"2nd S. Lancashire Regt., B.E.F., Front,
17 June 1915
"Dear Mrs. Thomas,—I am very sorry to say I have to tell you the very worst of bad news. I know what Humphrey's loss must be to you, and I want to tell you how much it is to all of us too. I know I have not realised it yet myself properly. I have been in a kind of trance since last night and I dread to wake up.
"He was a very fine friend to me, especially since Fletcher went away, and I miss him frightfully. Last night (16th to 17th) the whole Battalion went out digging. There had been an attack by the English early the same morning, and the enemy's guns were still very busy even in the evening. Our road was blocked in front owing to the moving of a lot of wounded, and while we were held up on a little field path alongside a hedge we had several shrapnel shells over us. To add to the horrors of the situation they had put some gas shells over too, and we were obliged to put on our gas helmets. While Humphrey was standing with his helmet on in the rear of our Company talking to the Captain of the Company behind, a shell came over and a piece of it caught him on the head. He was rendered unconscious, and it was evident from the first he had no chance of recovery. He was immediately taken a little way back to a place where there was no gas, and here the doctor dressed his wound. He was then taken back on a stretcher to the dressing-station. He died there about an hour after he had been admitted, having never recovered consciousness.
"If he had to die, I am thankful he was spared pain beforehand. It made my heart ache this afternoon packing his valise; I have given his chocolate, cigarettes, and tobacco to the Mess, and I have wrapped up his diary and a few loose letters and made them into a small parcel which is in the middle of his valise.
"The papers and valuables which he had on him at the time will be sent back through our headquarters, the other things, such as letters, etc., in his other pockets I have left just as they were. I hope the valise will arrive safely.
"He will be buried very simply, and probably due east of Ypres about three-quarters of a mile out—near the dressing-station. I will of course see he has a proper cross.
"Humphrey was splendid always when shells were bursting near. He hated them as much as any of us, but he just made himself appear unconcerned in order to put heart into the troops. Three nights ago we were digging a trench and the Germans thought our attack was coming off that night. For nearly three-quarters of an hour they put every kind of shell over us and some came very close. We all lay down in the trench and waited. On looking up once I was amazed to see a lone figure walking calmly about as if nothing was going on at all. It may have been foolish but it was grand."
"Tuesday, 22 June 1915, 4.45 p.m.
"Well! What a long war, isn't it? Never mind, I believe it will finish up without much help from us, and our job is really killing time. And our time is so pleasant it doesn't need much killing out here. The days roll along—nice sunny days too—bringing us nearer I suppose to Peace. (One hardly dares even to write the word now, it has such a significance.) There have been cases where the war has driven people off their heads (this applies only, I think, to the winter campaign), but I often think if Peace comes suddenly that there will be many such cases.
"It really is rather amazing the unanimity of everybody on this subject, and it must be the same behind the German front-line trenches.
"I should think that never in this world before have there been so many men so 'fed up' before. And then the women at home too—it is wonderful where the driving force comes from to keep things going on.
"But still—I don't want to convey a false impression. If you took my last letter by itself you might think things were very terrible out here all the time. They are not. On the whole it is not a bad time at all. The life is full of interest, and the discomforts are few and far between. Bad times do come along occasionally, but they are by way of exceptions. It is most like a long picnic in all sorts of places with a sort of constraint and uneasiness in the air. This last is purely mental, and the less one worries about it the less it is, and so one can contrive to be light-hearted and happy through it all—unless one starts to get depressed and moody. And it is just that which has happened to Laws and Fletcher and one or two others. They had been out long and had seen unpleasant times and without an occasional rest; none but the very thick can stand it."
"Saturday, 26 June 1915, 6.40 p.m.
"Here I am installed in the school [Machine Gun] which is, or was, a convent. Fine large place and grounds. Two officers per bedroom and a large Mess-room; about twenty officers up for the course (or more) which starts to-morrow (Sunday). Your solution of the Thompson acrostic [St. Omer] was perfectly right, we are far back. This convent is about two miles from that town.
"I am so pleased to be in the 'pleasant, sunny land of France,' amid absolute peacefulness. We had a curious journey. Last night I slept at our transport (and had a bath!). I got up soon after six, mounted a horse just before eight (after breakfast). My servant and my valise, also a groom to bring my horse back, came in a limber. And that excellent man Polchet rode all the way to Divisional Headquarters with me, although it was about six miles out of his way. We got to Headquarters at a quarter to ten—a motor-bus was to start at ten for here. It started at 10.30 with me, my luggage, and my servant (I don't know why he comes last) in it. The Harborne motor-buses in the Harborne High Street weren't in it. We got shaken to a jelly—we were on top. We went back about two miles to pick up some of our Division, and having done so, we set off to pick up some of the 14th Division, at a point carefully specified in our driver's instructions. This was about five miles away, in our proper direction. But when we got to the spot we discovered they (the Division) had left it a week ago and gone to a point quite close to where we had just picked up the 3rd Division men. I telephoned in vain; we had to go all the way back. We found the place with difficulty (we found all our places with difficulty as we had no maps), collected the men, and came all the way out again. Then we came straight here, which was about fifteen miles at least. We got here at 4.30 p.m.! Six hours' motorbussing! and the bus's maximum was 25 m.p.h. at least, I should judge. Luckily it was a glorious day, and I sat in front with the driver and enjoyed it all....
