I will write _whenever_ possible. I very nearly lost all my kit last
night—so you must expect ‘gaps’ sometimes. But a 2 day Gap at the most—I
promise you.
You should see the mess I’m in after these 4 days!!
(24A)
May 26, ’15. 6 P.M.
A quiet day to-day after our adventurous times lately—weather still
lovely—quite tropical heat in fact. The trench we are in now is in a
rotten state—no dug-outs or anything—however the Essex are always given
the ‘dirty work’ so to speak, and we have already been complimented on
our fighting by the General Staff.
I have been having a good look at the German trenches through Uncle
Charlie’s glasses to-day—They are digging themselves in like fiends—and
have dressed themselves in khaki!
We have just this moment been firing on a German aeroplane which flew
over our lines, but with no result.
I haven’t had my boots etc: off since we came up—and don’t expect I shall
until we return to billets!
(25)
May 27, ’15. 6 P.M.
MY DEAREST MUMMY & DADDY,—Thanks for your ripping letter again last
night. We get the letters here by the ration carts which come up at
night-time, so the actual post comes in at about midnight. I read yours
this morning at 2 A.M. when we were ‘standing to’ in the grey light of
dawn waiting a possible German attack, which is in all cases preceded
by Gas here. You are splendid about everything—getting a Respirator and
all that—of course we are all dealt out special ones here, which, if
properly adapted, the Gas has absolutely no effect on. To-day has again
been quite calm—just the usual exchange of artillery-fire and rifle-fire.
This is the programme of the day at present here: Work all night at
strengthening the position (sand-bags etc:)—barb-wire—and getting in
provisions, water—etc. under cover of darkness. Day-time, 2 A.M. (dawn
about) we stand to arms for ½ hr whilst the listening posts (consisting
of 3 men and a N.C.O.) are brought in. These last are simply what they
imply—i.e. men who lie down and keep their ears and eyes open for any
movement on our front—posted well out in front of our trenches. If an
attack is to be made it is almost certain to come off then—like the other
day. From then till dark (about 8.30 P.M.) we lie very low and _sleep_ as
much as possible. This last is not always very easy—and depends entirely
on (1) the condition of the trench, (2) the activity of the German
artillery—! I have slept about 6 hrs since we came in, I should think.
You can imagine that one gets very fat, sleepy and dirty under these
conditions. Meals? Well—‘rations’ consist of bully-beef (which will go at
a German’s head before I eat it)—cheese—jam—and bacon—tea and sugar. The
last three ingredients (good word!) I find most suitable.—‘Am I _late_
for meals?’ Well—there is no fixed time—and one simply seizes a bite
when one can. The men make small fires in the corners of the trenches
and are very good at doing my bacon and tea (without milk!) for me, when
things are quiet. These trenches are, you must understand, still in the
most elementary condition—and by the time we have made them comfortable
we shall probably be leaving for somewhere else in the line. They always
seem to give the Essex the dirty work to do—and _that_ is because they
do it so well. I want you to have an idea of things—now the country is
flat—you know that—and we face slightly up hill—with the German trenches
about 550 yards away. Between the two positions are several farmhouses—in
ruins—which provide cover for German snipers sometimes. These are shelled
continuously—as they are used by both sides for distinguishing marks
to get a range off. The rest is green country—hedges and everything as
it might be found on the Sussex downs. Even _cows_ are wandering about
just behind the trench here—and we are wondering how to get rid of them!
Of course you mustn’t imagine a straight line—the firing lines of both
forces curve all over the place—so that at some points it is very hard
to distinguish between them. There is a small stream running between
the lines, from which we get some of our water, and in the evening
sometimes for 2 or 3 minutes the guns will stop and it will be quiet and
country-like except for the ominous ruins dotting the landscape and the
flames of —— in the background—where some place has caught alight.
There is very little actually to do in the trenches, except sit tight and
see that the men do so also. I can’t be bothered to _wash_ or anything
like that—though I _did_ have a shave the other day for a wonder! You
should see my puttees! and my ‘bags’ are torn to ribbons round the
knee——I have _just_ heard a typical type of Tommy ‘wit’ remark ‘Fritz is
quiet!’ I have Tommy all round and behind me here—lying in all attitudes
in a trench that is not more than 2 ft. wide anywhere! Again—this very
moment at a bullet whizzing over I hear ‘Ah! Fritz!!’ Men with such
spirit in them as this will go through H—— and come out the other side
_com_fortably! This game of lying low, doubled up in an open trench
reminds me so much of Kipling’s
‘Long afternoons of lyin’ still
and ’earin’, as you lay,
the bullets swish from ’ill to ’ill
like Scythes among the ’ay.’
—out of ‘Piet’—I think....
Daddy—your letters are absolute life to me out here. I want to say this,
as I want you and Mummy to understand what it feels like to get a letter
like I did this morning—or rather last night—just when another day was
coming on—it is like whisky to a Scotsman—much more, because it lasts!!
I am going to write _every_ day if I possibly can—just a break here and
there you must expect. I am writing no other letters at present, and
have only had two from anyone else but you—but I really don’t require
anything but yours—just a line from either of you. I am feeling as fit
as anything—teeth and everything splendid. I’m coated with dirt, but
what does that matter? You can look like a scarecrow here for all anyone
cares! Things are very quiet this evening—and I think something big must
be going on further down the line. You _did_ get that letter which I sent
from hospital with the [_Daily Mail_] _map_ in it—didn’t you? Because
that shows you exactly where I am without my saying anything here. The
papers should tell you the rest.
Well—toodle-oo—do write, won’t you—it is just like as if one was at
Eton—letters etc:! Remember ‘always merry and bright!’