Robert Ernest Vernede - Novelist/Poet

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Wednesday, 9th February, 1916.

We aren't up again for some days, and I don't suppose we shall have another day like Sunday for some time to come. I hope not. It seemed impossible that we should get off so lightly. I suppose they put over twenty shells a minute on the average. I sent you a line to-day to catch the post, which, having slept from 2.30 to nearly 12, I hadn't time to make longer. It was a horrible wet night, and I led them slightly astray - not in the general direction, but taking a longer road than I need have done, which annoyed me rather, amd ending up about a quarter of an hour from the spot without being sure where I was. However, I found a General there who lent me an orderly for the rest of the route, and seemed very amiable, and we got in about half an hour late. It didn't much matter, and came from depending on a sergeant who said he knew the road instead of making sure of it myself, which in the dark wasn't too easy. As it happened, I went a very safe way and we never got a shell, going or coming, though we got some where we were digging.

You've no idea what it is like taking 100 men through an unknown bad trench at night. Sometimes you're on a board, then well over your knees in mire, then you trip over a wire or climb over a portion that has been knocked in by shells, or you come through a tunnel or out into an open quagmire. Everybody ought to sprain their ankles ten times over in the course of three hours of it, but nobody did last night. It's quite a strain in itself, apart from the shells, and the whole job took eight and a half hours. I think the men are fearfully good about it - awfully slow, but they stagger along, grousing a certain amount, but generally cheerful. I believe as you become a veteran soldier you can tell almost exactly when and where a shell is going to burst, which is an advantage in that most of them aren't going to burst exactly where one is standing - not that you could do anything if it were. At present I haven't the foggiest idea where they're coming, and can't even distinguish between ours going off at hand and theirs arriving, which gives me a sort of double share of the artillery effect!

I fancy it's the same with most new folks. Of course during a strafe like Sunday's nobody can tell - there are too many flying too rapidly in all directions at once. I don't wonder the poor injuns didn't like it. The best men get rattled after a certain amount of it.

It's very curious, I think, that without one's paying any attention to it in peace time, some of the braiiest people of all countries have been inventing these infernal weapons, which can and do - besides merely killing - inflict tortures at least as bad as anything the Chinese invented.

I've got a night off to-night, which, after two successive nights, is a considerable boon and blessing, and enables me to write properly.

There are so many ways of getting done in while taking the utmost precautions that I don't wonder the men get absolutely reckless, and care no more about rifle bullets than they do about fleas. Think of the way thay go off in the dark along a road which they know is wept by shrapnel and walk on through it without apparently turning a hair.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

Friday, 11th February, 1916.

I am very fitly, thank you. It was the awful smell that made me feel sick the first few days in the trenches, but I was already much better before they started to strafe us, having kept away from food for a bit.

To-day I have been sitting in the dug-out, doing nothing but doze over a very funny coke brazier, which, however, has kept me warm. We don't go up in the front-line again for a day or two and then only for a very short time. We ought to be out in so-called rest almost by the time you get this.

I led a fairly easy carrying party fatigue last night - got one shell to our right which blew across the road, but nobody was hurt. A bit of mud touched my coat in passing, which indicates the pleasure of these roads. Got back at 10p.m. instead of 2a.m., which was a nice change.

It's been a most slimy day - dismal Flemish rain - a steady stream of it, making puddles everywhere.

I didn't tell you of a letter I censored from one of our sergeants to the mother of one of the men that was killed. It really was one of the nicest I've seen. He said - " We found your son in the ruins of the dug-out, where death must have been instantaneous. His head drooped forward a little, and there was a very peaceful expression on his face as I took him by the hand for the last time." Then he went on to explain how popular he had been with his platoon, and how he had fallen fighting for his country, and enclosed some snowdrops "picked just behind the lines."

Andy

[marina]

Well done the sergeant who wrote the letter. bet those snowdrops are still pressed between the pages of a bible somewhere.

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

To F.G.S.

In support, 11th February, 1916.

