IN TRENCHES.
_March 1st, 1915._
I enclose you a letter from one of my old Generals, Sir John Keir. I
wrote to congratulate him on receiving the "K" to his C.B., which I
helped to win him at Boshbult, S. Africa, 1902. Do not trouble to send
it back again. They have no children, and I have never met Lady Keir
so far, but if I get back to England no doubt I shall, though his
division is in Cork at present. Yesterday we were once more under
heavy fire. One shell exploded beside two men who were trying to make
some tea. I am sure the poor fellows, without thinking, gave away
their position by having too large a fire. Anyway, this shell burnt
everything round them, including the flaps of a barn door standing
upright, with nothing inflammable near, but the doors were in a blaze
in a moment, and also their clothes. One man had 18 holes in him; the
other was dreadfully scorched and hurt. I gave him morphia tablets,
but I'm afraid they did not do him much good; it was a mercy that the
doctor arrived soon to give him a proper hypodermic injection. In one
place we found a piece of shell about the size of a half lb. iron
weight which had forced its way right through, and was just under the
skin on the other side. We got that out, but he died shortly after.
They shelled us again during the night, the brutes; however, we did
not bother our heads much about that, and I had a very good night's
rest from 10 o'clock until four a.m. After all, it was not
G----S----'s husband that I met the other day. He turned out to be
Capt. Sherlock of a Militia Artillery regt., one of the family, I
fancy, who was tea-planting or something at Singapore before the war.
As to smoked herrings, I cannot say that I am very fond of them, so I
think that at present it would be as well not to send anything but
cakes, mincepies, or tartlets. Mincepies are presumably over, so
continue to send jam tartlets, please. Some day I will try to get our
cook here to see what he can do, but I am afraid our soldier man needs
more instruction before he can venture on pastry! Now I must stop, as
I have a great deal of other business to get done....
They have started shelling us again, bless them!
_March 3rd, 1915._
I was so busy yesterday that I had not a chance of sending you more
than a postcard. They sent for me to a hurried conference of the
General. I then rode off with another Colonel some miles, and after
putting on waders had to reconnoitre our new trenches and go over
other ground, marching along these under fire, with the mud, as usual,
halfway up to my waist. Such is life over here. I returned about 3
o'clock, and then I had to settle the endless questions which arise in
a regt. on active service, from getting the men new boots to arranging
whether it was safe for the shoemaker to have a fire in his corner
whilst he was busy cobbling. So far the tarts have not arrived.
Perhaps they will presently. All the war news looks good; but it is a
big war. I only wish I had been out with the "Rufford" at Weston last
week. Such a horrible day here, raining hard and everything
uncomfortable. I have managed to squeeze into a small house with my
adjutant Capt. Wright, and he has to sleep on the boards where we have
our meals, whilst the old lady and her servant cook our rations at 1-1/2
francs a day each. You should hear the French we talk!...