We had a very smooth run across to ... and then lay out for about 20
hours. Fortunately, it still remained perfectly calm, and we got in at
2 a.m., having only a slight collision with another steamer. We left
the ship this morning and went into a rest camp to get ourselves
thoroughly fitted out. We were told that "French" wanted us badly, as
he expected to have the Germans back on the Rhine shortly, which may
or may not be! Anyhow, our "rest" will not last many hours! There is a
thick fog at present, so I cannot tell you what the whole place is
like; but the lanes as we came along reminded me of England, say Ore
near Hastings. I saw that your cousin Herbert Stepney was killed,[1]
and his mother will be wild about him....
A Naval Embarkation Officer came up to me at our embarking
post--Southampton--and asked where Laurie was! I told him, remarking:
"I know your face!" He was Captain Perfect from Rostrevor. He said
that poor Major Nugent of Bally Edmond died rather suddenly two days
ago. Perfect then introduced me to the Captain of the ship, who
rejoiced in the name of "Spratt," with the result that I was given
half his cabin coming over. We had to feed ourselves, or, rather, we
bought some cooked food by arrangement. Here we have secured bread
and butter and condensed milk, and we are now waiting for our
transport to come up from the harbour to get some warm tea.
I will let you know as much as I can as we go along. Of course it is
impossible to tell you where we are, etc.... If you want to know about
German atrocities, read _Nash's Magazine_ for November. I just saw it.
Yours....
G----.
ON ACTIVE SERVICE.
_November 8th, 1914._
That was as far as I got in my descriptions to you when I had to rush
off with my transport wagon and Quartermaster to complete the
equipment which had not been given us in England. This lasted until
11.30 p.m. in a strange country with thick fog, five miles to go, and
none of us able to speak French! However, I came home about 7 o'clock
in the morning to fix other urgent matters up. The night was not so
very cold.
Being an early bird, I varied matters this morning by calling my
officers! Major Baker[2] is splendid.
After Church parade, reading the service myself, I have been generally
hustling things, and am going out for a route march at 2 p.m. to-day.
The sun is finally dispersing the fog, so we shall get an opportunity
of drilling together. We have practically never done so yet; and I am
really appalled at what might be the consequences of going into action
with the men unpractised. Few of them have been on active service
before, and it will all have to be taught under fire.... Since I have
managed to get a pair of boots for myself from the Ordnance, I now go
dry-footed for a change! I shall probably send you home my good
uniform ones to keep for me, as they were made rather too tight for
this sort of work. If I live through it, I will be able to wear them
all out. If not, it will not matter much to me....
I expect you are having your shoot to-morrow and next day, and I hope
it will be a success.
Yours....
G----.
_November 9th, 1914._
I may not have time to write to you again for some days, so first,
please accept my thanks for the waterproof sheet, and all the other
things you bought. Unfortunately I shall not be able to carry them
with me, so the lot must be returned to the Army and Navy Stores....
I think I told you that "Goldfinch," my chestnut horse, has been sold
to the Government, and the roan "Khaki" I sent to Mrs. Clinton-Baker
at Bayfordbury. One of my new horses rolled over me yesterday, but
beyond bending my sword and tearing one of my leggings did me no
damage, though Major Baker thought at first that my leg was broken! It
is colder to-day. We were astonished to see a number of French
soldiers about; one imagined they would be up at the Front fighting.
Also there seemed to be a lot of young men who might have been out
doing a little for their country. Many of the women are in mourning
here. My servant told me that most of our men had now got gloves, and
that it was surprising the care they took of them, as they were
generally not so careful; but they knew that they would want them; so
I am very glad that you have got extra ones, for they do not last
long. The fog has settled down again, mercifully not quite so thick as
before. It was odd the day before yesterday when I was down town on
duty to see the crowds round some large windows which had news written
up on huge placards.
