February 3rd, 1915.
We are off to the trenches this evening, worse luck! but we can’t complain, for we have had a most comfortable 3 days considering everything; actually sleeping until 8 o’clock in the morning, washing ourselves and clothes, and generally doing ourselves well by buying eggs, butter, and wine of sorts. White wine appears to be the most plentiful in this locality—why, I cannot tell. It is a sort of Grave, and not at all bad as things go. Major B—— and I rode yesterday, despite the rain, and on the way we went to a place I have rigged up where my pioneer sergeant is making crosses for those who have been killed. Very nice wooden ones, which have little plates on them, also of wood, with name and so forth painted in black, standing about 2 ft. 6 in. high. The men admire them very much indeed, and I fancy that they like me to take an interest. It raises their self-respect. I found that, although some have already been put up, 16 crosses were standing there waiting for white and black paint, as we had run short of it, and these sort of things are difficult to get. The sugar I bought here for the men is 7d. a lb., and it is greatly appreciated by them. Of course, it is not allowed to be imported from England during the war, otherwise we might get it cheaper. I am glad you had a nice day for your first outing; as you say, “Flu” is very nasty. I wonder if I shall be able to run over again in March and see you. The Colonel of our gunners has just dashed in to ask me to luncheon before I go to the trenches. He says that he wants cheering up. I suppose he thinks me an optimist! What time would suit you best if I could get a week at the end of February or beginning of March? I know you said something about running across to Ireland again, and I do not wish to interfere with that. I do not know whether I shall be able to get it, but it is an idea. I see the Kaiser is in Berlin—the newspaper says “with his throat.” I believe he is really there seeing if he can raise another loan, which will tax his ingenuity. He will announce in the papers that he has succeeded all right; but I think it will only be paid up in his own banknotes, which, of course, unless he has gold to redeem them, are worthless….
In Trenches.
February 4th, 1915.
We returned here last night. Before leaving the billets I was going round putting things right, when suddenly German shrapnel began bursting over my head. I hustled my men under cover, and no one was hurt, though a shrapnel broke the window in the house where we were and came through it. We started off cheerfully enough, and arrived at our trenches safely by 7 p.m. There was heavy firing on our right, and at about 9 o’clock the German guns opened, putting shell all round us, including one in the house next to us about 20 yds. away. Of course it is only ruined walls, but it made a tremendous crack. The house is rather a nice one of fresh red brick with bright red tiles on the roof, and it also has blue and white glazed tiles over the doors and windows. We then made ourselves horribly obnoxious with our machine guns, and opened by arrangement. You never heard such a noise. As a matter of fact, we knew that they were changing regiments at that hour, and we tried to catch them with our artillery. Whether we succeeded I cannot tell. I have been up and about since between 2 and 3 a.m., so one earns one’s bread out here! The machine guns were particularly busy, but there was hardly a shot fired at me in all my rounds! This morning two German aeroplanes arrived. One of ours had been playing about, but it fled when the enemy appeared. We fired on them immediately, and they went off. Then ours came round again, and the Germans reappeared, but it did not run away so fast, and we again helped it. Now two of ours are sailing up and down, shot at by German infantry, their own aeroplanes having vanished. From two different German sources we learn that they expect the war to be over in April, as they have told the troops that Russia is beaten. Some have admitted that they hardly expect their troops will fight after April; but from my knowledge of Germans I do not think they will be given the option; they will be shot by the authorities if they do not fight. We have also had the cheerful news that, regiment for regiment, their casualties are about four times our number. This I believe to be correct. I had a pleasant little lunch with the Colonel of the Gunners, and a whisky and soda, which I have not tasted before in France so far….
In Trenches.
February 5th, 1915.
