In Trenches.
February 18th, 1915.
You ask about H—— having a pony; I think he had better get thorough confidence in the donkey first, and learn to go by himself. The reason is plain to anyone who goes in for horses much. A donkey, though it kicks a good deal, generally has its hind feet unshod, and in any case does not kick hard enough to more than hurt a little. A pony, on the contrary, is very liable to throw one off and then kick one's skull in. I remember my brother H—— being knocked off and kicked by a mare. A little nearer, and he would never have moved again. Therefore I think it would be wiser to get our boy used to his donkey and not afraid of it. I will have a look at him when (and if) I get home again. Yesterday I went in the afternoon to put our cemetery straight. It was being shelled at the time, and as I crept round some of our batteries afterwards, the guns were being hit, also a rather nice farm in which they were placed surrounded by a moat. The enemy have been shelling us this morning too, very closely, but I am tired, and my nerves, as you know, are not very jumpy! I was up just after 3 o'clock this morning, and went to various places, nearly being lost in a quagmire! Two of my men were hit, one by a spent bullet in the stomach. We can see the bullet, so I expect he will not die. The other was shot through the thigh, and the bullet stuck in his hand! We have got it out, and I am forwarding it to the authorities, as it has taken such a queer shape that one wonders if the German bullets are according to rules. This is a sketch of the bullet as it was originally and now. You can imagine what pain such a thing must give....
In Billets.
February 19th, 1915.
We are in support now. As we moved down here one of my men was hit in the "hinder parts." Very unfair advantage for an enemy to take. Of course it was dark; we found, however, that he was not dangerously wounded. That man whose bullet I drew you yesterday had his thigh bone smashed, poor fellow! Did you see that some officers who were prisoners had been exchanged by Germany (the incurable ones)? The two seniors mentioned I knew. One was Major Davey of the Middlesex Regt., whose brother lives in Newark. The other is Major Chichester, with whom I used to hunt in Dover. Did you see French's last despatches? I heard from Aden last night. The Colonel next junior to me out there sent all the news. They have had heavy rain, and the whole place is green (?). It is said not to have happened since the Flood! Then I received a pessimistic letter from Aunt H—— telling me that lots of wounded were expected and that the war would not cease. The Kaiser is not running this world's course. He is only allowed to go on as far as is good for him and for us. If he were, I should be pessimistic too, but I have yet to learn that "the arm of the Lord is shortened," and until then we can rest in peace no matter what happens, my dear. I enclose you a cutting from the People sent by Aunt H—— about the Saddlers' Co. All the Lauries belong to it. My Father was Master more than once, and also Uncle Alfred. A bright beautiful springlike day, but a little cold. The pudding arrived yesterday; many thanks for it. Our dinner also consisted of smoked sprats from Major Baker; cake and tinned peaches from Capt. Wright; figs and ginger from Mr. Brown, so we did not do badly. We had an adventure last night with a wagon which contained our little all. The man drove carelessly, and the wagon fell into a ditch 3 feet deep in water. After carefully unloading it, I gave them a pair of horses and 50 men to get it out. They pulled it up all right, but it next fell into the ditch on the other side, where it had to be left till the morning, when we sent out just at dawn and brought it in. All this kept us late for dinner, as you may imagine....
In Billets.
February 20th, 1915.
No letters at all, as, owing to the submarines, we are dodging the mails across somewhere else, I expect. The great difficulty is to catch your submarine, though you may see him often enough. The craze for going boating in these vessels will shortly die out amongst the Germans, I fancy, when they find out the number of boats that do not come home! At present they are looking out for one or two which I understand will not reappear, and thus they have to keep ships cruising about in search of them with petrol and food. Of course these are neutral ships; but it adds to our chance of finding out where and how these knaves draw their supplies! I have heard that it is from Ireland; but I expect the Government knows more than it lets out. Yesterday the Germans shelled us for an hour and a half; they just missed us, and killed a poor civilian behind the houses instead. They have increased our leave by one day now; still, whether they will grant mine a second time is uncertain, but I continue to hope. The awkward part is that they never let me know in time to write and tell you. Supposing it is granted, I may arrive on the night of February 25th; but if I do get across I must do a little shopping in London first, and fit myself out with some things I badly want: then I shall come on to you as soon as possible. It is rather a bore that the war will not stop, and I am annoyed that I have been kept out in India and away from you for over two years! The weather is improving here and getting more springlike. What are the Germans going to do now?...