Personally, I have only seen a couple of French papers since I left
England, and they contained simply a repetition of news from the
_Daily Mail_ before we left England. I feel much better with dry feet;
though the boots are coarse, they are strong and useful, but they make
me walk like a ploughboy! Still, if the weather gets colder, I can put
on a second pair of socks under them. We have been lucky enough to get
some good butter and some tinned milk from a small cafe near here. Of
course, we are in the district that is not invaded by the enemy at
present. My men are very willing, but very troublesome. They lose
themselves and fall out on every pretext.... A Colonel came up
yesterday and said: "You back from Aden?"...
I hear a rumour that John is off to India and my brother Kenrick a
Major already. He is a lucky fellow! Glad you saw me off on Wednesday
at Winchester. I looked up at your window, but could not see you....
[_Note._--The position of the 1st Battalion Royal Irish Rifles was, at
this period of the war, about 20 miles from the town of Ypres, and the
billets mentioned in the letters were mostly in and around the little
town of Estaires.--F.V.L.]
IN BILLETS.
_November 11th, 1914._
I wrote to you last Monday from our camp where we landed. We left
that, being put into our train by an old gentleman of your uncle's
(Sir John Ross) Brigade. Having told us everything he could, he then
went to dinner. In the meantime, we had to put the loaded Army wagons
from the ground on to the railway trucks. We finished in about four
hours' time, and went off in a very cold train of nearly fifty
carriages. Biscuits and tinned meat were distributed to us, and we ran
on practically without a stop until 12.30 a.m. Wednesday morning. I
say practically, for we halted nearly an hour at one station and got
the men some tea. We had no means of washing, so you may imagine we
looked like black men in a very short time! Next, we got out of the
train and unloaded it in rain, went into some barns and slept until 5
o'clock.... I was in a cart shed much like the one opposite the large
barn belonging to the "Park Farm" at Carlton. I had some doubtfully
clean straw and my coat and waterproof, but I found it cold all the
same. However, as I was only allowed to remain in till 5 a.m., it was
not as bad as one might have expected. Marching again at 9 a.m. I went
into billets after passing a church badly knocked about by German
shells, and a burnt-down house, which owed its departure to the French
shells. Here I am in a building very much resembling Willoughby Farm.
In the hay barn I have 50 men, 100 men and 11 horses in the stables,
and 16 officers in the house, with all the remainder somewhere near
me. It is colder and has been blowing a gale up to now, but I expect
it will turn to rain again when the wind drops. I was inspected this
morning by a superior General: am rather tired of inspections! From
where we sit we can see the flash of the shells bursting in front of
our position. We hear all sorts of reports as to what is happening. I
fancy it is fairly even balanced fighting of a very hard sort. An old
lady belonging to the farmer class had her home invaded by the Germans
some time ago. They took everything in the house--food, clothes,
etc.--and presented her with two francs on leaving, saying they always
paid for things! The country is exactly the same as the ground on the
opposite side of the Trent without the hedges. I have seen no chateaux
or anything of that sort about here. It is evidently a peasant's
country. Our men are very funny bargaining with the farmer's wife; now
and then we have to come to their assistance over the money question.
Rather a curious feature in these parts is that most of the farms
have a large wheel for churning attached to the house. A dog is popped
into this wheel, and he then has to run for his life, and so does the
churning! I suppose such an invention would not be allowed in England
on the ground of cruelty nowadays! I am glad to hear that the _Emden_
and _Konigsberg_ have both been settled. I am only sorry about the
ships off Chili. Poor Admiral Cradock! Do you remember him at Dover,
when Lord Brassey gave an entertainment to the Fleet?
Well, I think that is all my news. I can hardly keep awake as it is. A
pretty cold night, but one just has to put up with it. I only wish
that something would happen to end the war with honour to ourselves.
Still it is a mercy to spend a night like this in the house instead of
in the trenches. There is no fresh meat in the country, only tinned
beef for us!...
IN BILLETS.