Not up quite so early this morning, as my acting General said he was coming round, and I had to meet him at a certain point, so I did not rise much before four a.m. We went about until 7 o’clock, doing various things, fortunately with very little shooting. There was a heavy bombardment last night from our guns at 10 o’clock, but I do not think it did the enemy a great deal of harm, and we fired at him again with big guns in the morning. He is trying to approach us by a sap, and we are trying to blow him out of it. Not that we object to his coming close, but because he wants to enter that particular place; so it is right that he should at once be sternly checked. I received two of your letters last night, dated the 1st and the 2nd. I am sorry about the death of your cousin, Mrs. Hilton; but her heart had undoubtedly been weak for sometime. C—— S—— must have been grieved that he did not arrive in time to see her again. Tell him I am in sympathy with him over his loss. Thanks for sending me a cake. The eggs do not really do us much good now, as we have found out a way of getting them. I had a kind letter from my Mother last night promising me two more pairs of socks and some more chocolate. I wish I could put on three pairs of socks here, as my feet are always cold. The ruins of the French houses have their floors covered with tiles, as I think I told you before, and they are cold to the feet. Unfortunately feet swell, and boots even two sizes too large appear to shrink, so finally one thick pair of socks is possible only. I heard from the Saddlers’ Coy. yesterday that they propose to send me the coffee and milk, and that my letter had been read to the full Court and had been found very interesting. I heard also from General Inglefield; he says that he would like me to have a Brigade before long.
In Trenches.
February 6th, 1915.
The Generals gave out yesterday that we were to be attacked last night, the reason being that the Germans were seen to be clearing the wire away from their trenches, presumably with this plan in view. We decided to discourage any such attempts by opening the affair ourselves. We therefore fired on them with all sorts of things, including an iron drain pipe which throws a ring of gun cotton. This is simply made out of an old jam tin, whilst the fuse is lit before firing the charge in the drain-pipe. The latter charge of powder is then driven out of the jam tin. If correctly judged, it hurtles through the air and falls into the German trenches, and blows people there to pieces. How close the fire is here is shown by one of my companies having had two periscopes hit. Periscopes are four inches wide or less, and probably only 5 inches shows above the parapet, so you can see the German marksman at 100 yds. anyhow is not to be despised. This morning I was up before four o’clock, and round my men. On my way back a German put a bullet between the Corporal and myself. Of course lots of others were flying about, but this was the nearest. We go into support to-night; and the house we are going to occupy had a shell through the front door two days ago. It was fired at from the side at some great distance, came through the door, and fell on its back without exploding just short of a cupboard. This must have come from a strange battery, as the ordinary shells go round it all and every day, bursting galore, so I suppose this was one up the line fired at a sharp angle to try and take us in flank, as it were. I am rather sleepy, as there was a fire fight at 12 p.m. last night, for which I was awake. I received a letter from Miss Ruby McCann of Belfast yesterday, sending tobacco and her love to the men. The latter, she stated, was only to the “good-looking ones.” I also had a letter from your Mother. She told me that you had not gone to the concert owing to A—— H——’s death that very day. Still, of course, you took tickets for it. I also received a note from the Saddlers’ Co. saying that they were sending four cans of milk and coffee to me to start with, and more would follow when they heard how the men liked it. The cans have four dozen tins in each. Very kind indeed of them. Well, I think that is all my new
s, excepting that I have got a headache, and have had one for the last two days, which is not surprising, since I have been up and about at such unearthly hours, and have not had any chance of sleeping properly in between whiles. I am always on the telephone to one person or the other….
In Billets.
February 7th, 1915.
