Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie
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Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie
George Brenton Laurie
A collection of letters from Lt Col Laurie to his wife whilst serving in France in WWI before being killed in action in March 1915.
LETTERS
of
Lt.-Col. GEORGE BRENTON LAURIE
(commanding 1st Battn Royal Irish Rifles)
Dated NOVEMBER 4th, 1914—MARCH 11th, 1915
Edited by FLORENCE VERE-LAURIE
TO HALIBURTON, BLANCHE, AND SYDNEY.
My dear Children,
I dedicate this little volume to you in memory of your father, who, as you know, fell on March 12th, 1915, in the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. These Letters, which were written to me from France during the first winter of the World War, do not in any way pretend to literary attainment; they are just the simple letters of a soldier recording as a diary the daily doings of his regiment at the front.
Often were they penned under great difficulties, and many a time under a rain of fire. The accounts of the awful loss of life and the discomforts experienced, both by officers and men unused to such severe climatic conditions, are sometimes heart-rending, and they make the reading sad.
Touches, however, of his natural cheerfulness relieve the greyness of the situation, and at times one can almost hear the lightheartedness of a schoolboy speaking.
Your father cared for his regiment as a father cares for his child, and was beloved by it. He obtained his commission in 1885 at 18 years of age, and was, curiously enough, the last officer to enter the British Army with the rank of a full Lieutenant. Had he lived till the following September, he would have been 30 years in the Royal Irish Rifles.
A short sketch of his life and military career is given in this book, and reference is made to the pleasure he took in being chosen to write the History of his Regiment, completed in 1914. He was also devoted to all kinds of sport as a pastime; but I will not write of these things; rather would I speak of his great wish to win fresh laurels for his regiment, and of how proud he was when, after the long, dreary winter in the trenches, the Royal Irish Rifles were the first to enter the village of Neuve Chapelle. But above all would I counsel you to follow his example in his faithful attention to duty, fulfilling the French proverb, “Faites ce que doit advienne que pourra.”
He died as a true soldier, leading his men, and what better death could be desired? He now lies in the British military cemetery of Pont du Hem, midway between Neuve Chapelle and Estaires, not far from Bethune in Northern France, and a little wooden cross marks the spot.
F. VERE-LAURIE.
Carlton Hall,
Carlton-on-Trent, Notts.
May 12th, 1921.
FOREWORD
By Lieut.-Colonel Sir John Ross of Bladensburg, K.C.B.,
K.C.V.O. (late Coldstream Guards).
Colonel George Laurie came from a military family. His father a distinguished General, and his uncle both served in the Crimea and elsewhere, and many of his near relations joined the army, and were well-known zealous soldiers of their Sovereign. His elder brother fell in the Boer War in the beginning of this century, and he himself saw active service in the Sudan and in South Africa, before he landed in France to take his share in the great World War. On being promoted to the command of his battalion, he joined it at Kamptee in India, and this obliged him to leave his wife and family at home, for young children are not able to live in that tropical, very hot and unhealthy district. From that station, with scarcely any opportunity of seeing them again, he was launched into the severities of a cold and wet winter in a water-logged part of Flanders. His experiences are graphically told in his letters, and they will show how much our gallant troops had to endure when engaged in the terrible conflict which the ambition of Prussia had provoked, and with what fortitude and courage they defended the country from the serious dangers that then menaced it.
All who have read these interesting letters will, I think, perceive that one dominant feature in Colonel Laurie’s character was a keen and all-pervading sense of duty, and an earnest determination to discharge it in every circumstance as thoroughly and as completely as possible. Never did he spare himself. What he had to exact from others, that he sternly imposed upon himself; and he fully shared with his men all the dangers and all the hardships of the war, with serene good temper and with a cheerful spirit. This fine disposition, which he himself had trained by self-discipline, ensured the prompt and willing obedience of his subordinates, and endeared him to all who were committed to his charge; it also secured for him the respect and the confidence of his superiors, who were well aware that every order they gave him would be carried out to the letter with prudence and with strict fidelity.
As he had married a beloved niece, I had many opportunities of observing his character, and I did not fail to recognize how devoted he was to his regiment and to the military career he had embraced and how thoroughly he was imbued with this great sense of duty. He had, moreover, considerable literary ability, and wrote a very excellent History of the Royal Irish Rifles; he also translated from the French an interesting account of the conquest of Algiers. In short, he took pains to learn the many details of his noble profession, and to make himself an efficient officer. Had he survived, my belief is that he would have advanced far as a soldier; for he combined with a studious earnest mind, much activity of body, and a sincere love for outdoor sport and manly exercise.
