grumbler who hated to see others enjoy themselves, and always laid himself out to be especially miserable at Christmas time, exaggerating the effects of the season by assuming a frozen aspect, and like an iceberg, chilling all around him; yet as the same iceberg when swept into the Gulf Stream finds the surrounding air and water by which it is enveloped will not admit its retaining its frigid isolation, it gradually melts and mixes with the warmer current, so Dickens brought his surly and crabbed man in contact with those who had set themselves to see everything under its brightest aspect, and under these softening influences he gradually thaws out and becomes the merriest amongst the merry, carried away by the joyous influences that are associated with the keeping of Christmas. And in all English-speaking countries, and especially in our old home, England, it is looked upon as a season to be given up entirely to pleasure in the present and bright hopes for the future. Memory takes me back to a Christmas which hardly came up to the ideal, and the contrast of then and now, of trials and miseries endured then, as compared with present comforts, may make us more satisfied with, and thankful for what we now enjoy. Twenty-nine years ago England had contributed as her share of the Crimean invading force over 35,000 men, of whom a scanty 8,000 were on Christmas Day, 1854, available for duty; many of the remainder had helped to fill the huge trenches hastily dug for graves on the fields of Alma and Inkerman, or slept below the innumerable little mounds which surrounded our camp hospitals, and inside the canvas walls of these the number of sick exceeded the total of those who still stood in the ranks, although none were received into hospital as long as they were able to carry themselves and their rifles. During the greater part of December we had been reduced to half rations, and sometimes to no meat at all; half a pound of biscuit; one blanket, and threadbare suit of uniform contributed but small support and protection to meet a climate not unlike that of Nova Scotia. And we were entirely without fuel, other than the roots of small alder bushes, which were grubbed up with pickaxes carried off from the trenches, and sometimes the pickaxe handles were used to warm a canteen of water for tea. But soon these became so scarce that we were without a single fire in the camp of my regiment for three days. In spite of all, however, Christmas was at hand, and we all set ourselves to be jolly. Even the celebrated Mark Tapley would have considered the circumstances were fairly creditable. The authorities also considered it incumbent on them to make an extra effort, and it was announced with great pride that the commissariat had secured some live cattle in honour of the season, and we were to receive an issue of fresh meat. But this was the extent of their ambition, and their pride met with a fall, for, after waiting till after three o'clock, our pioneers, who drew the rations, returned with the melancholy intelligence that there was nothing for us that day. 'The Zouaves,' so said the commissariat officers, 'had stolen the bullocks.' It is often mentioned as one of the advantages of live cattle as food for an army that they require no transport, but carry themselves. But we learnt that there is another side to this quality—they sometimes carry themselves away, as they did on this occasion. Whether our gallant allies really ate our dinner as well as their own that Christmas Day I know not, but African warfare had taught them to take care of No. 1, and they formed a convenient and not unlikely peg on which to hang the deficiency; and deficiency there was, for our supply department, relying upon their fresh meat, had not brought up any salt meat from Balaclava, and we were left with only our ration biscuit for our Christmas dinner. Just as we received this pleasant intelligence the orderly sergeant handed me the order book warning me I was for guard duty in the trenches that night. Our regiment, which had gone out from Edinburgh in the spring over 1,000 strong, and had received a reinforcement of nearly 100 men, was at this time reduced to 68 men available for duty. So but one captain and one lieutenant (myself) were detailed to take charge of this poor remnant of what had been, three months before, a magnificent battalion. Captain Patrick Robertson, well known to Haligonians as Colonel Robertson-Ross, Adjutant-General of Canadian Militia, was to be my companion. A new colonel had just been sent to us from a West Indian regiment, who took as much interest in his new command as if he had served all his life with us, and employed his chargers and his grooms to transport any possible comforts for his men. Six months afterwards he was struck down when directing the fire of his men on the Russian gunners to keep down their fire and cover our attack on the Redan. By chance he heard us warned for guard, and at once went to his tent and returned with a ham knuckle. 'It is all I have,' he said, 'but those going on duty must have the first chance of some food on Christmas Day. Sit down on your rug and make the best of it.' He was in earnest, so we ate up his dinner and polished the ham bone; but I had determined to keep Christmas as an Englishman should with a real plum pudding. I had collected the ingredients in the course of a couple of trips among the Maltese and Greek settlers at Balaclava and from the stewards of some of the transports; a few raisins, a little sugar, some butter (so called by courtesy); and of course my ration rum came into play. I could not get any flour, so purchased some biscuit at Balaclava. It was mouldy and full of weevils, and had been condemned as ship's stores and sold to some camp followers, but to us at half a crown a pound it was a treasure. I pounded a quantity of this as fine as possible, and mixed the material in my tin shako case, which did duty as bucket, etc., and tied them up in one of my two towels, and, having secured a tent bag full of freshly dug alder roots, the pudding was put on to boil. As we were going on guard, dinner was early, perhaps too early for the pudding. We had no holly, and could not spare spirits enough to make a blaze, but my servant brought in the pudding quite as triumphantly as if we had been in baronial mansion in old England. It was reserved for me to open the towel, which I did with no little pride at having the only plum pudding in camp. I had buttered the towel so that it should not stick to it; it did not, but it did not stick together either. It would not stand up, but fell apart like very stiff porridge. I believe it wasn't bad to eat, but it wasn't exactly what we understand to be plum pudding. My vanity was cruelly mortified after all my efforts to excel. I have never attempted to make another plum pudding. The Russians were considerate that night. They gave us very little annoyance, and Robertson and I walked up and down in rear of the trenches where our weary and worn-out men were lying quiet, getting a welcome rest in a half-wet, half-frozen ditch. We talked of home and how we had spent other Christmases, but I do not think we either expressed or held any other thought for the future than when we should bring our discomforts to an end and wind up the siege by a determined attack on Sebastopol. Little we expected that after long separation our paths would again come together in America, serving the Canadian Government in the organization of its militia. And amongst the sad memories which intertwine with the pleasures of this present Christmas is that of my poor comrade, a brilliant out-post officer and a gallant man, who, after facing every form of danger as a soldier should, died a few months since from violent seasickness, brought on in crossing the English Channel. Memory conjures up the past at this season. Friends who have left us are present in spirit. We associate the past with the present more at Christmas than at any other time of year. It colours our thoughts and influences our acts unknown to us, and brings out kindly feelings and hope, as much in 1883 as my reminiscences show it did in 1854."



IN TRENCHES. Christmas Day, 1914.