February 21st, 1915.
I was very glad to hear from you yesterday, when two of your letters arrived together. Of course we had been done by these German submarines; so evidently the authorities thought it wiser not to run the Folkestone boats all through the day, for fear of giving the Germans an opportunity of sinking them! I fancy at night you are as likely as not to run over a submarine. In the same way I make no doubt that many of the German ones have been run down and sunk on the quiet. We go into the trenches again to-night, worse luck! My leave was refused on the ground that the General was not giving anyone a second leave, but the Staff captain added that it was only a matter of a few weeks' delay, when he would probably grant it if he could. I have been over to my transport lines on horseback this morning. I have to keep my eye on some 60 horses and mules who mostly stand out in muddy fields; but as they are very well fed and not overworked at present, there is nothing much wrong with them, excepting that their thick woolly coats gather vermin a little. I have had broken bricks and cinders put down for them to stand on, and thus lifted them out of the mud. I was over yesterday getting my hair cut, when I met Mr. Sherlock out for a walk, and as I was obliged to wait for an hour or so, I had tea with him. He told me that my name was mentioned in French's despatches. Well, that is quite pleasant, and I hope next time some of my officers will join me. Do you remember a Col. Gough in Dublin about the time we were married? Well, he is Brigadier-General on the Staff now, and yesterday went down to our lines of trenches. He was shot through the groin, and I am afraid has been very badly wounded. The enemy proceeded to shell E—— yesterday whilst I was there. Their gun must have been 5 miles from it. The first shot knocked a big tree down in a timber yard, of all places, but did no further damage. The second one went over my head, fell in a soft place, and exploded its energy in nothing. Then I left E——. Monson, my old servant, has joined me, looking more like a cross between an owl and a stork than ever!...
In Trenches.
February 23rd, 1915.
Just now we are undergoing a shelling from a heavy German howitzer; a piece fell at my feet as I was outside talking to Col. Spedding, cousin to Major Spedding of my regiment, whom you knew. He tells me that Major S. is supposed to be dead, but the difficulty is that every now and then some rumour comes that he has been seen alive, and poor Mrs. Spedding catches at any hope. He was a brave man, which, after all, is what we want. I enclose you my sister Amy's letter. Yesterday I had to go off to look at some forts. The German snipers were busy, though there was so thick a mist that they could not see me. Still, their bullets fell pretty close, and hit one of the forts; a man was also wounded in the leg. It shows how dangerous this unaimed fire can be when it comes in quantities. I had a quaint postcard from Sydney in reply to my last letter. Yes; I saw that Massereene, poor Herbert Stepney, and many others I know were mentioned in the despatches. The Military Cross is a new order, awarded to junior officers. As to the Russians, they have large numbers of men, but are still unfortunately short of equipment. Germany had plenty of men, though she never imagined that she would have to get the last 2 millions out. They were not trained, but neither were the Russians; I think, however, that we shall wear them down all right in the end. The Germans are supposed to have used up half their last million already. Our days here are very hard; for instance, I was up at 2 a.m., and have been walking or working ever since then, arranging with engineers or Generals or artillery officers what is to be done. I lay down for an hour after 6 o'clock, but could not sleep on account of cold feet.
In Trenches.
February 24rd, 1915.
