Do you send any of my letters on to Winnie? or anybody? After work
to-day we went into the town to have tea. After tea we met some of our
men and gave them some pay, pro. tem., as they have had no pay for two
weeks or so and were broke. Then I bought a Pearson's magazine (price
1s.) and we started for home and got a lift on a 3-ton A.S.C. lorry,
from which I dropped the magazine, unfortunately. I am billeted in an
estaminet by myself, and Bill Fiddian is with two other officers on
the same course in another estaminet in a large room with three beds,
out of which all the bedrooms open. Grandma groans in one small room,
Monsieur and Madame and about two dozen others in another small room
and two officers in two other small rooms. Grandma has just gone to
bed; she has attained to the small total of 97 years and seems able to
look after herself. We have just been having a long talk with Madame,
who brought us up our dinner, an omelette and coffee. We have been
reading and talking, and on Monday we shall return to the battalion.
The big candle you sent me is topping and is lasting for hours. The
guns are at it again--they have been busy all day. The Germans were
here once, but they are not here now. Since coming out here I have
come to be very proud of the battalion. I have seen no battalion with
their physique and few with their discipline. They sing a song about
the Suffolk boys being respected wherever they go, and I think they
are. In comparing them with other men, I have been struck, and so have
others, with how fair they are. Most of them have very fair hair,
often gold, and fair rosy cheeks. They seem a very Saxon type. I have
been wondering whether they are descendents of the Danes and Saxons,
who took refuge in the fens in Norman times, a memory of Hereward the
Wake. The fen men have always been a separate race; they must have
very little Norman blood in their veins. They have the Saxon stolidity
also. I am very glad I am not in a town battalion like the
Northumberlands and such regiments. They are not nearly so easy to
control or so well disciplined, and I am pleased to discern to-day
that our men seem much quicker in picking up new ideas, despite the
fact that they are not so educated. Well, I am afraid all this is very
boring. But, as I have suddenly developed into a writer of letters, I
must write either just what comes into my head or nothing at all. It
seems funny this long, stretching line of trenches, always busy even
in the quietest of times. By daytime guns and shells; by night, bombs,
flares, searchlights and machine guns. And a few miles behind it as we
are, perfectly safe as if there was no such thing as war, with only
the faint noises one notices, now faintly, now clearly, as the wind
varies to remind one of the struggle going on. It seems funny to lie
in a comfortable bed and watch it all through the window as on a
stage. Noises off.
Please send me big candles when you send a parcel. This one is lasting
beautifully. Yesterday (Sunday) we fired off the mortar in the
morning, and in the afternoon went into the town for dinner. I wanted
to go to a Catholic Church in the evening to see what it is like,
because, of course, there are no Protestant Churches here.
This afternoon we went to the Theatre of the Division we are attached
to. They have a cinematograph and a band, orchestra and concert party,
all composed of Tommies. They are at present in what I think must be
part of a disused factory, and it was a very good show. I went and one
of the other officers on the course, and two of the officers whose
battalion we are attached to. Then we had dinner with them in their
company mess, and a jolly good dinner, too, and after we talked. It
was very interesting, as they have been out over six months
continually, and not lost a single officer I think. They had some very
amusing yarns. I will tell you sometime.
When I returned to my billet I had an awful business. It was one of
the blackest nights I have ever seen. I have never before remembered a
night, when you literally could not see your hand six inches before
your nose. Last night you could not--I tried. Also the darkness was
misty as well, it simply got up and hit you in the face. I started
back once--it quite seemed as if someone was striking a blow.
To-day we did one of the most curious and typical things of modern
warfare. At 10-30 we went out for a walk--five of us--and our
destination was the trenches, just for a few hours' joy ride. We
walked about five miles along the road, and then about a mile across
open fields. The last mile, of course, was within rifle range of the
German trenches, but they could not see you, except from observation
posts, and if they could we were too far off to make the shot easy
enough to make it worth trying. The only disturbing thing was the
behaviour of our own artillery, who suddenly let off a gun, only a few
yards from the road on which we were walking, and made a horrid row.
The curious thing about this trench warfare is that a trench is such a
small thing to hit that the German and our own artillery have given up
trying to do any real damage, but they have come to a sort of
agreement to keep their faces up and to impress upon the infantry in
the trenches that there is some reason for an artilleryman being paid
more than the infantry. Accordingly, they plant their wretched guns
near a road, and when anyone goes along it they let off a round just
to see him jump. The shell probably falls in Holland or in our own
lines. Anyway, it does no damage, and the artillery enjoy their little
joke all right. It has become almost second nature with them. Of
course, the new batteries take some training--they lack humour. One
battery let one Brigadier-General, one Colonel and a transport mule go
past and each time forgot about loosing off a round. At the end of the
cross country jaunt we came across the beginning of the works of the
Cave-men. You may have seen some in England--they disguise themselves
as earth and then dig long narrow holes and live in them. The Cave-men
are strange creatures. We went up one of then funny long narrow
burrows, and occasionally they let off a funny toy which cracked
overhead. At length we came to the real caves where these men live. I
noticed that they were very vain men and were continually looking into
a sort of box thing, with a glass at the end, and admiring themselves
therein, and then so intoxicated were they with the sight that they
would put a stick to their shoulder and break forth into smoke and
flame. The name of this people is the Tribe of Tommizi.
