ONE YOUNG MAN ON ACTIVE SERVICE
Sydney Baxter was sent with his unit to Rouen. He writes:
"We were tightly packed in a small tent at Rouen Camp. The
following morning and afternoon we were busily engaged in
being fitted out with extra equipment and ammunition, and so
did not have time to look around. We had great hopes,
however, of seeing the city in the evening, but we had to
'Stand by' and on no account leave camp. This was horrible.
The tents were too dark to play cards, we had no reading
matter or letters to answer, and once more seemed doomed to
an evening of deadly dreariness. However, we decided to
patrol the camp, my chum and I. As we walked off together we
little dreamed that exactly one month from that day he was
to be called upon to pay the supreme sacrifice of all. We
walked round that camp, feeling that in each other we had
our only link with home, with past associations. We did not
speak much. Each had his own thoughts, each was
subconsciously leaning on the other for support, for the
coming unknown experiences. It was a cold March evening, and
for want of anything to do, and in the hope of getting a
little warmth, we decided to go back to our tent and turn
in. I have tried to give an idea of how we were feeling; it
can be summed up as tired and cold--and a bit homesick.
"It was just then that we spotted a tent with the sign of
'The Red Triangle.' We had visions of hot tea. An oasis in
the desert could not have been more welcome. We entered the
large tent; it was very full, and a long line was patiently
awaiting the turn for purchasing. There was no shouting, no
pushing or elbowing to get up to the front and be served
first. The tent was really and truly a haven of peace--such
a welcome port of call. On the small tables were magazines
and 'Blighty' newspapers, paper and envelopes were given for
the asking, and a gramophone was grinding out the tunes we
all loved. We sat at one of the tables, so thankful for such
a change of scene, and for the warmth of the hot tea. The
same welcome, the same homely atmosphere, were here as in
the other Y.M. centres. One felt, _one was made to feel_,
that his was the right to enter and stay and enjoy himself
each in his own way, and that is why the Y.M. is so popular,
and why both the taciturn and the jocular find their way by
common consent to these Y.M.C.A. tents."
In a few days came the order to proceed to Ypres. He writes:
"We swung round into the station yard, and were allotted to
our compartments, fondly imagining we should be off in a few
minutes. We took off our equipment and other paraphernalia,
and settled down for our journey. A minute or so afterwards
the order was passed down that the train would not start
before 7 o'clock, and that men might leave their
compartments but not the station. Here was a fine look-out.
It was only about 2 o'clock, and we had to look forward to
at least five hours of weary waiting, without anything hot
to drink and only bully and biscuits to eat. It was not a
pleasant prospect, you will agree, but apparently it was
nothing out of the usual, for the 'Association of the Red
Triangle' was ready and waiting for us, and had a large
canteen, run entirely by ladies, on the station. Here we
were able to provide for our journey, fill our water-bottles
with tea and our haversacks with ham, rolls, and fruit. This
was the best refreshment room I have been into, and it was
our last glimpse of English ladies for many months. These
ladies are doing a splendid and most self-sacrificing work,
for their hours are long and their duties heavy. I wonder if
it has ever occurred to them how much their presence meant
to us boys? For many they were the last seen of the
womanhood of our race."
I wonder too. Will any of those ladies read these lines? I hope
so--I'd like them to know what their presence meant to just one of the
boys they have been serving so well. They will have their reward. I
should like them to have just one word of a Tommy's thanks now. He
continues:
"In our little compartment of six two were killed within a
month and one wounded; the other three survived until the
first of July, when one was killed, one was taken a prisoner
of war, and I was wounded and rendered unfit for further
service. When at last our train started, amid rousing cheers
for the ladies and a fluttering of white handkerchiefs from
the little group on the station platform, we seemed to leave
the last of civilisation behind.
"Before midnight we were under shell-fire in the Infantry
Barracks of Ypres."
