CHAPTER 2
FRANCE
From 1st November 1914 until 31st
December 1914
1.11.1914
On board the S.S. ‘MAIDAN’ the Liverpool Scottish
were also proceeding to France, and we rapidly intermixed, related various
incidents to one another, and discussed War, at the same time wondering to
where we were going.
I stayed on deck as we went out of the Solent, and
had an opportunity to exercise my knowledge of Morse Code by reading the
messages to our vessel as to her name and other particulars. Under the protection of a couple of
destroyers we left the Isle of White behind after coming under the glare of the
search lights several times. It was a
beautiful night, and the sea calm, looking very fine with the reflection of the
search lights on the water. After a
time it became chilly and I went below to be served with some ‘Bully Beef’ (for
the first time) and biscuits. Tea was
also provided, but like many others, I could not touch it. It was not tea as we know it, but oil and
tea leaves - by no means a pleasant combination. The ‘Dixie’ ( a big pot - not of a kind one sees in the City) was
filled with cold water and a pipe from the engine room blew steam into the
water in the pot, and in this way the water was boiled. Unfortunately the oil from the engines had
made it’s acquaintance with the steam and every time tea was issued only a few
men had any. Fortunately I had filled
my water bottle at Southampton, but this did not last very long as one gets
very thirsty through eating ‘Bully’ and others, who had not filled their
bottles had a ‘nip’ of mine.
Somebody managed to get round the Steamer’s cooks
(who were black men), to make some coffee for which a charge of 6d was
made. By the time I had heard of this,
their supply had run out, and when three or four of us asked for some, they
served us with the water in which they had washed up the cups. We of course detected the fraud immediately,
and loudly voiced our sentiments, but each of these gentlemen shook their noble
head and could not (or did not want to) understand us. We were therefore 6d to
the bad.
After this I thought I would try and get some rest,
but my ‘sleeping apartments’ were not as comfortable as, for instance, the
Hotel Cecil. Perhaps it may be
interesting to know what accommodation was like on board a troop ship at that
time.
The ‘MAIDAN’ was a cargo boat, and steps were
provided for the purpose of getting down into the Holds which were the said
‘sleeping apartments’. Round the Holds
of this boat there was a narrow gangway some three or four feet wide. On account of the shortage of room, we had
to lie side by side in this narrow passage.
There was very little dust on the floor, as the draught had blown it all
away, so it was not as bad as it might have been. Most of us being taller than 4 ft, we found it by no means
comfortable. There was a pipe running
lengthways along the ground, on which one had to lie crosswise, which position
was somewhat unpleasant. However sleep
did come to me at last, but I was up fairly early next morning as it was too
painful to be in ‘kip’ for any length of time.
2.11.1914
We sighted land as daylight was breaking and at 7.30
am on Monday 2nd November we stopped outside Havre. It was a beautiful day and very hot. For some reason or other we did not go into
Port this day. The view outside Havre
was very fine, and we could see the people on shore waving to us and apparently
getting excited, waiting for our landing.
We lounged about on Deck all day but we were not very happy as we were
thirsty and although we made gallant attempts to drink the ‘tea’, we could not
master it, especially as we had not quite got our ‘sea legs’ and had a funny
feeling in our ‘little Marie’s’. In the
evening the Westminster’s and the Scottish combined and we had a jolly good
concert on board, everybody joining in the choruses with great zest.
After the concert and more loitering, I ‘turned in’
and as I had had very little rest during the past night, I fell in a slumber
quickly and did not wake until ‘Reveille’ which was at 6.00 am the next
morning, when we found ourselves at the Quay-side.
3.11.1914
At 7.00 am we disembarked and then had a fairly long
wait until the transport was unloaded, and the inhabitants of the town gave us
much needed ‘Café au Lait’ and hot rolls, to which we did justice. We marched through the town to the rest camp
at the top of the hill behind the town, and on our way up were heartily
cheered, and all manner of gifts were bestowed upon us. A woman with a big basket of flowers either
gave them all away or pinned them on the men as they marched along. This shows the spirit of the people at that
time. It seems that we were practically
the first British troops landed at Havre, the previous base being St. Nazaire.
After a meal we were feeling much better, but
permission could not be obtained to go into the town in case orders were
received to move, but somehow or other I managed to wander out and was collared
by a Lady and her daughter, and I had a long chat with them in French. I then had a knowledge of French , the style
taught in schools, and the Lady being rather excitable spoke hurriedly for
about half an hour, and I must honestly say that I hardly understood a word
about what she was telling me. However
I tried to look intelligent and now and then, when a pause presented an
opportunity (which was by no means too often) I said “Oui c’est vrai” or “Non Madam”. The daughter rather entered into the fun of the business, being
able to see that I could not gather much of what was being said, and when she
did get a chance of speaking with me, she spoke slowly and distinctly, and I
was able to understand her quite well.
I got on nicely with the daughter.
4.11.1914
We were to have stayed three days at the Rest Camp,
but as the voyage had been fairly smooth and we were wanted up on the Line, we left
Havre the next day, Wednesday 4th November at 3.30 pm, and again
marched through the town to the Railway Station. On our way we passed the Kensingtons (13th London
Regiment) who had just arrived from England. We waited on the station in the
rain for about 5 hours, and in the meantime saw some Germ prisoners who were
brought in, and we were struck by the youthfulness of them. I am not going to say that it was typical of
the Germ army at that time, but the fact remains that there were some who were
little more than boys.
At 9.15 pm our ‘train’ left Havre, and perhaps it
may be as well to define the word ‘train’ in this instance. It consisted of a number of carriages marked
in white paint “pour 20 chevaux”, but thank goodness they had been well washed out,
and about 40 ‘Hommes’ managed to get into each.
Again the sleeping accommodation left much to be
desired, and the carriages being devoid of springs, we got the full benefit of
the jerking of the train.
5.11.1914
We passed through Rouen and at 7.30 am the next day
the 5th November, the train stopped for half an hour near a small
brook by the side of the line, so we had a good wash and felt much better for
it. We had a meal of biscuits and
‘bully’ on the way which we washed down with Café au Lait, French Biere, or
Wine which we managed to get at some of the stations at which the train stopped
for water etc. Every time the train
stopped there was a rush out of the carriage to a shop nearby and many of the
villagers went short of bread, for we took no refusal. Many narrow escapes of missing the train
could be reported, but as the train by no means exceeded the speed limit, one
could, by a sharp walk, overtake it after the style of the S.E. & C.R.
After passing through Abancourt, Anmale, Martinville,
Oisemond, Allery and Longpre, we arrived at Abbeville about midday where the
train stopped for an hour, and it allowed us time to drop into a ‘magazin’ near
the station and get some bread, cheese and chocolate in lieu of the usual
‘bully’ on which we had been feeding practically all the time since leaving
England, except while we were at the Rest Camp.
After leaving Abbeville we ’carried on’ and passed
Etaples and Boulogne, arriving at Calais about 9.00 pm. Here there was a deal of confusion. Having been on the train for a matter of 24
hrs. we got out of our carriages onto the line where hot Bovril was awaiting us
which the transport officer at Calais had provided. We all thought we had reached our destination, and as at that
time the Germs were not so very far from Calais we anticipated going into a
scrap within a short space of time. It
must be remembered that we knew practically nothing of the real
conditions. We had not been stationary
for more than three minutes, and were in the middle of our Bovril when the
train commenced to move out of the station in the direction in which we had
come, and we did not know whether we were backing into a siding or whether we
ought to get into the train again.
However a few boarded (I amongst them) but a considerable number stayed
behind. Strangely enough we travelled
at a very high rate of speed, and then came to the conclusion, which proved to
be correct, that the engine had shifted to the other end of the train and we were
continuing our journey, not having reached our destination. A number of rumours then started (the Army is full of them), the chief being
, that whilst we were in the train the Germs had advanced and were near Calais,
and we were being sent back in case the town fell completely into their hands,
and we were not yet considered trained enough to take our place in the firing
line.
I was fairly ‘fed up’ with travelling, and during
this discussion fell into slumber, as also did most of the others. We woke after a couple of hours to find
ourselves in a siding, but where, was a mystery. Eventually the word was passed down that we were at St. Omer, the
headquarters of Sir John French and his staff.
We were ordered to detrain, and enquiries were being made as to the
number of men missing, when another train came in with the absentees, the
Transport Officer at Calais having done the necessary with great
promptitude. The carriages being
emptied of our stores, bicycles etc., we fell in and left the station at 12.30
am next morning (or in other words in the middle of the night). Incidentally I led the Battalion with my
cycle. We proceeded to the Infantry
Barracks at the top of the hill, and after an issue of rum (for the first time)
we ‘turned in’. These Barracks were by
no means too clean or comfortable.
With regard to Rum, perhaps a few words would not be
out of place.
The people who have voiced the opinion (from an
armchair by the fireside at home, possibly) that the issue of Rum to men at the
Front should be discontinued, surely do not know how necessary it is, and how
often it is the means of saving life.
When one has not a comfortable fire by which to sit, brandy balls will
not suffice to keep out the cold, and Rum in its way takes the place of a fire
in that it so thoroughly warms the body.
Many a time when in the Trenches in the winter standing knee-deep in mud
and water, the only thing which keeps a man alive is Rum. I have never come across and Infantryman who
has been in the Trenches in the winter who is against the issue of Rum, but if
there is such a one he need not have it.
Personally I am not fond of it as a drink, but without it on a cold
night conditions would be far worse than they are at present. It is quite true that before an attack a
bigger issue of Rum is allowed each man ‘to get his back up’, but if the men
don’t object, why worry? Let these
fireside gentlemen try a ‘wee’ drop, and perhaps they may begin to like it.
6.11.1914
After sleeping until about 7.00 am I went round to
the Cathedral in the town. There is a
beautiful side chapel designated ‘The Altar of Miracles’ and around the walls
are tablets which have been erected by people in thanksgiving for some favour
received. It is indeed a beautiful
Cathedral, and being the first Continental Cathedral I had entered, I was
struck by the difference in design and general appearance from our Cathedrals
in England, many of which I have visited.
When I entered, a service was in progress, and one might have imagined
that a Requiem was being celebrated for there were so many people in black
clothing and it was so noticeable.
There was far more black here than I have seen since I returned to
England. St. Omer evidently had already
paid the price. Men too were more
scarce in the Churches and Towns in France than in England.
On return to Barracks I saw Field Marshal Sir John
French who had been talking with some of our men.
During the afternoon a party of the ‘Royal Irish
Regiment’ attempted (and fairly well succeeded) in ‘putting the wind up’ our
fellows. They had just returned from
the firing line to reorganise, having been rather severely ‘cut up’. Many yarns were spun, the details of which I
now know to have been doubtful. Since
then however, I have told newcomers even worse (if possible), for somehow or
other, when one soldier speaks to another about the War and personal
experiences connected with it, each tries to outdo the other, and ‘Freshers’
are always so eager to hear tale of the Front, that the biggest liar always
gets the largest audience. I have often
collected a good crowd.
The various statements of the Royal Irish led us to
believe that the War would be over within a month or two, or at any rate before
Christmas, but it must be remembered that they had returned just about the time
when the Germs had been driven back a good distance, and these men thought that
they were still ‘on the run’. We were
therefore rather anxious to ‘get into it’, for as we said to each other “It
will be awful returning home without having done anything”. Our fears, however, were without the
slightest foundation.
We learnt that the Germ Infantry had been at St.
Omer, and were in possession of the Railway Station for a period of seven hours, until they met the British
troops, when they hastily retreated, being only an advance guard.
