Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie
Page 11
February 12th, 1915.
Your letter not come yet, but posts do not always fit. We had a couple of amusements yesterday. One was the opening of fire from quite a new direction by the Germans. Fortunately, not very heavy, though. The other thing was that our house caught fire last night about 5.30. Major B. and the sergeant-major made the discovery. It originated with the guard, who, of course, were the last to find it out! Major B. and the Sgt. Major were both invaluable, but my first business was to see that the sentry was alert, so that we could carry on our operations without being surprised by our opponents. Next I got a ladder from a ruin, put a man up it with a hose, and said: “There are great gaping holes in the tiles everywhere; pull off the remaining ones, and then we can pour water all over the fire.” There were very few, however, left to pull off, so the work was done and the fire put out in a few minutes. Lucky for us it was just before dark and the light just right, otherwise we should have been shelled to pieces. We buried that poor fellow I spoke about yesterday afternoon with a parson, keeping my eyes lifted for rifle bullets all the while. I forgot to tell you I stopped an N.C.O. as I was coming down to the trenches 3 nights ago to speak to one of our men; immediately afterwards he was hit in the leg by a bullet. As it was long range, the bullet remained in his calf, and he went off in an ambulance to have it dug out. One of my poor men died also this morning; it was astonishing that he was alive at all, for yesterday a bullet hit him in the head and blew the back of his head off, and yet he remained alive and quite conscious without pain till 2 a.m. I have just had a visit from an artillery officer; he and I have concerted a plan of operations together. As his shells are very heavy, things ought to be bad for the Germans. How I hate this business of killing people who never wanted the war, and would go home if it were possible! Now, if I could have an innings at those who actually made the war and murdered the women and children, I would have quite a different tale to tell, but these poor creatures are set in a groove and are helpless to escape out of it.
In Billets.
February 13th, 1915.
We got away quietly from our trenches on the night of the 12th, I am thankful to say. It was so dark that I could not see the man in front of me, though I could touch him with my hand. I “came,” as the Irish say, a great sprawl over a bridge across a ditch, the chief difficulty being to find my uniform cap in the darkness and mud, as, of course, one did not wish to give away where we were by even a flash from one’s electric torch. However, here we are in billets once again, with the rain pouring down and guns roaring now all round us. I cannot quite make out whether any shells from the enemy are falling or not. Since we came they have blown down a small building on the other side of the road from where I am sitting, and sent a shell into the medical inspection room. This gives some idea of how powerful even one of their medium-sized shells is, for it went through five thick brick walls before it exploded. I hope I may get leave again presently, but there appears to be some trouble about a second lot. I shall, however, put a brave face on and demand it in the ordinary course, and see what I can do. I am told that Colonels who have finished their command are kept on commanding their regiments out here during the war, as they are badly needed just at present, so I do not know that I shall get a Brigade when my time is up, as it will be ere long. Of course, everything is at sixes and sevens. I hope you have already sent Col. Anderson the copy of my History which he asked for. I am glad that Colonel Farmar has done so well with Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, as he is such a good fellow, and in all probability he will have a good career before him. I must be off.
In Billets.
February 14th, 1915.
A wet day yesterday, and a wild night; rain stopped now, and turning very cold. Pleasant for the trenches, but I anticipate cold weather up to the middle of April at least, and very bitter weather in March. The Germans seized the opportunity to shell us and knock down the house next to mine, laying out two of my men and a sergeant of the Berkshires. Fortunately none of them were killed. They smashed the roof up, so we went round to get safer billets for the men. The house we took was inhabited by a very rich old man, who said he kept a house to live in and a shop to work in, not to put soldiers in! Pleasant loyal fellow! We simply said that he would have 125 soldiers there within half an hour. However, we asked the men, and they said they preferred to stay where they were. I expect, as much as anything, they were too tired to move. Well, I rode out with Major Baker to the Northamptonshire Yeomanry. They were commanded by a Col. Wickham, of the Scots Guards, an old gentleman who joined the Guards in 1874. They told me the sad news that when they applied for their second leave, they were refused, so I am afraid it looks as if none of us will get it, which is more than a nuisance. I enclose a letter from Athelstan Riley; it will interest you. Major B. has been decidedly ill several times on this campaign, and I have literally ordered him to stay in bed to get better, as he would not do so otherwise. I should like, if it comes my way, to bring out a Brigade; I am all for it! Percy’s regiment, the Scots Greys, are in the trenches at present having a hard time. Many thanks for the prospect of another plum pudding; and jam tartlets of some sort, not made with plums, might be very good. Apple tartlets, very sweet, well covered in at the top, would be perfectly splendid. I do not think we require many things now. A lot of cigarettes and tobacco have been sent to us lately….