_November 13th, 1914._
Well, I have not been able to write to you before this, as I try to do
every day. Yesterday, for instance, I was up at 5 o'clock, and after
an hour's parade, shivering in the dark, I then went off to another,
and got back about 1 o'clock. I was instructing my men in the
difference between English and French distances--_i.e._, what 600
yards looked like in this country for rifle ranges, and where an enemy
was likely to hide, etc. In the middle of this the Brigade Major
dashed up in despair, as some order of his had gone astray. I was
wanted to take ten officers at once and to jump into a motor lorry,
and go with a party of 30 others to the trenches. I popped my ten
officers in, and went off with the Brigade-Major's greatcoat in my
hurry! We raced our lorry through country looking just like the Romney
Marshes, Sussex. As we went we met refugees flying from a burning town
which had been set on fire by German shells. We also passed immense
amounts of transports; for troops must live even when they fight. On
the way I suddenly saw the back of my last General at D----. You
remember him--a very pleasant man. Well, he showed us round the
trenches. The shells were bursting up along the forward line held by
my brother Hal's[3] old regiment [4th King's Own]. You could see the
shrapnel bursting on the ground, and perhaps setting fire to something
or other. None of the shells were near us, so we were quite safe.
Leaving the line about dark, we had to rattle home. Of course we lost
our way, as our maps are on such a small scale, and the inhabitants of
one little town told us the wrong direction, mistaking our French, I
suppose! But we were not to be done, for we picked up an old lady
trotting along in the dark, and, having satisfied her that we were
_not_ Germans, she soon showed us the road, coming a couple of miles
with us. I arrived home--or, rather, at my billet--shivering about
7.30 p.m., having had heavy cold rain during a great part of the day.
I turned out to an "Alarm" Parade at 9 o'clock, returning to my house
again at 10 p.m. So, you see, I am not eating the bread of idleness!
To-day we have all been out and got very wet. It is unpleasant, but
one cannot help it in war. I have had very hard work with my returns,
and my Quartermaster is getting old. However, I shall rub along now, I
trust! To-morrow I am sending my R.C. soldiers to a church with holes
in the roof from shells. Don't you think I really deserve well of my
Catholic acquaintances, for I have had the priest down twice to see
them. Our host tells me that the Germans came here; the people ran
away, and that the Germans ran after them, caught eleven, made them
dig a big hole in a field, and then shot them. I wonder if it is true.
Certainly I have seen some few graves in the fields with no names,
just little crosses of rough wood. They may be murdered inhabitants,
or they may be simply skirmishers who fell in some inglorious scrap.
Please send me a few more packets of plain envelopes; one bundle at a
time is quite enough, as I write on this note-book paper; it reduces
the amount I have to carry. Some men have been sent to me to be
instructed in Machine Guns. What a curious nation we are, training our
men quite happily within ten miles of the enemy! I think I told you
about our billets in the last letter. The Germans emptied the wine
cellar. Imagine an English farm having a wine cellar at all! We do not
even burn the wood, and we have done a great trade for these people in
milk and butter. Eggs there appear to be none. I expect we shall be
moving shortly; but where to I cannot tell. I was glad to find that
the French had not at all exhausted their reserves. For instance,
there is in the house here a labourer who is a cavalry soldier. He is
43 years of age, and his category is the next to go. Only your first
letters have reached me up to now, but some more are expected in
to-morrow evening. The General I met yesterday told me that the
Prussian Guards, 15,000 strong, were formed up two nights ago, and
were told that they must break through our lines, as their Infantry of
the Line had made an attempt to do so and had failed. They tried hard;
we heard the guns going. They did not get through, and they showed no
disposition to try again yesterday morning, fortunately. It is
probable that they suffered very severely. If this goes on, they must
stop shortly. Possibly you know more about it all than I do, though,
as I have seen no papers; in fact, I am absolutely isolated. It has
been raining in torrents, but has now stopped for a minute, and the
wind is getting up. Horrid in the trenches, I fancy. Our Protestant
soldiers open their eyes at the crucifixes scattered all about the
country. I have three in the tiny room which I share with Major B----.