7.11.1914
The
next day, Saturday 7th November, the Battalion marched, (signallers
cycled), some 5 miles out of St. Omer in the direction of the firing line, (we
were many miles from the trenches), and on a hill which we mounted, we could
hear the roar of the guns very distinctly.
They seemed plentiful, and I think we lost our anxiety about going to
the Front. The Battalion dug trenches;
The signallers waited for any work which might turn up, and looked after their
bicycles. Aeroplanes were travelling
overhead, flying very low, with red, white and blue rings plainly showing. We returned at 6 O’clock.
8.11
1914
Early next morning, Sunday 8th November,
we paraded and marched to a portion of flat country, where the Battalion did
some ‘belly flopping’ for practice, which lasted all day. The signallers, as usual, did ‘na poo’. To give the stretcher bearers a chance of
exercising their skill, it was arranged that now and then, a man should not
rise from the ground, and be treated as a casualty. He would tell the stretcher bearers that he had been shot through
the leg, for instance, and they would proceed to bandage his wound. He would then be allowed to stay behind, and
do as much work as the signallers. As
the day wore on, so many of the men failed to rise, that the S. B. could not
cope with the work, and when the Commanding Officer saw the number who were
being ‘treated’, he made each man rejoin his Company, and put them through some
stiff training. After this incident it
was left to the Company Officers to detail men as casualties.
The wind was blowing from the direction of the
Firing Line, and the sound of the guns was much plainer. About 3.30 pm a violent bombardment started,
which continued until after 6.00 O’clock..
9.11.1914
Whilst London was watching the Lord Mayor’s Show on
the 9th November 1914, we were out again for the day doing
practically the same as previously.
Already men were feeling the effects of the past few days and a number
were ill. Among this number was
Croxford who joined with me, and he was sent to Hospital. (Scarlet fever?)
10.11.1914
At 8.00 am next morning, Tuesday 10th
November, I left St. Omer with three other Signalling Cyclists and Major Cohen,
on horseback, en route for Hazebrouck, to arrange billets for the Battalion
which was coming on later in the day.
The roads were awful, all the cobbles being slippery, there having been
a fall of rain during the night. It was
quite hard enough cycling, and it must have been much worse marching. On reaching Epeques we dismounted in
reverence to a funeral which was passing at the time. A French funeral is very different to one which might be seen in
English streets. A procession is formed
at the house, and taking the lead is a man in Cassock and Surplice bearing a
large Crucifix. Then a number of boys
similarly dressed, the Priest praying, the coffin and a large number of people
of the place who care to take part, and they all walk to the Church and then to
the Cemetery. It is very
impressive.
At 11.00 am we arrived at Hazebrouck, having
travelled some 15 miles, and we entered the town and saw a sight which brought
tears to my eyes, and I will never forget it.
From the direction of the Firing Line came streams
of men, women and children, carrying all they could with them, having had to
leave their homes. Very stained and
weather-beaten, for they had been walking for a long time, having had to rush
away from their houses, risking their lives from shell and rifle fire. They carried large bundles filled with
articles (some had a blanket-full on their back) and they were crying enough to
break their hearts. We got into
communication with them, and they informed us that the Germs, who had taken all
food and everything of value from them, were again advancing. Many of them had been in Germs’ hands for
some time, and they told us many woeful tales.
It is as sad a sight as one could possibly see.
The Germs had not so very long ago been at
Hazebrouck and food was therefore very scarce.
What had been left was sold in the shops at greatly inflated
prices.
The Battalion arrived later and the Signallers
showed them their billets.
11.11.1914
At 9.30 am next morning, Wednesday 11th November,
we departed from Hazebrouck, leaving one section of ‘E’ company behind on
account of an outbreak of fever. We
passed through the village of Borre, and arrived at Bailleul at midday. We were to have gone on further, but there
was a strong wind and a drizzle, and the cobbled roads were proving too much
for the feet, (I cycled) that the Colonel decided to put up here. The march had been very difficult inasmuch
that the ranks had to be broken several times to allow A.S.C. Motor Transports
to pass, the road being very narrow.