And I noticed their gods visited them. Speckless mortals, clothed in
fine linen, wearing turbans or caps, as they call them, trimmed with
red and gold, and so appalling was their aspect that the Cave-men
were, as it were, turned to stone, and stood with their hand to their
hats as if to guard against a blow, or to ward off the evil eye. And
behold, a terrible dragon screamed across the sky, shouting out with
hate and roaring as the thunder, and fell and burst itself asunder,
and I fled, and the Cave-men laughed, for their gods in red were there
and they feared not. I expect the above gives you a good picture of
trench life. It is as given me by a friend of mine who visited these
men--my own experiences were different.
My own experiences I will call "An Idyll of Spring" in blank verse,
without the blanks and without the verse, and will be continued in our
next.
We wandered up the communication trench and nosed all along the firing
line, only 50 yards from the German trench--I thought it was topping.
I had a good look, with a periscope, while a sniper vainly tried to
hit it, and its owner became nervous of losing it. I enjoyed my visit
very much. Wednesday: The Brigade Major came to see me, and told me
that I am to command the Brigade Trench Mortar Battery, so I am now
one of the working members of the Brigade Staff, though I don't wear a
red hat. I was very pleased. He took me back to Brigade Headquarters
for tea and dinner and I had a very good time. But, unfortunately, I
had to come home in the dark. All the roads round here have ditches on
either side. It was pitch dark, I did not know the road, and it was
too dark to see the turnings oft. I missed my way and went miles. I
hated it. I don't mind a German, but I don't like the dark. Thursday:
We amused ourselves, and at 3-0 I went to see the Brigade Major of the
Brigade, to which we were attached for instruction, and he sent us to
the reserve billets, within a mile or so from the firing line, which
they have a stupid habit of shelling. It keeps waking you up in the
night. Then this morning we marched off and got two 'busses back to
the place we were in two weeks ago, after our first move, well back
about ten miles or so, to train the battery. It is a topping little
village on a slight hill, and we have topping billets. Fiddian is with
me at present. We have a room each, a feather bed with clean sheets
and a nice little sitting room. The men are in a topping loft with
plenty of straw and seem very happy. We are going to dinner with the
Colonel of the 16th Royal Scots. I command the battery and have the
powers of a Battalion Commander. I am absolutely on my own, no Company
Commander, no Battalion Commander, only the Brigade can give me
orders. Fiddian is second in command. We have four gun detachments. I
hope the war goes on for ever as far as myself is concerned; at
present I like it all, even including the trenches.
Much love to all, Mother dear,
From your loving Son,
ALEC.
P.S.--I have just received your letter dated January 30th. The reason
some of my letters are dated differently inside from out is that I
begin writing a new letter directly the old one goes off and they take
some days to write, and also posting is often delayed. I am very busy
organising the battery at present, and have a lot of work to do. I
have just got my guns (4) to-night. The first place we were in was
near St. Omer, and it was there we went to shop. I am allowed to tell
you now--it is some time since we left there.
Please send me my Sam Browne belt as soon as possible. I am awfully
sorry to hear that Father has been ill. Please give him my very best
love as always, and tell him I do not write to him separately as my
letters are always family affairs, and I cannot write more than one.
Does anyone else see my letters? If you see the Aunts please give them
my very best love too. Please thank Auntie Agnes for writing me such
an interesting letter. It was awfully nice of her to write, and I will
try to answer it. She asked if she could do anything for me--well, I
don't want to trouble her, but if she really would like to, a cake
sent any time she is making them would be very acceptable. You can get
no cakes out here. Also I should like you to take my letters to the
Aunts and Uncle Ted any time you go to see them, and read them any
bits that may interest them. You have no idea, but I know you have,
how I appreciate letters, especially the topping long one I have just
received from you. My letters are very much delayed at present as I am
detached from the battalion and being moved about. I have little time
to complete letters before there is more news to tell.
Good-night, little Mother, give them all a good-night kiss from me. I
hope Charlie is fit and well.
Much love to all,
From your loving Son,
ALEC.
11TH SUFFOLKS,
B.E.F., Monday, February 7th.