_P.S._--The sheepskin has at last arrived. Thank you for your kind
present, but I am almost afraid that it will not work. It is much too
bulky! Even Major B---- looked queerly at it! By the way, the cake
also came; it was beautifully fresh. We do enjoy these things. Many
thanks for both. The sheepskin is very short for me, and closely
cropped, and looks like a worn-out mat!!
IN BILLETS.
_January 15th, 1915._
Two letters arrived from you to-night, enclosing also a nice one from
Mr. Argles, etc., etc., and I will write to him about January 20th, if
I get out of the trenches safely this time! I wonder what the change
of Austria's Foreign Minister means. Everything in the way of change
can, I think, only be to the good of England, as Hungary has always
been friendly to us. Our General inspected us this morning at 11 a.m.
My first parade was at 5.45 a.m., and I had another at mid-day, and
yet another look round later in the evening after dark. I also went
for a hack to examine a road behind our position. So all this passes
the time. _Re_ the khaki flannel. What the officers think is as
follows: They would like shirts very much, but as everybody bought new
ones when they were home in October, they are not required at present,
though those they now have will very soon be worn out, and then they
would be grateful for others, and it would save them trouble. So you
could have the shirts made up by the woman you speak of, giving her
good brown bone buttons. At least ten of them could be a copy of my
flannel ones, with single button cuffs instead of the double kind
which have "holes for links." There are several officers in the
Battalion who take my size in shirts, and the remainder could be made
a bit smaller. Most people are rather ill after the trench warfare of
the last two days. I had a head, too, nothing worse. It has been
wonderfully mild here. I am keeping my lambskin coat after all. I
think one could use it to sleep in on cold nights, or to do work in
too, but I hope I shall not want it, as half the winter is over.
Good-bye.
Yours....
G----.
IN BILLETS.
_January 16th, 1915._
Am off in a moment on duty, winding up with luncheon at my General's
before I go to the trenches. Following out that note from the
Saddler's Co. I have written to ask for some comforts for my men. Not
clothes, but what do you think? Coffee and milk in tins. Then this
morning I have been practising bomb-throwers. This Christian device is
made of a jam-tin or crock filled with gun-cotton and nails, and has a
fuse attached to it. The fuse is lighted and thrown by hand into the
enemy's trench, where it explodes and does much execution. Cheerful,
is it not? Another plan of mine was rather unpleasant. I told you that
I pumped the water out of our trenches into the German ones, and that
they replied, and then dam-building began. Finally, we burst their
dam, and some men working on it fled. Our people were about to fire,
seeing them running, when an old soldier called out: "Do not shoot,
for they cannot run far in that mud." The poor things finally stopped,
panting, and they had to be shot down as they stood. Such is war. Very
hideous, and I loathe it, but what will you? I am sure fighting is the
thing I hate of all others, but I object more to these Huns coming
over to England and knocking our women and children about.
IN TRENCHES.
_January 17th, 1915._
Here I am back again in my trenches. During the three days we did
"support" the enemy blew up several houses in this road with shells.
Now they are being shelled by our guns, and I am afraid the scamps
will fire on us again when the gunners go to dinner. We got in quite
peacefully last night, and after something to eat, politely called
"dinner," I flew off to see and direct my trench working parties.
Starting about 8.30 o'clock, I arrived home between 1 and 2 a.m. Was
up again at 5.30 on parade. At 7.30 the General came out. I had a
working party of 50 Royal Artillery men as well as my own. We dug away
hard whilst the Germans sent occasional bullets amongst us and threw
rockets to try to show us up: we lay down then to prevent having
machine guns turned on us. But now that we are making the dry parapets
I advocated, things are much better in every way, and everyone is more
cheery. In building these parapets, the materials have to be carried
across drains and even disused trenches, the ground in some places
being seamed with old diggings. Last night I saw two men fall into
these ditches in the dark, and we had to fish them out. One fell about
six feet into about four feet of water. The whole thing was most
weird, with the rockets flying and bullets going, and working parties
shovelling for dear life in the darkness. We all tumbled about into
shell-holes or ditches in turn, where the water is very cold. I
suppose the utter hopelessness of it all prevents one getting ill. The
mails are late, so I have not received your letter to-night. This
morning, when walking with the General, we came upon a Frenchman,
woman, and boy in the fire zone 600 yds. from the German trenches
wheeling two large wheelbarrows full of household goods which they had
removed from some local houses to take back to another ruin where they
were living, out of shell fire. Of course the stuff was theirs, but
these poor things always forget that, besides their own safety, they
bring fire on the houses near them, so we had to send them roughly
away; but I did feel so sorry, and in the end persuaded the General to
promise them a pass for to-night so as to get the wheelbarrows away.