In Billets.
February 15th, 1915.
Such a wet day yesterday. We had service about 11 a.m. in the conservatory of a convent which in some curious way has escaped being destroyed. The enemy were shelling the town, so I put a corporal on the watch to give notice as the shells drew nearer. However, after coming fairly close they stopped firing. In the afternoon I went to see about my crosses for graves. I get a certain number sent down most nights whilst we are in the trenches. We have now the sum total of our children’s ages [about 20] coming to us to-morrow night, so we shall have something to do to put them all up. Of course, these are for my own men only. In our diggings we are constantly turning up the bodies of Indians or Frenchmen, or of a few Englishmen who have held our trenches before us, and have been buried at the back during the night. Very awful, but so is all war. We go in to-night again to our most objectionable duty. I had a letter from Bertha. Col. Farmar is now well established on the staff with Gen. Smith-Dorrien. S.D. is far and away one of the most capable of our Generals, I am told. I am so sorry to hear of Miss Webb’s [of Newstead Abbey] sudden death from heart, just like her sister, Lady Chermside. Well, that is about all my news. I am off this morning to inspect our bomb-throwers. No doubt these nasty weapons are useful on occasions, but they are most dangerous to those who handle them. So, too, with us—that is, in our Brigade—they have only blown up four of themselves. None of my men have done so as yet, I am thankful to say….
In Trenches.
February 16th, 1915.
Here we arrived peacefully last night; I went through the whole of my lines in places up to my knees in mud, as usual! There is practically no news to give you, excepting that to-day the country looks very nice with a bright sun shining. We have heard heavy firing at Ypres, and do not know what it all means, but I am fairly ready for them, anyhow, if they wish to come. I also learnt that the Germans drove the Russians out of East Prussia, because the latter were short of ammunition, but that the Russians killed and wounded 100,000 Germans before they went. A few more such German “victories” ought to about finish these knaves! How I wish I was back in England and at home!…
February 17th, 1915.
Am really in full blast now. On Saturday I was summoned to ride 5 miles to a conference. The first person I saw there was Col. Farmar, who had just returned from a flying visit to England. It was pleasant meeting him again, though we had not much time for a private talk. The conference being over, I was whisked off in a motor with a General. We were driven by a French soldier who had been two years in London and 7 years in America. After lunch at his billet I was told to reconnoitre the trenches w
e were to occupy that evening; we came upon a French woman of the rich farmer class who had just had her servant killed, and herself and baby wounded by a German shell. Then we went on to the trenches, leaving the General behind, and taking a staff officer instead. I found that my Brigadier had arranged that I was to take over the front of something over two regiments. There were plenty of shells bursting around me, including five in the next house and lots of rifle fire. Well, by the evening I had gathered all the information I wanted to know, so went back in my motor. Meanwhile the Brigadier sent word that we were to go to the town of——. It was perfectly dark there on our arrival, and after proceeding with great care on account of the shell-holes in the streets I came to the only lighted place there was, which turned out to be a General’s headquarters. Here I was allowed to sit by the fire for a few minutes to dry myself, after which I went off in the dark and rain to arrange billets for the Bn. Of course this is not really my business, but everything was so huggermugger that I thought I should get matters along that way. Arriving at 1 a.m., I put the men into deserted French houses. The inhabitants had fled, so I was informed by a French officer at the General’s Headquarters, because the Germans had asked for 50,000 francs for an indemnity, and it was not paid in the given time. They, so he said, shot the mayor and an old man of 80 years and another; so if that is true the people just panicked! We