Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie

by George Brenton Laurie

  March 4th, 1915.

  Your letter did not turn up yesterday! I have been most busy with various things. If you saw my men in a spinning mill sleeping under engines, etc., you would wonder how we exist! Of course, Spring is coming on, and we shall then have to go in for business of the worst type; so whilst someone else is holding the lines, we are now trying to get our men fit for this work. Meals here are quaint, run by a servant girl. She brings breakfast of coffee without milk and an omelette, but we always have our ration of bacon as well. That was a difficulty at first, as neither the adjutant’s nor my book gave the French for bacon. However, by introducing the word cochon, we arrived at the fact that here amongst her class it was called porc—so there we are! Then luncheon is a sad affair, with generally some cold thing followed only by cheese. At tea (made very weak) from our ration stuff, she now gives us toast, though there, again, we had no such word in our book. I managed to remember that it was pain roti, and we got along. Dinner is not bright, but yesterday we were blessed with a pudding of rice strongly flavoured with vanilla. To-day I am off for a wade with my officers to show them what they must learn about my new lines. Such a trouble as it is getting there, with shell flying and bursting all around one, and rifle bullets humming everywhere. I hate this business cordially, but what will you! If these scamps are not driven back, they will try to rule the world, and will kill and burn as they think fit, and that will not do at all! The Russians seem to be doing good work in killing the unfortunate Germans. Let us hope that the whole thing will go with a run now, and that it will not last much longer…. Love to the children….

  P.S.—I lost two N.C.Os. killed yesterday by one bullet through their heads, and another of my poor men had his tongue cut out.

  March 5th, 1915.

  My dearest F——

  I am writing this in great haste, as I am just off to the General’s on important business. I was most interested in reading various friends’ letters on my “mention.” What it has really been in the way of being shot at would cover a small campaign three times over, and I do not doubt many of my officers and men have had even a worse time than myself, and there is very much more hard work to come. The French Army can always produce fresh troops for each fresh job, but our smaller army has to send the same troops up to everything, and then when the regiment is reduced to fragments, it is filled up with anyone from anywhere, and to the authorities it is the same as the original good regiment. Before I forget, and in case anything happens to me, I want to tell you again that all my securities are at Cox; there is a list of them in my despatch case, and you will find one lot of title deeds that I had not as yet had time to look over in the Oak Room. I have been so hustled ever since coming from India that it has been impossible to attend to such things….

  Yours with love….

  G.B.L.

  In Billets.

  March 7th, 1915.

  We have been very hard at work to-day. At 9.30 last night I received an order to arrange with the priest in a certain village for service the next morning. As my billets extend over a mile, you can imagine that I was not too pleased! This was followed at 11.30 p.m. by another order that we were to be on parade at 6 a.m. Getting home between 7 and 8 a.m., I had to hurry to early service, bolt some breakfast, and present myself at the General’s house at 9 o’clock for a conference. Returning from that, I then had to hand in the men’s winter kits. Next came the orders to move into fresh billets to-night in the dark. This with 1,000 men and 70 horses, whilst I must send a working party of four hundred men to a place 5 or 6 miles off at 10.30 p.m. to-night. How it is all to be done I have not been informed, but you can imagine the chaos that can ensue. We have been comfortable for the last two or three days. After our life in the trenches we can say that we have been very comfortable, because we have been able to wash daily and have a tub every second day, which things count much. I sent my Sam Browne belt, etc., home two days ago, as we are supposed to wear web equipment now like the men; and our swords have also been despatched. Mine has gone to Messrs. Cox’s shipping agency through the Ordnance, with three labels on it addressed to you; it is well greased, and will not require overhauling, I trust, until I get back. We have had two days of rain, and things are rather nasty. My saddle-bags are quite useful on my second horse; they take a lot of my kit, including a pair of waders, with boots to go with them too. When the weather dries up a little, I shall return these and push other things in. I wish the war was well over, but I expect the Germans hate it worse than we do….

