Yours….
G.B.L.
We go into reserve to-night for 3 days, and need not get up at 5 a.m. Great joy!
We marched out of the trenches successfully last night, getting in here about nine o’clock. Then I had to see to my company commanders and a lot of other work too, for a regiment will not run itself properly unless someone looks after it. I was rather amused at a case I had this morning of an N.C.O. charged with letting his rifle become dirty. He admitted the offence, but stated that whilst he was watching everyone out of the trenches, he heard cries for help, and found a small rifleman stuck in a ditch up to his shoulders, and that he was carrying, besides his rifle, a pick and shovel; so the N.C.O. went to his aid and got engulfed too. Hence his trouble about his rifle. The enemy, to prevent our forgetting him, is throwing big shells into the place we are billeted in. As he knows, probably, that the women and children have returned here, he expects with luck to make a big bag of such non-combatants. It was luxury last night getting into bed again without boots, even if one had no other night attire! You will be pleased to hear that your tobacco arrived this morning. The people who sent it were not very bright, for, despite the fact that my address was plainly painted on every box, they had stupidly nailed on other cards marked from Griffith, Solicitor, S. Wales, and addressed to the S. Wales Borderers or 24th Regiment. This was done to at least half of the cases. Apparently they had stuck them on the wrong boxes. Whether this accounts for the delay I cannot say. Anyhow, each box had 15 lbs. of tobacco, and I think there were 16 boxes. Well, then your last lot of plum pudding arrived, and has been issued to be eaten to-morrow. There were 65 tins containing four and a half lbs. each, so I think, my dear, that the men will be grateful to you. There was also a large bale of things like cigarettes and gloves from other associations, but nothing to touch your consignments. We had to turn out of our happy ruin twice yesterday afternoon whilst the enemy threw high-explosive shells our way, and just missed us. Fortunately his supply of ammunition is said to be running short, or he would do worse mischief. I had a very nice letter from my Mother and from Meta yesterday…. Your pheasants have come, also the ham, very well packed. Biscuits a little knocked about, but still edible; many thanks for them all. It is so misty and cold, a typical raw day in your own hunting district. Best of love, and hoping that the war will soon be over….
Got some of the French mud off my men yesterday, took the horse out to examine the neighbouring roads in case of a retreat, and dined with the General. He, poor man, finds the times very evil and the enemy very strong. I have written to my Mother to-day, telling her how I propose spending her present to me. By the way, I only got my trophies in time across to England. Four days ago an Army Order came out that nothing was allowed to be taken away, and that all such things found must be taken to the depots. Of course we must do so for the future, though I hope to be able to borrow a Prussian helmet with luck before I come home again. In the meantime, have the other stuff cleaned up and lacquered; it keeps rust off, and saves the servants much trouble. The A. and N. Stores can do this if you cannot get it well done in Newark…. Poor Mrs. Miles! She is dreadfully cut up. Capt. Allgood and Capt. Miles are now gone. I liked them both, but we shall meet again face to face some day…. I only wish that I could impress this more on one’s daily thoughts and walk of life. Well, I do not mean to preach, but it comes in my lowland Scotch blood, I suppose!…
Thanks for your note last night of January 19th. As you say, considering war time, this is quick. But at present it is a stationary war, and there is no reason why it should not be so. Once we get on the move, you will see that things will work badly, and we shall be short of food and of mails too. I was glad to get Aunt B——’s letter. Yesterday was an absolute drench. I rode, all the same, for exercise, and on the way back the enemy proceeded to shell the road; at the very extremity of their range, I fancy. It is curious how one takes the shelling nowadays. One becomes a fatalist! “If it hits me, it must hit me; I cannot escape, but I hope it will not” sort of thing. We return to the trenches this afternoon. Our General leaves to-night, but before then he has elected to inspect our billets in the afternoon, and to have a night alarm in the trenches early this evening. All the Colonels have therefore put their heads together to keep things as right as possible for him. Major Baker also goes on leave for about 10 days or so to-night, with various other officers who have well earned a rest. I see you had Zeppelins over you yesterday, or rather the day before; but I think that where you live you are as safe as anywhere in England. It shows what gentlemen these Germans are in the way they treat non-combatants.
To-day is a bright rather beautiful frosty day, and I am going to look at a large church in a village on a road when reconnoitring. I went to see another two days ago, and found only the tower and the walls standing; the Germans had burnt the rest.
P.S.—The billets we leave to-day are like a very tiny 9th-rate hotel, about as large as the house opposite the blacksmith’s forge at Carlton, or a little larger, with another storey added on. Tiny rooms, and stoves in only two of them, which can be used as sitting-rooms. We found a small tub, to our great delight, and this allows us first to wash ourselves and then our things, so we are perfectly happy in it….
We arrived at our trenches all right last night, and, as I had expected, found them fairly under water. In parts it was like the ground round that pretty little cottage at Carlton, where Thompson lives when the Trent is in flood. I was crossing, gingerly trying not to get my feet wet, when a machine gun opened upon myself and my escort; down we went into the water at once. They asserted that the bullets passed through the branches of a shrub beside us. I am not sure. In any case, I did not like it, as one of my men whom I had been speaking to a little earlier in the day was caught by the same gun and received three bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and two in the arm. But he will come all right in the end, I think. There was a good deal of shooting at my working parties with machine guns, so I knocked up my gunners about midnight and threw our shrapnel on to the Germans, and then they saw that I meant to be “top dog,” and went home to bed, I suppose. However, they stopped worrying me, which was all I really wanted. I am trying the preparation issued by the Government as an experiment to keep one’s feet warm. As a matter of fact, it does not seem to do so at all; possibly that may be the fault of my floor—what remains of it, at least! The red tiles, though clean, are very cold. Well, this stuff looks like shaving soap, but there is another thing, “whale oil,” which none of us have as yet tried. The latter was given out to us last night, and sounds promising, but nasty. All the Channel swimmers rub themselves over with it before attempting to swim across the Channel. Speaking about the tiled floors, I notice in many cases that little holes are cut in the sides of the houses, so that the tiles can be well washed with water, and then it drains outside without further trouble, but think how draughty it makes the place unless a plug is put to close this hole at night, and by day too in cold weather. I also notice that these French houses show signs of natty niceness which one would not see in an English farmhouse. For instance, in my sleeping-room, instead of nails being driven into the walls for hanging clothes on, there is a brass hook with a china knob like any Christian household. I am rather amused to see how indifferent our men have grown to fire. This morning between 5 and 6 o’clock I was speaking to the sentry when a bullet came, hit the house, and gave a great streak of light, as it does when it strikes a hard substance. A large piece of the building fell down behind him, but he never changed his voice or paid the slightest attention. I have had a letter from your aunt at Rostrevor about Sydney, to whom she seems very devoted….