(26)
May 28th, ’15. 5 P.M.
... Another quiet day to-day, and tonight we go into reserve
trenches—which is very tame—and from there probably to billets for rest
after about 4 days—so have no anxiety about me, my dears, for another 8
days at least.... Well—we both spent our Whit Monday as circumstances
permitted, didn’t we? I had the most thrilling day of my life, anyhow,
and the moonlight night wasn’t quite like Oxshott Woods!... I am hearing
priceless things whilst I write: such as these: ‘All change here for
Liverpool Street’ as the guards are being relieved: and ‘You want a
shave, Bill—_out_side and you’ll get a —— close one!’
... This is a wretchedly written epistle, but you must remember that I
am sitting in a very cramped position in my temporary dug-out—consisting
of a niche in the trench, 6 ft. long by 2 ft. wide! I believe I told
you this before, but there is nothing like rubbing it in! I got quite a
sleep last night, turning in here about 12.30 A.M. and sleeping till 4
A.M.—best I’ve had so far.
The routine is always—for both sides—work by night—sniping and sleep by
day. Now there is just desultory rifle-fire going on—perfectly safe as
long as you keep down. We have had no more casualties since Monday’s
affray.
... My platoon sergeant is a fine chap ... a sound fellow. Unshaven for 1
week he looks just like an old pirate with one of those ‘Swiss Caps’ on
his head.
(27)
May 30th, ’15. 7 P.M.
MY DEAREST MUMMY & DADDY,—Got _both_ papers last night and your ripping
letter when I returned from a tedious digging expedition just in front
of the enemy lines—most welcome they were! Now I hope all letters and
parcels will behave themselves, though I must admit none of the parcels
have arrived as yet. I hope for a different discovery when we return to
‘billets’ however, which will probably be tomorrow or next day. I am
out of the trenches now and on the bonny banks of a Canal 2 miles back
from the firing-line—In _Reserve_, in fact. We left the trenches Friday
night—had a quiet day here yesterday, in which I was able to get a shave
and wash—and last night I had to go with the aforementioned digging-party
right in front of our lines, and fill up some trenches which _a_ regiment
evacuated the other day in face of the Germans. This was to prevent them
getting them for their own use. It is weird work—standing out there
between the two firing-lines in the semi-darkness—with _flares_ (which
the Germans send up continuously all night) showing one up plainly, as
they show everything else up in the vicinity. They use fire-works for
these, of course. There was a big attack going on made by the French on
our left, so all was quiet in our actual area, though you never know
when the enemy aren’t going to hear the sound of the shovels and open
fire. Then the moon shining over all makes the gutted, stark farm-houses
scattered over the fields stand out grotesquely—for all the world as if
you were standing at the Coliseum end of the Forum in Rome and looking
into it. You know the lines in which ‘Plains which the moonlight turns to
sea’ comes? I can’t find a better line to describe the appearance of this
perfectly level battlefield stretching for miles on either side—and the
dig-dig-dig—with an occasional whistle which has to be smothered. What a
chance for a budding Kipling!
It was great work getting those papers last night—_so_ quickly—That is a
top-hole wheeze in Punch—there is also a good parody (is that the right
word?) on H. Belloc.
Thanks so much for the Fishing cutting—the Canal here seems full of some
kind of fish, though _I_ have not tried my hand at them. Excellent work
re Khaki Breeches. I am in need of a 2nd pair badly now—Thoughtful
Mummy! I have discovered a weird ‘bloke’ for a servant—His name is
Crump—surely you can work a wheeze with that kick-off?? He has a
wonderful knack of getting things to eat—he has bought eggs, butter, and
milk from the town here (you should be able to guess what town) and is
altogether a useful one, I’m thinking!
I have a priceless ‘booby’ to live in here. You have to crawl in on your
‘innards’ but when you get there it is _very_ cosy with straw to lie
on. All the men have boobies to live in too—funny little holes in the
ground—all round my _big_ hole—for all the world like a rabbit-warren!
Our C.O.—Jones—has been promoted Major—he is a jolly good soldier too.
It is another heavenly evening, and with the ruins of —— against the
sky—what a picture—by heavens!—what wonderful sights there are to see
here if one keeps one’s eyes open—sights which _can’t_ have ever been
much surpassed in any war before. There! they are shelling the town
now—great 12 in: shells in the middle of it—and then at night a dull glow
will gradually appear in the sky, which will redden and spread as more
shells are poured in. Mind you I am in the outskirts of this place myself
at this moment—so I am writing with the very thing before me.
Of course, people will come in their thousands to see these historic
places in a year or more’s time—but what a sight to see _before_ the
common crowd can!! No one in the world but one or two w: correspondents
and a few Regiments like my own can see this and other wonderful sights
up here. For instance—the very fields in front of the trenches we have
been occupying have been the scene of the most famous engagements of the
war so far as we are concerned—how much more I could ‘gas’—but won’t,
because I shall be letting some cats out! I have _got_ the best part of
a 6 in: German shell which exploded just outside my ‘booby’ last night
whilst I was away—my servant had a near escape. It is beastly heavy, but
I will hang onto it somehow. I am not allowed to send it home to you
unfortunately.
Well—I love your letters—write away when you have time—everything merry
and bright as ever.
Love to G.M.
Ever your own loving son,