  Billets.

  March 8th, 1915.

  Our little march in the dark was accompanied with heavy rain squalls and the weather turning bitterly cold. We missed our billeting party in the darkness, for it was intense. I think the inside of a public house was appealing to them at the time, so I halted my men, and by sending mounted officers in every direction, with luck I caught some of them. And here we are again, and very comfortable. Of course, we still have our early rising to contend with, but otherwise for the moment things are pretty straight. These Irishmen are most amusing fellows; they can’t be treated like the English soldier: one has to be much more strict with them, and ride them at other times with a much lighter hand. For the next few months, unless Germany collapses at once, there will be heavy fighting for us. I am glad to hear that the Russians are driving these knaves back. What it really means is that when the Germans fight a successful action, they lose a certain number of men whom they cannot replace, and use up ammunition which they cannot make in a hurry, and so the war gradually draws to its conclusion, I trust…. I had to fly away just then to deal with my many prisoners and my companies also. I am sorry you have had illness in the house; I am so used to sickness that it hardly appals me when it applies to other people. For instance, since I came out here, if you multiply the number of my Father’s town house in Porchester Terrace by 10 [number invalided, 470] you will be below the numbers who have been invalided from my Bn. since I came to France, and before that there was Hursley Park, Winchester, and the voyage home from India, when I lived amongst sick men for some unknown reason. The weather is now varying between skiffs of snow and bright gleams of sunshine, but very, very cold….

  March 9th, 1915.

  Many thanks for your letter. My new puttees will be most useful, as my old ones are full of holes. We have, during the last day or so, had a strong wind, and the ground is drying up wonderfully, so it will not be so hard on puttees for the future. As a rule, when one walks across country, and struggles through muddy trenches without one’s horse, one wears puttees if one is not wearing long gum boots; these latter keep the legs and feet drier, but the difficulty is that they are too heavy to walk very far in them. I had a long letter from Meta, which I enclose. I am sending two badges to the children from my old coat. I thought they might like them. I look forward very much to the cake you are sending, as the last parcel went astray. My new coat came last night. It is made out of very thick cloth, and altogether loose and useful. There always has been a battalion of the London Irish Rifles (Volunteers), now a territorial corps. The War Office would not allow them to belong to us, because Irish Regiments have no territorial Bns. In S. Africa, that Bn. (London Irish Rifles) sent us a company which was attached to our regiment throughout the war. I leave the Irish visit in your hands at present. The only leave I shall receive will be if I am wounded. There will be a lot of fighting of a bad sort from now on. It would never be surprising if one were hit. I have been mercifully preserved up to now; and, again, one must put one’s trust in Providence….

  My dear little Hal,

  I am enclosing one of the coat badges which I wore in S. Africa and in this war until this morning, when I received another coat from my tailor, so I thought you would like it to keep. I hope you are a good boy and working very hard, and are a help to Mummie.

  Your affectionate

  Daddie.

  March 9th, 1915.

  My dear little Blanche,

  I am also sendi
ng you one of my coat badges. This morning I received from my tailor a much warmer coat, I am glad to say, for I find it terribly cold being out all night in mud and ice-cold water. I am sure you are trying to be a very good girl and learning your lessons well.

  Your loving

  Daddie.

  March 9th, 1915.

  In Trenches. Very Much!

  March 11th, 1915.

  I have had some very hard fighting since I wrote to you. Of course I knew it was coming off, but could not tell you exactly…. We lost a certain amount…. I am too busy, though, to write much, and I am out in the open feeling very cold, and will be in the mud all night, where, by the bye, I’ve been for the past three nights. A few of my officers have been killed, I regret to say, whilst the total of killed and wounded for my regiment alone has been three times the number of my father’s house in P—— Terrace [total number, 141]. Can you imagine me charging down with the regiment shortly after dawn into Neuve Chapelle? I will write more about it all if I am spared. There is heavy fighting before us.