This helped to make the marching harder.
The transport of the Battalion was missing, and a
Signaller named Chamberlain and I were ‘told off’ to find them. We went a few miles back but could not
discover any trace, and after staggering some villagers by asking them in
French if they had seen anything of them, we found an Estaminet, where we drank
of the ‘loving cup’ and dried our clothes.
When we returned to Bailleul the transport had arrived and the men were
in their Billets, in a Convent.
The Germs had left many indications of their arrival
by the damage which the Town had sustained, broken telegraph wires, smashed
doors etc., but there were no shell holes, as only a body of Infantry had
passed through, the Artillery not having time to get up before they were driven
from St. Omer, right back at the point of the bayonet.
It rained towards evening, and the Town was very
miserable, so many people having left their Homes, and other than Soldiers,
there was hardly anybody else in the streets.
There was an Estaminet or two open, and we called in for a beverage, and
were told that although the Germs had only been a week in the place, they had
practically consumed every available drop of alcohol, the men paying nothing,
and the Officers giving I.O.U ’s ! The
proprietor of one establishment however, had managed to hide a quantity, which
he said he had kept for the time when the ‘Soldats Anglais’ would drive the
Germs out and all he had he was willing to give away to us for ‘rein de
tout’. We did not take advantage of
this offer, as he had lost so much money and other valuables, and we paid him a
price.
12.11.1914
At 9.30 am the next day, Thursday 12th
November we again got on the move, and enroute passed through Steenwerck with
it’s fine Church and spire; and Croix-du-Bac where the Church had been fired by
the Germs and raised to the ground.
Houses on the road were similarly treated, many of them being ruined
beyond repair.
Erquingheim proved to be our destination, which we
reached after being spotted by a Germ aeroplane (for we were now only two or
three miles from the nearest point of the Firing Line) and for the first time
became acquainted with shrapnel, but all the shells fell short and no damage
was done. The distance we had travelled was about 12 miles and along the road
we had passed many more refugees, but they were now a common sight and little
notice was taken of them. It is so easy to forget trouble when one's self is
not concerned, and we had other matters to think about.
As soon as arrived we were informed that as Lord
Roberts was nearby, he was going to inspect us. We therefore had a quick dinner
and prepared to make ourselves clean and smart and try to look like soldiers.
We lined the streets, causing much excitement amongst the folk who were still
there, probably because they were too old to move or had no money and nothing
to lose, even if the Germs did get through again, and at two o'clock Lord
Roberts came past, addressing a few words now and then to some of us. This was
his last function, for on this day he contracted a chill, which led to his
death two days later, not far behind the firing line. He died doing his duty,
as such a Soldier would wish, and may be he rest in peace.
We were billeted in one part of a school, and
another portion was crowded with refugees, men, women and children altogether,
who were always asking us for food we could not eat, or which was left over.
They were sent further back the next day and we took over their quarters after
they had had a good clean out.
We were allowed in the village, but had to take a
rifle with ammunition, on account of spies, shots having been fired at troops
before, from houses in the neighbourhood. It rained later in the afternoon, but
towards the close of the day I went out to the end of the village street and
watched shrapnel bursting in the air near Armentieres (on the left of
Erquinghem, about two miles from the firing line). Several buildings were on
fire caused by incendiary shells, which the Germs had sent into the town. The
bursting of shells at night when the clouds are low is a very fine sight, and
would be full of interest if the results were not so tragic.
Our sleep was badly disturbed during the night by a heavy cascade which started in the early hours of the morning and continued up until late in the afternoon.
13.11.1914
The battalion went out next morning and dug some
trenches in front of the railway station. These were necessary, as the British
only had one line of trenches, and none to fall back on should the Germs again
advance. As soon as the rainy season set in seriously the second and third
lines of trenches were swamped, and during the greater part of the winter we
only had the one line, but it is practically impossible for an attack to be
successful when there is so much mud, as the men get stuck and make a fine
target for a rifle or machine gun. Whilst this digging was in progress the rain
commenced and a strong gale sprung up, but the Signallers were snug and comfortable
in a barn out of the way, but waiting in case they were wanted.