"I told you leave was starting—well, it has now started. Three of our officers have gone—and all together! They are only getting three clear days in England—but still!
"I am going to find out when this course finishes—I think it lasts for sixteen days—and then I am going to apply for my leave to follow on. I wish—oh, how I wish—I may get it; but of course many things may intervene.
"If it does come off I hope there will be a representative gathering to meet me at dinner. That is, I hope Violet will be back from Edinburgh, Lorna and Norah from Coniston, and perhaps Oliver and his Winifred will pay a flying visit from Cardiff. Haven't I got an enlarged opinion of my own importance? I suppose it is too much to expect the offices to have a whole holiday!"
"Monday, 28 June 1915, 6.15 p.m.
"The enemy's lines round here do not appear to be strongly held, in fact quite the reverse—that is, the front lines. But attacks on our part don't always pay—even so. Their method, as I understand it, is simply to lose less men than we do. Accordingly, they leave very few men in their front trench, but what there are have a good supply of machine guns and are well supported by artillery. We precede our attacks by heavy shelling, and the few men get into well-built dug-outs until it is over, then they come out and get to work with their machine guns on the attacking infantry. The trench ultimately falls after rather heavy loss on our side (especially if the wire isn't properly cut) and the few defenders hold up their hands. Some are made prisoners—some are not. If the enemy want the trench very badly they try and retake it by means of a strong counter-attack, trusting that our men and arrangements are in sufficient confusion to prevent adequate support. That is why our attacks are so expensive and why we aren't constantly attacking. The alternative plan is, I think, simply to shell them heavily—in all their lines—and leave out the actual attack in most cases....
"I was so interested to hear that Alec had applied for me to come back. It is not at all impossible, because I have known two or three cases where officers have been recalled—one was chief chemist (or so he said) at Brunner Mond's. He was returning as I came out, and tried to make one's flesh creep by his tales of war. But I don't think it is likely to happen in my case. I only wish it would. I should love to come home again, although I don't feel as if I had done my bit yet—really. I haven't been in any big scrap, and I haven't killed my man even....
"I had a ripping time at the transport; I hope they enjoyed the peas—they deserved to. They were hospitality itself. They welcomed me, gave me three meals, lent me anything I wanted, made room for me to sleep in their large room (this necessitated the Quartermaster-Sergeant moving his bed into another room), gave me a warm bath, and generally made me feel quite at home. They have a ripping dug-out. Rooms half underground, 7 feet high, plenty of ventilation, boarded floor and walls, and a wooden roof supported on square wooden pillars and covered in earth well sodded on top....
"Talking about the Major (Major Cotton), he used to be our Adjutant at Crosby—he was Captain then. He came out as second in command and has now got the Battalion while our Colonel (Colonel Dudgeon) is away sick. The latter got his C.B. in the last honours list. He is an excellent man. Lieut. Burlton, too, got a Military Cross. He has now been wounded twice; he was the moving spirit of the hockey matches at Crosby in the old days, and, when he was recalled to the Front, his mantle fell upon me....
"All the officers here are from different regiments with a very few exceptions. It is most interesting. At meals, Way and I sit among the Cavalry, Dragoons and Lancers, etc. They are fine chaps—the real Army officers of which there are now all too few."
"Machine-Gun School, G.H.Q.,
Wednesday, 7 July 1915, 5 p.m.
"Here I am getting towards the end of my little holiday, only five more days to go. No word has reached me from my Battalion on the subject of leave, or of anything else for that matter....
"If this threatened push on Calais is real, or if the higher commands have got 'wind up' about it, they will very likely stop all leave, and then I shall just have to wait until it starts again....
"I am sure that the fact of our nation being 'down' and preparing for a winter campaign will materially assist in shortening the war and rendering that preparation unnecessary.
"We have an awfully amusing chap here who is in the Grenadier Guards. He is always imitating Harry Tate. A great big hefty chap, in great big sloppy clothes (including what are known as 'Prince of Wales' breeches). He gets his mouth right over to the side of his face and says 'You stupid boy!' in Harry Tate's voice. He does this in the middle of our instructional squads when some wretched person does something wrong with the gun, and sends every one into fits of laughter.... [A lot more about a motor that wouldn't go.]
"My M.G. course is going on very nicely. I have learnt a very great deal, have been intensely interested, and am very keen on the work. My function as a reserve machine-gunner should really be to train the reserve team and such parts of the main team as are not actually required in the trenches, in a safe spot behind the lines! It sounds 'cushy,' but those in authority over us are not sufficiently enlightened, I am afraid, to adopt such a plan. The object of course is to prevent your reserve men from being 'used up' as riflemen, as otherwise when you want them to take the place of the others they are casualties and all their training goes for nothing.