Practice makes perfect, for I spoke to them more or less in fluent
French! I never told you what a comfort the watch you gave me has
been. It keeps excellent time, and is most reliable. I must try and
get some sleep to-day, as I foresee another busy night, and my feet
are so cold, the result, I suppose, of two long tramps in ice-cold
water. May the war soon cease!
_P.S._--Heavy firing, Ypres way.
IN TRENCHES.
_January 18th, 1915._
Here we are in a snowstorm! I received your note of 14th last night.
Not bad, when it has to get to London, leave our base, and come part
of the way to the trenches upon foot for safety. I really sent the
account of our Christmas luncheon to you. It was an R.A. captain who
lunched with us, and afterwards wrote to his people about it. They
published the letter, and I found it in _The Times_ I got from you,
and sent it forward through Major Baker via Mrs. Baker. There is not
much news. We are still alive.... My ruin looks out directly towards
the Germans (I hear a bullet hitting it now). As the place where the
window was is quite open, I have had it filled up with bags of earth
piled one above the other, and I sleep with my head under these and
hope for the best. Last night we had two adventures. Our "friends"
pitched a high-explosive shell after dark with such a true aim that
the pieces flew all about our ruin, in and out of the rooms. They
followed this with three more, but they were farther off. The second
thing was that my Sergeant-Major, Master Cook, and Sergeant-Bugler,
all trembling with cold, poor dears! shut themselves up last night
with a charcoal fire, and we found them about four o'clock insensible
from the fumes, and had a certain amount of difficulty in bringing
them round. Here in war time these people do different things. For
instance, the Master Cook has a party of bomb-throwers formed from
among the cooks. The Sergeant-Major, instead of drilling the
Battalion, arrives up with 8 mules and three ammunition carts, whilst
the Sergeant-Bugler, instead of discoursing unsweet music on a bugle,
converts his buglers into a corps of messengers to bring me letters or
to take them out to my companies.
I was round again last night, not much shot at personally, though
chance bullets flew overhead in an embarrassing way, hitting the
ground in various places. Capt. Tee had a couple of narrow escapes
yesterday while he was out with us. I was inspecting our dressing
station arranging about our little cemetery with the doctor and Capt.
Wright, when a bullet cut the grass beside us in a most uncalled for
manner. So it goes on, and so I hope the war will shortly wind up. I
expect things are not very cosy in Germany either!...
IN TRENCHES.
_January 19th, 1915._
Two letters from you last night up to January 16th. Poor little
Blanche, having her teeth out! They do hurt! Had more Christmas cards
sent on from Aden. A fairly quiet day yesterday, though there is
always fighting Ypres way, and we hear it plainly. This morning I was
out at four a.m. with the Brigade Major, and took up the running
afterwards with the General about 8 o'clock. I assured him that a
certain trench was not the place for him, but he said he had a special
wish to visit it, so with his usual dauntless courage off we went.
Next minute a bullet hit the ground right between us. After that he
thought it wise to retire, and we marched away homeward. My feet were
practically frozen with the cold water, and I can't say I was sorry to
leave. The authorities, however, are issuing some stuff which is
supposed to keep the feet warm, so I propose getting hold of some to
sample the next time I come to the trenches, and shall tell you of
the results. I must write a letter to Mr. Aitchison to-morrow when I
arrive in billets and get hold of some notepaper. It looks to me very
dull, like rain or snow. I expect more plum puddings and pheasants are
waiting for me when I get out. Thank you for them in anticipation. I
fancy that Germany has had an awful eye-opener. In her big war with
France in July, 1870, which she has lived on for the last forty-five
years, the fighting was over in January, 1871. Now it is just
beginning for her. Still, I cannot help thinking that peace is in
sight somewhere soon.
Yours....
G.B.L.
We go into reserve to-night for 3 days, and need not get up at 5 a.m.
Great joy!
IN BILLETS.
_January 20th, 1915._
We marched out of the trenches successfully last night, getting in
here about nine o'clock. Then I had to see to my company commanders
and a lot of other work too, for a regiment will not run itself
properly unless someone looks after it. I was rather amused at a case
I had this morning of an N.C.O. charged with letting his rifle become
dirty. He admitted the offence, but stated that whilst he was watching
everyone out of the trenches, he heard cries for help, and found a
small rifleman stuck in a ditch up to his shoulders, and that he was
carrying, besides his rifle, a pick and shovel; so the N.C.O. went to
his aid and got engulfed too. Hence his trouble about his rifle. The
enemy, to prevent our forgetting him, is throwing big shells into the
place we are billeted in. As he knows, probably, that the women and
children have returned here, he expects with luck to make a big bag of
such non-combatants. It was luxury last night getting into bed again
without boots, even if one had no other night attire! You will be
pleased to hear that your tobacco arrived this morning. The people who
sent it were not very bright, for, despite the fact that my address
was plainly painted on every box, they had stupidly nailed on other
cards marked from Griffith, Solicitor, S. Wales, and addressed to the
S. Wales Borderers or 24th Regiment. This was done to at least half of
the cases. Apparently they had stuck them on the wrong boxes. Whether
this accounts for the delay I cannot say. Anyhow, each box had 15 lbs.
of tobacco, and I think there were 16 boxes. Well, then your last lot
of plum pudding arrived, and has been issued to be eaten to-morrow.
There were 65 tins containing four and a half lbs. each, so I think,
my dear, that the men will be grateful to you. There was also a large
bale of things like cigarettes and gloves from other associations, but
nothing to touch your consignments. We had to turn out of our happy
ruin twice yesterday afternoon whilst the enemy threw high-explosive
shells our way, and just missed us. Fortunately his supply of
ammunition is said to be running short, or he would do worse mischief.
I had a very nice letter from my Mother and from Meta yesterday....
Your pheasants have come, also the ham, very well packed. Biscuits a
little knocked about, but still edible; many thanks for them all. It
is so misty and cold, a typical raw day in your own hunting district.
Best of love, and hoping that the war will soon be over....
IN BILLETS.
_January 21st, 1915._
Got some of the French mud off my men yesterday, took the horse out to
examine the neighbouring roads in case of a retreat, and dined with
the General. He, poor man, finds the times very evil and the enemy
very strong. I have written to my Mother to-day, telling her how I
propose spending her present to me. By the way, I only got my trophies
in time across to England. Four days ago an Army Order came out that
nothing was allowed to be taken away, and that all such things found
must be taken to the depots. Of course we must do so for the future,
though I hope to be able to borrow a Prussian helmet with luck before
I come home again. In the meantime, have the other stuff cleaned up
and lacquered; it keeps rust off, and saves the servants much trouble.
The A. and N. Stores can do this if you cannot get it well done in
Newark.... Poor Mrs. Miles! She is dreadfully cut up. Capt. Allgood
and Capt. Miles are now gone. I liked them both, but we shall meet
again face to face some day.... I only wish that I could impress this
more on one's daily thoughts and walk of life. Well, I do not mean to
preach, but it comes in my lowland Scotch blood, I suppose!...
_January 22nd, 1915._
Thanks for your note last night of January 19th. As you say,
considering war time, this is quick. But at present it is a stationary
war, and there is no reason why it should not be so. Once we get on
the move, you will see that things will work badly, and we shall be
short of food and of mails too. I was glad to get Aunt B----'s letter.
Yesterday was an absolute drench. I rode, all the same, for exercise,
and on the way back the enemy proceeded to shell the road; at the very
extremity of their range, I fancy. It is curious how one takes the
shelling nowadays. One becomes a fatalist! "If it hits me, it must hit
me; I cannot escape, but I hope it will not" sort of thing. We return
to the trenches this afternoon. Our General leaves to-night, but
before then he has elected to inspect our billets in the afternoon,
and to have a night alarm in the trenches early this evening. All the
Colonels have therefore put their heads together to keep things as
right as possible for him. Major Baker also goes on leave for about 10
days or so to-night, with various other officers who have well earned
a rest. I see you had Zeppelins over you yesterday, or rather the day
before; but I think that where you live you are as safe as anywhere in
England. It shows what gentlemen these Germans are in the way they
treat non-combatants.
To-day is a bright rather beautiful frosty day, and I am going to look
at a large church in a village on a road when reconnoitring. I went to
see another two days ago, and found only the tower and the walls
standing; the Germans had burnt the rest.