In the evening a visit was paid to the local
Estaminet where Mademoiselle Alice made us nice and comfortable.
14.11.1914
The guns started again early the next morning, but we
were getting used to them by this time, and it affected our sleep only
slightly. The weather being finer, aeroplanes were busy, and for a large
portion of the day, we were staring open-mouthed at the sky, watching small
puffs of smoke as shells burst around the aeroplanes.
15.11.1914
Sunday, 15th November saw me at my duties
at the small village Church, where the youngsters had an opportunity of
shouting enough to seriously injure the lungs of an ordinary individual. But at
all the services I attended in France, the congregation, and especially the
boys, seemed to make a point of shouting as preached to the accompaniment of
the boom of the guns a couple of miles away, and on the whole it helped to make
the service very impressive. Every now and again one could feel the Church
actually shaking when a big gun was fired.
After the British troops had driven the Germs back
through Erquinghem, a few Germs had remained in the Belfry of the Church with a
supply of food, machine guns and rifles, and when a body of soldiers past,
shots were fired. At first it was not discovered from whence the firing
proceeded. The Germ artillery were also very smart in catching bodies of men
who might be marching up the road. The hands of the clock having been seen to
move rapidly, a search was made and these men were found in the tower, having
used the hands for signalling in Semaphore, which accounted for the fact that
the main body of the Germs knew so well when troops were moving, and through an
aperture in the clock they had fired when men were passing. I will not say what
became of these men, but when I was there the clock face was shifted to one
side, so preventing further tampering.
From six o'clock, for a period of about 30 minutes,
a deafening cannonade was started by the guns, and we watched the flashes as
they were fired, standing in awed groups, wondering when it would end.
16.11.1914
Monday, 16th November, was rather
quieter, although Amentiers was heavily shelled intermittently. I was on
cycling duty all day in the rain. Some cottages were set on fire by the Germs,
the shells killing all the inhabitants. Part of the Battalion moved up,
preparatory to entering the trenches for the first time, but the company with
which I was, stayed behind.
17.11.1914
The remainder anticipated going to the trenches
today, and at 7.00 am I went to Church to prepare myself for the worst. Then
during the morning however, orders came out that of the Battalion left behind,
except my company (for although I was a Signaller I had been with the company
for the sake of convenience since leaving England) were to go to the trenches
that night, and that we were to be isolated on account of another man having a
touch of fever. We could have "bitten our heads off" with disappointment
when seeing the men leave for Griespot, and the trenches at Bois Grenier, a
distance of four or five miles. However, we had to be content during the day
with watching aeroplanes being shelled. Our work was physical drill.
18.11.1914
Orders were
received the next day that no man was allowed out so as not to spread any
illness, and that we would have a medical inspection every day. I had to go out
being on cycling duty, so I did not have such a bad time. During the afternoon
a spy was brought in to us. He had been caught in the act of shooting our men
not far behind our own lines. He did not live long to tell the tale.
19.11.1914
The next day we went for a route march in the snow
to keep us in a fit state of health. Our first casualty was also reported this
day, and strange to say the man who was killed (through the falling in of his
"dug-out") bore the same name as mine but Brooks. The similarity of
names caused a fright at home, but upon inquiries being made at our
headquarters in London happiness was again restored to the family bosom, but,
unfortunately, it informed them vividly that I had got into the danger zone,
and I had so far managed not to let them know that I was near the firing
line.
In the evening we had a good concert round the fire.
20.11.1914
It was very cold to-day and snowing fast, but we
turned out and practised range-finding. In the evening there was a gorgeous
sunset. I might mention that never have I seen finer sunsets than in this part
of France. In the trenches, one having plenty of time in which to look round,
perhaps the sunsets are more noticeable than in England, but I think that the
country being so flat has an effect of making it possible to see such fine
sunsets.