My Dear Fred,

I do hope it comtinues to go well with you and you will manage to get back soon and cheer England up. We had a distictly hot time a few days ago in the front line - two hours of what every one agreed was about the fiercest shelling they had known. Extraordinarily few casualties considering, but it is a cruel business. Even to see men suffering from shaock, flopping about the trenches like grassed fish, is enough to sicken one, and some of the face wounds are terrible. They were splendid - most of them will leave any shelter they have got to go and help one of the wounded and they reamin cheerful to the last. nOr is it the sort of heedless gaeity I used to suspect them of, but a gallant effort to make the best of things and not let their morale fall below an ideal. Stretcher-bearers dodging about among shells - some of our older N.C.O.'s cheering up the grenadiers of a service Batt. who had got rattled - a latest draft youth who never took his eye of his loop-hole during the bombardment (so his corporal told me) - these things are rather good. But any-one who hereafter shows a tendency towards exalting war ought to be drowned straight away by his country.

Since then we have gone into support, doing fatigues along shelled roads at night - not a very cheerful occupation, though here again the men are wonderfully good-tempered and cheerful, and march on in the dark without apparently heeding the shells.

Am slightly choked by a coke brazier in a dug-out upon which the dismal Flemish rain drips incessantly - which makes me aware that I'm not writing a particularly happy letter to an invalid, without being able to reform much.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

Saturday - or probably Sunday - and I think 13th February, 1916.

It's a fine day after a very muddy and sodden one. C. and I are still in support with a portion of the Coy. and don't move up till tomorrow; then only for a very short time. Had a whole day's rest yesterday and about ten hour's sleep - not bad. No news beyond that.

My servant has gone sick and I have a new one. I think he will be good.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

Wednesday, 16th February, 1916. In rest again and very fit

I haven't had a letter from you since Sunday and I haven't been able to write you one, and I have had a time, of which I'll tell you as much as seems lawful. I think I wrote on Sunday morning saying that I wasn't going up into the trenches that day, but was going to carry some rations.

Little did I know. We set out in the dark to meet the transport - about fourty of us - and the transport was late at the rendezvous by about an hour, and when it did arrive informed me that rations were not to be taken up till a message came through from the Adjutant. So I withdrew my men off the road into a trench one of the sergeants by luck found, and some shells proceeded to come over. Then I met the doctor outside his dressing station, and he told me there had been heavy shelling most of the day and his colleague had been wounded at the door of the dressing station - right back - and he was afraid there would be casualties.

The walking cases began to come down the road as we waited - a weird sight - bandaged men staggering along in the moonlight.

Presently I received a message to say we were to go forward with the rations, and found the Regimental C.S.M. waiting to conduct us in a great fatigue. Our two companies up had been heavily shelled all day and we were to relieve them - message I ought to have got before I started, but which had not come through. So there we were without our packs, our coats or our gum-boots, going into deep slime for a couple of days or so. We went forward with the stuff; I shouldered a huge sack of coke myslef which I could hardly lift, and the others were almost equally laden, if not quite. As we went down the road, bang went some shells just ahead of us and in the rear, and we all flopped down and I shoved the sack in front of me, not that it would have been any use. We waited till they stopped and then went on to find a four horse waggon just ahead with two horses and the driver killed by one of the shells. Got to the trenches without casualties and found T. waiting to lead us up. My dinner and bed gone for thenight. We got up by slow degrees and took over from one of the other Coys. who had lost very heavily. The boche restarted almost as soon as we got to the Coy. H.Q. dug-out, and there I sat the rest of the evening, and in fact all night - a very strange scene. A place smaller than my study at home into which plopped crowds at intervals to take refuge from the shells.

All sorts and conditions, from the C.O. who had come up to see how things were, to a Scottish doctor hastily sent for with loads of stretcher-bearers. Later, a sergeant from another Regiment - suffering from nerves - dashed in, having abandoned his digging party, of which he felt sure none re-mained, though only one or two were hit. I gave him a kola nut and sent him off; and engineer officers turned up, and officers from other Batts., and the post, bringing quite the best timed parcel I've had, from my mother, containing a cake, gingerbread, dates, Edinburgh Rock, and a pair of socks. The socks I put on over the others, and stuffed myself into some killed or wounded man's gum-boots which I found were full of holes. The rest of the things we and a lot of others lived on for the next twenty-four hours, during which we hadn't a drop of water - only whisky. As a matter of fact, I had a cushy time, comparitively speaking, as T. insisted on placing the riflemen himself and M. did the bombers. It appeared that the trenches were very nearly non-existent, the casualties large, and C Coy. had the pleasant prospect of sitting in what holes remained for some time. The sappers deepened some holes for them during the night, but before morning one of the sergeants I brought up was killed and several men had been buried. It was impossible to stir during the night, but in the early morning T. went round and extricated the half-buried. Most of the next day the Boches shelled again and it grew so heavy in the afternoon that T., M., and I - the only officers up - I. having been taken off the day before with bad shell shock - retired from H.Q. to a sort of drain pipe under the road, where we stood doubled up in water over our thigh gum-boots for two hours. (The other Coy. officers had stood the day before like this in the same place for six hours, and I don't know how they stood it) Shells that burst near roared through the funnel and nearly blew off one's legs. (It was there that I. had been knocked out by shock the day before)