I am glad you had a pleasant "meet" at Ossington, and I am much obliged for Mr. Denison's kind inquiries after me. I know how seriously ill he is, but I think it is quite likely many of us will go before.... We had a sharp frost last night, though my men are fairly used to it now. They are just like a lot of naughty children! For instance, I had two killed yesterday, through either their own or their comrades' faults. One man was watching our guns shelling the enemy's trenches. He was told to lie down or he would be shot. He did so, and the moment he saw a favourable opportunity he popped up again, and was promptly shot dead. The other was in front of the trenches mending wires, and his comrades, seeing that their N.C. officer was out, joyfully seized the occasion to stoke their fire and have a big blaze. The result was the unfortunate man showed up against it and was shot through the head; and their fire was kicked bodily into the water by an irate N.C.O. But they will do exactly the same to-morrow and the next day and the day after! The fact is, they never think! I am waiting now to take the Brigade Major and one of "K.'s Army" round the trenches to show them what I can, so that K.'s officer may not have quite a "green" crew when he arrives. More Germans have gathered in front of us lately, I think. I have written to London for an awfully good new waterproof, as I must keep dry, and I have had to send to "Flight" for a new uniform coat. When they come I shall be fairly set up, though the trenches have played havoc with my riding things; but they will have to do for the present. Would you kindly look in my unpainted tin-lined box and get me out a pair of khaki puttees. If you cannot find them there, they will be in a black wooden box. Get someone to help you. Both trunks are in the box-room, but do not catch cold when watching them. I have now returned from the trenches. We were sniped a little; the General went up another trench alongside us with the adjutant of a certain regiment, Capt. Thompson, and he, poor fellow! was killed. He was a good sort, and was in here yesterday to see me, and talking about his 3 children so cheerily: one, a boy, at, I think, the Beacon School, Sevenoaks, and on his way to Eton. Mr. Adderley came back this morning with a wonderful story that the Navy had caught an oil tank vessel supplying oil to the German submarines, and that the crew were taken to our Depot in Belfast and there shot! Presumably it is not true!...
February 25th, 1915.
Thanks for your letter. I heard from Sir John, and there was one, too, from my Mother, who is a very regular correspondent. Aunt Mary Cowell's letter turned up also, so I must get letters of thanks written to everyone in due course. To-night I am dining with Gen. Pinney. He and I are supposed to be the two optimists of the Division. Snow on the ground and rather cold. I hope the Germans are very cold and short of food! I am waiting to find out the time of poor Capt. Thompson's funeral. He was killed when with the General yesterday, as I told you. Sir John Ross is most kind in his remarks, is he not? I thought I had told you that B. and M.'s matches duly arrived. I am sure, in fact, that I did do so. Hal is not too young to ride a pony soon, though Sydney would be; but then you want a man to keep him well on the lead at first. My idea is, as I said before, that when he gets absolutely au fait with his donkey, it would be time enough to put him on a pony. When a boy is over 8 or 9, it is safe to let him ride regularly. Earlier than that, I don't approve of. I fancy that this Dardanelles business, if properly run, will lead to great results. Personally, I always thought that they had too many troops in Egypt for the sole purpose of defence. Now I suppose they will put some of them up the Dardanelles, and Dame Rumour says that Generals of the Naval Divisions have gone across to the Dardanelles already, but, of course, that may not be true....
(From Sir J. Ross of Bladensburg.)
Rostrevor House,
Rostrevor, Ireland.
20.2.15.
My dear G——,
Very many congratulations on your being mentioned in despatches, which we are so delighted to see. All the more credit to you that, although you have been out at the front for some time, you were not there at the beginning of the war, and I know in all these cases, when other things are equal, the "mention" goes to those who have been out the longest. I think you know about as much of what is going on as we do, for, on the whole, we are told very little. Yet I am glad to say we are promised two short official accounts every week, and so we must be grateful for that amount of news. The main question outside the actual operations relates to the German intention; if they can torpedo every ship they see, whether it belongs to a belligerent or a neutral! It was always held to be a piece of cruel barbarity to sink a trading vessel without notice, even if belonging to a belligerent nation, the right course being to find out first whether she is a belligerent or not, and then to capture her. It was never considered fair warfare to touch a neutral. But who can say what "Kultur" will bring us to? Most people would call it unblushing piracy and attempted wholesale murder. But we will see what happens. Naval "Kultur" began the day before yesterday, and the report to-day is that a Norwegian neutral was torpedoed. F—— is very well, but does not come here till April. Sydney is here, and is getting fat and chubby, a delightful little boy, and keeps us all very cheery. We have had two delicious days as far as weather is concerned. I hope you have had the same change for the better.
May God keep you safe and sound, dear old G——, is, with our love, our very earnest hope.
I am,
Yours affectionately,
J.R. of B——.
February 26th, 1915.