My doctor is ill, which is a nuisance. I have not yet heard what the
Government gave me for my horse "Goldfinch."
Hope you are not having a dull time. I am; but that cannot be helped.
I shall be glad to get through this war with honour and return to
England. I have had a dreadful knocking about during the last four
months, coming from India and the horrid journey home, etc., etc.
Yours....
G.
Please send enclosed letters to your mother and to Aunt Helen. Love to
the children. My two new horses I have called Patrick and Michael.
_November 18th, 1914._
Still in my dug-out and just now under shrapnel fire. I have been out
this morning, having at last got a doctor, and I have arranged with
him to get a little morphia with a trained man, so that my poor fellow
badly wounded may die in peace. I had a case of that yesterday, when a
man died after 12 hours of great pain with both legs gone, and his was
not the only one. I received your letters during the night up to
November 9th. I am so glad that the shooting was a success. Tell
Faulkner now to shoot the cock pheasants as he gets the
opportunity.... I had not time to fill in the game book, so please
keep it up for me.... Enclosed is a letter from my mother; it was good
of her writing so soon.... She must have had a great deal of trouble
and expense rebuilding "Oakfield" since the fire last summer.... I
hear that my horse "Khaki" is quite a success and much appreciated at
Bayfordbury. I have just had a man shot out of a tree where he was
posted as a sentry, protected by sandbags, but our fellows got the man
who wounded him, and there is general joy. I am also investigating the
case of a civilian who was inside our lines with a pass, and who had a
friend who ran away, whilst four German soldiers suddenly popped up
and let drive at us. So you see I have my work cut out, what with
holding my lines, directing our batteries of artillery where to shoot,
arranging for hospitals, answering letters, making sketches, laying
telephones, and sending messages to Headquarters, etc., etc.!
In the middle of all this I was shelled, and my clerk fled before the
storm as he was writing the returns. I am told to remain here for
three days more, unwashed and unshaved! It was so cold last night; I
was up most of the time doing business, but in between whiles got a
little sleep. To-day I have been seeing to my hospital and the graves,
and have a four-hour walk before me to-night with the Engineers. Such
a cannonade has been going on in Ypres for the last three days. The
roar of cannon is quite continuous. Your watch is keeping most
excellent time, by-the-bye. I expect this battle will have a great
effect on the war. One wonders how many are being killed in it--poor
things!... Please send all you have now for the troops, as I imagine
they will want anything and everything to keep out the cold if they
can carry it. The Government gave me L70 for "Goldfinch," which was
good, I think.
_November 20th, 1914._
I am now in the trenches in the snow, and it was very cold indeed last
night. Can you picture such conditions, lying out in it after dark?
All my poor men feel the change very much, coming from the heat of
Aden. However, it is business. We are supposed to go out to-morrow
night for three days' rest after six nights in the trenches, during
which I have not washed or shaved! Yesterday a bullet pierced our
splinter-proof roof. Major W---- had his cap cut by one, greatly to
his surprise! I was up half the night with orders, etc., coming in.
Whilst I was going round quite a pretty little fight developed. Fifty
Germans attacked a few of our men; I stood revolver in hand and
watched it, as we gradually drove them back. This morning at daybreak
our men are reported to have shot two men of a burying party, so there
must have been casualties. Still, one is sorry for the burial party.
Their guns are knocking things about here; big guns, too. Our
Brigadier, General Lowry Cole, asked me if Mrs. L.C. might write to
you about comforts for the troops, and I said certainly. If you have
any gloves or waistcoats, send them along, please. We thought our
friends had arranged to take away their guns, and for one day we did
not see them; then they opened again this afternoon. I shall not be
sorry to get relieved to-morrow, when we march all night and go into
billets, taking our boots off, which will be a great relief. I have
caught several local men inhabitants here and sent them off under
escort, since which time "sniping" has gradually decreased. Well, I
did not write to you yesterday; was too busy. I am inclined to think
that Germany has shot her bolt.
IN TRENCHES.