_P.S._--The billets we leave to-day are like a very tiny 9th-rate
hotel, about as large as the house opposite the blacksmith's forge at
Carlton, or a little larger, with another storey added on. Tiny rooms,
and stoves in only two of them, which can be used as sitting-rooms. We
found a small tub, to our great delight, and this allows us first to
wash ourselves and then our things, so we are perfectly happy in
it....
IN TRENCHES.
_January 23rd, 1915._
We arrived at our trenches all right last night, and, as I had
expected, found them fairly under water. In parts it was like the
ground round that pretty little cottage at Carlton, where Thompson
lives when the Trent is in flood. I was crossing, gingerly trying not
to get my feet wet, when a machine gun opened upon myself and my
escort; down we went into the water at once. They asserted that the
bullets passed through the branches of a shrub beside us. I am not
sure. In any case, I did not like it, as one of my men whom I had been
speaking to a little earlier in the day was caught by the same gun and
received three bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and two in the arm.
But he will come all right in the end, I think. There was a good deal
of shooting at my working parties with machine guns, so I knocked up
my gunners about midnight and threw our shrapnel on to the Germans,
and then they saw that I meant to be "top dog," and went home to bed,
I suppose. However, they stopped worrying me, which was all I really
wanted. I am trying the preparation issued by the Government as an
experiment to keep one's feet warm. As a matter of fact, it does not
seem to do so at all; possibly that may be the fault of my floor--what
remains of it, at least! The red tiles, though clean, are very cold.
Well, this stuff looks like shaving soap, but there is another thing,
"whale oil," which none of us have as yet tried. The latter was given
out to us last night, and sounds promising, but nasty. All the Channel
swimmers rub themselves over with it before attempting to swim across
the Channel. Speaking about the tiled floors, I notice in many cases
that little holes are cut in the sides of the houses, so that the
tiles can be well washed with water, and then it drains outside
without further trouble, but think how draughty it makes the place
unless a plug is put to close this hole at night, and by day too in
cold weather. I also notice that these French houses show signs of
natty niceness which one would not see in an English farmhouse. For
instance, in my sleeping-room, instead of nails being driven into the
walls for hanging clothes on, there is a brass hook with a china knob
like any Christian household. I am rather amused to see how
indifferent our men have grown to fire. This morning between 5 and 6
o'clock I was speaking to the sentry when a bullet came, hit the
house, and gave a great streak of light, as it does when it strikes a
hard substance. A large piece of the building fell down behind him,
but he never changed his voice or paid the slightest attention. I have
had a letter from your aunt at Rostrevor about Sydney, to whom she
seems very devoted....
IN TRENCHES.
_January 24th, 1915._
I believe that to-day is Sunday, judging from the sound of church
bells in the direction of the second town, which lies four miles
behind us. They were ringing "to church" while we were standing "to
arms" in the dark with a good deal of rifle fire, though not much from
the guns. A new lot of Germans, we think, have come opposite to us,
and they are very hard shooters, always firing either machine guns or
rifles. We are too busy working at our parapets now to go for them,
but when they are finished I propose to wake them up well. I got in
rather early last night about midnight. You know war has comic
incidents as well as pathetic ones. I was finishing my way round the
trenches in the dark, when Mr. Gartland, R.I.R., a very nice boy,
attached himself to me, and said he had orders to go to a certain
place and did not know the road, and might he come with me. Of course
I said "Yes," and we progressed till we came to a bridge, just a plank
really over a wide stream. I crossed it quietly after whispering to
him to be careful. Next moment I heard a frantic struggle and fall,
and discovered him clutching on for dear life to the plank, having
slipped on it. We managed to rescue him from a watery grave. I must
tell you that all of this was out in the open within 200 yards of the
German trenches, as we were crossing from company to company. My
escort also fell at this bridge, but I caught him by the scruff of the
neck, thereby preventing him getting into the water. I suppose
Oakfield, my old home in Nova Scotia, taught me a bit about roughing
it, so, elderly man that I am, I can keep fairly steady on my feet
over this tricky ground. Well, having safely delivered Mr. G. at his
place, I moved on, when we heard another fearful splash and then more
floundering, and found that a corporal of my stretcher-bearers had
fallen into a very deep drain full of water. Again my escort and
myself started off to earn the Royal Humane Society's medal. However,
he managed to scramble out, wet through. As I say, the comic side
alternates with the pathetic, for just then we had a poor boy shot
through the head. In the dark we made out that it was his eye, but on
getting him to hospital, where we could strike a light to work with,
we saw that the bullet had gone through the nose, down the side of the
face, and out through his neck. He is alive this morning, so it may be
that he will turn the corner all right yet. I received your letter of
January 20th last night, which is good. You ask me about block houses.
