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June 10th, 1915.
MY DEAREST MUMMY & DADDY,—No letter last night, but I expect something
tonight—perhaps the bed! Today has been again uneventful and we go into
the new trenches at 9.30 tonight. It is one mass of mud here now but will
soon dry up with the sun. We shall be six days in the new trenches, and
then probably straight back to billets. What was my surprise today but to
see Monypenny suddenly open a ½ bottle of champagne! He had been given it
down at Battalion Headquarters—a present from the C.O.!
Programme today has been 2 A.M.—flop into dug-out dog-tired and very
sick at getting no letters by our midnight mail (?)—2 A.M.-3 A.M. ‘stand
to arms’—i.e. all respirators ready for instant use and rifles clean
etc. whilst a mist slowly lifts from the dewy ground in front and the
enemies’ trenches become gradually visible.—Directly they are well in
sight the men are allowed to lie down and sleep—all except the sentries.
9.30 A.M. awoke in frowsy, damp booby and had some breakfast made by the
redoutable Crump. 10 A.M. had a look round the platoon: saw rifles were
clean etc: 10 A.M. onwards slept—or rather tried to, flies awful! Later
in the morning Monypenny showed us where we were going tonight and what
we should have to do there—then nothing more till tonight—just drowse and
curse at the wet and the flies and read ‘Michael Strogoff’—also listen to
the Germans shelling buildings on our right and left and wondering for
how long he is going to leave us alone!
Well—must stop now. I do hope these letters are reaching you—and not all
in _one_ batch! I still want something—and that is a _revolver holster_
to fit that Smith Wesson revolver we bought together!
Much love to you all—You will now have an idea of what I am up to during
the day—at night we simply _work_ at sandbags and barbed-wire etc: so as
to protect ourselves by day.
A rotten letter!
Ever your own loving son,