The Cavalry officers here are a great joke. They find this life very tiring. They are quite keen to get back again and have been from the beginning. We, on the other hand, fairly enjoy it and are not at all anxious to go back to our regiments. That shows the difference between the lives we lead. Of course they have been in the trenches and have had some very bad times there, but they only go in in emergencies and at long intervals....
"Another difference between us is that they keep their buttons as bright as possible and themselves as spick and span as can be. The infantry officer gets his buttons as dull as possible, and if they are green so much the better, as it shows he has been through gas. He likes his clothes and especially his puttees to be rather torn, and his hat to be any old sloppy shape. If he gets a new hat he is almost ashamed to wear it—he is terrified of being mistaken for 'Kitcheners'!
"Lord Kitchener and Mr. Asquith came here last evening. Here, to this convent. I don't know what for; but there was of course a good deal of stir here.
"Way and I went into the town last night. We hired a fiacre for the return journey. It came on to rain, so it was just as well we had a hood. We both thoroughly enjoyed the journey. The fiacre was what would be dignified by the name of 'Victoria' in England. But in France, where it seems to be etiquette not to take any trouble over carriagework, fiacre is the only word you could apply, and it just fits it. It expresses not only its shabbiness but also hints at its broken-backed appearance.
"We went into some stables and inquired about a fiacre, and a fat boy in a blue apron with a white handkerchief tied over one eye said we could have one. So I said, 'Où est le cocher?' and he pointed to his breast and said, 'C'est moi!'
"The fare, he said, would be six francs and the pourboire. Thoughtful of him not to forget that. We agreed, and he eventually produced the usual French horse.
"The fiacre was very comfortable and we were awfully tickled with the idea of us two in that absurd conveyance, especially when we passed staff officers, which was frequently. Altogether we were quite sorry when our drive was over."
On 16 July 1915, Raymond came home on leave, and he had a
great reception. On 20 July he went back.
"Sunday, 25 July 1915, 7.30 p.m.
"I have got quite a nice dug-out, with a chair and table in it. The table was away from the door and got no light, so I have spent about two hours to-day turning things round. I went to bed about three this morning (just after 'stand-to') and slept till nearly twelve. Then I had breakfast (bacon and eggs). As my former platoon Sergeant remarked: 'It is a great thing to have a few comforts, it makes you forget there is a war,'
"So it does until a whizz-bang comes over.
"I have just seen an aeroplane brought down (German luckily). I missed the first part, where one of ours went up to it and a flame shot across between them (machine gun, I expect). I ran out just in time to see the machine descending on fire. It came down quite steadily inside our lines (about a mile or more away), but the flames were quite clearly visible,"
"Thursday, 29 July 1915, 7.35 p.m.
"Here I am in the trenches again, quite like old times, and quite in the swing again after the unsettling effect of coming home! You know I can't help laughing at things out here. The curious aspect of things sometimes comes and hits me, and I sit down and laugh (not insanely or hysterically, bien entendu; but I just can't help chuckling). It is so absurd, the reasons and causes that have drawn me to this particular and unlikely field in Belgium, and, having arrived here, that make me set about at once house-hunting—for all the world as if it was the most natural thing in life. And having selected my little house and arranged all my belongings in it, I regard it as home and spend a few days there. And then one morning my servant and I, we pack up everything once more and hoist them on to our backs and set off, staff in hand, like a pair of gipsies to another field a mile or so distant, and there make a new home....
"I was very loth to leave my front line dug-out, because I had arranged things to my liking—had moved the table so that it caught the light, and so on. It had a built-in table (which took a lot of moving), a chair and a sandbag bed. Quite small and snug.
"But still—this new dug-out back here is quite nice. Large and roomy, with windows with bars in them (but no glass)—a proper square table on four legs—three chairs and a sandbag bed. So I am quite happy. The sandbag bed is apparently made as follows: Cover a portion of the floor, 6 feet 6 inches by 3 feet 6 inches, with a single layer of sandbags filled with earth. Over these place several layers of empty sandbags, and the bed is finished. If the hollows and lumps are carefully placed, the former in the middle and the latter at the head, the result is quite a success. Of course one sleeps in one's clothes covered by a coat and with an air pillow under one's head.
"We have had a very gay time in the trenches. I think I told you how I saw a hostile aeroplane brought down on fire in our lines. That was on Sunday, and the official report says both pilots killed. On Monday I went down to a support trench to have meat tea and a chat with Holden and Ventris (two of C Company officers). At a quarter to ten there was a loud rumbling explosion and the dug-out we were in rocked for several seconds. The Germans had fired a mine about 60 feet in front of our trench to try to blow in some of our workings.