We went to poor Capt. Thompson's funeral yesterday, Major B. and myself. A military funeral in the field is of three sorts. Well away from the enemy the soldier is borne on a stretcher, sewn up in his blankets and wrapped in a flag. Nearer the enemy you dispense with a flag; and finally, of course, in the trenches, when you cannot get out, you crawl down a ditch and dig a hole in the side and bury the poor fellow. Ours was of the second sort, as it was within long-range rifle fire, but somewhat screened by a hedge. Four officers carried the stretcher, and about six others followed behind. The grave was lined with wheaten straw, unthreshed, and the clergyman read a very short service, and then we all slipped quietly away. After the funeral we trotted on to the 5th Battery. They are friends of ours, and had been heavily shelled the day before; we telephoned them to inquire the result, but had received no answer. The operator, it seems, was obliged to take refuge in a cellar with some women and children, for the enemy positively rained shells upon them, fortunately, however, from a field gun only. Then shells struck the house itself, and the others made holes in the ground round it. Two went through the adjoining windows, two others into the dust-heap, etc. The cause of it was that the French owner had brought a threshing machine and was threshing out his wheat. Of course, the smoke of the engine attracted the Germans at once. The French are very much amused at this, I am told, for they do not allow any such things near their lines; but our Staff are soft-hearted. I had a very pleasant little dinner with Gen. Pinney last night, and played Bridge for an hour—the first game I have had time for since I left the transport at Liverpool. That will give you an idea of how busy I am. When I can, I sleep; otherwise I work hard. We are looking forward to more tartlets. I do not believe in riding lessons at present for H——. Let Sheppard teach him. My father showed me how to hold the reins, and I learnt the remainder myself. Far and away the best way too....
February 27th, 1915.
A very cold day with east wind. It will be bitter in the trenches. I hope the Germans are finding it so! I send you a note from some R.I.C. Sergeant in Belfast. Your extract from the Irish Evening Telegraph about me is rather amusing! As to your going to Ireland, it is early yet to decide. Who knows what a day may bring forth at any time? So poor Mr. Gorton has gone. The people in his village will miss him greatly. I will try and put a note in this letter for Patience Gorton, as I know her best, and you can send it on. I always forget the name of their place. By the way, I remember now that it is called Walesby, so will post it direct and save you the trouble. I am glad you thought of sending a wreath. I went for a long ride with the object of seeing someone in the Border Regt. yesterday whom Major Baker knew. Not one officer who came out with that regiment is with it now. This gives you an idea of what is going on here....
Royal Irish Constabulary Barracks,
Chichester Park, Belfast.
February 20th, 1915.
Lieutenant-Colonel G.B. Laurie.
Sir,
We write to say how very glad we are to see that you are safe and well. We were delighted to see by the papers that you were among those mentioned for gallantry in the despatch sent home a few days ago by Field-Marshal Sir John French. We have tried to locate the different gentlemen now on active service who had been residing in this district, and the press is our medium—it was there we learnt you were at the front, and we are most anxious, and dearly hope that they all, who were when here so very kind to us, and are now risking their lives that we may be free—may be restored to their homes in perfect health and strength.
This is the spirit which prompts the writing of this letter, and we beg of you not to think us unduly familiar, but rather that we most sincerely hope that you may have perfect health and strength, and, above all, that you may, when the time comes, return home safe and well.
Your obedient servant,
Jeremiah Lee,
Sergt. R.I.C.
February 28th, 1915.
I had a hurried ride yesterday in a piercing wind to see my 70 or 80 horses. In the afternoon, just as we were starting off to the trenches, we were stopped and told to wait whilst the Gunners tried to cut the wire in front of the German trenches with shells. Such a course of action may lead to heavy sniping, as you can quite well imagine. However, we got in all right by eight o'clock, and I wandered round my trenches until between 12 and 1 o'clock a.m. This morning we received a notice that we were to be withdrawn to reserve to-morrow or the next day, owing to more troops coming into the line. I had to take the General round who succeeds me in these trenches. He seemed such a nice man. We are supposed to leave to-morrow night if these people can get out from their trenches. The enemy is shelling us now, and as it is a particularly clear day they are using it to the best advantage to try and destroy us. I must turn our guns on to them if they go on like this. I only wish we could swamp the brutes with numbers and get the war over. I am not disturbed about Russia. If we can get the Dardanelles open, we can easily send her ammunition and equipment for her spare men, and so end the war more quickly; but, failing that, I think Russia will easily foil Germany, and spring at her again and again until she is worn out. I had a letter of congratulation from your sister Mabel. Very kind of her....