Here we are, on Christmas Day! We have had a curious time of it. Last night, about eleven o'clock, the enemy (100 yards only from us) put lanterns up on the parapet and called out: "Do not shoot after twelve o'clock, and we will not do so either." One of our men ventured across; he was not fired upon, and was given a cigar and told to go back. A German officer came out next, and asked for two days' truce from firing, but we said, "Only one day." Then we saw both sides, English and German, begin to swarm out to meet each other; we thought it wiser to keep our men in, because we did not trust the Germans, so I rang up the General to tell him this. We had to station sentries on the trenches to keep the men back; they were so eager to talk to the Germans. Then I offered to go across myself and learn what I could, and finally the German General asked me to send one of our officers over to them. This I did, and gave the latter as an ostensible reason the Daily Telegraph of December 22nd, which I had got hold of, and which contained a very fair account of the troubles in Austria-Hungary and Berlin. He went out with this paper, met some German officers, and discovered a certain amount. They were very anxious to know if the Canadian Division had arrived, whether our trenches were very muddy, and told him that our rifle fire was good. We said that our rifle fire in general was our weak point, etc., etc. So now this is the queer position of affairs: we fire a pistol shot off at 12 midnight to-night by arrangement, and they reply with some shots over our heads, after which things continue to hum as before. You have no idea how pleasant everything seems with no rifle bullets or shells flying about. I need hardly tell you that we have kept our men ready in the trenches all the same, as we do not trust our friends further than we can see them. As to other matters. (1) The pheasants and the partridges arrived in time, and we lunched off them sumptuously to-day; many thanks. (2) The chocolate arrived, and was distributed this afternoon to the men. (3) I enclose three Christmas cards. They are very hard to get, and you had better keep them as mementoes of this war. I am sending one to my Mother. (4) Only 500 lbs. of plum pudding arrived for our men this afternoon. If more does not turn up to-morrow, I will write to the A.D.C. of General Rawlinson to find out what has happened to the remainder. Whilst we are peaceable, the guns are booming out now and then some miles away on our left and right where the French are fighting. I suppose we all thought from the Germans' behaviour that they had something up their sleeves and are looking out for squalls. They said that their army was in Moscow, and that the Russians were beaten, and, moreover, that the war would be over in two, or at most three weeks, so we are expecting a push....

STILL IN TRENCHES. December 26th, 1914.

Your letters came last night. Many thanks for sending mincepies, which have not yet appeared, but which will have justice done to them when they do turn up. As to your large bales of clothing, I believe they have arrived. I must say "believe" because my duties are so many that I have had to tell off one of my officers to look after these affairs; he then reports their arrival to me, bringing in the card enclosed in the bundle, etc. Sometimes they do not all come in one body, but perhaps one bundle to-day and another two days later. I think, however, that practically the whole five have now arrived. There are so many things that we are actually storing, some in a hired building behind the lines, for the men can neither wear nor carry them. I hear that poor Mr. Aitchison has lost his son; he was in the fourth King's Own, my father's as well as my brother H.'s old corps. The Kaiser has come to this part of the world, it is said, so I expect we shall hear of some strong fighting soon. Our "friends" fired one shot at 12 midnight as arranged, but have been quiet ever since. Perhaps they are tired of the war, and want to get home. I expect you are very busy about Christmas things. Do not overtire yourself. How very kind of my Mother to send L25 to our Funds! I must write and thank her. In the meantime, we do not really require anything; will let you know when we do. I am told that all regiments are much the same. Matches are an exception, and are always welcome, but they must be safety ones to go through the post. Frost this morning, though nothing very cold as yet; still the sheepskin will probably be most useful if I can wear and carry it, but it has its difficulties. Thank the children for their cards, please....

IN BILLETS. December 27th, 1914.

Our strange sort of armistice continued throughout yesterday. The Germans told us they were all Landwehr men, and therefore not obliged to fight outside Germany except as volunteers, and that they did not intend to fight at present. Sure enough, though we shelled them and fired at them with rifles, they paid not the slightest attention. Whilst the shelling was on, they dodged down in their trenches, and popped up again when it was over. We hit one with a rifle, but as they would not reply, we felt rather mean and fired over their heads. The relieving regiment [Lincolnshire], of which Mr. Brown of South Collingham is a member, said they would not go on like this. Curiously enough, they have done so. Leaving our trenches, we marched away gaily, getting in here about eight o'clock, or a little later. Had something to eat; then I crawled between my blankets, having, as usual, been up just before 5 o'clock the previous night. At 10.30 p.m. we were waked by a message: "The Germans are attacking at midnight. A deserter has just come in to say so." Out we turned immediately, and marched in very cold weather to a certain point. There we halted; our guns had already opened a dreadful fire on the ground where the enemy must have been assembling his assaulting columns. Apparently this took the heart out of him, for the attack did not come off. I very much thought that this night would probably be my last. However, about 2.30 a.m. we decided to put the men into any ruins near us, and after stopping for some time in a blacksmith's shop seated on a sheaf of straw, I managed to get into a room with a concrete floor, and went to sleep there, having borrowed a sort of thin wrap from a Frenchman and put a sack over my feet to keep them from freezing. About 6.15 a.m. the Frenchman gave us some warm milk, and I was able to give him in return some of your excellent chocolate, whilst we also partook of it too. By 8 o'clock we were back in our billets. I had luncheon with my own General (Brigadier-General Lowry Cole). I hear that the enemy are walking about again on their parapets—refusing to fight. Church this morning in the unruined chapel of a small convent which has escaped the attention of the Huns! Apparently the people do not mind our using it. The central light of the east window represents a figure of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but a lot of my Presbyterians come all the same....

Later on 27.12.14.

I am still in my hole in the earth. Very horrid. Have not washed nor shaved for two days, and am covered with mud from head to foot in thick layers. If I raise my head to stand up straight, a bullet skips about my ears. I went round my trenches last night from 7 p.m. till 12.5 a.m. Such a walk! For some four hours I was travelling as hard as I could in the mud, slipping down in filthy ditches, entering in narrow cuttings in the earth made to protect one from sniping, and called concentration trenches. Still, we got round and held the line afterwards, despite the miseries of the situation. Sometimes I had to crawl on hands and knees through tiny places. I fancy that a pig is a happier creature than I am at present! When I arrived home at my particular burrow, I found a bundle of correspondence waiting for me to be answered to the Brigadier, so that had to be done in my ruin. Was up at 4.30 a.m. to try to see about the men's food and teas for the coming day, and filling of water-bottles, all of which has to be accomplished in the dark. I have had a very trying time working night and day lately. No sleep the day before, and none excepting three hours last night. This makes 72 hours up to 5 o'clock to-day, with only three hours' rest. As I sit here I can hear the shells booming near us, and very heavy fighting on the left, whilst a solitary sniper keeps pouring bullets over my head, hitting all round the houses some four hundred yards behind me. I ask no questions, but think that we cannot possibly be relieved under four more days, and that we shall be very, very dirty at the end!

IN BILLETS. December 28th, 1914.