Then the water rose and we cleared out, not relishing the idea of being drowned as well as buried, which seemed possible, as one shell just overhead made the whole place shift. I made sure the Boches were going to attack at the end of it, and said so to T., who doubted it; but as it turned out they did actually give the signal for the assault, and began to get over.

More to come

[stiletto_33853]

Continued

Meanwhile P.B. at Batt. H.Q. far back, thought we hade put up a signal for help (which we couldn't do, wires being all cut) and he wired through to the gunners, who presently put up so terrific a barrage that the Boches instead of coming on bolted back - very luckily for us; and at the end of an artillery strafe of some hours, when night arrived, we were told that we should be relieved that night. They say the Boches suffered very heavily. I hope so, to make up for ours. Really the men were wonderful, as always. There was C Coy. - lads of twenty, many of them - planted out in burrows for thirty hours - no communication - T. wouldn't let anybody stir by day. And at the end of it only two posts had broken at all - in one of which one was killed, three buried and unable to stir, and the others suffering from shell-shock; and in the other they had all dug oine another out two or three times before they gave way - besides having three wounded. Then we had the same scene as the night before - reliefs arriving and the wounded being brought down. M. bandaged and I administered laudanum and kola nut for hours.

Then Tatham went off and I moved the Coy. off in a hurricane of snow and icy rain. I'd been wet to the waist for about twenty-four hours, and I imagine the men were wetter, and I had no feeling in my legs for about two hours. They put whizz-bangs over us at one point in the open, but we got bacxk to the support camp in the end, just at daylight. I sat up from 6a.m. to 12 drying my drawers over a brazier (while the others slept) without any trousers on. Later at night we had to move again here, and I was left to bring the Coy. with M. We had to come across open country. Just as we started a terrific bombardment began on both sides, and in a tearing wind and rain we ran right into the Boche barrage and had to bustle through it. My idea was to try and find some shelter, and one of the sergeants positively urged it, but sergeant C. said, "No sir, the best thing is to get on", which accordingly we did. I knew Cousens was the better adviser, and we got through without any casualties and arrived here soon after midnight - wet through again after a most weary trudge. This morning we - the Batt. - were hauled out of bed to receive, I believe, the General's compliments; but he was detained at the last moment, so we didn't. But I believe the whole brigade is to be patted on the back.

9p.m. Divisional orders have just come in, patting Btt. on its back for its behaviour during this strafe. Several people are to be recommended for D.C.M.'s and so forth, including sergeant C., and corporal A. of my platoon, possibly M. who helped some wounded down after fire. A. was the man who shot down the first sdvancing Boches, whi, if he hadn't been at his post watching, might have started an entry for the lot.

I wish I felt really fit to lead these sort of men. I haven't had enough of it to be really useful.

We're out again for some little time - I can't tell you exactly how long.

I don't know if this sort of account is interesting, it could be much more so if I could explain the sort of positions, but I have to avoid anything that could be construed into military information, and so I rather mix it up. It's extraordinary how one doesn't feel the worse for this sort of thing. I don't know when I've been colder or wetter for twenty-four hours: my teeth simply chattered with cold in that drain pipe, and sitting without your trousers for hours in a dug-out on a winter's day doesn't sound salubrious. But I am very well.

Thursday. Hope to get a bath to-day after a fortnight of being plastered with mud from head to foot.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

The bombardment mentioned in the previous letter took place at Hooge and appears in Sir Douglas Haig's despatch dated 19th May 1916, in which Robert's Battalion is mentioned for it's conduct on this occasion.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

3rd Battalion, The Rifle Brigade's war record for this bombardment states the following:-

On February 12th, we again relieved the Buffs and on the 13th were subjected for about nine and a half hours to a very severe shelling from guns of all calibres. Our casualties on that day were 2nd Lieutenants T.H. Henderson and E.J. Ingram wounded and twelve other ranks killed and eighty-six wounded. Communication between the front line and Battalion Headquarters was practically impossible and only one message was got through by runners; this was brought through by Rifleman Norman and Cato, who volunteered to make the attempt and who were awarded the D.C.M. for this action.

During the night of the 13th the shelling continued and the two companies in the front line were relieved by the Companies in reserve with great difficulty, the reflief not being completed till after daylight. During the whole of the morning of the 14th, the bombardment continued and at about fourteen hours it became so intense that it was obvious the Boche meant to attack; accordingly all available guns were asked to stand by. About sixteen hours the enemy blew up a mine under the 9th Bn. Royal Sussex Regiment and started to leave their trenches opposite our front. A "S.O.S." rocket was sent up at this moment and the response which the Artillery very quickly gave to this, together with the skilful handling of a Lewis Gun by Corporal Butler and Rifleman Backshawl - both of whom received the D.C.M. - undoubtedly greatly assisted in preventing the enemy from gaining a footing in our trenches. Our casualities on the 14th were seven other ranks killed and fifty-three wounded. During the night of the 14th - 15th, the Battalion was relieved by the 1st Bn. Royal Fusiliers who had already given us great assistance in repairing our trenches during the night of 13th - 14th.

In addaition to the above awards, 2nd Lieutenant T.H. Henderson received the Military Cross and the Battalion was complimented on its behaviour by the Army Corps and Divisional Commanders and was mentioned in the Birthday despatches of 1916.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

18th Febraury, 1916. Rest Camp.

Yesterday we paraded for the G.O.C. Division, who made quite an eloquent speech, if rather inanimate; said the Batt. had added a new laurel wreath to The Rifle Brigade and set a splendid example to the Batts. who had already benefited by it, under the hardest trial troops could endure, viz., concentrated shell-fire over many hours. It rather amused me to read in the paper the next day an account of several little artilery engagements on the ______ front, which the men quite welcome as a change from the monotony of the trenches.

Blithering idiot. If he had ever seen what remained of a Coy. coming out shattered and wounded and drenched and hungry, to tramp for hours through a snowstorm to some place where they can recuperate. Or if he had ever tried even ten minutes of fierce shell-fire. It's true the men stick it and make little of it, once it's all over; but the stoutest of them would probably give anything to be out of it at the time. Isn't there any imagination in those who stay at home that they can stand that sort of bosh in a leading London newspaper?? I don't know why I am being rhetorical.

The Brigadier, who followed the G.O.C., merely said, R.B.'s, I'm not eloquent. I only want to tell you how proud I am of you and how pleased I am with you - which the men seemed to prefer to the more elaborate oration.

I went in with C. this morning and had a bath - the first for over three weeks. I have never been so piggishly dirty before - my hair plastered with mud like a Papuan's; and I'm not clean after an hour's scrubbing in hot water. To-morrow I take two platoons in to be bathed and shall have another myself.

Have a slight sneeze and sniffle coming on, but you can't wonder at it, can you?

T. draws not bad cartoons, has done one of me standing doubled up in the drain pipe, holding up the skirts of my Aquascutum out of the water - with a large shell in the act of coming through! He entitled his drawing, "The only place Vernede could not go to sleep."

C. and I decided to recommend T. for a distinction, so went to the C.O. about it and he informed us that he had already decided to send in his name for coolness and gallantry; so we hope he will get the D.S.O.

The stupid thing is that, as one realises out here, these honours go to higher command as a matter of course and sometimes evade the lower to avoid giving too many away. War is very like peace in that respect.

Andy

[marina]

These letters are as good as a film. Terrific.

What's a 'kola nut'? Anyone know?

Nice observation about where the honours go too.