_November 21st, 1914._
Very cold, and more snow--I wonder how we can stand it! Fortunately,
the Germans are equally badly off. I have had a chequered life. Last
night, after a meagre dinner of tinned beef, I found an officer of the
Royal Engineers waiting for me, who announced that he and a party of
men had come to put my wire entanglements into order. Having done
that, they were to go home. Passing along a deep drain, led by myself,
we got to the end of a huge mound of earth. Three of my men popped
over it in the dark, within 100 yards of some Germans who were lying
down firing at us. Then over went the Sappers, whilst I flew off to
see that our own men did not fire on them. Back again to my hole in
the ground to put other things "in train." Up at 11.30 p.m. to repulse
an attack. That driven off, I rolled up in blankets to shiver until 1
a.m., when messages began to pour in from everywhere as to all sorts
of things. Up again at 4, and at 5.30 for good, back to the trenches,
followed by five officers who are relieving us. This procession was a
walk with stooping heads, bullets raining in through the loopholes,
and frantic runs along ditches beside hedges (just like the "shallows"
at Carlton). I crawled completely doubled up. Suddenly a sniper would
see some part of me showing, and would then let drive at me. I had to
duck, and then run like a hare until I got to a bank which gave some
protection. Needless to say, my coat and riding things are already in
holes. Please send me another large packet of chocolate; the last was
much appreciated; also some soup squares.
IN BILLETS.
_November 23rd, 1914._
We are back again in billets now. Such a business as it was getting
out of the trenches. Of course, my men could not leave until the
others were in their places; then they had to change back to their
roads through the trenches, practically so narrow that they could not
pass without stepping over each other, and these three miles long.
Well, the result of all was that, moving off at 4.30 p.m., we
collected at a road two miles back at 2 in the morning. Just think of
it! There was snow and 15 degrees of frost, and we were awfully cold.
We got to our billets about 3 a.m., and the General was in my room at
5 o'clock to see me. I was very tired after my week's work, but I
think it was successful. My casualties I am not allowed to state, but
they were more than I like to count; also, alas! the number of men
killed in action recently.... Well, following on from that, you will
quite understand that I had much to think about; funerals, wounded
men, rations and everything, shivering with cold the whole time. Then
I had to go into my returns, and I was even asked to make up maps and
sketches. I believe one of my officers had a bullet through his
clothes whilst trying to sketch the enemy's position at night. Still,
we did our work. One particular night, for instance, I had four
officers--patrols--in the enemy's lines. It cost me one man killed and
one man wounded, though I heard that Capt. Stevens died too the day
after he was hit, poor fellow! Colonel Napier[4] was not wrong when he
said it would be a terrible war, but Germany must surely be very
nearly at the end of her tether. After all, I must return my boots, as
the pair sent, though quite large enough in an ordinary way, are much
too small now that I wear two pairs of socks and do not remove them
for a week! Did it ever occur to you how difficult it is to feed 1,000
men in a trench 3 miles long when you can only get in at the ends? It
took from 5 p.m. to 10 o'clock to get and give them their teas, and
then from 3 a.m. to half-past six to give them their breakfast and
their food for the day, whilst all the time the enemy was fighting and
shooting, and one had to judge to a nicety where to keep everyone
until the rations were issued, so that in case the Germans should
suddenly rush us we should have enough to repel them. I wonder where
you are now--at Rostrevor or at Carlton--and whether I am fated to get
home before Christmas or not. In any case, best of luck....
IN BILLETS.
_November 24th, 1914._
Off to the trenches again to-night, and please God we shall not lose
so many men as before. I had the clergyman up to-day and Holy
Communion administered for officers and men. Quite a lot of the former
attended. You remember we were together last at Winchester. What a
difference between that day and now!... Then, the most stately pile in
the world; here a little room in a French farmer's house, with the
table pushed into the corner and a few broken chairs to sit upon. An
evil-looking bin stands in the corner containing our rations, a pistol
on the mantelpiece, and some boots at the fireplace drying, which
latter I hastily removed. However, the service was really just the
same as at Winchester, excepting that you were not with me. If
anything happens to me on this expedition, I should like that small
window looking on our pew, representing the Bishop of York's figure,
etc., etc., to be filled in to my memory; and, curiously enough, I
think the Penitent Thief always one of the greatest heroes in the
Bible; for he must have had enormous faith to believe when he was in
such a bad way himself.
