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I have just received a telephone message that the Germans did attack, and were repulsed, losing heavily. They left 3 officers and 300 men dead on one road alone from our fire. Hope our losses are light.

In Billets.
January 27th, 1915.

Sorry to hear from your letter that you are still in bed. I do not see as much of my own bed as I would like to at present, but this thing has to be seen through. Being the Kaiser’s birthday, we anticipated an attack, so to cheer our friends up and to show them what they might expect we opened on them at 5 o’clock this morning with our heavy guns. Such a row you never heard. The unbroken panes of glass in my room have long ago had all the putty shaken out and they rattle away to any extent when the guns are fired. It is very cold and chilly over here now, but not freezing, and we are rejoicing in the defeat of the Germans. They appear to be better at killing women and children with their men-of-war than fighting our ships when they meet them. I must say I have a poor opinion of them, not of their fighting qualities, but because they behave so badly. Curiously enough, the enemy never replied to our bombardment. It was directed on our right front, where poor Bannon, my servant, whom you will remember in Dover, was killed, and where we think these beauties gather in the mornings and stand to arms. It was a good bombardment. If some of them were about, there must be a lot killed. I did all I could to cheer everyone on. Well, I went for a ride yesterday after discussing your most excellent partridges at lunch, and saw my new draft. I am very strong, despite my losses, and I would like to show you my battalion when it first came out of the trenches and a month afterwards; you would see the difference! We are about twice as strong as the regiment was under Col. Napier at Dover. I heard from Admiral Gaunt yesterday. He has just been promoted, and is in charge of naval barracks. I must write him a note this morning. Wonderful people the French women! They are like cats the way they cling to their homes. The lady of this house has now returned, small baby and all, and has asked for two rooms. Having succeeded, she has got an old attempt at a carpenter in, and is boarding up the broken windows, etc. The bullet hole in the door will puzzle him unless he stops it up with a cork. Anyhow, they are making a most horrible din, banging away. I forgot to say that yesterday my Mother sent me from Oakfield two pairs of thick strong socks and some Canadian chocolate. Most useful, and very kind. I shall write soon to thank her.

In Billets.
January 28th, 1915.

This being our last rest day, I was out shortly after five o’clock with our acting General inspecting a new work. It is not healthy to do so much later in the day. We found two shell holes in it as it was, and the thing is only traced out, not made as yet. For Lady Bell’s address [the Governor of Aden’s wife] you will find a book giving it in my despatch case. Please send her my history as promised. I heard from Lady Macready yesterday, full of life as usual. She and I have been friends for a very long time, and we used to ride together in Egypt years ago. Sir Nevil has been motoring round the south of France inspecting Indian rest camps, and spent two days at Avignon on leave. I managed to obtain the Distinguished Conduct Medal for the bugler who always accompanies me everywhere on my peregrinations. He has been with me through some nasty times, though nothing to talk about very much, and I am glad to be able to reward him. Besides, it is good for the men to find that any work well done under my own eye may win them some recognition. I was out for a scamper yesterday afternoon inspecting my transport. This latter, by-the-by, has been very favourably reported on as the best looked after in the division (I am told). It is flattering, but one never knows! My Brigadier also complimented me on the smartness of my guards at Brigade Headquarters. If you saw the poor dears crawling out of the trenches, caked with mud and numbed with wet and cold, you could not understand how they could turn themselves out fairly decently twenty-four hours later, when they only have the one suit they are actually wearing all the time. I have not heard if the Saddler’s Company proposes to send me any coffee, but I expect to hear in due course. As to the numb feeling in one’s feet, one never has time to rub oneself over with Bengue’s ointment. It will have to stand until the summer, I expect. The cake has duly arrived, and is tucked away until to-night, when we arrive in our trenches again, worse luck!…

In Trenches.
January 29th, 1915.

No letter from you last night; it must have missed the mail; but there were several others. One from the dentist; please put it in my drawer at home for reference. Another letter was from Mabel Stevens saying that Percy was home again with a bad leg; and yet a third was from the remount officer who bought my horse for the Government, telling me that he is afraid the chestnut “Goldfinch” has been mixed up with some horses at Southampton and given out to other people. So ends poor “Goldfinch’s” career as far as I am concerned. We hear some amusing reports from the prisoners on our right. They say we took 2 officers and 80 men, besides killing a large number of the 7,000 who attacked our particular trench; also that the Germans expect to beat the Russian Army in May, and that we have 150,000 Japanese soldiers holding India for us! I never heard this before, nor anyone else either! I fancy they were freely plied with ration rum, no doubt someone else going short, and thus their original opinions were found out. Last night was beautifully clear, with a moon. About 2 a.m. we became aware that a party of the enemy were out in front of us only 50 yds. away, so we stealthily gathered our men up and opened a rapid fire on them. They fled to their trenches for dear life, and have been very vicious ever since. One of my men was shot internally just now. I have got him away in a motor ambulance in the hopes that an operation may save his life. I was told yesterday that Gen. Joffre said the war would be over in March, he thought, from financial reasons. (I wonder?) The other story I heard last night in the trenches was that Rothschild met Kitchener and asked him when his army was going across. K. replied: “250,000 in February, and 250,000 in March.” R. replied: “The 250,000 in February will go, but there will be no reason for sending the 250,000 in March.” Of course, this is quite an improbable story, and K. would never really tell R. anything, and R. would never repeat it. Anyhow, my line is fairly strong, so that if it is not over they will not break through here. I am sitting facing a window with a bright sun shining; two of the enemy shells have just come over and burst. They each threw a shadow as they passed. I have never seen that before. They fired a lot at us yesterday. One six-inch howitzer sent a shell 50 yds. from us. We of course seized the pieces as new playthings, and found first a horrible odour arising from some acid in their high explosive, and then that the shell appeared to be cast only of iron, and not steel. The piece I have in front of me weighs about a pound, with dreadful jagged edges. So soon as this shelling stops I must sneak off to try and put our cemeteries straight. I am having some very nice wooden crosses made for my poor men. Do tell me how Mr. Denison is? He might be interested in some of this news, as he was a gunner, and it is all about shells, if ever I get home to tell him! In the middle of this shelling both sides firing hard at each other, one of my buglers has arrived with a carrier pigeon which was knocked down by a stone. The French officer attached to our division told me that the Germans had spent large sums of money and established many spies as farmers here. They intended coming in this way to France, you see. Then they had telephone wires laid down towards Germany from various places, and I am inclined to think some have been found. Now our numerous trenches having cut these wires, they have to depend on something else, and I believe that something to be carrier pigeons. The way they shell the ground we occupy makes me think they really know where we are, and our own military authorities do not like to take drastic action against a person who poses as a French farmer or his wife looking for their lost property, when of course all the time they are possibly farmers who have been in German pay, and are probably sending information across by carrier pigeon daily. I hope that Wilkinson in Newark is making a good thing of the steel armour. It is rather a fine trophy to have, I think….