He writes to his mother:
"My word we _were_ tired at the end of the journey. We are
stationed in the military barracks of the city, and have had
a chance of looking round the town. The buildings,
especially the cathedral, are very much damaged. The only
discomforts are the lack of food and the absence of money to
buy it. Both G. and I landed here without a penny, but
managed to borrow enough to buy a loaf. We know now what it
is to be hungry; we have 1/4 lb. of bread a day only, and no
milk in the tea, so you can see that what you want you must
buy, and it's terribly expensive here, 6_d_. for a loaf,
etc. But we shall be paid in a day or so. The only things
which are really necessary, and which we cannot get here,
are candles and Oxo cubes. Although I don't want to be a
burden to you, I should like you to send 1 lb. of candles
and some cubes. The candles are used for boiling water or
tea, etc., in the trenches, and it is the only way we can
get anything hot. Of course anything in the way of food is
acceptable, but I can understand that you have enough to do
without extra trouble and expense. Anyway, should any kind
friends wish to send, please let them do so.
"We are two miles from trenches, and shall be going in on
Sunday. A few shells are knocking round, but we take no
notice and sleep well. Well, don't worry. We are in
comfortable billets and with very decent fellows, and they
have shared their bread, etc., with us."
I shall not attempt to picture Sydney Baxter's daily life in the
terrible salient of Ypres in any detail, but that I may prove my words
that he was a typical soldier let me quote just one letter received at
this time.
"MY OWN DEAR MOTHER,
"I have not been able to write before as we have just come
out of the trenches after being there since Monday. Thanks
very much for sweets and letters. They are very acceptable
indeed. Thanks for P.O. We have now been paid, and so shall
be all right. Chocolates, handkerchiefs, etc., are fine.
Neither George nor I felt anything peculiar when coming
under fire as I expected we should. We were all right in the
trenches, which are very good indeed. They are a bit
different to what I expected, but of course they vary. It
seems to me safer to be in the trenches than out; however,
it is bad luck if you are hit. No one was killed in our
company all the time we were in, and only three wounded, so
you will see there is not much to worry about; and with some
pay and parcels which I have received, and about twelve
letters, I feel much better."
Sydney Baxter often mentions his chum in this record and I think the
following extract from George's letter about this time may well be
inserted here. The two boys were inseparable until the last and
absolute bodily separation between the living and the dead.
"Everything is going on all right with us. We have finished
our first taste of trench life, and on the whole it was
rather enjoyable. We went in last Monday and came out late
on Saturday. The first two or three days were wet, so our
opportunities for sleep were few, especially as at our part
of the trench there were no dug-outs and our sleep had to be
obtained in the open air. In fact, until the fourth day I
only had one hour's sleep, and on the last day I managed
about five hours. The chief trouble was trying to boil
water, but we managed by cutting a candle into small pieces
and putting this, with a piece of rag, into a tin, using the
rag as a wick.
"Our five days and nights were on the whole fairly quiet; in
fact, during the day hardly any shots were exchanged, most
of the firing being done at night. During the day it was
impossible to look over the trench, as we were only fifty
yards from the Germans, so we considered it advisable not to
exhibit too much curiosity in case our health suffered
thereby. At night time the Germans use star-shells to
illuminate the proceedings, and they always seem nervy and
think we are going to attack their trench. If we start
firing a little more than usual they think it is the signal
for an attack, and they blaze away like fury. We had a good
example of this on our last night in the trenches.
"Someone started firing, someone else took it up and in no
time the noise was like the final end-up of fireworks at the
White City. From that it got much worse, and I suppose they
really thought we were going for them, so their artillery
sent us a few shells; but they did no damage. Eventually
they seemed satisfied that we were quite safe, so they wound
up the proceedings.
"There is one lot here who, whenever they go into the
trenches, shove their hats on their rifles, wave them about,
and then shout across to the Germans to come out in the open
and have a proper fight. Whenever this happens the Germans
lie low and hardly fire a shot.
"One advantage of being so close to the Germans is that they
cannot shell us without damaging their own trench as much as
ours, so that, although we heard plenty going along
overhead, we had none very near us."
One Young Man at Hill 60