Two private plum puddings arrived last night; many thanks. I turned in at 8.30 p.m., and slept peacefully and heavily till 7.30 a.m., and would have slept longer, only an orderly from the Brigade Office woke me with his gentle tread on carpetless boards! I had one other interval during the night listening to our guns all blazing away together for quite a long time. Presumably they are trying to catch the Germans forming up somewhere for an attack. You ought to be near a six-inch shell when it bursts to hear the sort of "scruntling" wrench that it gives as it breaks up the tough outer steel. To-day I have been arranging to have my men and their clothes washed, for such things have to go on in war as well as in peace time, only I am obliged to have the clothes fumigated as well now. My own hair has not been cut since I left Winchester, but I will try to see to that this afternoon! The weather has broken from frost into a heavy drizzle, which ought to make the trenches a sight, with the mud that is in them already, when we go back. I have written to my Mother thanking her for her generous gift to the Regiment. I fear she is alarmed at my being out here.... I am going for a walk this afternoon to try to get some life into my toes; they have been quite dead since we went into the trenches for the first time. Probably they are really all right, though I cannot feel anything as yet in them. Gen. Davis tells me that we are shooting away at the enemy to-day, but still they will not fight. Our last hostess was the daughter of a gamekeeper; that was where we had some milk yesterday morning. She said that her father escaped the Germans by jumping on a horse and riding 20 miles. I think I could have walked that distance easily for the same reason. Col. Napier told me that his boy Charlie was captured by the Germans at school at Hanover, "which," he added, "doesn't make me love my enemies any more."...

IN BILLETS. December 29th, 1914.

We are off to-night for the trenches again. I hear that the Germans spent their time shelling our particular ones. It is to be hoped that they have used up their ammunition for the present, as I believe they are rather short. Such a night as it was; blowing a raging gale; but one gets very selfish, and we only remarked: "What an awful night in the trenches! Please God the Germans do not attack! Thank God we are not in them to-night!" and that was all. I wonder how long this war will go on. It never seems to come to an end, does it? I walked yesterday afternoon to a small town beyond shell fire and had my hair cut at last. I also had tea with a Capt. Sherlock, whose wife, I think, was a friend of yours, one of Sir Francis Cruise's daughters, "Gussie." I heard from Major Alston, of the 2nd Bat., how Capt. Whelan was killed. He showed great courage, and stood up on a parapet to demonstrate to his men where he wanted some digging done, only 250 yds. from the Germans. Of course he was seen at once, and was hit in the lungs. Major A—— also said that he was commanding that Battalion, and it was full of strange officers, but I expect they are doing all right. I fancy our German friends are finding the war longer than they thought. A curious coincidence is that we are opposed to the 25th German Infantry Brigade, that, of course, being our own number. So far we have not received Princess Mary's boxes. We shall get them in time, and I shall let you know later on about the plum puddings when I hear from the A.D.C. I did not get a letter from you last night, no doubt owing to Christmas Day and delayed posts....

IN TRENCHES. December 30th, 1914.

Just returned to my ruin from my trenches. They are up nearly to the waist in water, with little islands here and there for the men. I am absolutely trembling with cold, though I have changed my garments. Whilst I was there poor Capt. Miles, attached to me, was shot through the head. Being close by, I waded to him, but it was hopeless from the first. Such a place to die in!—but Heaven will be Heaven after that. His poor wife, too. I must write to her. He was a very nice man. I had plenty of morphia given to him, and he is now dying without any pain quite peacefully. Coming away from him, the German snipers spotted me, and twice I was covered with mud from their bullets; a near shave! It is a good thing to be able to look forward to Heaven as a home. I only wish I could realize it even more than I do. I will write you again as soon as we get into billets when I can find my valise. I think at Carlton you are fairly safe from air raids....

P.S.—Mincepies tried to-day are excellent. I have heard from Capt. Boscawen about the plum pudding. It seems that a portion had to go to other regiments of the Brigade, but I should like you to send over some more for my Regiment only as soon as you can conveniently order it. Princess Mary's present has arrived, and I have sent it across to you for safe custody. The keeper might like the pipe and tobacco. I am sure you will appreciate the brass box as a memento, for we have both won it very hardly.... I have just been to see poor Capt. Miles carried out on a stretcher dead. I wonder how much of this war and the deaths caused by it will rest on the Kaiser's shoulders. I must now write a further letter to go to his wife. He was a talented man, and used to write for papers. When the war broke out he was running a cinematograph film-collecting expedition in German East Africa, and just managed to get away. Poor fellow!

G.B.L. 30.12.14.



LETTERS OF JANUARY, 1915.

IN BILLETS. January 2nd, 1915.

MY DEAR F——

I am not asking you to do anything to-day for me, as I hope to come in person, leaving here on Monday morning. The hour of my arrival at Carlton depends on whether I can get through quickly or not, and whether the Kaiser tries to sink the Boulogne to Folkestone boat. Knowing his peculiarities, I think he would probably wait until he found an emigrant ship well laden with women and children. What brutes the Germans have proved themselves! After heavy rain, the day has turned out bright and cold. The ditches are nearly full of water, which means that all communication trenches will be worse than ever, and Heaven knows they are bad enough already! Yes, I sent some of my private affairs to Carlton to await my return after this war, when I can attend to them, if I really do come back.... There are moments I wonder if anyone will!... The Times of December 28th gave the names of 45 officers killed and 66 wounded between December 21st and 24th. We were fighting fairly hard all the while, but still, if we are as one to nine of the French, this shows that our combined losses would be roughly 1,100 officers for four days, before you come to the men. How matters stand with the Germans can only be conjectured. We learnt from a prisoner the other day that we had inflicted such terrible losses that they had been obliged to change their hour of relieving trenches. As a matter of fact, it had not occurred to us that we had given them any losses at all to speak of at those particular times. Anyhow, if Germany is losing as it is said she is in proportion of three to one of our men, the war cannot continue indefinitely. I hear the fight on my right and on my left at Ypres and La Bassee, both places being hard fought for by the opposing sides, and the row is sometimes deafening. As to your inquiries about Major Abadie, there is nothing to be said. If alive, he ought to have been heard of before now. Probably the poor fellow is dead, and was buried by the Germans or by the Belgian peasants, and no one will ever know what has become of him. A lot of Christmas cards have been sent to me ... but of course I cannot carry them about ... I am afraid mine is very much a soldier's faith. It seems to me one's duty is placed in front of one by Providence, and that if one carries it out faithfully and honestly, whate'er befalls, it is well, ... and this, I am sure, is the creed of all good soldiers. The shelling is making the house shake, but nothing very serious, I think, at present.

Yours.... G——.

IN BILLETS. January 3rd, 1915.

Just across the farmyard under my windows is the barn where my Catholic men are having High Mass, and where in half an hour, if alive, we shall have our service too. There was a good precedent for stables, I believe, 1915 years ago, so we do not view it as incongruous, but I understand that High Mass is unusual, and no doubt a great honour to the Regiment. I hear that our leave does not come off till January 6th. That puts me into the trenches to-morrow night again, for a short time. Last night, about 10.30 o'clock, I was snuggled in my blankets, not very well, for ice-cold water has a way of making you feel it after you are forty-four! However, I was awakened by a tremendous bombardment, all our guns going around us. It broke out twice again: I knew then what it was by putting two and two together. We had found out from a prisoner that the Germans were changing their trench troops about that time, and if we managed to catch them, we must have done them much harm. Rode over to inspect my transport yesterday. Incidentally, Major Baker and I bought 1-1/2 doz. eggs at four for a franc. Famine price, of course, but I have only seen two since I came over here! As to the discomfort of this work, it is not very pleasant, but I do not trouble greatly about it. As an unmarried man, I should not mind the danger either very much, having had a certain amount of experience in Egypt and South Africa, but as a married man, I hate it, because I think it would probably make a great difference to our young people when they grow up if I get killed. Sybil R—— wrote to me yesterday. You know I am her trustee. As to matches, etc., for the troops, keep all waiting now till I get over, and then it will be easy to help you about these things. Well, I must stop to go to church, and there is a good deal also for me to see to afterwards....