  Yours ever….

  G.B.L.

  [Here the letters end abruptly, this being the last one written just after the taking of Neuve Chapelle. On the following day, March 12th, the Irish Rifles were ordered to advance to a further position, which, although the ground was gained, the task was an almost impossible one, the men being completely worn out after fighting hard several days and nights together.

  The story of how Colonel Laurie led the charge will be found in the letters appended, with various other descriptions of the battle. Cheering on his men and calling to them to follow him, he fell in action mortally wounded. Thus was he summoned in a moment to a higher life, and his pilgrimage on earth was over].

  R.I.P.

  * * *

  Buckingham Palace, O.H.M.S.

  To Mrs. Laurie, Carlton Hall, Carlton-on-Trent, Notts.

  The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and the Army have sustained by the death of your husband in the service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathize with you in your sorrow.

  Private Secretary.

  (From Major Clinton Baker, Second-in-Command.)

  R.I. Rifles.

  14/3/15.

  Dear Mrs. Laurie,

  You will have received your dreadful news by telegram. I cannot tell you what a terrible loss it has been to the whole regiment, whose deepest sympathy you have. Our dear Colonel was killed on March 12th at 5.30 p.m. as he rose to lead a charge, revolver in hand—a fine example to us all. The end was instantaneous, no suffering.

  His adjutant early next morning, out with me, was shot dead at my side, and we last evening after dark buried them side by side close to Neuve Chapelle. We had three terrific days’ fighting (10th, 11th, 12th), and are still engaged. I will answer any questions you may ask as soon as I can. I am writing this in the position we captured, knowing that you must be longing for even a short letter. I cannot tell you what a loss I have suffered. You have my very deepest sympathy.

  Yours most sincerely,

  W. Clinton Baker.

  Everything will be sent home in due course.

  (From the same.)

  24/3/15.

  I am glad to think that my hurried note was of some little comfort to you. It was written practically during the battle, so you must excuse its apparent briefness. My poor Colonel was absolutely without fear, a splendid example, which I am glad to say the men well followed. The grave is within two hundred yards of the German trenches and 50 yards from where he fell. It is now marked with the rough cross we put up, with his name on it, but I am getting a substantial one erected similar to those he had put up for all the regiment who have fallen during the last four months.

  As he no doubt told you, we attended the Holy Communion together only five days before he fell…. I will have “Peace, perfect Peace” put on the cross. His sword was sent off to Cox and Co. about the 5th, and they will send it to you, together with all his other effects which have been sent off. But you should write to them.

  I cannot tell you how I miss him; we were so much together every day and every night. Don’t hesitate to write to ask me questions.

  The first part of the fight I think he wrote and told you about; I know he said he was engaged in writing to you, on the 11th I think it was. The 10th was the day on which we stormed the trenches and took Neuve Chapelle. On the 11th we did little except get shelled, as we tried to sleep in some German trenches. On the morning of the 12th we were again in Neuve Chapelle, and for 2-½ hours endured a terrific shelling to which he paid no heed, and, as I told you, the fatal shot came at 5.20 p.m. just as, revolver in hand, I saw him about to get over our parapet and lead a charge. A true soldier’s Death. Should I write to his Mother? I would rather not if you can do so, but will, of course, if you wish it. I am so sorry for you and for your poor children.

  Yours very sincerely,

  W. Clinton Baker.

  (From the same.)

  1. R.I. Rifles.

  12/4/15.

  I am afraid I have been a very long time answering your letter of March 30th.

  I hope you will be able to get a photograph of the grave, as Capt. Jeffares of our fourth Battalion, now attached to the 2nd Munster Fusiliers, who knew the Colonel well, writes that he has taken a photograph of it and will send you one. There will probably be only a rough cross on the grave, which we put up on the day he was buried. Capt. Jeffares wrote that he had tidied up round the grave.