"I rushed to my guns—both were quite safe. You should have heard the noise. Every man in the place got up to the parapet and blazed away for all he was worth. It was exciting! One machine gun fired two belts (500 rounds), and the other fifty rounds. I heard afterwards that several of the enemy were seen to leap their parapets, but turned back when they heard the machine guns open fire. It took a good while for things to quieten down. Some of our miners were at work when it went off, but their gallery was some way off and they were quite all right.
"Last night they actually exploded another one! Aren't they keen? This was a much smaller affair, but closer to our trench. It shook down a portion of our parapet, which was easily rebuilt and entombed temporarily two of our miners. In neither case were there any casualties....
"I am so sorry the date of the wedding had to be altered, but I agree it was for the best. I only hope you remembered to inform the bridegroom—he is often forgotten on these occasions, and I have known a lot of trouble caused by just this omission."
"1 August 1915, Sunday, 11.20 p.m.
"I am not actually in the trenches at the moment, though most of the Battalion is. I was in for five days, and then I was relieved about four days ago by another officer (Roscoe), who shares with me the duties of machine-gun officer. So I am in a dug-out about three-quarters of a mile behind the firing line while he is taking his turn in that line. (A mine has just gone off and shaken the ground, followed by a burst of heavy rifle firing. This makes the fourth mine this week! Two went off while I was up there, and the whole earth rocked for several seconds. The first three mines were theirs, this last may be ours, I don't know; we had one ready!)
"We have been at Hill 60 and also up at Ypres. At present we are south of that appalling place, but I learn with regret that to-morrow we are moving again and are going up north of Ypres. We are all depressed in consequence.
"What an awfully good letter you have written me; but, do you know, it makes me ache all over when you write like that about the car. You have only to mention you have got a Rover, and I am as keen as mustard to come and tinker with it! Aren't I young?
"But you must know I want to come to New Park in any case. I am awfully keen to stay there and see it from inside, and see its inmates again after many years (it feels like). So after the war (may it be soon!) I am just going to arrive. I may let you know!
"Your remarks on weddings in general depress me very much! I hope the bridegroom's lot is better than the poor bride's. Because my turn is bound to come!
"I am so glad Hester gave a good account of my appearance. I am very fit, it is the only way to exist here. Once you begin to get 'down' and to worry, it is all up with you. You go into a rapid decline, and eventually arrive home a wreck! But as long as you smile and don't care a hang about anything, well the war seems to go on quite all right!
"I enjoyed my few days' leave very much indeed. I had five days in England and three full days and four nights at home. I dropped into my old life just as if no change had occurred. And the time was not long enough to make the getting back difficult.
"This life is a change for me, as you say. I haven't done laughing at its humorous side yet. In some ways we get treated like schoolboys. More so at Crosby than here, however."
"Saturday, 7 August 1915, 7.30 p.m.
"I have been having rather a bad time lately,—one of those times that reminds one that it is war and not a picnic,—but, thank goodness, it is all over now.
"I think I told you that we were about to move up north of Ypres, to St. Julien or thereabouts. Well, just before we handed over these trenches to one of Kitchener's Battalions, the Germans went and knocked down a lot of our parapet, and also sent over some appalling things that we call 'sausages,' or 'aerial torpedoes,' though they are not the latter. They are great shell-shaped affairs, about 3 feet along and 9 inches in diameter, I should think. They are visible during the whole of their flight. They are thrown up about 100 yards into the air and fall down as they go up, broadside on—not point first. A few seconds after they fall there is the most appalling explosion I have ever heard. From a distance of 100 yards the rush of air is so strong that it feels as if the thing had gone off close at hand. Luckily there is a slight explosion when they are sent up, and, as I said, they are visible all the time in the air. The result is our men have time to dodge them, provided they are not mesmerised as one man was. He got stuck with his mouth open, pointing at one! A Corporal gave him a push which sent him 10 yards, and the 'sausage' landed not far from where he had been. Although they have sent more than twenty of these things over altogether, we have only had one casualty, and that a scratch. Their effect is to terrify every one and keep them on tenterhooks watching for them. Their purpose is to destroy mine galleries, I believe....
"Monday, August the 2nd, was the day we should have been relieved, and that night I went up from headquarters and relieved Roscoe, who had had a bad time in the fire trenches....
"They were firing armour-piercing shells that go right in and blow the parapet to blazes; dug-outs too, of course, if they happen to be near. After punishing the right end of the left-hand bit of trench, they traversed along, laying waste the whole of our bit.
"I was in my dug-out with Hogg, another officer. I was trying to make tea, but every shell blew out the Primus, and covered us in dust. I made it, however, eventually, and we had just drunk it when a shell blew the parados of the trench down, not far from our door, and the next wrecked the dug-out next door to mine (a man who happened to be inside having a miraculous escape). We judged it was time to clear (the machine guns had already been withdrawn to safety), and got away as best we could through and over the debris that had been a trench.