The snow is fast melting, and, on the whole, it is much warmer than
yesterday. Well, beyond this I have no news to give you, excepting
that, of course, though Germany may put up a long fight, yet, in my
opinion, she is being strained to death to keep herself going, and I
believe that she cannot last long at this rate.
_November 25th, 1914._
Back in the trenches, and very busy indeed, as apparently we intend to
stay here for some time, and we are doing our best to make them
habitable for the winter. Our own dug-out, which was 3 feet deep, we
have deepened to 4 feet, but just at this moment the roof beams of
Major Baker's half have been carried away, whilst a sniper prevents
our getting on the top of the roof to shovel off the earth and renew
the beams. Altogether a cheerful problem. However, like many others we
shall gradually get this right. I was told that the Germans made a
great attack in the afternoon two days ago on the Brigade to our
right, but were beaten back. I have warned all my men to be ready for
a rush at any time. We made an amusing attack two nights ago with 8
men and one officer, all of whom were wrapped in sheets to avoid being
seen in the snow. It took place from one of my trenches. The officer
got to the German trench, where a man looked into his face. He fired
his revolver at one yard, and his men following dashed forward and
fired right and left down the trenches. A great scamper ensued, as you
may imagine, and then from each German trench burst out a heavy rifle
fire. Our guns were ready, and immediately opened on them in the
darkness, and presumably caused the enemy many casualties. I must say
that I should never be surprised at the war coming to a sudden
conclusion, or for it to last a very long time; but I fancy that a
great deal depends upon the result of this battle in Poland. The
sniping gentleman is tremendously busy at present, but I hope he will
not catch me on my way to luncheon. I have to go there very shortly.
You see, I believe they have rifles fixed in clumps, and then they
fire them by a sentry pulling a trigger. Of course, the shots are
erratic to a certain extent, but they find out from spies where the
general line of advance to our trenches is, scour them regularly, and
now and then bag someone or other. Last night passed quietly enough;
we had our scrap about one o'clock. I was out, but nothing serious
happened, I am glad to say. The weather has turned to rain again, and
the country is losing the snow, whilst the trenches accumulate the
rain and mud badly. Please God this war will soon be over.
IN TRENCHES.
_November 26th, 1914._
I thought I might have had a letter from you this mail; however, it
has not arrived, worse luck! Last night, while talking with the
General, a bullet struck near his head, glancing off a brick wall. You
should have seen him jump! My nerves have grown stronger, as I've had
a good baptism of them when going about. Our trenches were awful.
Yesterday I went round them all, and found everything more or less
right. Only my leggings were absolutely plastered above my knees with
mud. I think I've hit on a good way, if original, of getting ahead of
the mud now, by putting my feet into a bag as soon as I come into my
dug-out. This is then drawn up nearly to my waist, and collects any
mud that falls off, and saves the place. As one does not walk about
in it, only crawls, the bag is better than you would have thought! It
is turning cold again, and I suppose we shall have a bad night of it.
Yesterday evening we discovered a fast machine gun had been brought up
against us, so this afternoon I have been amusing myself and one of
our batteries by shelling it, but with what result I cannot say. Great
stories of Russian doings on the East of Prussia still come to us.
About two months more should, I think, give Germany as much as she can
do, with her few remaining soldiers, and they must run down fast in
numbers. A man looked into one of my loopholes during the night, and
told my men that he was an Engineer mending our wire, and the silly
fellows thoroughly believed him. I am _certain_ he was a German.
IN TRENCHES.