His letters show his affectionate nature; his care for his family and for his officers and men; and his solicitude for all with whom he was brought in contact. His sympathies were quick and real; and he felt the responsibilities of his position, and what he owed to those who belonged to him, or who were placed under his command. And last, but by no means least, there are many short expressions in the letters to show the deep and all-absorbing feeling he entertained for Religion, and how his whole life was guided by the Faith that was in him. May his memory prove to be an incentive to his young family, so early and so cruelly deprived of the care of a loving father, to imitate his sterling qualities of head and heart!
SKETCH OF LIEUT.-COLONEL LAURIE’S CAREER.
(From the “Bond of Sacrifice,” reproduced by permission of the Editor.)
George Brenton Laurie was born at Halifax, Nova Scotia, on October 13th, 1867. He was the eldest surviving son of the late Lieut.-General John Wimburn Laurie, C.B., M.P., of 47, Porchester Terrace, London, and of Mrs. Laurie, of Oakfield, Nova Scotia.
He was grandson of the Hon. Enos Collins, M.L.C., of Gorse Brook, Halifax, and great-grandson of Sir Brenton Haliburton, Chief Justice of Nova Scotia. He was educated at Galt Collegiate Institute, Ontario, and at the Picton Academy, from whence he passed into the Royal Military College, Kingston, Canada, in 1883. He joined the Royal Irish Rifles as a Lieutenant in September, 1885, going with them to Gibraltar in 1886, and on to Egypt in 1888. He took part in the Nile Campaign in 1889, but, contracting smallpox at Assouan, he was sent home to recover, and spent two years at the Depot at Belfast, rejoining his battalion in Malta. He was promoted Captain in 1893, and when the Rifles came back to home service he obtained an Adjutancy of Volunteers in Devonshire in October, 1896, and from that date until March, 1901, by ceaseless energy he brought the battalion to full strength and high efficiency.
In March, 1901, he was appointed a special service officer, including the command of a mounted infantry battalion for the South African War. He was present at operations in the Transvaal, Orange River Colony, and Cape Colony, between April, 1901, and May, 1902, having been Mentioned in Despatches for his services (London Gazette, July 29th, 1902), also receiving the Queen’s Medal with five cla
sps.
After peace was signed he served in Ireland, and in October, 1904, obtained his majority. Afterwards he served in England till, becoming Lieut.-Colonel in 1912, he went out to India to take command of the 1st Battalion Royal Irish Rifles. He was deeply engaged at this time in writing the History of his Regiment, a work soon officially accepted and highly praised. He had previously written a history of “The French in Morocco,” compiled from many sources during his years in the Mediterranean.
When the European War broke out in August, 1914, he was at Aden with his battalion, and until anxiety in Somaliland was allayed the Irish Rifles were detained there, only reaching France in November. They spent the winter in the trenches, taking their share in the fierce fighting in December.
On March 10th, 1915, they took part in the attack on Neuve Chapelle, and were the first battalion to reach the village, but losses were heavy. A sergeant-major wrote: “Our Colonel was everywhere, encouraging his men, and seeming to bear a charmed life. He knew no fear, and walked quietly in front of us as if no bombardment were going on.”
On Friday evening, March 12th, a fresh assault was ordered. Lieut.-Colonel Laurie rallied his exhausted men, and, calling out “Follow me! I will lead you!” he sprang over the parapet, revolver in hand. A moment later he fell shot through the head. He was buried with his fallen officers and men in a garden near Neuve Chapelle.
During this war he was twice Mentioned in Despatches (Gazette, January 14th, 1915; and after his death, May 31st, 1915).
Lieut.-Colonel Laurie, who was a member of the Army and Navy and the United Service Clubs, was fond of hunting, and went out regularly with the Devon and Somerset hounds. He also hunted in Ireland, and in Nottinghamshire with the Rufford, and played polo.
He married, in September, 1905, Florence Clementina Vere Skeffington, eldest daughter of the late Hon. Sydney William Skeffington, and left three children—George Haliburton, born August, 1906; Blanche, born 1907; and Sydney Vere, born 1910.
LETTERS OF NOVEMBER, 1914.