In Trenches.
Ash Wednesday, 1915.
A wet, muggy morning. I have been waiting for 3 hours to accompany the General round the lines since 6.30 a.m. At 9.30 I telephoned in, and found that he had gone to some other duty and forgotten me! However, it cannot be helped. He and I are really very friendly. More fighting on our right, with very heavy big gun fire. I expect the brickfields at La Bassée are again being a scene of mortal combat. We were ordered last night to try to ascertain if the Germans still occupied their trenches as usual; so we crept out and looked about, and found everything much the same. As to the khaki-coloured shirts, would you have them put away by sizes, please, when they are made up, till wanted; the present ones will wear out with a rush from being worn night and day, and from having been badly washed and scorched when drying, so they may be wanted in a hurry. Whilst waiting about here this morning, I amused myself by looking for shell holes round our ruins. So far as I can see, they are everywhere, like the holes in a sponge for numbers. My artillery is just going to blow up a house where the enemy hid a machine gun last night, and which opened on us during the night and thought we did not know! I also have another R.A. officer throwing tins full of gun cotton and nails into the German trenches at this very moment. A nice Christian occupation, truly! I ought to know in a few days if there is any chance of second leave or not.
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 1-½ francs a day each. You should hear the French we talk!...
Glad the children liked the "meet."
Your letter did not turn up yesterday! I have been most busy with various things. If you saw my men in a spinning mill sleeping under engines, etc., you would wonder how we exist! Of course, Spring is coming on, and we shall then have to go in for business of the worst type; so whilst someone else is holding the lines, we are now trying to get our men fit for this work. Meals here are quaint, run by a servant girl. She brings breakfast of coffee without milk and an omelette, but we always have our ration of bacon as well. That was a difficulty at first, as neither the adjutant's nor my book gave the French for bacon. However, by introducing the word cochon, we arrived at the fact that here amongst her class it was called porc—so there we are! Then luncheon is a sad affair, with generally some cold thing followed only by cheese. At tea (made very weak) from our ration stuff, she now gives us toast, though there, again, we had no such word in our book. I managed to remember that it was pain roti, and we got along. Dinner is not bright, but yesterday we were blessed with a pudding of rice strongly flavoured with vanilla. To-day I am off for a wade with my officers to show them what they must learn about my new lines. Such a trouble as it is getting there, with shell flying and bursting all around one, and rifle bullets humming everywhere. I hate this business cordially, but what will you! If these scamps are not driven back, they will try to rule the world, and will kill and burn as they think fit, and that will not do at all! The Russians seem to be doing good work in killing the unfortunate Germans. Let us hope that the whole thing will go with a run now, and that it will not last much longer.... Love to the children....
P.S.—I lost two N.C.Os. killed yesterday by one bullet through their heads, and another of my poor men had his tongue cut out.
March 5th, 1915.
My dearest F——
I am writing this in great haste, as I am just off to the General's on important business. I was most interested in reading various friends' letters on my "mention." What it has really been in the way of being shot at would cover a small campaign three times over, and I do not doubt many of my officers and men have had even a worse time than myself, and there is very much more hard work to come. The French Army can always produce fresh troops for each fresh job, but our smaller army has to send the same troops up to everything, and then when the regiment is reduced to fragments, it is filled up with anyone from anywhere, and to the authorities it is the same as the original good regiment. Before I forget, and in case anything happens to me, I want to tell you again that all my securities are at Cox; there is a list of them in my despatch case, and you will find one lot of title deeds that I had not as yet had time to look over in the Oak Room. I have been so hustled ever since coming from India that it has been impossible to attend to such things....
Yours with love....
G.B.L.
In Billets.
March 7th, 1915.
