boots, and puttees. …
"I came out of the trenches on Thursday night, and was really a day too soon, because on Friday we were having Orderly-Room right in the country, in front of the C.O.'s tent; the Colonel was there surrounded by most of the officers, when we heard a shell. Well, that's nothing unusual, but this one got crescendo, and we all looked up in alarm. Then it got very crescendo, and finally cleared us and landed with a loud explosion about 50 yards beyond us, and not far from several groups of men. It was an 8-inch 'crump.' One man only was killed, but we knew that more were likely to come over, and so we gradually spread out to the sides. Four came altogether at two-minute intervals, but we only had two casualties. Rather upsetting when we were supposed to be resting. I don't know whether they could see our (officers') white tents, or whether they saw the cricket match that took place on the day before.
"Anyway we moved our tents slightly—every one put their tents where they pleased, and then the Pioneer Sergeant came and amused himself daubing green paint on them in patches. Ours (three of C Coy.) was the best; the splodges looked just like hazel nuts (?) when there are three together in their little green cases, and they were interspersed with a kind of pansy-shaped flower. Altogether a very tasteful and pleasing effect. …
"A couple of gun stocks have come. They arrived from Walker's, the makers, and I should very much like to know who had them sent. They are ripping, sniping attachments with periscopes for use with the ordinary rifle. I shall stick to one, and unless I hear otherwise I shall present the other one to our sniping officer (honorary rank)."[5]
"Wednesday, 25 August 1915, 3 p.m.
"I am in the trenches once more. We marched in (about 10 miles) last night. We had a meal at 3 p.m., and marched off soon after six. Our rations (officers') went astray, because they were on a hand-cart in charge of our servants, who missed their way, so we have had practically nothing to eat since late lunch yesterday, and are pretty hungry. I have had a piece of chocolate, and my water-bottle was nearly full of lemon squash. …
"We are in support trenches at Hooge, just on the left of our former position up here. Except for some shelling (chiefly ours), things are fairly quiet.
"Since we were here last the position is greatly improved; the Germans have been driven over the ridge in front (during the recapture of trenches here), and the whole place is much 'healthier' in consequence. …
"I have been out here five calendar months to-day, and in the Army just over eleven months. They will be pensioning me off soon as an old soldier."
"29 August 1915, 11.30 a.m.
"I am having a very quiet and lazy time at the moment, and feel I deserve it. We went into support trenches for three days, and worked two nights from 7.30 p.m. till 3 a.m. building and improving the fire trench. Then on the third night we had a most exciting time. One company, under Captain Taylor, was sent up right in front to dig a new fire trench to connect with another on our left. We had to go up a trench which ran right out into space, and which had only just been built itself, and when there we had to get over the parapet and creep forward to the new line we were to dig. Of course we had to be dead quiet, but there was a big moon, and of course they saw us. Most of the way we were not more than 30 yards away from their front position (and they had bombing parties out in front of that). While we were digging we had one platoon with bombs to cover us, and some of this party were as close as 25 yards to their front position. It was awful work, because they kept throwing bombs at us, and what was almost worse was the close-range sniping.
"'Very' lights were going up from the German lines all the time, and you could see the bullets kicking up the dust all around. When we first got out there I picked out my ground pretty carefully before lying down (because the recent scrap there was much in evidence), but when the snipers got busy I didn't worry about what I was on, I just hugged the ground as close as I could. They would put the 'Very' lights right into us, and one just missed me by a yard. If they are not spent when they come down, they blaze fiercely on the ground, and when they finish, they look like a little coke fire. They would burn you badly if they fell on you. I have seen a dead man that one had fallen on afterwards. His clothes were fearfully burned.
"The Germans were on the edge of a wood and our ground was tipped towards them, so it was extremely difficult to get cover. Shell holes were the best. Soon the men got their trenches down, and things were a little better. The men worked extremely well, and the Wilts were working on our left, and we eventually joined up with them. After about five hours' work, the trenches were fit to hold, and we filed out and the new garrison filed in. Our casualties were much lighter than I should have thought possible. The Colonel came along the new trenches just before we left, and he was most awfully pleased with C Company, and so is the General. Captain Taylor is very bucked about it.
"The scene of this affair was right against the Ch�teau of Hooge, and close to the mine crater. We found a German machine gun half buried, but in good condition, and any number of souvenirs. The Captain has got a helmet—a dirty thing; he had to have it cleaned out, because part of the owner was still inside it! It is a rummy shape, so flat-topped and square, with a brass spike and a gold band down the back. I expect it was an officer's.
"Oh! I have seen my first German (not counting prisoners). I was standing up and a 'Very' light went up, so I kept perfectly still. I was looking towards the wood where the Germans were (I was 40 or 50 yards away), and I saw one quite distinctly walking into the wood.
"Our men that were killed (sniped) were buried just behind, within a quarter of an hour of being hit. Rather awful.
"The actual digging was rather trying in places, and in one case they actually came on a horse!—which dates it back to November, when we were pushed back to these positions in the first battle of Ypres.
"The men in such places work with their respirators on and are often actually sick. I have had whiffs of the smell since in my food. Once smelt never forgotten. I can tell the difference between a man and a horse, but I don't know which I like least.
"Rather a morbid topic, I am afraid. Well, after leaving the scene of our labours (and glad to get out), we called for our packs and had to march about two and a half miles. We were dead beat when we arrived here (nice safe dug-outs—roomy and comfortable—with our valises ready to sleep in when we arrived), but we found a good meal awaiting us, and about half-past four we 'got down to it' and slept till noon. Holden and I share a palatial dug-out, and we had breakfast in bed, and I did not get up till just before our evening meal at 7. I washed and dressed in slacks—had a meal, and later on went to bed again. This morning we had breakfast in bed again about 9.30, and then I got up, washed and shaved, dressed, and am now sitting on my bed, leaning against the wall writing my letters.
"The General let us off 'stand-to' because he knew we were fagged out; and it is a great mercy. Turning out fully dressed at about 2.30 a.m. and remaining up for an hour does not improve one's night's rest. I suppose, though, that we shall have to start it soon—perhaps to-night.
"We are here till to-morrow night, I believe, and then we go to some fairly nice trenches near the ones we were in last. We are short of subalterns—rather—and they have taken me off machine guns for the time being. I am sick, but I get a bit in when I can. In the last trench we built (I and my platoon), not the exposed one, there was a machine-gun position, and I took great pleasure in building it a really good emplacement. …
"Are you doing anything about getting me back for Munitions? I don't know what you think about it, and whether you think I ought to carry on out here. I am sure that after six months I shall be just about fed-up with this business, but am not sure that after a couple of months at home I shan't be wanting to come out again."
"Wednesday, 1 September 1915, 4.45 p.m.
"I will just write you a short letter to let you know I am still well and happy, and still leading the strange life of the picnic-hermit.
"When I last wrote to you I believe I was in the very same spot as now, namely, support trenches in the neighbourhood