I hear that Col. Napier has got a Brigade, and I must write to congratulate him. You are kind in offering to send us more cakes and mincepies. What we really miss according to our usual mode of life is the absence of the “sweet” course at luncheon or dinner. Perfectly ridiculous! Just the same as washing, but one misses it somehow, that is all, even when one is eating covered with mud. I received your letter of February 3rd last night; usually these letters only take 2 days to come. Thanks for sending Bryant and May’s matches. I hope they will arrive shortly via Southampton. Tell Blanche I am sorry for her troubles with her teeth: I am trying to see a dentist myself. I hear there is one at a little distance away, and I propose to ride over to see him to-morrow, if possible. We go across to a canal, and follow that for 8 miles, and then he, the dentist, is to be found somewhere in an ambulance. A very good thing to be able to get away from under shell fire even for a short time. We had rather a doing yesterday, for the Germans shelled us heavily, and finally concentrated on two houses. Curiously enough, I had pointed out to the authorities how very visible some works the Engineers had constructed were to the enemy from their aircraft, and I stated that the woodwork ought to be painted earth colour, and sent out a party of men in the meantime to cover the wood with mud. Unfortunately, however, the mud dried, leaving the wood still rather light, and the aircraft came along all right, as I suspected, saw it, and signalled to their gunners where to fire. By some good luck, the 2 houses alongside, though they were full of my men, had also shelters erected to protect them from shell fire. These they ran into, and so escaped; only Major W—— was hit on the head by a splinter, which did not hurt him, as his skull is fairly resisting! The few remaining rafters were blown off the houses and the walls fell down. It was most unpleasant to stand by helplessly and watch it; I could not turn on our gunners, for a very heavy bombardment was going on to our right at the usual place which I have mentioned to you before. The shells we captured were French, and exploded well. Coming out of the trenches, the company that came my way had one corporal killed and one wounded. The poor man was shot dead just before leaving the trenches. I quickened our pace up, I can tell you, when we suddenly found ourselves walking along in the line of a hot fire fight in front of us; though it was a mile and a half away in the darkness, one bullet struck beside me, and another went over my head. The shell which struck this house was evidently nearly spent, and the broken door is just like the back entrance of your aunt’s house opposite Carlton church. It went clean through this; then turned to the right through a thick wall and landed in a cupboard on a shelf, smashing the doors, but not exploding….
In Billets.
February 8th, 1915.
Very heavy rain last night, and plenty of mud this morning after five o’clock, when we stood to arms. I am going to Merville, as I said, this afternoon to get my teeth looked to. I took Major B. for a longish walk yesterday. He hates walking, but brightened up considerably as we went along, and we talked of our various troubles. We have certain worries with some of our men who have not been brought up in the strict discipline really required for a continental war. Cheering news has come to us from Russia. A General was sent by the Czar to decorate Sir John French and the Colonel of the Scots Greys, of which the Czar is Col. in chief. He is reported to have said: “Do not worry; we have not yet mobilized in Russia, but we shall do so in the beginning of April, and we do not ask you to do more than wait here holding the enemy; then we propose simply to march on Berlin with overwhelming numbers.” So be it, as long as we get these thieves settled soon. That heavy fighting I told you about La Bassée way, going on two days ago, was our storming a German trench; I hear that we killed a lot of Germans and captured 30. Of course we must have lost heavily ourselves too. Would you send a copy of my History, of which you have already sent two away, to Col. Anderson, Headquarters, VIII Division, B.E.F. His father was in the regiment, and he is interested in it. Also to my Mother please send a copy with my love. By the way, all parcels to France are expensive, but if the postage by chance is not fully paid it does not matter, as no extra charge is made at this end. Now I must stop, as I am as busy as possible to-day trying to get things done, and everyone wants to see me at once. Such a lovely sun!…
In Billets.
February 9th, 1915.