We have been very hard at work to-day. At 9.30 last night I received an order to arrange with the priest in a certain village for service the next morning. As my billets extend over a mile, you can imagine that I was not too pleased! This was followed at 11.30 p.m. by another order that we were to be on parade at 6 a.m. Getting home between 7 and 8 a.m., I had to hurry to early service, bolt some breakfast, and present myself at the General's house at 9 o'clock for a conference. Returning from that, I then had to hand in the men's winter kits. Next came the orders to move into fresh billets to-night in the dark. This with 1,000 men and 70 horses, whilst I must send a working party of four hundred men to a place 5 or 6 miles off at 10.30 p.m. to-night. How it is all to be done I have not been informed, but you can imagine the chaos that can ensue. We have been comfortable for the last two or three days. After our life in the trenches we can say that we have been very comfortable, because we have been able to wash daily and have a tub every second day, which things count much. I sent my Sam Browne belt, etc., home two days ago, as we are supposed to wear web equipment now like the men; and our swords have also been despatched. Mine has gone to Messrs. Cox's shipping agency through the Ordnance, with three labels on it addressed to you; it is well greased, and will not require overhauling, I trust, until I get back. We have had two days of rain, and things are rather nasty. My saddle-bags are quite useful on my second horse; they take a lot of my kit, including a pair of waders, with boots to go with them too. When the weather dries up a little, I shall return these and push other things in. I wish the war was well over, but I expect the Germans hate it worse than we do....
Billets.
March 8th, 1915.
Our little march in the dark was accompanied with heavy rain squalls and the weather turning bitterly cold. We missed our billeting party in the darkness, for it was intense. I think the inside of a public house was appealing to them at the time, so I halted my men, and by sending mounted officers in every direction, with luck I caught some of them. And here we are again, and very comfortable. Of course, we still have our early rising to contend with, but otherwise for the moment things are pretty straight. These Irishmen are most amusing fellows; they can't be treated like the English soldier: one has to be much more strict with them, and ride them at other times with a much lighter hand. For the next few months, unless Germany collapses at once, there will be heavy fighting for us. I am glad to hear that the Russians are driving these knaves back. What it really means is that when the Germans fight a successful action, they lose a certain number of men whom they cannot replace, and use up ammunition which they cannot make in a hurry, and so the war gradually draws to its conclusion, I trust.... I had to fly away just then to deal with my many prisoners and my companies also. I am sorry you have had illness in the house; I am so used to sickness that it hardly appals me when it applies to other people. For instance, since I came out here, if you multiply the number of my Father's town house in Porchester Terrace by 10 [number invalided, 470] you will be below the numbers who have been invalided from my Bn. since I came to France, and before that there was Hursley Park, Winchester, and the voyage home from India, when I lived amongst sick men for some unknown reason. The weather is now varying between skiffs of snow and bright gleams of sunshine, but very, very cold....
March 9th, 1915.
Many thanks for your letter. My new puttees will be most useful, as my old ones are full of holes. We have, during the last day or so, had a strong wind, and the ground is drying up wonderfully, so it will not be so hard on puttees for the future. As a rule, when one walks across country, and struggles through muddy trenches without one's horse, one wears puttees if one is not wearing long gum boots; these latter keep the legs and feet drier, but the difficulty is that they are too heavy to walk very far in them. I had a long letter from Meta, which I enclose. I am sending two badges to the children from my old coat. I thought they might like them. I look forward very much to the cake you are sending, as the last parcel went astray. My new coat came last night. It is made out of very thick cloth, and altogether loose and useful. There always has been a battalion of the London Irish Rifles (Volunteers), now a territorial corps. The War Office would not allow them to belong to us, because Irish Regiments have no territorial Bns. In S. Africa, that Bn. (London Irish Rifles) sent us a company which was attached to our regiment throughout the war. I leave the Irish visit in your hands at present. The only leave I shall receive will be if I am wounded. There will be a lot of fighting of a bad sort from now on. It would never be surprising if one were hit. I have been mercifully preserved up to now; and, again, one must put one's trust in Providence....
My dear little Hal,
I am enclosing one of the coat badges which I wore in S. Africa and in this war until this morning, when I received another coat from my tailor, so I thought you would like it to keep. I hope you are a good boy and working very hard, and are a help to Mummie.