They are only useful when screened from artillery fire. If we had one
here, and the Germans could place it with glasses or with aeroplanes,
they would blow it up at once. They were used largely in the South
African War, because we had taken all the enemy's guns from him. Sorry
to hear of your cold. Hope the Kaiser has a very bad one with a sore
throat!!...
IN TRENCHES.
_January 25th, 1915._
I was sorry to see by your note in pencil yesterday that you were in
bed with "Flu." I hope you will not have it very badly, and that you
are up again and all right by this time. There has been a good deal of
trouble lately with German machine guns playing on our working parties
at night. So yesterday afternoon I crept off unobserved, and had a
conclave with my gunners. Then when they started with their guns I had
all the adversary's trenches mapped out, and dropped four shells on
them. About an hour later they began again, but we squelched them in
the same way; finally they stopped firing their horrid machines and
remained quiet; not for long, however, for they next turned their
heavy guns on us in the dark with the high explosive shell. The first
burst about 100 yds. away, and the second nearer, whilst the third
burst alongside the house. I wailed, expecting one in the ruins, but
they fired no more, thank heavens! The last scattered everything all
over the house, bricks, tiles, etc. I was curled up in a blanket at
that hour ready to go over the whole of the trenches, having arranged
to start between three and four o'clock this morning. I got round all
right with, if anything, fewer bullets than usual flying about. A
message has just been sent to us that an attack is expected on our
right, so we are now waiting to see whether this comes to anything or
not. The day is particularly dark, though so far no rain or snow. It
is quite black enough for the latter, but not, perhaps, sufficiently
cold. I am rather sleepy at present, and I hate getting up early.
To-night we go into support, which means that some of our companies,
now 600 yds. from the enemy, will be in a position farther back, but
this threatened attack may make a difference. Another regiment, the
Royal Berkshires, are alongside of us, and we always go into the
trenches and come out together. The Colonel is senior to me, and is
commanding the Brigade in the General's absence, so the next senior
takes his regiment. The latter was knocked over by a shot two days
ago. He only broke his hip, and it is expected to come right in due
course. Do you remember Miss Arundel's nephew, Capt. Wickham, of the
7th Fusiliers, who went out with me to India, half-brother to Sir
Henry Tichborne, I believe? I saw three days ago that he had died of
wounds; so they must have brought him home from India. I am sorry; he
and I had many pleasant chats together on board ship. Would you look
in the upper left-hand drawer in my dressing-room. You will find some
stand-up single collars there with five buttonholes in them. Please
roll one up flat, and send it across in a letter or with soap parcel.
They go in collar of uniform jacket, and as this sort of collar has
gone out, I am wearing mine and throwing them away when done.
IN BILLETS.
_January 26th, 1915._
I am very sorry that you have been obliged to send for the doctor.
"Flu" makes one feel a worm, so take care of yourself. I do not fancy
you need fear the air raids; keep to the country, it is safer than
town. They have not enough explosives on their cars to do all the
damage they would like in London, let alone the remainder of England.
The trip to Norfolk was only a trial one, I think. It has turned very
cold here now, and we cannot get a fire in this place. You see, the
inhabitants are coming back, and we do not like to steal their wood,
for it would cause unpleasantness, whilst we have great difficulty in
getting any coal, so we are between the devil and the deep sea! The
Germans managed to kill one man yesterday with their shelling. I mean
one civilian, of course; soldiers do not count. I suppose we are fair
targets. I have been very lucky, though, with my Batt., on the whole,
for I have only had a quarter of the casualties of my neighbour the
two last times, or even less. Of course, it is just luck, but I take
every precaution, as you know, and use my guns on their machine guns
in, I hope, a judicious manner, giving the gunners little maps of
where we have spotted them along all our long front; and so we crush
the scamps. They are a venomous crew. They marked a bridge that we
cross over a ditch, consisting of two planks and a hand-rail, and they
turned their Maxims on to that. A couple of men were there, and they
lay down on the bridge whilst the Maxim fired over their heads, cut
the hand-rail clean away, and just missed them. We got off quite well
from the trenches last night, as the enemy had had a great doing down
with us that afternoon. The threatened attack on our right either
never came off or was also beaten off; let us hope the latter. So dear
old Admiral Dennistoun has gone. At 78 one must expect to go to Heaven
shortly, but still one's friends will be sorry, no doubt, and Hal
loses his godfather. I did not know him very well myself, but I am
sorry because you were fond of him. I wonder if it is about to settle
in for cold weather in these parts. If so, we shall have attacks
across the frozen ground. Whilst it was wet the Germans could not
very well get at us without giving plenty of notice, but now they will
be able to work their way quietly across the hard earth. However, it
cuts in another way, for they are not too well clothed and they will
feel this severe weather terribly. It is horrible always to have to
hope that many Germans will be killed. On the whole, it is more
charitable to pray, I think, that the heart of the German nation may
be turned to the right course. I fancy that the people are a sober,
steady race, but they have been led astray by their warlike leaders.