"Later in the day I made my way back, and recovered my pack and most of my belongings. It was exciting work getting back, because they were sending whizz-bangs through the gaps in the parapet, and the communication trenches in the rear were blocked in places, so that you had to get up on top and 'scoot' across and drop in the trench again.
"That evening they gave us a second shelling, and one hit my dug-out fair and square (I had quarters in a support trench). When I returned next day for the rest of my things—my equipment and some provisions—I had to put two men on to dig them out. It took three-quarters of an hour to get at them, through the wreckage of timber, corrugated iron, and earth....
"On Tuesday afternoon they sent off another mine,—about the seventh since we have been in,—but they are all well in front of our parapet. And on Wednesday they gave us twelve sausages—the first I had seen.
"The trouble is, we have a number of mine shafts under the ground between our trenches and theirs, and they are fearfully 'windy' about them. They keep trying to stop us mining them, and their shelling is with the object of blowing down our sap-heads. Their mines, too, go up short, because they are trying to blow in our galleries; or else they are so scared they send them off before they are ready. I think the last explanation is probably more near the truth, because when one of their mines went up recently a lot of Germans went up with it!...
"We have been in here a fortnight to-night. You can imagine how we long for clean clothes. Most of the officers have not been out of their clothes all that time, but I have been very lucky. I had two good cold baths when I was down here before, and to-day I had a lovely hot one in a full-length wooden bath. A tremendous luxury! Also I had some clean socks to put on....
"On the day I was shelled out of my dug-out my servant, Bailey, was hit on the leg by a piece of shell and has gone down the line wounded, not very seriously, I think. He is a great loss to me, but I have got another one now, Gray, who shapes very well. He is young and willing, and quite intelligent.
"You ask whether that time when the mine went off was the first time I had used these guns. Yes, absolutely. The plan adopted in trench warfare is to place your guns in position with a good wide loophole in front of them, then block this up and keep a sharp look-out. When the enemy attacks, you blaze away at them, and then shift hurriedly to another gun-position and watch the old one being shelled to blazes.
"If you fire on other occasions you are rather apt to have your guns knocked out, and we can't afford to lose any. That is why I was rather horrified to find one gun had fired 500 rounds the other night. However, it was not discovered. I think the long grass in front hid the flashes....
"Yes, the sandbags might be damp when used for a bed, and I always lay my waterproof ground-sheet on top of them. I either sleep on that or on some new clean bags laid above that again. It is not only dampness, though, that one fears!
"As a matter of fact, one is not very sensitive to damp when living so much out of doors. It is common to get one's feet slightly wet and go for about four days without removing one's boots—most unpleasant, but not in the least damaging to health."
"Monday, 16 August 1915, Noon
"We are now out and resting after doing a long spell. I did nineteen days, and some did a few more days than that. Three weeks is a long time to live continuously in clothes, boots, and puttees....
"I came out of the trenches on Thursday night, and was really a day too soon, because on Friday we were having Orderly-Room right in the country, in front of the C.O.'s tent; the Colonel was there surrounded by most of the officers, when we heard a shell. Well, that's nothing unusual, but this one got crescendo, and we all looked up in alarm. Then it got very crescendo, and finally cleared us and landed with a loud explosion about 50 yards beyond us, and not far from several groups of men. It was an 8-inch 'crump.' One man only was killed, but we knew that more were likely to come over, and so we gradually spread out to the sides. Four came altogether at two-minute intervals, but we only had two casualties. Rather upsetting when we were supposed to be resting. I don't know whether they could see our (officers') white tents, or whether they saw the cricket match that took place on the day before.
"Anyway we moved our tents slightly—every one put their tents where they pleased, and then the Pioneer Sergeant came and amused himself daubing green paint on them in patches. Ours (three of C Coy.) was the best; the splodges looked just like hazel nuts (?) when there are three together in their little green cases, and they were interspersed with a kind of pansy-shaped flower. Altogether a very tasteful and pleasing effect....
"A couple of gun stocks have come. They arrived from Walker's, the makers, and I should very much like to know who had them sent. They are ripping, sniping attachments with periscopes for use with the ordinary rifle. I shall stick to one, and unless I hear otherwise I shall present the other one to our sniping officer (honorary rank)."[5]
"Wednesday, 25 August 1915, 3 p.m.
"I am in the trenches once more. We marched in (about 10 miles) last night. We had a meal at 3 p.m., and marched off soon after six. Our rations (officers') went astray, because they were on a hand-cart in charge of our servants, who missed their way, so we have had practically nothing to eat since late lunch yesterday, and are pretty hungry. I have had a piece of chocolate, and my water-bottle was nearly full of lemon squash....
"We are in support trenches at Hooge, just on the left of our former position up here. Except for some shelling (chiefly ours), things are fairly quiet.
"Since we were here last the position is greatly improved; the Germans have been driven over the ridge in front (during the recapture of trenches here), and the whole place is much 'healthier' in consequence....
"I have been out here five calendar months to-day, and in the Army just over eleven months. They will be pensioning me off soon as an old soldier."