_November 27th, 1914._
I received your letter to-day of November 18th, also your mother's of
the 21st, for which many thanks. Last night I was up at 1 a.m., turned
out by heavy firing. Fortunately, after a time it died away, as I
could not get my guns to work! I heard that the Rifle Brigade also
tried the white sheet manoeuvre with an officer and 8 men lately, but
they tell me the officer is missing. One of mine has been at the
enemy's lines during the last two nights; I hope he will be all right.
We made no fuss, only just lay and watched them, and heard them
chattering and sitting round little fires in the trenches. A bullet
came through the ruin which I was in close beside me, but as dozens
are flying over and around one all the time, it merely attracted my
attention by the fact that it passed through two brick walls and went
on its way. This pointed German bullet does strange tricks. For
instance, one of them yesterday must have struck something, turned at
right angles, and gone on, killing an old soldier of mine by striking
him on the left temple, poor fellow! Well, I must close. I expect to
get out this evening, if alive. By the way, please send me several
pounds of plum pudding--the richer, the better. We can stand it. Very
greedy thinking about things to eat, but it takes one's mind off more
serious affairs. Young McClintock's regiment (the Gordon Highlanders)
has been sent in alongside myself. I went down to see it, but Stanley
was not there.
IN BILLETS.
_November 28th, 1914._
It is very odd, but all your letters have not arrived. We moved out of
trenches in the dark last night, and as we got well away were feeling
ourselves safe. "Zip" came a bullet, and hit the ground beside me; it
seemed rather unfair when one thought one was well out of range. We
got in here at 8.30 p.m., and, having two cold pheasants sent by Major
B.'s brother, we supped sumptuously. Please send me some more
pheasants or partridges cooked as before, and sewn up in sacking. This
house is a farm much like that one on the road to Newark before you
reach Muskham Bridge. The owner is evidently a rich man, for
everything is very nice, electric light laid on, but unfortunately not
going! We had our rest rudely disturbed by the Germans trying to shell
us. Whether we were betrayed by people pretending to be refugees or
not I cannot say, but within an hour of sending two away the shelling
commenced. Fortunately they missed us, though I heard that a couple of
officers of another regiment were killed. A possible reason, however,
which we have since found out is that some heavy guns of our own have
placed themselves beside us, thus letting us in for all the shells
that miss the enemy. We are rather irate at it. But to return to our
house. It has six bedrooms on the first floor, and some attics; the
rooms are quite middle-class looking, though the furniture in the
dining-room is of nice walnut. The Germans looted the place and
smashed the mirrors over the mantelpiece, whilst there is a bullet
hole through the door. I sincerely hope that something will happen
shortly to bring home to the German nation what a thing it is to
invade another country's property. It is quite _pitiful_ to see the
way everything is knocked about. The china in the house is in the
pretty French style, the coffee pot particularly neat and nice. It is
curious sitting here with shells having fallen all round us within 300
yards, and yet to be so perfectly peaceful. Still, it is war. I said
to one of my captains: "Where did you bury So-and-So yesterday?" and
he replied: "Where he was shot, sir. He was a heavy man, and we could
not take him to the place where we buried the others." So there the
poor man lies in a ploughed field, and no more trace of him excepting
that in his humble way he did his duty and gave his life for his
country. I suppose the evening of November 30th will see us in the
trenches again. By the way, please tell Miss P---- that I have found
her handkerchief most useful in the trenches. Nothing smaller would
have been any good at all. I am trying to get my chestnut horse back,
and asking the Brigade Major to telegraph for him to the Remount. The
Government has commenced to issue to the men goatskin coats of white
and brown or black goats. Where such a goat lives I do not know;
anyhow, here is his skin! I suspect I shall very soon have one too, if
the weather gets colder.
IN BILLETS.
_November 29th, 1914._
You can see by this that your notepaper has duly arrived, for which I
am much obliged. I was also glad to get your letter, and I am sure
that you must be very pleased to be back in Rostrevor again. Curious
how I have been kept away from you for three years, is it not, first
by my promotion, and then this awful war.... Well, yesterday I think I
told you that I saw a shell strike close beside one of my companies,
so I ran and put the men into bomb-proof, or rather splinter-proofs.