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

20th February, 1916. Rest Camp

Not much news. There never is in these rest camps. We've had a fine day today - cold but bright, which is a nice change from the dismal Flanders weather. T. and F. have gone off on leave and I am left in charge of the Coy. for the time being with C. This isn't the same rest camp as the last - perhaps a trifle less muddy, but otherwise very simbly, and we live in a damp hut with a smoky brazier and are not supposed to move about much. I am sorry letters have been taking longer, and I'm afraid you will have had to wait several days for my account of the trenches; but you mustn't ever worry. You see, one is absolutely cut off at such times from posts.Your guess was about right as to the whereabouts; but you see we came off very well out on the whole.

The Corps and Army Commanders have also tendered their thanks to the Batt. which shows we did something I suppose.

I think there will be very fierce fighting for some time to come - both sides, I suppose, are fuly armed now; and there is bound to be some up and down; but don't let anyone make you downhearted. The men are endlessly gallant, and the higher command is bound to learn in time. Anyway we rest here for quite a long time probably and watch aeroplanes go over and get shot at. I have not seen one hit yet by either side. The papers are so complaisant over our little success that they are almost bound to be equally downhearted over every failure - don't believe them. Only believe that we shall win in the end.

I'm afraid I can't begin to think of leave for a couple of months more.

As to your question about quartermasters: some of them do go up occasionally, not to the trenches actually, but to what they call a "dump" on the way there, and so far they undoubtedly run risks. Every road out of here is liable to be shelled, and so far everybody takes his chance. But the man who takes chamces all the time is the infantry soldier in the front trench of the worst sectors; and I don't think England can do too much for these little riflemen when they get home, if they get home.

Andy

[liverpool annie]

20th February, 1916.    Rest Camp

Not much news. There never is in these rest camps. We've had a fine day today - cold but bright, which is a nice change from the dismal Flanders weather. T. and F. have gone off on leave and I am left in charge of the Coy. for the time being with C.  This isn't the same rest camp as the last - perhaps a trifle less muddy, but otherwise very simbly, and we live in a damp hut with a smoky brazier and are not supposed to move about much. I am sorry letters have been taking longer, and I'm afraid you will have had to wait several days for my account of the trenches; but you mustn't ever worry. You see, one is absolutely cut off at such times from posts.Your guess was about right as to the whereabouts; but you see we came off very well out on the whole.

The Corps and Army Commanders have also tendered their thanks to the Batt. which shows we did something I suppose.

I think there will be very fierce fighting for  some time to come -  both sides, I suppose, are fuly armed now; and there is bound to be some up and down; but don't let anyone make you downhearted. The men are endlessly gallant, and the higher command is bound to learn in time. Anyway we rest here for quite a long time probably and watch aeroplanes go over and get shot at. I have not seen one hit yet by either side. The papers are so complaisant over our little success that they are almost bound to be equally downhearted over every failure - don't believe them. Only believe that we shall win in the end.

I'm afraid I can't begin to think of leave for a couple of months more.

As to your question about quartermasters: some of them do go up occasionally, not to the trenches actually, but to what they call a "dump" on the way there, and so far they undoubtedly run risks. Every road out of here is liable to be shelled, and so far everybody takes his chance. But the man who takes chamces all the time is the infantry soldier in the front trench of the worst sectors; and I don't think England can do too much for these little riflemen when they get home, if they get home.

Andy

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Kola Nut is also known as Cola Nut and Cola. Kola Nut is the seed kernel of a large African tree grown commercially around the world. It is extremely popular in the tropics as a caffeine-containing stimulant. The properties of Kola are the same as caffeine, modified only by the astringents present.

Official Latin Name: Cola acuminata

Annie

[stiletto_33853]

22nd February, 1916.

Am in the middle of a violent Sneefle. As luck will have it, I've got to go with the other O.C.'s and explore some trenches to-night - not for going into, but so as to know them when we do get into them. It would be quite interesting if I hadn't such a sneefle on, but I dare say being out all night will cure it; and I shall have my scarfs handy.

I'm lying now in my valise to write this at 6p.m. and I thought I would get a doze till 10, when we start, and it's decidely warmer in the valise than out. These dark, damp huts with nothing but a smoky brazier for a few hours a day are well calculated to make one sneef, even if I hadn't had twenty-four hours or more of wetness in that drain pipe trench. I am sure decent comfort between whiles is what they want, and what neither we nor the men get in any sufficient quantity.