Again, who would imagine that the light French character (speaking
generally as a nation) really covers a hard-working set of prosperous
farmers like these people evidently are. Well, I hope you will be out
of bed when this reaches you. I have not been able to write to the
children lately, for there has been much to do and think about. Give
them my love; thank your mother for the partridges so kindly sent, and
can you let me have some more boxes of Bryant and May's matches? About
1,000; I fancy our men would be glad of them now. You will be able to
find out through Bryant and May's how to get them across. The price is
21s., but I think they send them by the M.F.O., Southampton. Perhaps
the best way would be to despatch the first half to me by post and the
other lot by M.F.O., as the latter would arrive a month later when
required again....
I have just received a telephone message that the Germans did attack,
and were repulsed, losing heavily. They left 3 officers and 300 men
dead on one road alone from our fire. Hope our losses are light.
IN BILLETS.
_January 27th, 1915._
Sorry to hear from your letter that you are still in bed. I do not see
as much of my own bed as I would like to at present, but this thing
has to be seen through. Being the Kaiser's birthday, we anticipated an
attack, so to cheer our friends up and to show them what they might
expect we opened on them at 5 o'clock this morning with our heavy
guns. Such a row you never heard. The unbroken panes of glass in my
room have long ago had all the putty shaken out and they rattle away
to any extent when the guns are fired. It is very cold and chilly over
here now, but not freezing, and we are rejoicing in the defeat of the
Germans. They appear to be better at killing women and children with
their men-of-war than fighting our ships when they meet them. I must
say I have a poor opinion of them, not of their fighting qualities,
but because they behave so badly. Curiously enough, the enemy never
replied to our bombardment. It was directed on our right front, where
poor Bannon, my servant, whom you will remember in Dover, was killed,
and where we think these beauties gather in the mornings and stand to
arms. It was a good bombardment. If some of them were about, there
must be a lot killed. I did all I could to cheer everyone on. Well, I
went for a ride yesterday after discussing your most excellent
partridges at lunch, and saw my new draft. I am very strong, despite
my losses, and I would like to show you my battalion when it first
came out of the trenches and a month afterwards; you would see the
difference! We are about twice as strong as the regiment was under
Col. Napier at Dover. I heard from Admiral Gaunt yesterday. He has
just been promoted, and is in charge of naval barracks. I must write
him a note this morning. Wonderful people the French women! They are
like cats the way they cling to their homes. The lady of this house
has now returned, small baby and all, and has asked for two rooms.
Having succeeded, she has got an old attempt at a carpenter in, and is
boarding up the broken windows, etc. The bullet hole in the door will
puzzle him unless he stops it up with a cork. Anyhow, they are making
a most horrible din, banging away. I forgot to say that yesterday my
Mother sent me from Oakfield two pairs of thick strong socks and some
Canadian chocolate. Most useful, and very kind. I shall write soon to
thank her.
IN BILLETS.
_January 28th, 1915._
This being our last rest day, I was out shortly after five o'clock
with our acting General inspecting a new work. It is not healthy to do
so much later in the day. We found two shell holes in it as it was,
and the thing is only traced out, not made as yet. For Lady Bell's
address [the Governor of Aden's wife] you will find a book giving it
in my despatch case. Please send her my history as promised. I heard
from Lady Macready yesterday, full of life as usual. She and I have
been friends for a very long time, and we used to ride together in
Egypt years ago. Sir Nevil has been motoring round the south of France
inspecting Indian rest camps, and spent two days at Avignon on leave.