"29 August 1915, 11.30 a.m.
"I am having a very quiet and lazy time at the moment, and feel I deserve it. We went into support trenches for three days, and worked two nights from 7.30 p.m. till 3 a.m. building and improving the fire trench. Then on the third night we had a most exciting time. One company, under Captain Taylor, was sent up right in front to dig a new fire trench to connect with another on our left. We had to go up a trench which ran right out into space, and which had only just been built itself, and when there we had to get over the parapet and creep forward to the new line we were to dig. Of course we had to be dead quiet, but there was a big moon, and of course they saw us. Most of the way we were not more than 30 yards away from their front position (and they had bombing parties out in front of that). While we were digging we had one platoon with bombs to cover us, and some of this party were as close as 25 yards to their front position. It was awful work, because they kept throwing bombs at us, and what was almost worse was the close-range sniping.
"'Very' lights were going up from the German lines all the time, and you could see the bullets kicking up the dust all around. When we first got out there I picked out my ground pretty carefully before lying down (because the recent scrap there was much in evidence), but when the snipers got busy I didn't worry about what I was on, I just hugged the ground as close as I could. They would put the 'Very' lights right into us, and one just missed me by a yard. If they are not spent when they come down, they blaze fiercely on the ground, and when they finish, they look like a little coke fire. They would burn you badly if they fell on you. I have seen a dead man that one had fallen on afterwards. His clothes were fearfully burned.
"The Germans were on the edge of a wood and our ground was tipped towards them, so it was extremely difficult to get cover. Shell holes were the best. Soon the men got their trenches down, and things were a little better. The men worked extremely well, and the Wilts were working on our left, and we eventually joined up with them. After about five hours' work, the trenches were fit to hold, and we filed out and the new garrison filed in. Our casualties were much lighter than I should have thought possible. The Colonel came along the new trenches just before we left, and he was most awfully pleased with C Company, and so is the General. Captain Taylor is very bucked about it.
"The scene of this affair was right against the Château of Hooge, and close to the mine crater. We found a German machine gun half buried, but in good condition, and any number of souvenirs. The Captain has got a helmet—a dirty thing; he had to have it cleaned out, because part of the owner was still inside it! It is a rummy shape, so flat-topped and square, with a brass spike and a gold band down the back. I expect it was an officer's.
"Oh! I have seen my first German (not counting prisoners). I was standing up and a 'Very' light went up, so I kept perfectly still. I was looking towards the wood where the Germans were (I was 40 or 50 yards away), and I saw one quite distinctly walking into the wood.
"Our men that were killed (sniped) were buried just behind, within a quarter of an hour of being hit. Rather awful.
"The actual digging was rather trying in places, and in one case they actually came on a horse!—which dates it back to November, when we were pushed back to these positions in the first battle of Ypres.
"The men in such places work with their respirators on and are often actually sick. I have had whiffs of the smell since in my food. Once smelt never forgotten. I can tell the difference between a man and a horse, but I don't know which I like least.
"Rather a morbid topic, I am afraid. Well, after leaving the scene of our labours (and glad to get out), we called for our packs and had to march about two and a half miles. We were dead beat when we arrived here (nice safe dug-outs—roomy and comfortable—with our valises ready to sleep in when we arrived), but we found a good meal awaiting us, and about half-past four we 'got down to it' and slept till noon. Holden and I share a palatial dug-out, and we had breakfast in bed, and I did not get up till just before our evening meal at 7. I washed and dressed in slacks—had a meal, and later on went to bed again. This morning we had breakfast in bed again about 9.30, and then I got up, washed and shaved, dressed, and am now sitting on my bed, leaning against the wall writing my letters.
"The General let us off 'stand-to' because he knew we were fagged out; and it is a great mercy. Turning out fully dressed at about 2.30 a.m. and remaining up for an hour does not improve one's night's rest. I suppose, though, that we shall have to start it soon—perhaps to-night.
"We are here till to-morrow night, I believe, and then we go to some fairly nice trenches near the ones we were in last. We are short of subalterns—rather—and they have taken me off machine guns for the time being. I am sick, but I get a bit in when I can. In the last trench we built (I and my platoon), not the exposed one, there was a machine-gun position, and I took great pleasure in building it a really good emplacement....
"Are you doing anything about getting me back for Munitions? I don't know what you think about it, and whether you think I ought to carry on out here. I am sure that after six months I shall be just about fed-up with this business, but am not sure that after a couple of months at home I shan't be wanting to come out again."
"Wednesday, 1 September 1915, 4.45 p.m.
"I will just write you a short letter to let you know I am still well and happy, and still leading the strange life of the picnic-hermit.
"When I last wrote to you I believe I was in the very same spot as now, namely, support trenches in the neighbourhood of a now famous château. Last time we were in for three days, and on the night we left we had a very blood-curdling experience digging a trench which was to bring us closer to our friends the enemy. But they were inclined to resent our advances, and they welcomed us, not with open arms, but with lighted bombs. However, having completed our work to the great satisfaction of those in authority over us (namely, the Colonel and the General [Brigadier]), we made good our escape.