Telegram, November 4th, 1914:
“Get gun oiled.”
[Note.—This was a private code message sent to me in London signifying that the 1st Battalion Royal Irish Rifles was ordered to France with the 25th Brigade, 8th Division, on November 5th, 1914. Information of the day of departure was not permitted beforehand.—F.V.L.]
Hurstley Park Camp,
Winchester.
November 5th, 1914.
My dear F——.
I telegraphed to you yesterday not to worry about any more equipment for me, as I should not be able to get the things, no matter how soon you sent them. We have had our arrangements put back twelve hours, but even that makes no difference; I shall rub along somehow.
* * *
The Camp is up to our necks in mud. Fortunately, the weather is mild, though we shall have it cold enough later on. Any warm clothes, etc., for the Battalion are being sent to you to be distributed to us in a short time. Then the men will appreciate them more. I should forward them only as you get the funds.
Capt. Cinnamond is still in bed with lumbago, whilst Major Weir is staying behind too. Capt. Allgood comes with me. I cannot give you any more news, as it might let things out. I had a lot to do yesterday, and dropped to sleep after dinner sitting in a high chair about 8.45 p.m.!
Yours, etc….
G——.
Postcard from—
Southampton,
November 5th, 1914.
We had a wet march to this place, and are now on a transport which ought to land us in France to-morrow. So far everything has gone most prosperously with us. Curious that the day you left Winchester I should have got the order to move! I believe the sea is fairly smooth; am getting the last few horses and wagons aboard. Heard to-day that the Remount have bought my chestnut horse “Goldfinch.”
G.B.L.
France,
On Active Service, B.E.F.
November 7th, 1914.
My dear F——.
We had a very smooth run across to … and then lay out for about 20 hours. Fortunately, it still remained perfectly calm, and we got in at 2 a.m., having only a slight collision with another steamer. We left the ship this morning and went into a rest camp to get ourselves thoroughly fitted out. We were told that “French” wanted us badly, as he expected to have the Germans back on the Rhine shortly, which may or may not be! Anyhow, our “rest” will not last many hours! There is a thick fog at present, so I cannot tell you what the whole place is like; but the lanes as we came along reminded me of England, say Ore near Hastings. I saw that your cousin Herbert Stepney was killed,[1] and his mother will be wild about him….
A Naval Embarkation Officer came up to me at our embarking post—Southampton—and asked where Laurie was! I told him, remarking: “I know your face!” He was Captain Perfect from Rostrevor. He said that poor Major Nugent of Bally Edmond died rather suddenly two days ago. Perfect then introduced me to the Captain of the ship, who rejoiced in the name of “Spratt,” with the result that I was given half his cabin coming over. We had to feed ourselves, or, rather, we bought some cooked food by arrangement. Here we have secured bread and butter and condensed milk, and we are now waiting for our transport to come up from the harbour to get some warm tea.
I will let you know as much as I can as we go along. Of course it is impossible to tell you where we are, etc…. If you want to know about German atrocities, read Nash’s Magazine for November. I just saw it.
Yours….
G——.
On Active Service.
November 8th, 1914.
That was as far as I got in my descriptions to you when I had to rush off with my transport wagon and Quartermaster to complete the equipment which had not been given us in England. This lasted until 11.30 p.m. in a strange country with thick fog, five miles to go, and none of us able to speak French! However, I came home about 7 o’clock in the morning to fix other urgent matters up. The night was not so very cold.
Being an early bird, I varied matters this morning by calling my officers! Major Baker[2] is splendid.
After Church parade, reading the service myself, I have been generally hustling things, and am going out for a route march at 2 p.m. to-day. The sun is finally dispersing the fog, so we shall get an opportunity of drilling together. We have practically never done so yet; and I am really appalled at what might be the consequences of going into action with the men unpractised. Few of them have been on active service before, and it will all have to be taught under fire…. Since I have managed to get a pair of boots for myself from the Ordnance, I now go dry-footed for a change! I shall probably send you home my good uniform ones to keep for me, as they were made rather too tight for this sort of work. If I live through it, I will be able to wear them all out. If not, it will not matter much to me….
I expect you are having your shoot to-morrow and next day, and I hope it will be a success.
Yours….
G——.
November 9th, 1914.
I may not have time to write to you again for some days, so first, please accept my thanks for the waterproof sheet, and all the other things you bought. Unfortunately I shall not be able to carry them with me, so the lot must be returned to the Army and Navy Stores….
