IN fading pencil, in the heat of battle, Gunner George James updated the diary he kept inside his tunic pocket. But with the horror of the Battle of the Somme exploding around him 98 years ago this week, the days merged together. There was nothing fresh to report – bombardment followed bombardment, counter-attack followed attack, retreat followed advance, death followed death.

So all the County Durham pitman could do in his 1916 diary was add the date to the previous entry because every day was the same:

July 4 ,5, 6, 7, 8, 9 & 10th

Fighting becomes considerably more intense. Germans counter attack against Trones Wood last night and were repulsed, losing many men. At present our battery is in action behind Montauban village. We're covering our own infantry and the Black Watch. We expect to break through tomorrow. We are losing many good brave men. Bombarding Longueval. A thing of beauty is a joy forever.

And those words of Keats are Gunner George's last words. After July 10, there are no more entries. Only blank pages.

27966 Gunner George James, 21, of the Royal Field Artillery was killed outright by a shell on July 11, 1916 – 98 years ago next Friday.

His family in Long Row, Littletown, near Durham City, were informed by a second dreadful knock on the door in eight months – his younger brother, John, had been killed in the Dardenelles the previous November.

George's mother, Isabella, had died when he was ten, so he had been brought up by his father, William, and his grandparents in Pittington. His three youngest brothers – William, Thomas and Victor – all looked up to him, as did the Littletown pit community – he'd left the village school aged 14 to work down the nearby pit and had become a chapel elder while still in his teens.

"It was a huge blow to them," says George's niece, Isabel Field of Langley Moor. "My grandfather was so traumatised, as George's death followed John's so closely, that he locked the diary, letters and medals away for years. They only resurfaced after he died in November 1936."

Among the papers are two letters that William received telling him exactly what had happened to his son. The first arrived just days after George died. It came from the chaplain who discovered George's diary:

28th Field Ambulance, BEF

July 12, 1916

Dear Sir,

It is with very real grief and deep sympathy that I have to send you some very bad news of your son, Gunner George James. He was killed by a shell just outside our dressing station, at his battery, last night. I can at least assure you that it was instantaneous and he suffered no pain.

I have packed all the things found in his pockets and sent them to the base in the usual way. They will reach you in due course.

In going through them, I came across your boy's diary and I had a look into it in the course of my duty in trying to find details of his relatives. I cannot tell you how much struck I was by the beauty of some things he had written there – I didn't know him, but I wish I had, as he must have been a splendid fellow. For him indeed "to die was gain", and so we cannot grieve for him, as he has only gone on to serve his Master in a fuller way than he could here, and to know the joy of His presence.

But for you and yours I feel the very deepest sympathy – more than I can express as I know what the loss of such a son will mean.

Mighty God give you comfort, and be with you.

Yours faithfully,

GE Browne,

Chaplain

The second letter arrived at Littletown six weeks after George's death. It came from Hull:

6 Rhodes Street,

Hawthorn Avenue,

Hull

August 23, 1916

Dear Sir,

You will no doubt be very surprised to receive this letter; it concerns George. He and I were signallers of the same battery and our morals being of a similar nature, we were naturally great friends. I thought you would welcome news of where and how he was killed.

As you will see by the above address, I am at home. I was wounded with a piece of the same shell which killed George. I have recovered and have been granted a few days leave before joining a draft for the front again, so I thought I would take this opportunity to write to you.

The battery was in action on the left hand side of the Carnoy to Montauban railway, about 600 yards south-east of Montauban. We had been having rather a rough time since July 1, but managed to pull through alright until the 11th with very few casualties. This day proved to be a very say day in the history of the battery. We had just had tea and George and another signaller (who was also killed) and myself were sat talking in the dugout when a message rang in on the telephone, and I rose to deliver it to the officers' dugout, a distance of 20 yards away. I had hardly reached the place when a large shell crashed through the roof of the telephone dugout. George and the other chap were the only two in and they were killed instantly. They were dug-out almost immediately but were beyond human aid. Both were handed over to the Royal Army Medical Corps for burial.

In a letter from the front, one of the chaps on the battery tells me he found George's grave some days later and erected a small stone on it.

Without exception, George was the best living young man I came across in my years of life in the army. He was possessed of a fearlessness and confidence peculiar to the Godly and righteous, and I am proud I had the pleasure of knowing him.

Hoping I have not caused you any grief by writing.

I am yours sincerely

28020 Bombadier AH Leadley

Gunner George James, a brilliant and brave man, now lies in the Peronne Road Cemetery at Maricourt, a few kilometres south of where he sacrificed his life for his country.

BLOB We are very grateful to Isabel Field for allowing us to share her uncle's diary. Not only has it made fascinating reading, but it has also given a great insight in what it was like to serve on the Western Front during the First World War.

GUNNER GEORGE'S last words come from John Keats' epic poem, Endymion. Despite being a pitman who had left school aged 14, George was a skilled artist and a great writer. He'd quoted Keats' Endymion once before, on May 16, 1916, when he was on leave in Littletown. He had been under fire for weeks and seemed to be enjoying the peace and the birdsong of his home village as he quoted three lines from the poem:

"The earth is glad the very lark has poured

His early song against yon breezy sky

That spreads so clear o'er our solemnity."

While humans down below were firing shells of death at one another, the lark high above was pouring out its song.

George's last entry is the poem's opening, and most famous, line:

"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness."