We went to poor Capt. Thompson’s funeral yesterday, Major B. and myself. A military funeral in the field is of three sorts. Well away from the enemy the soldier is borne on a stretcher, sewn up in his blankets and wrapped in a flag. Nearer the enemy you dispense with a flag; and finally, of course, in the trenches, when you cannot get out, you crawl down a ditch and dig a hole in the side and bury the poor fellow. Ours was of the second sort, as it was within long-range rifle fire, but somewhat screened by a hedge. Four officers carried the stretcher, and about six others followed behind. The grave was lined with wheaten straw, unthreshed, and the clergyman read a very short service, and then we all slipped quietly away. After the funeral we trotted on to the 5th Battery. They are friends of ours, and had been heavily shelled the day before; we telephoned them to inquire the result, but had received no answer. The operator, it seems, was obliged to take refuge in a cellar with some women and children, for the enemy positively rained shells upon them, fortunately, however, from a field gun only. Then shells struck the house itself, and the others made holes in the ground round it. Two went through the adjoining windows, two others into the dust-heap, etc. The cause of it was that the French owner had brought a threshing machine and was threshing out his wheat. Of course, the smoke of the engine attracted the Germans at once. The French are very much amused at this, I am told, for they do not allow any such things near their lines; but our Staff are soft-hearted. I had a very pleasant little dinner with Gen. Pinney last night, and played Bridge for an hour—the first game I have had time for since I left the transport at Liverpool. That will give you an idea of how busy I am. When I can, I sleep; otherwise I work hard. We are looking forward to more tartlets. I do not believe in riding lessons at present for H ——. Let Sheppard teach him. My father showed me how to hold the reins, and I learnt the remainder myself. Far and away the best way too….
A very cold day with east wind. It will be bitter in the trenches. I hope the Germans are finding it so! I send you a note from some R.I.C. Sergeant in Belfast. Your extract from the Irish
Lieutenant-Colonel G.B. Laurie.
Sir,
We write to say how very glad we are to see that you are safe and well. We were delighted to see by the papers that you were among those mentioned for gallantry in the despatch sent home a few days ago by Field- Marshal Sir John French. We have tried to locate the different gentlemen now on active service who had been residing in this district, and the press is our medium—it was there we learnt you were at the front, and we are most anxious, and dearly hope that they all, who were when here so very kind to us, and are now risking their lives that we may be free—may be restored to their homes in perfect health and strength.
This is the spirit which prompts the writing of this letter, and we beg of you not to think us unduly familiar, but rather that we most sincerely hope that you may have perfect health and strength, and, above all, that you may, when the time comes, return home safe and well.
Your obedient servant,
I had a hurried ride yesterday in a piercing wind to see my 70 or 80 horses. In the afternoon, just as we were starting off to the trenches, we were stopped and told to wait whilst the Gunners tried to cut the wire in front of the German trenches with shells. Such a course of action may lead to heavy sniping, as you can quite well imagine. However, we got in all right by eight o’clock, and I wandered round my trenches until between 12 and 1 o’clock a.m. This morning we received a notice that we were to be withdrawn to reserve to-morrow or the next day, owing to more troops coming into the line. I had to take the General round who succeeds me in these trenches. He seemed such a nice man. We are supposed to leave to-morrow night if these people can get out from their trenches. The enemy is shelling us now, and as it is a particularly clear day they are using it to the best advantage to try and destroy us. I must turn our guns on to them if they go on like this. I only wish we could swamp the brutes with numbers and get the war over. I am not disturbed about Russia. If we can get the Dardanelles open, we can easily send her ammunition and equipment for her spare men, and so end the war more quickly; but, failing that, I think Russia will easily foil Germany, and spring at her again and again until she is worn out. I had a letter of congratulation from your sister Mabel. Very kind of her….
A wet, muggy morning. I have been waiting for 3 hours to accompany the General round the lines since 6.30 a.m. At 9.30 I telephoned in, and found that he had gone to some other duty and forgotten me! However, it cannot be helped. He and I are really very friendly. More fighting on our right, with very heavy big gun fire. I expect the brickfields at La Bassee are again being a scene of mortal combat. We were ordered last night to try to ascertain if the Germans still occupied their trenches as usual; so we crept out and looked about, and found everything much the same. As to the khaki-coloured shirts, would you have them put away by sizes, please, when they are made up, till wanted; the present ones will wear out with a rush from being worn night and day, and from having been badly washed and scorched when drying, so they may be wanted in a hurry. Whilst waiting about here this morning, I amused myself by looking for shell holes round our ruins. So far as I can see, they are everywhere, like the holes in a sponge for numbers. My artillery is just going to blow up a house where the enemy hid a machine gun last night, and which opened on us during the night and thought we did not know! I also have another R.A. officer throwing tins full of gun cotton and nails into the German trenches at this very moment. A nice Christian occupation, truly! I ought to know in a few days if there is any chance of second leave or not.
LETTERS OF MARCH, 1915.
I enclose you a letter from one of my old Generals, Sir John Keir. I wrote to congratulate him on receiving the “K” to his C.B., which I helped to win him at Boshbult, S. Africa, 1902. Do not trouble to send it back again. They have no children, and I have never met Lady Keir so far, but if I get back to England no doubt I shall, though his division is in Cork at present. Yesterday we were once more under heavy fire. One shell exploded beside two men who were trying to make some tea. I am sure the poor fellows, without thinking, gave away their position by having too large a fire. Anyway, this shell burnt everything round them, including the flaps of a barn door standing upright, with nothing inflammable near, but the doors were in a blaze in a moment, and also their clothes. One man had 18 holes in him; the other was dreadfully scorched and hurt. I gave him morphia tablets, but I’m afraid they did not do him much good; it was a mercy that the doctor arrived soon to give him a proper hypodermic injection. In one place we found a piece of shell about the size of a half lb. iron weight which had forced its way right through, and was just under the skin on the other side. We got that out, but he died shortly after. They shelled us again during the night, the brutes; however, we did not bother our heads much about that, and I had a very good night’s rest from 10 o’clock until four a.m. After all, it was not G—— S——’s husband that I met the other day. He turned out to be Capt. Sherlock of a Militia Artillery regt., one of the family, I fancy, who was tea-planting or something at Singapore before the war. As to smoked herrings, I cannot say that I am very fond of them, so I think that at present it would be as well not to send anything but cakes, mincepies, or tartlets. Mincepies are presumably over, so continue to