We continued doing the work mentioned above with
very little variation until the end of the month, by which time we were
absolutely 'fed'. On one of our route marches we noticed a dog working a mill,
and another pulling a small cart, and other incidents showed us how in France,
dogs are used for purposes such as we would not think of in England.
Our transport was a mile or two back, and every day
some men had to be on guard there. A farm was a short distance away but too far
for sleeping, so we had to make our beds in a haystack, and although it
certainly was my first experience of so sleeping, I would recommend it in the
face of a better substitute not being available. Of course the rats were rather
unpleasant but one can get used to them, as we had to in the trenches. At any
rate I was by no means pleased when called at 2.00 am to turn out for a couple
of hours' guard.
28.11.1914
On Saturday 28th November the men whom we
had left at Hazebrouck turned up, having been declared free from any infection.
They had taken the train to Steenwerck and so avoided they very unpleasant
march. They rested for a short time at Erquinghem and then went on to the
trenches, so once more we cursed our luck.
We cannot honestly say that we were well trained
soldiers, and as a matter of fact we were rather surprised that the Battalion
had so quickly been sent up to the front, instead of (as anticipated) on lines
of communication. As an illustration; one man who was loading his rifle
preparatory to leaving for the trenches was holding it with the barrel pointing
upwards instead of to the ground. He pressed the trigger and a bullet flew out
which narrowly missed the head of the Colour Sergeant, who I am afraid had
rather a fright at having his baptism of fire before it was expected.
During the night the Germans made themselves very
objectionable and started shelling near to us. We did not turn out, but the
'Buffs' (East Kent Regiment) were shelled out of their billets where they were
having a well earned rest from the trenches.
30.11.1914
I had to cycle next day into Armentieres on duty, so
got an opportunity of looking over the town and cathedral. There were very few
people left in Armentieres at that time, (but they returned before I left
France for Belgium in May 1915 as they no doubt felt sure that the Germs would
not get the British out of their trenches) and considerable damage was done to
the Cathedral and other churches, (there are six or seven large churches here)
which at the time I thought was very serious. Since having seen Ypres, however,
it strikes me that Armentieres has so far been very fortunate inasmuch that the
firing line in parts is not more than a mile or so away from the town, whereas
at Ypres I should estimate the nearest point of the Germ line would be three
miles.
30.11.1914
Our men who had gone to the trenches on 16th
November, came out early this morning and I met some of them in Armentieres and
they gave me their opinion of the war in language which I will not repeat here,
but I did not feel so sorry that I had not yet gone to the trenches. They had
had about half-a-dozen casualties and had been in the trenches for 14 days,
which, considering the weather was rather stiff for the first entry, but at any
rate their opinions had greatly changed and none wanted another spell in the
trenches for some time.
2.12.1914
His Majesty the King was near Erquinghem on 2nd
December, and he inspected some of the Westminsters just after they had come
out of the trenches in mud arrayed, so he saw to a certain extent what
Londoners were doing for him and our country.
7.12.1914
We were to be isolated until 14 days after the last
outbreak and were informed on Monday 7th December, that provided no other
man was ill, we would be going into the trenches on 9th
December.
To have some stiff exercise before going into the
trenches, we went for a route march today and it commenced to rain, so that we
got a good soaking. During the afternoon it cleared up, and as I was feeling
rather miserable, being wet and cold, I found an excuse for a cycle ride into
Armentieres, and had a good look round another part of the town which before I
had not seen. On returning I heard that there was an opportunity of a warm bath
(which I had not been able to have since I left England) and three of us got
out of billets to find a brewery which had been converted into a bathing
establishment, and we were informed that a few coppers to the R.A.M.C man in
charge would permit of us having a bath, although actually only parties were
allowed, when about 10 of a dozen men could get into a tub together.