were very comfortable barring sleeping on the floor and having to get up at 5 a.m. on a Sunday, and in snowy weather too! Well, that day I received the order to move, and finally got into our trenches at four-thirty last night in downpours of rain. As we approached these, a heavy fight was in progress, and we came under fire of the spent bullets. One of my very good boxers, poor chap! was hit in the jaw and died at once. I suppose it dislocated the spine. Then the Germans threw star shell on us, and turned a searchlight upon us as well, so altogether made themselves very unpleasant, whilst our own shells burst short just above our heads as we stood on the road. In the dark I sorted everyone out, had a confab. with the two C.Os., and then sent my troops off under officers as guides to their trenches. I need hardly tell you that I hated the whole thing horribly, but one never shows it. The day before my doctor had been taken ill with influenza, and though I asked for another, none could be sent, and there I was with the dead man in the trench and another wounded, and no one to attend to them. However, by dint of sitting up all night, going round the front trenches, etc., I managed to get things more or less right, but was not sorry when day broke without an attack, for if a strong one is made here, we are sure to be broken through. Well, now you would like to hear what sort of place I am in. Imagine a hole in the ground thatched over with mud and broken planks. It is 3 feet deep, and raised just sufficiently for me to sit on the ground without touching my head against the roof. I have some looted straw on the clay, and here I sit and shiver, with my greatcoat and a blanket and mud up to my eyes. From this charming spot I try, with the assistance of many orderlies, to get orders to various companies, sometimes unsuccessfully, for the men lose themselves in a surprising manner when sent on messages. Each time I go forward to the front trenches I have to wade through mud bent double in a little narrow ditch which catches me on either side. We have been told that we are to remain for only forty-eight hours in this place, but it may turn out to be a fortnight for all I know! At present I am using a couple of batteries against the trenches that the Germans are working in on my right. A few men are firing at us from these, but we have hardly fired a shot ourselves, as we are waiting for the enemy to advance, if so inclined. A tremendous bombardment goes on about 10 miles east of us, the heaviest I have heard yet. I nearly went to sleep over this letter, so will stop now, and write more when I have time….
In Trenches.
February 18th, 1915.
You ask about H—— having a pony; I think he had better get thorough confidence in the donkey first, and learn to go by himself. The reason is plain to anyone who goes in for horses much. A donkey, though it kicks a good deal, generally has its hind feet unshod, and in any case does not kick hard enough to more than hurt a little. A pony, on the contrary, is very liable to throw one off and then kick one’s skull in. I remember my brother H—— being knocked off and kicked by a mare. A little nearer, and he would never have moved again. Therefore I think it would be wiser to get our boy used to his donkey and not afraid of it. I will have a look at him when (and if) I get home again. Yesterday I went in the afternoon to put our cemetery straight. It was being shelled at the time, and as I crept round some of our batteries afterwards, the guns were being hit, also a rather nice farm in which they were placed surrounded by a moat. The enemy have been shelling us this morning too, very closely, but I am tired, and my nerves, as you know, are not very jumpy! I was up just after 3 o’clock this morning, and went to various places, nearly being lost in a quagmire! Two of my men were hit, one by a spent bullet in the stomach. We can see the bullet, so I expect he will not die. The other was shot through the thigh, and the bullet stuck in his hand! We have got it out, and I am forwarding it to the authorities, as it has taken such a queer shape that one wonders if the German bullets are according to rules. This is a sketch of the bullet as it was originally and now. You can imagine what pain such a thing must give….
In Billets.
February 19th, 1915.
