The Germans are an awful lot of bad shots with the rifle, but they are
good with the artillery, and that is where we have suffered most of our
losses. There have been very few to speak of who have fallen through
rifle fire. To tell you the truth, I do not seem sometimes as though I
was on a battlefield at all. I go blundering along as if I was on the
dear old sea front at Bridlington, and I find that is the best way,
for, as sure as I am living, the less you think of it all the better.
We do our best, and trust in God. You need not trouble much about me,
for I am as happy here as I am at home. It is no use being otherwise,
and it is like being on guard at home: _Pte. C. Gledhill, Coldstream
Guards_.
The Pictures!
Every morning we go within 300 yards of the place where the shells are
bursting. First you hear the shell whistling about a quarter of a mile
away like a Gabriel horn, and the nearer it gets the louder, then it
bursts like 120 tyres bursting together. At first it frightened the
life out of me. I was digging some potatoes in a garden, and one burst
about 200 yards away. I left the potatoes and hopped it--I did the
fastest 100 yards on record. When you hear a shell coming it is best to
lie flat--it’s quite amusing to see everybody drop to the ground. It
reminds one of the pictures: _Pte. Noel Withers, Army Service Corps_.
Healing Nicely!
I got shrapnel in the face, and it entered just by my eye and came
through my mouth, splitting my face open and fracturing my jaw. Lucky
for me my sight is not gone. My face is stitched up and healing nicely,
but I’m afraid I’m disfigured for life. The beggars were not content
with that--they shot me through the left forearm and fractured the
bone. I’ve got it in plaster of Paris. I am glad to say I am not in
much pain now, and I am as strong as an ox. I had to leave everything
on the battlefield, including my pipe and the pouch you gave me. Your
photo, taken at Paddington, I had in a waterproof case with some more:
_A Private of a Field Battery_.