I have a month’s growth of whiskers, and I look horrid. We are all the
same. I have not had a chance of a wash for a week. The last wash I
had was after twenty-four chaps had washed in one bucket. At the time
of writing I am soaking wet, and am waiting for the sun to dry me. We
are all ready for anything. We have lost thirty of our men. Thank God,
I am spared, but I am ready to die for the old country. I have been
soaking wet for a week, but we are on the move--too exciting to notice
anything: _Pte. T. Percy, Army Veterinary Corps_.
“Nearer, my God, to Thee”
It was raining like blazes and a cold, wretched night. We all knew we
were going into action in the morning, and we stood together while
shelter was found for us. Suddenly somebody started to sing “Nearer, my
God, to Thee,” and the whole battalion took it up, and we sang it right
through. Next we had the “Glory Song,” and it was impressive. We went
into action the next day, and on the following night twenty-five or
thirty of our men who had sung those hymns were buried, and an officer
who read the service was in tears: _Pte. Baker, Coldstream Guards_.