We are in support now. As we moved down here one of my men was hit in the “hinder parts.” Very unfair advantage for an enemy to take. Of course it was dark; we found, however, that he was not dangerously wounded. That man whose bullet I drew you yesterday had his thigh bone smashed, poor fellow! Did you see that some officers who were prisoners had been exchanged by Germany (the incurable ones)? The two seniors mentioned I knew. One was Major Davey of the Middlesex Regt., whose brother lives in Newark. The other is Major Chichester, with whom I used to hunt in Dover. Did you see French’s last despatches? I heard from Aden last night. The Colonel next junior to me out there sent all the news. They have had heavy rain, and the whole place is green (?). It is said not to have happened since the Flood! Then I received a pessimistic letter from Aunt H—— telling me that lots of wounded were expected and that the war would not cease. The Kaiser is not running this world’s course. He is only allowed to go on as far as is good for him and for us. If he were, I should be pessimistic too, but I have yet to learn that “the arm of the Lord is shortened,” and until then we can rest in peace no matter what happens, my dear. I enclose you a cutting from the People sent by Aunt H—— about the Saddlers’ Co. All the Lauries belong to it. My Father was Master more than once, and also Uncle Alfred. A bright beautiful springlike day, but a little cold. The pudding arrived yesterday; many thanks for it. Our dinner also consisted of smoked sprats from Major Baker; cake and tinned peaches from Capt. Wright; figs and ginger from Mr. Brown, so we did not do badly. We had an adventure last night with a wagon which contained our little all. The man drove carelessly, and the wagon fell into a ditch 3 feet deep in water. After carefully unloading it, I gave them a pair of horses and 50 men to get it out. They pulled it up all right, but it next fell into the ditch on the other side, where it had to be left till the morning, when we sent out just at dawn and brought it in. All this kept us late for dinner, as you may imagine….
In Billets.
February 20th, 1915.
No letters at all, as, owing to the submarines, we are dodging the mails across somewhere else, I expect. The great difficulty is to catch your submarine, though you may see him often enough. The craze for going boating in these vessels will shortly die out amongst the Germans, I fancy, when they find out the number of boats that do not come home! At present they are looking out for one or two which I understand will not reappear, and thus they have to keep ships cruising about in search of them with petrol and food. Of course these are neutral ships; but it adds to our chance of finding out where and how these knaves draw their supplies! I have heard that it is from Ireland; but I expect the Government knows more than it lets out. Yesterd
ay the Germans shelled us for an hour and a half; they just missed us, and killed a poor civilian behind the houses instead. They have increased our leave by one day now; still, whether they will grant mine a second time is uncertain, but I continue to hope. The awkward part is that they never let me know in time to write and tell you. Supposing it is granted, I may arrive on the night of February 25th; but if I do get across I must do a little shopping in London first, and fit myself out with some things I badly want: then I shall come on to you as soon as possible. It is rather a bore that the war will not stop, and I am annoyed that I have been kept out in India and away from you for over two years! The weather is improving here and getting more springlike. What are the Germans going to do now?…
February 21st, 1915.
I was very glad to hear from you yesterday, when two of your letters arrived together. Of course we had been done by these German submarines; so evidently the authorities thought it wiser not to run the Folkestone boats all through the day, for fear of giving the Germans an opportunity of sinking them! I fancy at night you are as likely as not to run over a submarine. In the same way I make no doubt that many of the German ones have been run down and sunk on the quiet. We go into the trenches again to-night, worse luck! My leave was refused on the ground that the General was not giving anyone a second leave, but the Staff captain added that it was only a matter of a few weeks’ delay, when he would probably grant it if he could. I have been over to my transport lines on horseback this morning. I have to keep my eye on some 60 horses and mules who mostly stand out in muddy fields; but as they are very well fed and not overworked at present, there is nothing much wrong with them, excepting that their thick woolly coats gather vermin a little. I have had broken bricks and cinders put down for them to stand on, and thus lifted them out of the mud. I was over yesterday getting my hair cut, when I met Mr. Sherlock out for a walk, and as I was obliged to wait for an hour or so, I had tea with him. He told me that my name was mentioned in French’s despatches. Well, that is quite pleasant, and I hope next time some of my officers will join me. Do you remember a Col. Gough in Dublin about the time we were married? Well, he is Brigadier-General on the Staff now, and yesterday went down to our lines of trenches. He was shot through the groin, and I am afraid has been very badly wounded. The enemy proceeded to shell E—— yesterday whilst I was there. Their gun must have been 5 miles from it. The first shot knocked a big tree down in a timber yard, of all places, but did no further damage. The second one went over my head, fell in a soft place, and exploded its energy in nothing. Then I left E——. Monson, my old servant, has joined me, looking more like a cross between an owl and a stork than ever!…