I managed to obtain the Distinguished Conduct Medal for the bugler who
always accompanies me everywhere on my peregrinations. He has been
with me through some nasty times, though nothing to talk about very
much, and I am glad to be able to reward him. Besides, it is good for
the men to find that any work well done under my own eye may win them
some recognition. I was out for a scamper yesterday afternoon
inspecting my transport. This latter, by-the-by, has been very
favourably reported on as the best looked after in the division (I am
told). It is flattering, but one never knows! My Brigadier also
complimented me on the smartness of my guards at Brigade Headquarters.
If you saw the poor dears crawling out of the trenches, caked with mud
and numbed with wet and cold, you could not understand how they could
turn themselves out fairly decently twenty-four hours later, when they
only have the one suit they are actually wearing all the time. I have
not heard if the Saddler's Company proposes to send me any coffee, but
I expect to hear in due course. As to the numb feeling in one's feet,
one never has time to rub oneself over with Bengue's ointment. It will
have to stand until the summer, I expect. The cake has duly arrived,
and is tucked away until to-night, when we arrive in our trenches
again, worse luck!...
IN TRENCHES.
_January 29th, 1915._
No letter from you last night; it must have missed the mail; but there
were several others. One from the dentist; please put it in my drawer
at home for reference. Another letter was from Mabel Stevens saying
that Percy was home again with a bad leg; and yet a third was from the
remount officer who bought my horse for the Government, telling me
that he is afraid the chestnut "Goldfinch" has been mixed up with some
horses at Southampton and given out to other people. So ends poor
"Goldfinch's" career as far as I am concerned. We hear some amusing
reports from the prisoners on our right. They say we took 2 officers
and 80 men, besides killing a large number of the 7,000 who attacked
our particular trench; also that the Germans expect to beat the
Russian Army in May, and that we have 150,000 Japanese soldiers
holding India for us! I never heard this before, nor anyone else
either! I fancy they were freely plied with ration rum, no doubt
someone else going short, and thus their original opinions were found
out. Last night was beautifully clear, with a moon. About 2 a.m. we
became aware that a party of the enemy were out in front of us only 50
yds. away, so we stealthily gathered our men up and opened a rapid
fire on them. They fled to their trenches for dear life, and have
been very vicious ever since. One of my men was shot internally just
now. I have got him away in a motor ambulance in the hopes that an
operation may save his life. I was told yesterday that Gen. Joffre
said the war would be over in March, he thought, from financial
reasons. (I wonder?) The other story I heard last night in the
trenches was that Rothschild met Kitchener and asked him when his army
was going across. K. replied: "250,000 in February, and 250,000 in
March." R. replied: "The 250,000 in February will go, but there will
be no reason for sending the 250,000 in March." Of course, this is
quite an improbable story, and K. would never really tell R. anything,
and R. would never repeat it. Anyhow, my line is fairly strong, so
that if it is not over they will not break through _here_. I am
sitting facing a window with a bright sun shining; two of the enemy
shells have just come over and burst. They each threw a shadow as they
passed. I have never seen that before. They fired a lot at us
yesterday. One six-inch howitzer sent a shell 50 yds. from us. We of
course seized the pieces as new playthings, and found first a horrible
odour arising from some acid in their high explosive, and then that
the shell appeared to be cast only of iron, and not steel. The piece I
have in front of me weighs about a pound, with dreadful jagged edges.
So soon as this shelling stops I must sneak off to try and put our
cemeteries straight. I am having some very nice wooden crosses made
for my poor men. Do tell me how Mr. Denison is? He might be interested
in some of this news, as he was a gunner, and it is all about shells,
if ever I get home to tell him! In the middle of this shelling both
sides firing hard at each other, one of my buglers has arrived with a
carrier pigeon which was knocked down by a stone. The French officer
attached to our division told me that the Germans had spent large sums
of money and established many spies as farmers here. They intended
coming in this way to France, you see. Then they had telephone wires
laid down towards Germany from various places, and I am inclined to
think some have been found. Now our numerous trenches having cut these
wires, they have to depend on something else, and I believe that
something to be carrier pigeons. The way they shell the ground we
occupy makes me think they really know where we are, and our own
military authorities do not like to take drastic action against a
person who poses as a French farmer or his wife looking for their lost
property, when of course all the time they are possibly farmers who
have been in German pay, and are probably sending information across
by carrier pigeon daily. I hope that Wilkinson in Newark is making a
good thing of the steel armour. It is rather a fine trophy to have, I
think....