January 4th, 1915.

No letter from you last night. So far, no further news of my leave either, but I believe it is due on January 6th all right. Slight rheumatism, that is only to be expected. It has been raining hard, and we are off to the trenches to-night, and I should think they will be worth seeing. It is said that the ground our trenches now occupy will soon be turned into a lake, and we shall have to go boating there. I warned the General the other day in fun that he would require boats ere long to bring up our rations, and it is really coming true! Such a cold, bleak day as it is! I am going over to the Cashier to try to get some money to bring me home; this is the only way one has of obtaining funds in this part of the world. Sad thing about that man-of-war being sunk. What beasts the Germans are with their mines, to be sure! Up to now the lambskin coat has not yet appeared, but I received a note saying that it was sent off on December 30th, so it ought to turn up some time or other, and then one can see. I suppose, if I get through this war, it would always come in as a lining for a motoring coat. Well, I must close this epistle and dash off, as I have to see to many other things before luncheon. We march to the trenches this afternoon.

G.B.L.

I shall telegraph from Folkestone, if I can; probably I shall come by the 8.30 p.m. train on the 6th, but I am only guessing. It may be January 7th.

[Note.—An interval occurs from the date of this letter, when Colonel Laurie obtained ten days' leave and returned to England.]

IN TRENCHES AGAIN. January 13th, 1915.

MY DEAR F——

After leaving C.-on-T. I met Mrs. Foley in London, and gave her a note to post to you. As you know, I spent the night at 24, Harrington Gardens. I was up at 6 a.m., and Aunt M—— (Mrs. Cowell) had a lovely breakfast for me. I was away by 7.30, catching my train all right at Victoria. It was run in two parts. We had a rough crossing to Boulogne, but I was not ill. We reached railhead at 8 p.m., and I then mounted my horse and rode along the quiet country road in the dark. The others travelled in wagons; I preferred riding to driving in farm-carts. On arriving at my transport lines, I changed and came on here, getting in about 12.30 a.m. My people had left their house, having had a shell in the room we lived in, which had blown it even more to bits than before. I went to our new abode, and then on to the trenches to see how everything was doing, and got wet half way to the knees in the driest parts; but I am glad to say they are steadily improving things for us Regimental officers. I was in bed between 2 and 3 a.m., rose again at 3.30, and finally, of course, just about 5 a.m. for good. My feet were rather numbed after the cold water, as we had to break the ice at every step. This morning the Frenchwoman visited us. Each time she comes we are shelled, and Major Baker is sure that she is a spy. To-day was no exception; we were well slated, and two shrapnel hit the roof. Fortunately the firing has now stopped. These Germans are malicious brutes, and would be glad to do one an injury. Mincepies arrived the worse for travelling, though much appreciated all the same. I want to find out more about your suggestion for khaki flannel shirts. So far, everyone thinks they would be most useful, but I must ask all the others. I believe they would be gladly accepted, as the matches were this morning, with joy. It is nice to think I managed to get over to see you.... Heard yesterday that the authorities are still hopeful as to Germany running short of ammunition, but, of course, the more we can get out of her the better. Some big shells are falling near us now, whether theirs or ours I have not ascertained....

IN BILLETS. January 14th, 1915.

So far, of course, no letter from England, though one may arrive to-night. I beat the post by a little, you see! I heard from Lord Grenfell yesterday on some business matters. He tells me that the Russians were in a critical state three weeks ago with their ammunition used up. I imagine, as he says, that they have now got it, and their reinforcements, etc., are quite right again. I also heard from Sir Charles Burnett, our Colonel. Enclosed is Mrs. Miles's letter, a most broken-hearted one. I am writing to her, poor lady, again to assure her that her husband's sword will be sent home. We came peacefully out of the trenches yesterday, though Major Baker, who marches before me, had plenty of bullets round him. To-day I have been examining my new draft of men, quite a useful lot, and in the afternoon rode over to inspect my transport. You see I have got the pad you sent me, and am using it at once. About H—— I approve of his going to Stanmore Park in a year's time. He will then be 9-1/2.

G.B.L.

P.S.—The sheepskin has at last arrived. Thank you for your kind present, but I am almost afraid that it will not work. It is much too bulky! Even Major B—— looked queerly at it! By the way, the cake also came; it was beautifully fresh. We do enjoy these things. Many thanks for both. The sheepskin is very short for me, and closely cropped, and looks like a worn-out mat!!

IN BILLETS. January 15th, 1915.

Two letters arrived from you to-night, enclosing also a nice one from Mr. Argles, etc., etc., and I will write to him about January 20th, if I get out of the trenches safely this time! I wonder what the change of Austria's Foreign Minister means. Everything in the way of change can, I think, only be to the good of England, as Hungary has always been friendly to us. Our General inspected us this morning at 11 a.m. My first parade was at 5.45 a.m., and I had another at mid-day, and yet another look round later in the evening after dark. I also went for a hack to examine a road behind our position. So all this passes the time. Re the khaki flannel. What the officers think is as follows: They would like shirts very much, but as everybody bought new ones when they were home in October, they are not required at present, though those they now have will very soon be worn out, and then they would be grateful for others, and it would save them trouble. So you could have the shirts made up by the woman you speak of, giving her good brown bone buttons. At least ten of them could be a copy of my flannel ones, with single button cuffs instead of the double kind which have "holes for links." There are several officers in the Battalion who take my size in shirts, and the remainder could be made a bit smaller. Most people are rather ill after the trench warfare of the last two days. I had a head, too, nothing worse. It has been wonderfully mild here. I am keeping my lambskin coat after all. I think one could use it to sleep in on cold nights, or to do work in too, but I hope I shall not want it, as half the winter is over. Good-bye.

Yours.... G——.

IN BILLETS. January 16th, 1915.

Am off in a moment on duty, winding up with luncheon at my General's before I go to the trenches. Following out that note from the Saddler's Co. I have written to ask for some comforts for my men. Not clothes, but what do you think? Coffee and milk in tins. Then this morning I have been practising bomb-throwers. This Christian device is made of a jam-tin or crock filled with gun-cotton and nails, and has a fuse attached to it. The fuse is lighted and thrown by hand into the enemy's trench, where it explodes and does much execution. Cheerful, is it not? Another plan of mine was rather unpleasant. I told you that I pumped the water out of our trenches into the German ones, and that they replied, and then dam-building began. Finally, we burst their dam, and some men working on it fled. Our people were about to fire, seeing them running, when an old soldier called out: "Do not shoot, for they cannot run far in that mud." The poor things finally stopped, panting, and they had to be shot down as they stood. Such is war. Very hideous, and I loathe it, but what will you? I am sure fighting is the thing I hate of all others, but I object more to these Huns coming over to England and knocking our women and children about.

