terror and boredom. In this re-enactment the necessary absence of mortal danger precludes the required presence of real terror. Which leaves us with boredom.

Televisually, The Trench has dug itself into a deep muddy hole. It's hard to think of a situation less inviting to the eye than one involving two dozen men standing around in a soggy pit. And the programme buries itself still deeper with its attempts to construct a group psychodrama to mirror the events of 85 years ago.

As a foretaste of the charade, one of the volunteers went missing when the men first arrived in the trench under simulated fire. Afterwards, another was asked what he thought of his lost comrade. 'He's a good lad,' he recalled, solemn-faced with grief. Having not seen more than a few seconds of the disappeared man, it was impossible for us to share his friend's sense of loss - especially as we knew that his fate was no more sinister than to have been randomly selected by the producer to return home.

Later another man was sent home for moaning and being absent from his post. This at least had the advantage of offering a game rule that we could understand - except it was a bit of a cop-out. The original punishment for such an offence was to be tied to a wheel in a crucifix position and fed bread and water. Had The Trench incorporated that kind of discipline it would have been infinitely more gripping. As it was, the programme-makers proceeded to shoot themselves in the foot by including a series of recollections from First World War veterans.

These one-time sentries have now reached their centuries and their testimonials were as moving as the rest of the programme was embarrassing. 'We were all scared,' said one old-timer called Harry Patch. 'We were scared all the time.'

And only they can know how that felt.