Well, I went yesterday afternoon and had two teeth filled, one under the gum, which is still rather painful; but the amusing point is that on my way there at some cross roads I was held up for a quarter of an hour by the Germans shelling the place. I hid in a building, and when they got off the line of the road I resumed my ride on to my dentist. Just at this moment they are shelling our usual front line billets vigorously. I mean the ruined houses which we hide behind. Clearly they must have got more ammunition. Many thanks for cake, chocolate, tins of coffee and cocoa, and boiled eggs, which all arrived safely. As a matter of fact, the cake is most useful, whilst we still have a fair amount of chocolate, and the eggs please do not send again, for we have now a regular system of supplying eggs to ourselves at 3-½ francs a dozen, which keeps us going. I am glad the children like reading and receiving my letters. Sometimes I am rather hustled for time, as I have often a great deal to do, and many of my officers have not been on active service before. First, you have to think out the orders, and then issue them in writing, and then, still more important, see that they are carried out. Sorry to hear of Miss Dunlop’s death; she has gone to a better world, anyhow. The one she has left is in a troublous condition. Please God, it soon rights itself! No soup squares required, please. I fancy that if I get my leave at all it will be before April, but of course I cannot choose the time or anything like that. In fact, they may refuse to allow me to have a second leave. Had a letter from Bertha Farmar; she is full of news, and seems very happy. I do not know anything about Colonels only going into the trenches at night. I have been in during the day often; but in the trenches that we now occupy it is carrying your life in your hand to do so—that is, for a tall man; once in, it is just a question of bending down. It is strange to hear of people playing football out here—we ourselves are under fire every minute. One of our men was hit yesterday on the head by a German bullet four hundred yards farther down the street from where I live, whilst he was having his hair cut by the company barber. We had fondly imagined that we were out of the way of bullets!
Yours….
We go into our trenches again to-night, worse luck!
In Trenches.
February 10th, 1915.
Here we are back in the trenches, and a shell has just burst quite close to us. A Yeomanry major has been lunching with me. I put him up in the “Residency” at Aden on his way home, and he asked to come down into our trenches, though he belongs to another division, as he wanted the experience. His name is Backhouse, and his brother was Flag Lieutenant to Admiral Jellicoe at the beginning of the war. We arrived here very peacefully last night, cheered by news of the Russian successes, and then I went my rounds from 3 o’clock till 7.30 in the morning. I pointed out to some of my men that they were standing in a dangerous place, but they said it was all right, and I heard an hour after that three of them had been struck by one bullet. Later the General came along to see about things, and I had to go round with him. A shrapnel from our guns burst short and just missed a man I was speaking to…. However, thank Heaven! we did not have any fired at us. A curious thing happened the night before last. One of the British patrols in my line saw a German at the wire entanglements in the darkness, and fired. The German fell, calling out: “Don’t shoot, soldier.” When they were able to get up to him they found that he had laid his rifle and equipment down before he was seen, and either wanted to su
rrender or, as he had some wire cutters with him, was trying to cut the entanglement. Anyhow, poor fellow! he had had the large artery of his leg cut, and was just at the point of death. We buried him at the back of the ruin. Did you ever think how between the devil and the deep sea the German soldier is? If he runs away, he is shot; if he advances, he is generally shot; and if he tries to desert, as in this case, he is shot too. A hard fate….
In Trenches.
February 11th, 1915.
Getting up at 3 a.m. is very trying, as it makes the day so long. I curl up in my blankets at 9 p.m., and hope for the best, but very often I am pulled out again. Last night, for instance, we had various parties down here working during the night. About 8 o’clock I went to look at the poor German’s grave, and, coming away from it, I was nearly hit by a bullet from some sniper who was evidently watching me. I am just waiting to go to one of our own men’s funeral. He was shot yesterday, poor boy! and I was able to get his body out, so I am trying to give all such, decent burial with a clergyman some distance back from the trenches. I forgot to tell you when mentioning that shrapnel shell yesterday that the man I was talking to was Sergeant Driscoll, whom you will remember in the regiment; and that a sergeant of the Lincolns was killed in my lines exactly the same way the day before. I enclose Mr. Aitchison’s letter. I did not realize that it was his only son. I heard from Mrs. Baker yesterday in reply to a letter of mine. She compliments you on your letters, saying you are quite a soldier’s wife…. I calculate that I might, but only might, get away about February 28th for a week if nothing turns up in the interval; but, again, I was told that all leave was stopped in the 7th Division, so I am doubtful what will happen. Perhaps the war will end soon. Who knows?…
In Trenches.
Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie Page 10