IN TRENCHES. January 17th, 1915.

Here I am back again in my trenches. During the three days we did "support" the enemy blew up several houses in this road with shells. Now they are being shelled by our guns, and I am afraid the scamps will fire on us again when the gunners go to dinner. We got in quite peacefully last night, and after something to eat, politely called "dinner," I flew off to see and direct my trench working parties. Starting about 8.30 o'clock, I arrived home between 1 and 2 a.m. Was up again at 5.30 on parade. At 7.30 the General came out. I had a working party of 50 Royal Artillery men as well as my own. We dug away hard whilst the Germans sent occasional bullets amongst us and threw rockets to try to show us up: we lay down then to prevent having machine guns turned on us. But now that we are making the dry parapets I advocated, things are much better in every way, and everyone is more cheery. In building these parapets, the materials have to be carried across drains and even disused trenches, the ground in some places being seamed with old diggings. Last night I saw two men fall into these ditches in the dark, and we had to fish them out. One fell about six feet into about four feet of water. The whole thing was most weird, with the rockets flying and bullets going, and working parties shovelling for dear life in the darkness. We all tumbled about into shell-holes or ditches in turn, where the water is very cold. I suppose the utter hopelessness of it all prevents one getting ill. The mails are late, so I have not received your letter to-night. This morning, when walking with the General, we came upon a Frenchman, woman, and boy in the fire zone 600 yds. from the German trenches wheeling two large wheelbarrows full of household goods which they had removed from some local houses to take back to another ruin where they were living, out of shell fire. Of course the stuff was theirs, but these poor things always forget that, besides their own safety, they bring fire on the houses near them, so we had to send them roughly away; but I did feel so sorry, and in the end persuaded the General to promise them a pass for to-night so as to get the wheelbarrows away. Practice makes perfect, for I spoke to them more or less in fluent French! I never told you what a comfort the watch you gave me has been. It keeps excellent time, and is most reliable. I must try and get some sleep to-day, as I foresee another busy night, and my feet are so cold, the result, I suppose, of two long tramps in ice-cold water. May the war soon cease!

P.S.—Heavy firing, Ypres way.

IN TRENCHES. January 18th, 1915.

Here we are in a snowstorm! I received your note of 14th last night. Not bad, when it has to get to London, leave our base, and come part of the way to the trenches upon foot for safety. I really sent the account of our Christmas luncheon to you. It was an R.A. captain who lunched with us, and afterwards wrote to his people about it. They published the letter, and I found it in The Times I got from you, and sent it forward through Major Baker via Mrs. Baker. There is not much news. We are still alive.... My ruin looks out directly towards the Germans (I hear a bullet hitting it now). As the place where the window was is quite open, I have had it filled up with bags of earth piled one above the other, and I sleep with my head under these and hope for the best. Last night we had two adventures. Our "friends" pitched a high-explosive shell after dark with such a true aim that the pieces flew all about our ruin, in and out of the rooms. They followed this with three more, but they were farther off. The second thing was that my Sergeant-Major, Master Cook, and Sergeant-Bugler, all trembling with cold, poor dears! shut themselves up last night with a charcoal fire, and we found them about four o'clock insensible from the fumes, and had a certain amount of difficulty in bringing them round. Here in war time these people do different things. For instance, the Master Cook has a party of bomb-throwers formed from among the cooks. The Sergeant-Major, instead of drilling the Battalion, arrives up with 8 mules and three ammunition carts, whilst the Sergeant-Bugler, instead of discoursing unsweet music on a bugle, converts his buglers into a corps of messengers to bring me letters or to take them out to my companies.

I was round again last night, not much shot at personally, though chance bullets flew overhead in an embarrassing way, hitting the ground in various places. Capt. Tee had a couple of narrow escapes yesterday while he was out with us. I was inspecting our dressing station arranging about our little cemetery with the doctor and Capt. Wright, when a bullet cut the grass beside us in a most uncalled for manner. So it goes on, and so I hope the war will shortly wind up. I expect things are not very cosy in Germany either!...

IN TRENCHES. January 19th, 1915.

Two letters from you last night up to January 16th. Poor little Blanche, having her teeth out! They do hurt! Had more Christmas cards sent on from Aden. A fairly quiet day yesterday, though there is always fighting Ypres way, and we hear it plainly. This morning I was out at four a.m. with the Brigade Major, and took up the running afterwards with the General about 8 o'clock. I assured him that a certain trench was not the place for him, but he said he had a special wish to visit it, so with his usual dauntless courage off we went. Next minute a bullet hit the ground right between us. After that he thought it wise to retire, and we marched away homeward. My feet were practically frozen with the cold water, and I can't say I was sorry to leave. The authorities, however, are issuing some stuff which is supposed to keep the feet warm, so I propose getting hold of some to sample the next time I come to the trenches, and shall tell you of the results. I must write a letter to Mr. Aitchison to-morrow when I arrive in billets and get hold of some notepaper. It looks to me very dull, like rain or snow. I expect more plum puddings and pheasants are waiting for me when I get out. Thank you for them in anticipation. I fancy that Germany has had an awful eye-opener. In her big war with France in July, 1870, which she has lived on for the last forty-five years, the fighting was over in January, 1871. Now it is just beginning for her. Still, I cannot help thinking that peace is in sight somewhere soon.

Yours.... G.B.L.

We go into reserve to-night for 3 days, and need not get up at 5 a.m. Great joy!

IN BILLETS. January 20th, 1915.

We marched out of the trenches successfully last night, getting in here about nine o'clock. Then I had to see to my company commanders and a lot of other work too, for a regiment will not run itself properly unless someone looks after it. I was rather amused at a case I had this morning of an N.C.O. charged with letting his rifle become dirty. He admitted the offence, but stated that whilst he was watching everyone out of the trenches, he heard cries for help, and found a small rifleman stuck in a ditch up to his shoulders, and that he was carrying, besides his rifle, a pick and shovel; so the N.C.O. went to his aid and got engulfed too. Hence his trouble about his rifle. The enemy, to prevent our forgetting him, is throwing big shells into the place we are billeted in. As he knows, probably, that the women and children have returned here, he expects with luck to make a big bag of such non-combatants. It was luxury last night getting into bed again without boots, even if one had no other night attire! You will be pleased to hear that your tobacco arrived this morning. The people who sent it were not very bright, for, despite the fact that my address was plainly painted on every box, they had stupidly nailed on other cards marked from Griffith, Solicitor, S. Wales, and addressed to the S. Wales Borderers or 24th Regiment. This was done to at least half of the cases. Apparently they had stuck them on the wrong boxes. Whether this accounts for the delay I cannot say. Anyhow, each box had 15 lbs. of tobacco, and I think there were 16 boxes. Well, then your last lot of plum pudding arrived, and has been issued to be eaten to-morrow. There were 65 tins containing four and a half lbs. each, so I think, my dear, that the men will be grateful to you. There was also a large bale of things like cigarettes and gloves from other associations, but nothing to touch your consignments. We had to turn out of our happy ruin twice yesterday afternoon whilst the enemy threw high-explosive shells our way, and just missed us. Fortunately his supply of ammunition is said to be running short, or he would do worse mischief. I had a very nice letter from my Mother and from Meta yesterday.... Your pheasants have come, also the ham, very well packed. Biscuits a little knocked about, but still edible; many thanks for them all. It is so misty and cold, a typical raw day in your own hunting district. Best of love, and hoping that the war will soon be over....