_P.S._--I discovered our gunners shelling a beautiful French cemetery
the other day, because the Germans had found that we respected
churches, etc., and they therefore opened the vaults and lived in them
in the cemetery!
IN TRENCHES.
_January 30th, 1915._
Two letters from you last night, taking me up to January 27th. So glad
to hear that you are really better. I do not know what would happen to
us if we got "Flu." I suppose we should go on exactly the same. One of
the enemy's six-inch shells has just burst beside us, so I must keep
my eyes open! I started work soon after five o'clock this morning
getting road dykes cleared, as by this means I think I can drain my
own trenches better. The water has been running away merrily ever
since. Major B----, who came back about one o'clock this morning, was
helping me. I had just turned in, but my feet got so cold. I can never
sleep straight on end for four hours in my room. The Germans again
attacked on our right twice yesterday afternoon. The two attacks were
beaten off with heavy loss to the enemy, I believe. I was out with one
of my staff inspecting some works, and met the Colonel of the Lincolns
with his staff. I asked him to tea, and he refused on the ground that
"shelling time" had arrived, and he did not wish to go near our
Headquarters. Whilst he trotted off to inspect one work, I went to
another, and sure enough he was quite right. "Shelling time" had
arrived; for, instead of going for my Headquarters as usual, they
proceeded to shower shrapnel on the work he had just got into,
fortunately, without killing or hurting any of his party. Our guns are
now replying, and bits of our ruin are falling down from the shock.
Poor Gen. Baron von Ompteda! He was in the Prussian Army. It is sad
that he is killed, since you knew his wife, poor thing! Naturally one
prays for the heart of the German nation to be changed, but for me,
pending that change, I am doing my business methodically. I have just
been pointing out to the Siege Battery people where their shells will
have the best effect on the enemy. I forgot, I think, to tell you that
we obtained information from some of our prisoners of the last three
days that they found our rifle fire very deadly. Well, one of the
regiments that attacked us had already lost from our fire 320 men
since January 20th only until the 27th inst.... Not bad, and quite
true, I believe; and this going on all along the line. There was
bright moonlight last night with snow, and I may tell you that I
walked warily! I had one man killed and another wounded by the same
bullet yesterday....
IN TRENCHES.
_January 31st, 1915._
I am now waiting for your letter to-night. I cut from _The Times_ of
January 29th "Soldiers' Morals" and Lady McClintock's views. Major
Baker brought this paper across with him when he returned. Well, it is
trying to snow now, and rather cold. Yesterday I came under the fire
of a machine gun in the course of my afternoon rounds. I had gone to
see some works that the Artillery were building and which I had to
supervise. Hearing a fight break out on our right, I called to the
Engineers who were working on the parapets to jump down, as the
machine gun which was near us might be turned on them. They had barely
done so, and I had hardly gone forward with an officer to get some
other men under cover, when the next moment the bullets were whistling
all over me. I soon flew from that spot at the first crash, and got
under cover myself; a quick decision does help one at times! After
being pinned there for ten minutes or so, I managed to creep away and
get on with my rounds. There has been a cannonade on my right all
morning of the heaviest Gunner shells, I think, but we luckily go into
reserve this evening, and, failing any great alarms, are allowed to
have our boots off, and do not get up at 5 a.m. as usual. Another
curious incident occurred. Suddenly we heard the most appalling noise,
and the shell of one of our own heavy guns was seen turning head over
heels and falling solemnly within 50 yds. of a ruin where some 100
soldiers were quartered. It burst and sent any amount of rubbish over
the house. What happened was that part of the shell was defective. It
really was the driving band, which is a ring made out of copper and
riveted on. When the shell is fired, the soft copper ring slides into
the steel rifling of the gun, and thus the shell goes straight with a
spinning motion. The ring having become unriveted, the shell did not
spin, and simply turned head over heels. Was it not fortunate that it
missed the house? It is because they have no copper for these rings
that the Germans are making such strenuous efforts to find some.
Nothing else except silver or gold would be tough enough as well as
pliable enough for the purpose. They can make their fuses of
aluminium as we do, but copper for cartridge cases and driving bands
they must have, and they cannot get it....