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
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 ?25 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
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….
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!
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