I think I told you that “Goldfinch,” my chestnut horse, has been sold to the Government, and the roan “Khaki” I sent to Mrs. Clinton-Baker at Bayfordbury. One of my new horses rolled over me yesterday, but beyond bending my sword and tearing one of my leggings did me no damage, though Major Baker thought at first that my leg was broken! It is colder to-day. We were astonished to see a number of French soldiers about; one imagined they would be up at the Front fighting. Also there seemed to be a lot of young men who might have been out doing a little for their country. Many of the women are in mourning here. My servant told me that most of our men had now got gloves, and that it was surprising the care they took of them, as they were generally not so careful; but they
knew that they would want them; so I am very glad that you have got extra ones, for they do not last long. The fog has settled down again, mercifully not quite so thick as before. It was odd the day before yesterday when I was down town on duty to see the crowds round some large windows which had news written up on huge placards.
Personally, I have only seen a couple of French papers since I left England, and they contained simply a repetition of news from the Daily Mail before we left England. I feel much better with dry feet; though the boots are coarse, they are strong and useful, but they make me walk like a ploughboy! Still, if the weather gets colder, I can put on a second pair of socks under them. We have been lucky enough to get some good butter and some tinned milk from a small café near here. Of course, we are in the district that is not invaded by the enemy at present. My men are very willing, but very troublesome. They lose themselves and fall out on every pretext…. A Colonel came up yesterday and said: “You back from Aden?”…
I hear a rumour that John is off to India and my brother Kenrick a Major already. He is a lucky fellow! Glad you saw me off on Wednesday at Winchester. I looked up at your window, but could not see you….
[Note.—The position of the 1st Battalion Royal Irish Rifles was, at this period of the war, about 20 miles from the town of Ypres, and the billets mentioned in the letters were mostly in and around the little town of Estaires.—F.V.L.]
In Billets.
November 11th, 1914.
I wrote to you last Monday from our camp where we landed. We left that, being put into our train by an old gentleman of your uncle’s (Sir John Ross) Brigade. Having told us everything he could, he then went to dinner. In the meantime, we had to put the loaded Army wagons from the ground on to the railway trucks. We finished in about four hours’ time, and went off in a very cold train of nearly fifty carriages. Biscuits and tinned meat were distributed to us, and we ran on practically without a stop until 12.30 a.m. Wednesday morning. I say practically, for we halted nearly an hour at one station and got the men some tea. We had no means of washing, so you may imagine we looked like black men in a very short time! Next, we got out of the train and unloaded it in rain, went into some barns and slept until 5 o’clock…. I was in a cart shed much like the one opposite the large barn belonging to the “Park Farm” at Carlton. I had some doubtfully clean straw and my coat and waterproof, but I found it cold all the same. However, as I was only allowed to remain in till 5 a.m., it was not as bad as one might have expected. Marching again at 9 a.m. I went into billets after passing a church badly knocked about by German shells, and a burnt-down house, which owed its departure to the French shells. Here I am in a building very much resembling Willoughby Farm. In the hay barn I have 50 men, 100 men and 11 horses in the stables, and 16 officers in the house, with all the remainder somewhere near me. It is colder and has been blowing a gale up to now, but I expect it will turn to rain again when the wind drops. I was inspected this morning by a superior General: am rather tired of inspections! From where we sit we can see the flash of the shells bursting in front of our position. We hear all sorts of reports as to what is happening. I fancy it is fairly even balanced fighting of a very hard sort. An old lady belonging to the farmer class had her home invaded by the Germans some time ago. They took everything in the house—food, clothes, etc.—and presented her with two francs on leaving, saying they always paid for things! The country is exactly the same as the ground on the opposite side of the Trent without the hedges. I have seen no chateaux or anything of that sort about here. It is evidently a peasant’s country. Our men are very funny bargaining with the farmer’s wife; now and then we have to come to their assistance over the money question. Rather a curious feature in these parts is that most of the farms have a large wheel for churning attached to the house. A dog is popped into this wheel, and he then has to run for his life, and so does the churning! I suppose such an invention would not be allowed in England on the ground of cruelty nowadays! I am glad to hear that the Emden and Konigsberg have both been settled. I am only sorry about the ships off Chili. Poor Admiral Cradock! Do you remember him at Dover, when Lord Brassey gave an entertainment to the Fleet?