IN BILLETS. January 21st, 1915.

Got some of the French mud off my men yesterday, took the horse out to examine the neighbouring roads in case of a retreat, and dined with the General. He, poor man, finds the times very evil and the enemy very strong. I have written to my Mother to-day, telling her how I propose spending her present to me. By the way, I only got my trophies in time across to England. Four days ago an Army Order came out that nothing was allowed to be taken away, and that all such things found must be taken to the depots. Of course we must do so for the future, though I hope to be able to borrow a Prussian helmet with luck before I come home again. In the meantime, have the other stuff cleaned up and lacquered; it keeps rust off, and saves the servants much trouble. The A. and N. Stores can do this if you cannot get it well done in Newark.... Poor Mrs. Miles! She is dreadfully cut up. Capt. Allgood and Capt. Miles are now gone. I liked them both, but we shall meet again face to face some day.... I only wish that I could impress this more on one's daily thoughts and walk of life. Well, I do not mean to preach, but it comes in my lowland Scotch blood, I suppose!...

January 22nd, 1915.

Thanks for your note last night of January 19th. As you say, considering war time, this is quick. But at present it is a stationary war, and there is no reason why it should not be so. Once we get on the move, you will see that things will work badly, and we shall be short of food and of mails too. I was glad to get Aunt B——'s letter. Yesterday was an absolute drench. I rode, all the same, for exercise, and on the way back the enemy proceeded to shell the road; at the very extremity of their range, I fancy. It is curious how one takes the shelling nowadays. One becomes a fatalist! "If it hits me, it must hit me; I cannot escape, but I hope it will not" sort of thing. We return to the trenches this afternoon. Our General leaves to-night, but before then he has elected to inspect our billets in the afternoon, and to have a night alarm in the trenches early this evening. All the Colonels have therefore put their heads together to keep things as right as possible for him. Major Baker also goes on leave for about 10 days or so to-night, with various other officers who have well earned a rest. I see you had Zeppelins over you yesterday, or rather the day before; but I think that where you live you are as safe as anywhere in England. It shows what gentlemen these Germans are in the way they treat non-combatants.

To-day is a bright rather beautiful frosty day, and I am going to look at a large church in a village on a road when reconnoitring. I went to see another two days ago, and found only the tower and the walls standing; the Germans had burnt the rest.

P.S.—The billets we leave to-day are like a very tiny 9th-rate hotel, about as large as the house opposite the blacksmith's forge at Carlton, or a little larger, with another storey added on. Tiny rooms, and stoves in only two of them, which can be used as sitting-rooms. We found a small tub, to our great delight, and this allows us first to wash ourselves and then our things, so we are perfectly happy in it....

IN TRENCHES. January 23rd, 1915.

We arrived at our trenches all right last night, and, as I had expected, found them fairly under water. In parts it was like the ground round that pretty little cottage at Carlton, where Thompson lives when the Trent is in flood. I was crossing, gingerly trying not to get my feet wet, when a machine gun opened upon myself and my escort; down we went into the water at once. They asserted that the bullets passed through the branches of a shrub beside us. I am not sure. In any case, I did not like it, as one of my men whom I had been speaking to a little earlier in the day was caught by the same gun and received three bullet wounds, one in the shoulder and two in the arm. But he will come all right in the end, I think. There was a good deal of shooting at my working parties with machine guns, so I knocked up my gunners about midnight and threw our shrapnel on to the Germans, and then they saw that I meant to be "top dog," and went home to bed, I suppose. However, they stopped worrying me, which was all I really wanted. I am trying the preparation issued by the Government as an experiment to keep one's feet warm. As a matter of fact, it does not seem to do so at all; possibly that may be the fault of my floor—what remains of it, at least! The red tiles, though clean, are very cold. Well, this stuff looks like shaving soap, but there is another thing, "whale oil," which none of us have as yet tried. The latter was given out to us last night, and sounds promising, but nasty. All the Channel swimmers rub themselves over with it before attempting to swim across the Channel. Speaking about the tiled floors, I notice in many cases that little holes are cut in the sides of the houses, so that the tiles can be well washed with water, and then it drains outside without further trouble, but think how draughty it makes the place unless a plug is put to close this hole at night, and by day too in cold weather. I also notice that these French houses show signs of natty niceness which one would not see in an English farmhouse. For instance, in my sleeping-room, instead of nails being driven into the walls for hanging clothes on, there is a brass hook with a china knob like any Christian household. I am rather amused to see how indifferent our men have grown to fire. This morning between 5 and 6 o'clock I was speaking to the sentry when a bullet came, hit the house, and gave a great streak of light, as it does when it strikes a hard substance. A large piece of the building fell down behind him, but he never changed his voice or paid the slightest attention. I have had a letter from your aunt at Rostrevor about Sydney, to whom she seems very devoted....

IN TRENCHES. January 24th, 1915.

I believe that to-day is Sunday, judging from the sound of church bells in the direction of the second town, which lies four miles behind us. They were ringing "to church" while we were standing "to arms" in the dark with a good deal of rifle fire, though not much from the guns. A new lot of Germans, we think, have come opposite to us, and they are very hard shooters, always firing either machine guns or rifles. We are too busy working at our parapets now to go for them, but when they are finished I propose to wake them up well. I got in rather early last night about midnight. You know war has comic incidents as well as pathetic ones. I was finishing my way round the trenches in the dark, when Mr. Gartland, R.I.R., a very nice boy, attached himself to me, and said he had orders to go to a certain place and did not know the road, and might he come with me. Of course I said "Yes," and we progressed till we came to a bridge, just a plank really over a wide stream. I crossed it quietly after whispering to him to be careful. Next moment I heard a frantic struggle and fall, and discovered him clutching on for dear life to the plank, having slipped on it. We managed to rescue him from a watery grave. I must tell you that all of this was out in the open within 200 yards of the German trenches, as we were crossing from company to company. My escort also fell at this bridge, but I caught him by the scruff of the neck, thereby preventing him getting into the water. I suppose Oakfield, my old home in Nova Scotia, taught me a bit about roughing it, so, elderly man that I am, I can keep fairly steady on my feet over this tricky ground. Well, having safely delivered Mr. G. at his place, I moved on, when we heard another fearful splash and then more floundering, and found that a corporal of my stretcher-bearers had fallen into a very deep drain full of water. Again my escort and myself started off to earn the Royal Humane Society's medal. However, he managed to scramble out, wet through. As I say, the comic side alternates with the pathetic, for just then we had a poor boy shot through the head. In the dark we made out that it was his eye, but on getting him to hospital, where we could strike a light to work with, we saw that the bullet had gone through the nose, down the side of the face, and out through his neck. He is alive this morning, so it may be that he will turn the corner all right yet. I received your letter of January 20th last night, which is good. You ask me about block houses. They are only useful when screened from artillery fire. If we had one here, and the Germans could place it with glasses or with aeroplanes, they would blow it up at once. They were used largely in the South African War, because we had taken all the enemy's guns from him. Sorry to hear of your cold. Hope the Kaiser has a very bad one with a sore throat!!...