  One of our men soon after the fight wrote home as follows:—“Our Colonel and Adjutant lie side by side guarding the ground won till the last Trump!”

  We have now lost Capt. Lanyon, very sad, so soon after Capt. Biscoe being killed. They had been inseparable friends for years.

  Yours sincerely,

  W. Clinton Baker.

  (From Brigadier-General Oldfield (at this time Major R.F.A., attached)

  Royal Irish Rifles) to Hon. Lady Ross of Bladensburg.

  On F.S.

  18/3/15.

  Dear Aunt B——,

  I am writing to tell you how Col. Laurie fell. I was talking to him just before his charge, and you will perhaps tell or not tell Mrs. Laurie what I write as you think fit. Part I saw and part I was told of after. On the 11th afternoon, after taking Neuve Chapelle, our Infantry was brought to a standstill, and the experiment was tried of rushing a field gun up to clear away houses, obstacles, etc., in the open. I was chosen for this task. After helping our Infantry in one place on 12th morning, I was told to help the R.I. Rifles to take some houses and a trench in the evening. I rushed over to arrange with him, and went into his trenches and among his men. All were very exhausted. He said they simply could not go on. We arranged to attack in the morning. I went to the Brigadier to say so, but found that he was ordered to attack at once. Col. Laurie knew it was almost impossible, but ran off to obey. I rushed to my gun. I just had time to blow in a barn before the time of attack came. His men tried again and again—only to be mown down. The ground between the two lines of trenches was thick with dead of both sides. Colonel Laurie said, “Follow me, I will lead you!” rushed out, and fell gallantly, shot dead at the head of his men. Is there a finer death? For myself, I escaped with my guns last night, and here I am resting after a desperate 9 days. But I lost my favourite subaltern and nearly every friend I had in the Division. I am still very lame, and this time has been very strenuous.

  Your affec. nephew,

  L. Oldfield.

  (From Colonel Laurie’s Brigadier.[10])

  March 23rd.

  Dear Mrs. Laurie,

  You will have heard by now the sad news of your husband’s death, and it is but cold comfort to offer you my sincerest sympathy. It will, however, be a satisfaction to you to hear how well he was thought of. He commanded his Battalion with distinction, and, I hoped, would have lived to have risen higher. He died a soldier’s death, gallantly leading his men in the face of the enemy; and his memory will live among the gallant men w
ho have done so much to keep the fine traditions of the British Army unsullied. He is buried with his brother officers near where he fell. If I can help you in any way, I hope you will not scruple to tell me. My wife will also have written to you, and is very anxious to hear if she can do anything for you.

  Yours very truly,

  A. Lowry Cole.

  (From Lieutenant-Colonel Percy Laurie, D.S.O.)

  Headquarters,

  3rd Cav. Div.,

  Expeditionary Force.

  March, 1915.

  My Dear F——,

  My heart’s right there with you. There is little doubt how he died, gallantly cheering on his men; the whole thing has made history. I will go over and get the fullest particulars, find his grave, have it carefully marked, and send you a photo. He would wish you to be like himself, brave and trusting in the future.

  Let me know if I can do anything….

  (From the same, later.)

  I went over to-day to make inquiries and find George’s grave. I went to his regiment and found a brother officer who was with him when he was killed. A bullet struck him to the right of the nose and killed him instantaneously; he was about to lead his regiment to the charge. His servant stayed with him, but has not been seen since; it is thought he has been hit by a shell. George is buried by the side of his adjutant in a little garden in the village, between two houses on the west side. The grass is marked by a cross, and is fenced round. I know the exact spot. 9 officers were killed, 9 wounded, 400 men killed and wounded. So the gallant old fellow rests with most of his officers and men. His personal effects have been collected and sent to you. Everyone was loud in their praise of him, and the General said he had lost a gallant officer. I could not reach the grave to-day, as it was not safe. I was nearly shot as it was! I got to within 200 yards. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. God bless you!