Your affectionate
Daddie.
March 9th, 1915.
My dear little Blanche,
I am also sending you one of my coat badges. This morning I received from my tailor a much warmer coat, I am glad to say, for I find it terribly cold being out all night in mud and ice-cold water. I am sure you are trying to be a very good girl and learning your lessons well.
Your loving
Daddie.
March 9th, 1915.
In Trenches. Very Much!
March 11th, 1915.
I have had some very hard fighting since I wrote to you. Of course I knew it was coming off, but could not tell you exactly.... We lost a certain amount.... I am too busy, though, to write much, and I am out in the open feeling very cold, and will be in the mud all night, where, by the bye, I've been for the past three nights. A few of my officers have been killed, I regret to say, whilst the total of killed and wounded for my regiment alone has been three times the number of my father's house in P—— Terrace [total number, 141]. Can you imagine me charging down with the regiment shortly after dawn into Neuve Chapelle? I will write more about it all if I am spared. There is heavy fighting before us.
Yours ever....
G.B.L.
[Here the letters end abruptly, this being the last one written just after the taking of Neuve Chapelle. On the following day, March 12th, the Irish Rifles were ordered to advance to a further position, which, although the ground was gained, the task was an almost impossible one, the men being completely worn out after fighting hard several days and nights together.
The story of how Colonel Laurie led the charge will be found in the letters appended, with various other descriptions of the battle. Cheering on his men and calling to them to follow him, he fell in action mortally wounded. Thus was he summoned in a moment to a higher life, and his pilgrimage on earth was over].
R.I.P.
To Mrs. Laurie, Carlton Hall, Carlton-on-Trent, Notts.
The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and the Army have sustained by the death of your husband in the service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathize with you in your sorrow.
Private Secretary.
(From Major Clinton Baker, Second-in-Command.)
R.I. Rifles.
14/3/15.
Dear Mrs. Laurie,
You will have received your dreadful news by telegram. I cannot tell you what a terrible loss it has been to the whole regiment, whose deepest sympathy you have. Our dear Colonel was killed on March 12th at 5.30 p.m. as he rose to lead a charge, revolver in hand—a fine example to us all. The end was instantaneous, no suffering.
His adjutant early next morning, out with me, was shot dead at my side, and we last evening after dark buried them side by side close to Neuve Chapelle. We had three terrific days' fighting (10th, 11th, 12th), and are still engaged. I will answer any questions you may ask as soon as I can. I am writing this in the position we captured, knowing that you must be longing for even a short letter. I cannot tell you what a loss I have suffered. You have my very deepest sympathy.
Yours most sincerely,
W. Clinton Baker.
Everything will be sent home in due course.
(From the same.)
24/3/15.
I am glad to think that my hurried note was of some little comfort to you. It was written practically during the battle, so you must excuse its apparent briefness. My poor Colonel was absolutely without fear, a splendid example, which I am glad to say the men well followed. The grave is within two hundred yards of the German trenches and 50 yards from where he fell. It is now marked with the rough cross we put up, with his name on it, but I am getting a substantial one erected similar to those he had put up for all the regiment who have fallen during the last four months.
As he no doubt told you, we attended the Holy Communion together only five days before he fell.... I will have "Peace, perfect Peace" put on the cross. His sword was sent off to Cox and Co. about the 5th, and they will send it to you, together with all his other effects which have been sent off. But you should write to them.
I cannot tell you how I miss him; we were so much together every day and every night. Don't hesitate to write to ask me questions.
The first part of the fight I think he wrote and told you about; I know he said he was engaged in writing to you, on the 11th I think it was. The 10th was the day on which we stormed the trenches and took Neuve Chapelle. On the 11th we did little except get shelled, as we tried to sleep in some German trenches. On the morning of the 12th we were again in Neuve Chapelle, and for 2-½ hours endured a terrific shelling to which he paid no heed, and, as I told you, the fatal shot came at 5.20 p.m. just as, revolver in hand, I saw him about to get over our parapet and lead a charge. A true soldier's Death. Should I write to his Mother? I would rather not if you can do so, but will, of course, if you wish it. I am so sorry for you and for your poor children.
Yours very sincerely,
W. Clinton Baker.