IN TRENCHES. January 25th, 1915.

I was sorry to see by your note in pencil yesterday that you were in bed with "Flu." I hope you will not have it very badly, and that you are up again and all right by this time. There has been a good deal of trouble lately with German machine guns playing on our working parties at night. So yesterday afternoon I crept off unobserved, and had a conclave with my gunners. Then when they started with their guns I had all the adversary's trenches mapped out, and dropped four shells on them. About an hour later they began again, but we squelched them in the same way; finally they stopped firing their horrid machines and remained quiet; not for long, however, for they next turned their heavy guns on us in the dark with the high explosive shell. The first burst about 100 yds. away, and the second nearer, whilst the third burst alongside the house. I wailed, expecting one in the ruins, but they fired no more, thank heavens! The last scattered everything all over the house, bricks, tiles, etc. I was curled up in a blanket at that hour ready to go over the whole of the trenches, having arranged to start between three and four o'clock this morning. I got round all right with, if anything, fewer bullets than usual flying about. A message has just been sent to us that an attack is expected on our right, so we are now waiting to see whether this comes to anything or not. The day is particularly dark, though so far no rain or snow. It is quite black enough for the latter, but not, perhaps, sufficiently cold. I am rather sleepy at present, and I hate getting up early. To-night we go into support, which means that some of our companies, now 600 yds. from the enemy, will be in a position farther back, but this threatened attack may make a difference. Another regiment, the Royal Berkshires, are alongside of us, and we always go into the trenches and come out together. The Colonel is senior to me, and is commanding the Brigade in the General's absence, so the next senior takes his regiment. The latter was knocked over by a shot two days ago. He only broke his hip, and it is expected to come right in due course. Do you remember Miss Arundel's nephew, Capt. Wickham, of the 7th Fusiliers, who went out with me to India, half-brother to Sir Henry Tichborne, I believe? I saw three days ago that he had died of wounds; so they must have brought him home from India. I am sorry; he and I had many pleasant chats together on board ship. Would you look in the upper left-hand drawer in my dressing-room. You will find some stand-up single collars there with five buttonholes in them. Please roll one up flat, and send it across in a letter or with soap parcel. They go in collar of uniform jacket, and as this sort of collar has gone out, I am wearing mine and throwing them away when done.

IN BILLETS. January 26th, 1915.

I am very sorry that you have been obliged to send for the doctor. "Flu" makes one feel a worm, so take care of yourself. I do not fancy you need fear the air raids; keep to the country, it is safer than town. They have not enough explosives on their cars to do all the damage they would like in London, let alone the remainder of England. The trip to Norfolk was only a trial one, I think. It has turned very cold here now, and we cannot get a fire in this place. You see, the inhabitants are coming back, and we do not like to steal their wood, for it would cause unpleasantness, whilst we have great difficulty in getting any coal, so we are between the devil and the deep sea! The Germans managed to kill one man yesterday with their shelling. I mean one civilian, of course; soldiers do not count. I suppose we are fair targets. I have been very lucky, though, with my Batt., on the whole, for I have only had a quarter of the casualties of my neighbour the two last times, or even less. Of course, it is just luck, but I take every precaution, as you know, and use my guns on their machine guns in, I hope, a judicious manner, giving the gunners little maps of where we have spotted them along all our long front; and so we crush the scamps. They are a venomous crew. They marked a bridge that we cross over a ditch, consisting of two planks and a hand-rail, and they turned their Maxims on to that. A couple of men were there, and they lay down on the bridge whilst the Maxim fired over their heads, cut the hand-rail clean away, and just missed them. We got off quite well from the trenches last night, as the enemy had had a great doing down with us that afternoon. The threatened attack on our right either never came off or was also beaten off; let us hope the latter. So dear old Admiral Dennistoun has gone. At 78 one must expect to go to Heaven shortly, but still one's friends will be sorry, no doubt, and Hal loses his godfather. I did not know him very well myself, but I am sorry because you were fond of him. I wonder if it is about to settle in for cold weather in these parts. If so, we shall have attacks across the frozen ground. Whilst it was wet the Germans could not very well get at us without giving plenty of notice, but now they will be able to work their way quietly across the hard earth. However, it cuts in another way, for they are not too well clothed and they will feel this severe weather terribly. It is horrible always to have to hope that many Germans will be killed. On the whole, it is more charitable to pray, I think, that the heart of the German nation may be turned to the right course. I fancy that the people are a sober, steady race, but they have been led astray by their warlike leaders. Again, who would imagine that the light French character (speaking generally as a nation) really covers a hard-working set of prosperous farmers like these people evidently are. Well, I hope you will be out of bed when this reaches you. I have not been able to write to the children lately, for there has been much to do and think about. Give them my love; thank your mother for the partridges so kindly sent, and can you let me have some more boxes of Bryant and May's matches? About 1,000; I fancy our men would be glad of them now. You will be able to find out through Bryant and May's how to get them across. The price is 21s., but I think they send them by the M.F.O., Southampton. Perhaps the best way would be to despatch the first half to me by post and the other lot by M.F.O., as the latter would arrive a month later when required again....

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....

P.S.—I discovered our gunners shelling a beautiful French cemetery the other day, because the Germans had found that we respected churches, etc., and they therefore opened the vaults and lived in them in the cemetery!

IN TRENCHES. January 30th, 1915.

Two letters from you last night, taking me up to January 27th. So glad to hear that you are really better. I do not know what would happen to us if we got "Flu." I suppose we should go on exactly the same. One of the enemy's six-inch shells has just burst beside us, so I must keep my eyes open! I started work soon after five o'clock this morning getting road dykes cleared, as by this means I think I can drain my own trenches better. The water has been running away merrily ever since. Major B——, who came back about one o'clock this morning, was helping me. I had just turned in, but my feet got so cold. I can never sleep straight on end for four hours in my room. The Germans again attacked on our right twice yesterday afternoon. The two attacks were beaten off with heavy loss to the enemy, I believe. I was out with one of my staff inspecting some works, and met the Colonel of the Lincolns with his staff. I asked him to tea, and he refused on the ground that "shelling time" had arrived, and he did not wish to go near our Headquarters. Whilst he trotted off to inspect one work, I went to another, and sure enough he was quite right. "Shelling time" had arrived; for, instead of going for my Headquarters as usual, they proceeded to shower shrapnel on the work he had just got into, fortunately, without killing or hurting any of his party. Our guns are now replying, and bits of our ruin are falling down from the shock. Poor Gen. Baron von Ompteda! He was in the Prussian Army. It is sad that he is killed, since you knew his wife, poor thing! Naturally one prays for the heart of the German nation to be changed, but for me, pending that change, I am doing my business methodically. I have just been pointing out to the Siege Battery people where their shells will have the best effect on the enemy. I forgot, I think, to tell you that we obtained information from some of our prisoners of the last three days that they found our rifle fire very deadly. Well, one of the regiments that attacked us had already lost from our fire 320 men since January 20th only until the 27th inst.... Not bad, and quite true, I believe; and this going on all along the line. There was bright moonlight last night with snow, and I may tell you that I walked warily! I had one man killed and another wounded by the same bullet yesterday....

