Letters of Lt.-Col. George Brenton Laurie

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-?.

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