9.15p.m. Have dozed a certain amount and eaten a large meal, so can't be very bad. I expect I'll be back to-morrow in time to add to this before the post goes; but will put it in an envelope in case not.

23. Expedition all off at last moment, so that I got to bed all right and feel considerably better this morning. Nasty snowy day, though. Last night at 10p.m. it was rather a fine scene - white snow on the ground freezing, and a moon that looked as if it had been crumped by a shell.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

24th February, 1916.

Just a line to say my sneefle is fast disappearing. We're just moving to a new rest camp. Had an interesting day yesterday, which will tell you about in the next letter. This is in haste to catch the post.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

25th February, 1916. To His Mother.

It's bitterly cold, freezing hard and our hut is more like a funnel at the N.Pole than a residence - no door, and two holes instead of windows, and a very little coal-dust to make a fire with. We're all in the same boat, more or less, but it doesn't make it any warmer.

The Batt. had a lecture on discipline from an old general to-day - oh, lor, some of these old boys would haul up St. George on his way back from fighting the Dragon in order to rebuke him for having some mud on his armour.

Andy

[liverpool annie]

25th February, 1916.   To His Mother.

It's bitterly cold, freezing hard and our hut is more like a funnel at the N.Pole than a residence - no door, and two holes instead of windows, and a very little coal-dust to make a fire with. We're all in the same boat, more or less, but it doesn't make it any warmer.

The Batt. had a lecture on discipline from an old general to-day - oh, lor, some of these old boys would haul up St. George on his way back from fighting the Dragon in order to rebuke him for having some mud on his armour.

Andy

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

I'm so glad to see that!! when things are bad - you just have to laugh!!

Good for you Robert!! another little chink in the armour!!

Annie

[stiletto_33853]

Saturday, 26th February, 1916.

My cold is much better - going, in fact, as fast as you can expect in this benighted country, which at the moment is under several inches of snow.

We've got a door to our hut, but still no windows so far, so we are still draughty. I ought to have a little more time for the next day or two, as D., who is senior subaltern in the Batt. and belongs to C Coy., has come back from leave and naturally takes over the O.C.ing till T. returns.

The only thing I can think of wanting is a pair of gloves as I've lost that good pair we got. Any sort would do as long as they are very large and woolly or otherwise lined. I use them not so much for warmth as for protecting my hands in the trenches. You pull yourself along like a monkey, and in the dark may lay hold of barbed wire, pointed stakes or sheer mud; or a combination of the same.

We had a lecture in discipline yesterday from a very bigwig - it made me quite sick. I am still altogether up against that aspect of the Army - which I believe to be only a pale imitation of Teutonic methods, and if carried out rigidly, a mistake. However, it's their say and they will have it, or try to have it.

I don't think I told you of my walk with the Acting C.O. and the other O.C.'s to look at some other trenches. It was through a rather less desolate part of the country - sloping and green instead of smashed up mud-holes; and we went near one of the recently captured trenches. Called an old general at one place, and he asked the C.O. if he knew these trenches. The C.O. said yes, the Batt. had been there before; whereupon the Old Thing just roared with laughter and said "Yes, but the Boches have got them all now!"

He was, however, not a bad old one - only cheery - seemed to know about things abd be reasonably optimistic. We came back the last five miles in a six horse artillery limber, and I don't think I've ever been so jolted in my life. It seemed a fairly good cure for colds.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

28th February, 1916.

There's very little news. The snow has all gone and it is steadily sploshing with rain, and we're in the same rest camp as ever, and my cold is much betly but my throat is rather sore - to be truthful - but then so is everybody else's, I think.

I asked you for gloves, didn't I? Two pipes would also oblige. I've just broken the last again. That's the trouble out here.

I'm afraid I can't hold out any hopes of leave for a long time.

March to-morrow, so I suppose winter is thinking of coming to an end. I shan't be sorry. It's very difficult to keep oneself and the men fit in this sort of thing, and there never was a bigger lie than that colds are unknown at the Front. The absence of one is a rarity, I should say.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

1st March, 1916.

I somehow fell asleep this afternoon instead of writing to you, and now there is no time before the post goes.

It is a beautiful day - the first for weeks.

Have just seen a Seaforth Service Batt. go by to the pipes - to the attack I think. Good-looking men. T. is just back.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

1st March,1916.