"Then for three blissful days we lived (with our valises) in some magnificent dug-outs in one of the safest spots in this accursed though much improved neighbourhood. These days we spent competing who could sleep furthest round the clock (if that is a permissible expression). I think I won, and on my record day I got up and dressed for dinner at about 7.30 p.m., made my bed afterwards, and got back into it again. This halcyon period was only interrupted once, when we all had to go out and dig a trench one night long. However, the worst feature of this expedition was the rain, which made 'going' very difficult, and things in general rather uncomfortable (especially for the men), so we hadn't much to grumble about.
"Then we came back here and the first night we slept in peace, getting up at about 3 a.m. ostensibly for the purpose of 'stand-to,' but really to brew ourselves some cocoa. Then sleep till 9, 10, or 11, I forget which. I crawl to the door of my dug-out and shout for Gray, who lives just opposite. 'Breakfast!' I say, and he invariably asks, 'What will you have, sir?' just as if he could command the larders of the Carlton or the Linga.
"Knowing my rations, and that an attempt at humour would only put me off my plat du jour or daily round, I usually think for a few moments and then order eggs and bacon, and face the common task. The only variation I permit myself is that on one or two days in the week I funk the bacon and have boiled eggs. Where do the eggs come from? They are purchased out of the Mess fund by our Mess cook who lives with the Transport when we are in the trenches, and brings them up personally when the rations arrive at night. Yes, he has a 'cushy' time of it, does our Mess cook; and how can he avoid being happy, living as he does in a perpetual transport?
"What of the days when no eggs are available? Why, then, horrible dictu, I have fried cheese and bacon!
"It occurs to me here, although all this was not written with intention, that this could be a good place to ask whether sausages are yet in season. If they are, a few cooked ones (or half cooked) sent out now and again would make a splendid variant for our menu.
"The meat season is hard to follow out here. Bully beef is such a hardy perennial. (This does not mean that we live on it—I never eat it, there is always a good supply of fresh beef.)
"Blackberries are coming on, I notice with pleasure, and I can usually tell what shells are in season (the season for sausages in this department is, let us hope, mercifully short. I believe we are now in the middle of the close-time for this sturdy little fellow, I trust he is not utilising it to increase and multiply).
"I am sorry I have had rather a sharp attack of parentheses lately, the touch of winter in the air cramps my style. And I really did think this was going to be quite a short letter. I cannot divine my moods, I find, I did not feel like writing until I got going.
"Please thank father very much indeed for the sniperscopes. I have given one to the Captain of D Company, who is keen on everything. He is an engineer (civil), and is a most useful man out here. I have not tried mine yet, as I haven't been in a fire trench, and it would hardly be fair to use it in a support trench, the backs of our infantry in the trench in front being too easy a target to give the thing a fair trial.
"Oh! I was telling you about my work in this trench but got switched off on to food. Last time I was here I (and my platoon) worked for two nights from 7.30 till 3 improving the parapets. Well, the second night of this period (last night) I had got all sorts of plans ready and was going to have a thoroughly good night building dug-outs, draining the trench, and building a second machine-gun emplacement (not my job really at the moment). However, word came along that the platoon was wanted to dig another trench right in front again and near the other one. They said, 'A covering party with bombs will be provided, and send in your casualty report in the morning!' So I asked if they were supplying stretchers and all complete! But they were not. It is a most cheering way of sending you off, is it not? It is a wonder they did not make us take up our own grave crosses, just in case.
"(By the way, it is most impressive to meet two men walking along at night and one carrying a large white cross. The burying and decking of the graves is done very well here, and conscientiously. There is a special organisation for making the crosses, lettering them and putting them up. The position of the grave is reported to them, with the particulars, and they do the rest.)
"The great difference in last night's job was that I only had a platoon to deal with, while before the Captain had a whole company. Also I was not quite so close to the enemy (we were 30 yards off, and less, before), and the moon was mostly obscured. I determined not to let them know we were working, so I crept out and explored the ground with the Corporal of the covering party (this was the worst part of the job, because you did not know when you might not come across a party of the enemy in the many shell holes and old trenches with which the ground was covered). I had my large revolver in my pocket, but I did not want to use it, as it would have given our game away.
"All went well, and I got the men placed out in absolute silence, with the covering party pushed out in front to listen and watch. The men worked very quietly, and when a light went up they got down and kept still. Lights were very few, because the enemy had got a working party out too—at one side, and we could occasionally hear them driving in stakes for wire.
"We had to use picks in some places where the ground was stony, and these are the hardest to keep quiet. We got through it all right, and only one shot, I think, was fired all the time. It came fairly close, too. I am sure they guessed we were out, because when one light went up I hadn't time to get down, so I kept still and I plainly saw a Hun standing upright on his own parapet. He straightened up as the light grew bright, and I just caught sight of the movement and saw him then distinctly.