IN TRENCHES. January 31st, 1915.

I am now waiting for your letter to-night. I cut from The Times of January 29th "Soldiers' Morals" and Lady McClintock's views. Major Baker brought this paper across with him when he returned. Well, it is trying to snow now, and rather cold. Yesterday I came under the fire of a machine gun in the course of my afternoon rounds. I had gone to see some works that the Artillery were building and which I had to supervise. Hearing a fight break out on our right, I called to the Engineers who were working on the parapets to jump down, as the machine gun which was near us might be turned on them. They had barely done so, and I had hardly gone forward with an officer to get some other men under cover, when the next moment the bullets were whistling all over me. I soon flew from that spot at the first crash, and got under cover myself; a quick decision does help one at times! After being pinned there for ten minutes or so, I managed to creep away and get on with my rounds. There has been a cannonade on my right all morning of the heaviest Gunner shells, I think, but we luckily go into reserve this evening, and, failing any great alarms, are allowed to have our boots off, and do not get up at 5 a.m. as usual. Another curious incident occurred. Suddenly we heard the most appalling noise, and the shell of one of our own heavy guns was seen turning head over heels and falling solemnly within 50 yds. of a ruin where some 100 soldiers were quartered. It burst and sent any amount of rubbish over the house. What happened was that part of the shell was defective. It really was the driving band, which is a ring made out of copper and riveted on. When the shell is fired, the soft copper ring slides into the steel rifling of the gun, and thus the shell goes straight with a spinning motion. The ring having become unriveted, the shell did not spin, and simply turned head over heels. Was it not fortunate that it missed the house? It is because they have no copper for these rings that the Germans are making such strenuous efforts to find some. Nothing else except silver or gold would be tough enough as well as pliable enough for the purpose. They can make their fuses of aluminium as we do, but copper for cartridge cases and driving bands they must have, and they cannot get it....



LETTERS OF FEBRUARY, 1915.

IN BILLETS. February 1st, 1915.

MY DEAREST F——

Here we are in our reserve billets, and not sorry either. The enemy threw a shell in beside us this morning as I was getting up, to show that he had not forgotten us! It must have come 5 miles at least. He is a humorist, too, of a grim sort, for 3 days ago he bombarded the little town (French) of Estaires with French shells. I suppose some gun he had captured from them. Anyhow, his ammunition is certainly, as a rule, not as good as the stuff he was using. Have a headache this morning. I often get one after 3 days in trenches. There was a great hue and cry after a German spy yesterday. Telephones going all over the place. I was wickedly sceptical about him from the first, and ultimately triumphantly proved him to be an officer of the ——Regiment who had been detached on some duty. The unfortunate gentleman had an impediment in his speech, and this was noted down as proving him to be a German, of course! Six divisions of K.'s new army are expected to cross over to France this month. I hear that the Canadians have also arrived, and that they are full of dash. Thanks for collars, duly received. They will last me a long time. Major Baker brought some mincepies back with him. Mr. Argles wonders if I have time to see any of the sports out here! No one has the least idea of how busy one is out of the trenches getting rifles right and men cleaned to keep them from dirt whilst in the trenches, when it is impossible to do anything, for you cannot lift your head there for fear of having it punctured before you pull it down again.... You ask if I have seen any of my relatives who are at the front. No. I think they are all farther back, and if they should come up where I am they would have an awful time of it.... I hear the whirr of an aeroplane. I wonder if it is ours or a German bomb dropper; you never know which it may be! So glad to hear you are feeling better.

Yours.... G——

February 2nd, 1915.

I must say that I think quite the worst news we have received so far in this war is the sinking of those three ships in the Irish Sea by the German submarines. The British Navy must just get to work and build a submarine destroyer which will catch and destroy these nuisances. As a matter of fact, I believe a great many more German submarines have been sunk than the British public know of, because it is not announced unless the Admiralty is absolutely certain. For instance, the other day an old naval carpenter who works on the Bayfordbury Estate in Hertfordshire, and who returned to his naval duties when the war broke out, told Major Baker that whilst dragging for mines in the German Ocean they had come against two submarines lying on the bottom of the sea, and, having nothing else to do, they dropped a charge on them and blew them up. That may be correct or not. I have certainly heard that this happened in one case, officially. A long letter from my sister Meta arrived by the last post yesterday; still moving into Oakfield after building up the old house again since the fire. I went for a ride yesterday with Major B., looking up some roads in case of a move. The Germans tried to pour shrapnel on the road on the way back, but fortunately missed us by going short. There was a large party of another division on it, and I suppose they had got wind of this. A curious thing to notice is as follows: When a shell starts out on its journey it travels more quickly than the sound. Sound moves at the rate of about a mile in 5 seconds. After a little while the shell begins to go more slowly, and then the sound overtakes it and travels ahead. We were just where we could see the shell burst with a flash and a white puff of smoke, and could still hear the whirr of the shell rushing towards us until it ended with a loud bang, though we had in reality seen it burst a second or so before. We went to a rather fine church destroyed by fire. I asked what had happened, and was told that the Germans had been there, and when they were forced to retreat they put a certain number of their dead inside the church with a lot of straw, then some of the villagers, and finally made one of the women set fire to the straw by holding a revolver to her head and threatening to shoot her. The man said that the village priest had told him this shocking story. I asked how the Germans had behaved otherwise, and he said, "Very well in one sense." They had been billeted on the people, who were obliged to feed them; but, of course, it is war. When, however, they had to retire, they refused to pay for anything, and tried, as the inhabitants explained, to incite them with a view of getting an excuse to burn their houses and then shoot them. As the village people kept their heads, they threw down half a mark and left. I thought, on the whole, they were well rid of their visitors! You asked if I required any more soap or paper. At present, nothing, thanks; Major B—— has just given me a new writing block. A cake and mincepies are, however, always most welcome. How greedy one does become after a time! Such a horrid blustery day, and heavy rain coming down this morning. We had Holy Communion at 8 a.m. in a ruined nunnery with our Cowley Father officiating. Only 3 turned up from the whole Battalion. Our General has had to go away this morning into hospital with fever. Mr. Laing, whom your cousin M—— D—— asked about, is now in bed with the same sort of complaint....

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 news, 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....