Having seen they were safe, I went on with my work, though it is not
pleasant doing this sort of thing whilst shells are flying about!
Anyhow, I started out afterwards to reconnoitre the road to a certain
town, and passed two men of the Rifle Brigade making a coffin. I asked
for whom it was intended, and found that this same shell had killed a
very nice Major, called "Harman," of the Rifle Brigade, whilst another
man was badly wounded, and a Captain also in the Rifle Brigade. It all
happened just as far from me as Carlton Village is from the house, or
a few yards more at farthest. Well, we buried the poor fellow after
dark. This morning we had service both for our Catholic and Church of
England men, and after that the General decided to inspect my
regiment. As he approached, so did the shells, and in a few seconds
everyone was flying for shelter to ditches and holes in the ground
like rabbits to their burrows. Having knocked us about with 300-lb.
shells, they then thought that we should be out of the house, and they
let loose with shrapnel, which is a great man-killer. I watched the
first burst coming, and had everyone under cover whilst they rained
this around. I think they must have been in a bad humour. At all
events, they wasted L500 worth of ammunition to no purpose. I expect
they are told by spies which houses we occupy, as they appeared to
follow us about steadily. It has become much milder, but still cold
enough when we turn out at five o'clock in the morning. One certainly
does not eat the bread of idleness in the British Army at present!
Here comes our solitary lamp, borrowed from the absent farmer, but
before it arrives we must close the blinds, as the light would
certainly insure a shelling for us. I am glad you had a good run
across to Ireland, and that Sydney was a good boy. I wonder how much
longer we are going to stay here. Rumour has it that the enemy is
moving back, but I cannot say.
IN BILLETS.
_November 30th, 1914._
We are still in billets and still under a heavy fire; a nasty cold
rain is falling, and altogether it is very disagreeable, excepting
that it would be worse in the trenches, as being _more_ cold and wet.
Well, last night we discovered a pigeon loft in the ruined part of the
town, and as we have orders to destroy all these birds we put a guard
on it, and Major B---- and I walked down to the Brigade office and
asked if we could kill the lot. We found, however, that it was
supposed to belong to the French Army, so we returned sorrowfully
home. On our way we had a near shave, for out of the darkness whizzed
a shrapnel shell. I heard it coming, having very quick ears, and
shouted "Down!" It was rather amusing to see what happened. The three
men stood stock still, and gazed like owls solemnly into the dark.
Major B ... walked rapidly forward in the direction he was then going,
whilst I gave a flying jump and was face downward in orthodox style in
a second and into a ditch. The shrapnel landed its contents within 20
yards of us, but all escaped unhurt, I'm thankful to say. We managed
to get under cover before the next one came. Such is our life here,
though we are politely said to be resting! It is fairly raining
shrapnel 200 yards up the road now, but what I am on the look-out for
are high-explosives, as they are so much more dangerous to troops
amongst buildings. The other day, on November 9th, we heard a
tremendous burst of firing, and in _The Times_ of November 23rd I see
it is thought that the British guns caught the German reserves forming
up for an attack on us, and destroyed them in large numbers.
Certainly, as Colonel Napier says, it is an awful war. However, I
notice that a lot of German fuses do not explode their shells, which
makes me think they have not got quite so good a supply of stuff as
they try to make us believe! I want very much to go out, but, on the
whole, I think it is safer to stay in at present. Sir John Ross will
have his work cut out to write the history of the Coldstream Guards
for this war. My mind is so full at present that I cannot say if I
shall be able to write ours, even if I come through all right.
However, I keep an official war diary, which will always help greatly.
These brutes have now changed from shrapnel to high explosives, which
are whirling over our heads and bursting in the town about 400 yards
farther down. I hope they will not drop one short and put it in here,
which would be good-bye to all of us....