"The ground out there has been fought over a good deal, and there are plenty of souvenirs about. I have got one myself—a Hun rifle. The original owner, who was buried with it—probably by a shell—happened to lie exactly where we dug our trench, and we were obliged to move him elsewhere. I brought his rifle home and put it over the door of my dug-out. That was early this morning. But the enemy have been putting shrapnel over us (in reply to a good 'strafing' by our guns), and one piece has gone clean through the stock.
"Our artillery are going great guns nowadays. It certainly feels as if the shell supply was all right—or nearly so.
"I don't know whether we shall be wanted for any job to-night, or whether we shall rest, or whether I can get on with my projects. I must go round and see Captain T. in the other trench. By the way, he came to see how I was getting on last night about midnight, and was very pleased with the work and with the fact that we were having no casualties.
"That cake was fine, and much appreciated in the Mess. The little knife you gave me when home on leave is proving most useful.
"Please thank Lionel for chocolate received and Alec for gourdoulis.
"I have sent another box of Surplus Kit home addressed to Noël. Rather late to do it, I know, and I shall want one or two of the things sent back later, but not for a long time, and it is a relief to get rid of some of my impedimenta. The socks returned want mending. That reminds me, thank you and please thank Miss Leith very much for the socks. They are quite all right for size. Perhaps not so long and narrow in the foot might be better, but it doesn't seem to affect the wear; they are most comfortable.
"I am still attached to the Company and not to the machine guns—much to my annoyance."
"Monday, 6 September 1915, 9.30 p.m.
"Thank you so much for your inspiring and encouraging letter. I hope I am being useful out here. I sometimes doubt if I am very much use—not as much as I should like to be. Possibly I help to keep C Company officers more cheerful! I am very sorry they have taken me off machine guns for the present, I hope it may not be long.
"Great happenings are expected here shortly and we are going to have a share. We are resting at present and have been out a few days now. We had only two periods of three days each in the trenches last time in....
"Our last two days in the trenches were appallingly wet. My conduct would have given me double pneumonia at home. My rain-coat was soaked, so I had to sleep in shirt sleeves under my tunic, and the knees of my breeches were wet.
"The next day the rain was incessant, and presently I found the floor of my dug-out was swimming—the water having welled up through the ground below and the sandbags.
"I didn't have to sleep on it luckily, because we were relieved that night. But before we went I had to turn out with fifty men and work till midnight in water up to one foot deep. So at 8.30 p.m. I got my boots full of cold water and sat out in them till 12, then marched some eight miles. After nine hours' rest and some breakfast we came here, another three or four. It was nice to get a dry pair of boots and our valises and a tent.
"That night I rode into Poperinghe with Captain Taylor, and we had a really good dinner there—great fun.
"We have a full set of parades here unfortunately, otherwise things are all right....
"Alec has very kindly had a 'Molesworth' sent me. Most useful.
"I would like a motor paper now and then, I think! The Motor for preference—or The Autocar. Aren't I young?
"Captain Taylor has sprained his ankle by falling from his horse one night, and has gone to a rest home near. So I am commanding C Company at the moment. Hope not for long. Too responsible at the present time of crisis.
"9 September, 3.30 p.m.
"Must just finish this off for post.
"We have just had an inspection by the Army Corps Commander, Lieut.-General Plumer [Sir Herbert].
"I am still in command of C Company, and had to call them to attention and go round with the General, followed by a whole string of minor generals, colonels, etc. He asked me a good many questions:—
"First.—How long had I had the Company? Then, how long had I been out? I said since March. He then asked if I had been sick or wounded even, and I said no!
"Then he said, 'Good lad for sticking it!' at least I thought he was going to.
"We are kept very busy nowadays. I must try and write a proper letter soon. I do apologise.
"A box of cigarettes has arrived from, I suppose, Alec. Virginias, I mean, and heaps of them.
"We have just got another tent—we have been so short and have been sleeping five in. Now we shall be two in each. The new one is a lovely dove-grey—like a thundercloud. After the war I shall buy one.
"I shall be quite insufferable, I know; I shall want everything done for me on the word of command. Never mind—roll on the end of the war!
"Cheer-ho, lovely weather, great spirits! Aeroplane [English] came down in our field yesterday slightly on fire. All right though.—Good-bye, much love,
"Raymond [Maurice]."
"Sunday, 12 September 1915, 2 p.m.
"You will understand that I still have the Company to look after, and we are going into the front-line trenches this evening at 5 p.m. for an ordinary tour of duty. We are going up in motor buses!...
"Capt. T. thinks he will be away a month!"
"17 September 1915
"Deeply regret to inform you that Second Lieut. R. Lodge, Second South Lancs, was wounded 14 Sept. and has since died. Lord Kitchener expresses his sympathy."
21 September 1915
"The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and the army have sustained by the death of your son in the service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathise with you in your sorrow."