I sent you off a small snip to catch the post, and now I don't see why I shouldn't start a longer one.

T., who has come back from leave rather ill - cold, I fancy ___ is asleep on my bed, C. reading and not a bad fire in the hut, which is fairly peaceful. When we shall move I don't know - probably suddenly and soon. There are a lot of things in the air, and I wish I could always tell you what little we know and expect; but we mayn't, and anyhow it's just as well, perhaps, as they don't always come off.

I'm rather annoyed about leave and the time it will be before we can even think of it - apart from the chance of it being stopped altogether. I can't help thinking that married men ought to be given preference, because there are two people to be considered; and also, I think it should start at the bottom instead of the top. More decent somehow for a C.O. to see his juniors off before he goes himself, and I don't think this is just because I am a 2nd Lieut. However, it doesn't strike them that wat - quite the contrary - and the men, of course, get much less than the officers. There, the sole excuse is that they are less used to it, makes less good use of it, and so on - in which there is something, though not a great deal. Also, of course, the transport difficulties would crop up. I think myself the answer is that the officers should go less often. One didn't join to get leave.

I rather foresee a time (after peace) when people will be sick of the name of the war - won't hear a word of it or anything connected with it. There seem to be such people now, and I see numbers of silly books and papers advertised as having nothing to do with the war. Ut's natural, perhaps, that soldiers should want a diversion, and even civilian's; but I rather hope that people won't altogether forget it in our generation. That's what I wanted to say in verse I began about -

Not in our time, O lord, we now beseech Thee

To grant us peace - the sword has bit too deep -

but never got on with it. What I mean is that for us there can be no real forgetting. We have seen too much of it, known too many people's sorrow, felt it too much, to return to an existence in which it has no part. Not that one wants to be morbid about it later; but still less does one want to be as superficial as before. I fancy this comes from hearing ____ say, that the Army will be the place to be when peace is declared - no work, all leave and amusement. I don't think it will be or should be, and I'm sure it's a mistake to suppose that times ahead are going to be gay and easy in any case. The sword has bit too deep. He's only a boy and a very nice one and doesn't mean a quarter of what he says, but I do wish these nice and high spirited youths learned as well as dared.

Every one here seems quite cheerful about Verdun. and rumour says that the French have done very well. It's quite likely I suppose.

Am at present endeavouring to learn the Lewis gun, as we're all supposed to know a little of it. Like all machines, it seems to me very mysterious, though Lindsay would probably know all about it in ten minutes. I think I should be less stupid at knowing good positions to fire it from, which is, I suppose, more the officer's job.

March 2nd. Fine day just turned to rain. Still don't know when we move. Nothing special on.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

The Lindsay referred to in the last letter was Lindsay B. Fry, an engineer and Caroline's brother.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

4th March, 1916. Still Rest Camp

It is the most revolting weather again, snow and hail and rain alternately, and we are very lucky to be out of the trenches. You mustn't picture me suffering hardships, even in the trenches. It's only what you might call discoforts as long as one is well and unwounded, and really this hut has been much better the last two or three days, owing to more fuel.

Why we haven't gone into the trenches is that we are or were in reserve for an attack you probably will have read about. Luckily it was very successful and we didn't have to go up. I told you of the Scots marching up the road to the pipes. They were on their way to it, and the following day they came back - detachments with Boche prisoners - rather picturesque, and very conscious of having done well.

T. was much taken with my fur lining, which I lent him when he retired to my bed; it certainly is very nice and light.

I am just off to try to get a bath at a camp near - haven't had one for about three weeks, and am too dirty for words.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

6th March, 1916. Rest Camp

We go up about two days hence to some different trenches, supposd to be a great improvement - or are rumoured to be so. Have been very lucky to be out during this awful weather. Have been digging drains this morning (physical drill at 7.30!) in the snow and take the men to bathe this afternoon.

We only go into reserve anyhow for some dayd.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

7th March, 1916. Rest Camp

It snowed last night, and wet snow which prevents anything being done, which is one advantage, as the ground is a mass of icy puddles. I hope it will improve before we go into the trenches. I am very well - slight sore throat, but every one has them.

There wasn't any need to worry about that attack which we were not wanted for, as it went exactly as planned.

Andy