We walked four or five miles and dusk came on, but
we could not discover the bath-house. We had to give it up in the end, and 'turned
about' to be met with rain, beating heavily against our faces, and a stronger
gale which made it impossible to hear another's voice. Added to this it was
pitch dark. Such a night I have never before experienced. We did not know our
way, and it took us about four hours to get back to Our billet, and when we did
we had to sleep through the night in our wet clothes.
8.12.1914
We were told definitely on Tuesday 8th
December that we were to go nearer the firing line that day, and before long,
into the trenches, and our hearts beat high. At 3.30 pm we started out and
marched to L'Armee, where we met the rest of the Battalion.
L'Armee, a village, was too small and unsafe to stay
in, so we found a farm nearby for the night, and to this we proceeded.
After tea the company (without the singers) had to
go to the trenches for four hours digging under fire, and I am sorry to say
that two men did not return, they having already ended their experience of War
rather quickly and tragically.
We "turned in" in a small loft capable of
holding about 20 men, and at 2.00 am about 40 others came back from digging and
had to sleep with us. However, we squeezed in and although it was a bitterly
cold night and raining hard, I do not think I have ever been so hot before in
my life, so it had the advantage of keeping out the cold. Rum had been served
out, and the heat of the place made some of the men rather groggy, and when
they had to get up during the night for Guard, or other reasons, much jumping
on legs was occasioned, which of course roused everybody in the Barn and at
times the atmosphere was quite thick through the fluency of the language.
9.12.1914
We got up next morning rather later than was usual,
and this foretold that we were for the trenches that night. The whole Battalion
went to the Baths, and to use a soldiers expression, "That did it."
Let me explain, and at the same time apologise for mentioning a matter which is
very unpleasant, but nevertheless quite
true, and an important feature in the discomforts which one has to undergo at
the front.
After the bath, the dirty clothes are given in and
"clean" washing issued out to all the men. For a short time all is
well. On the march back one gets rather warm and a careful observer will notice
a large amount of wriggling and scratching going on, and then the men realise
that they are "chatty" or "crumby." Of course at first it
is exceedingly unpleasant and repulsive, but like so many other things, one has
to get used to this state, and once started it is almost impossible to get rid
of these objectionable livestock. For
eight months I was in this state.
After dinner there was plenty for the signallers to
do, as we were off to the trenches that night, and by the time I had finished
my cycling duty, the Battalion had left. I was rather in a "stew" and
made inquiries as to the direction taken and managed, on my cycle, to catch up
with my Company about half a mile behind the firing line. I was told that I had to go back, find the
dressing station (First Aid Post) leave my cycle there and come to the trenches
with the Stretcher Bearers, who knew the way.
On arriving at the Dressing Station I was instructed
where to put my cycle, but the Stretcher Bearers had gone, and I was stranded.
Over the wire I was informed that on account of the fever scare I was not to go
to a signalling station, but to remain with the company, and that as there was
a shortage of men, I was to come down that night. My directions were as
follows:-
"Straight up the road until a barrier of two
carts is reached, and 50 yards past the barrier there is an opening in the
hedge which leads on to a field. By going at right angles with the road, a farm
would be sited, and then inquire again."
It was now about 8 PM, and I started with full pack,
250 rounds of ammunition (which weigh very heavily), rifle, blanket (wrapped in
my waterproof sheet) slung over my back, and overcoat on, for it was raining;
feeling well loaded. There was a slight fog, and it was pitch black, except
that now and again a flare would shine dimly through the mist, dying out, and
making the darkness still more intense.
I proceeded along the road past Chappelle
d'Armentieres, and bumped against the barrier, thereby knowing that I was on
the right track. The bullets were flying around, and being alone, I did not
feel quite comfortable. I was very warm, so I halted behind the carts for a
rest, during which time, the Durham Light Infantry, who we relieved, came from
the trenches, and one or two stragglers told me that one of our officers had
been shot going up, and a few seconds later he came along on a stretcher. This
did not make me feel any more comfortable, and I began to wish that I had
somebody with me.
I pulled myself together, and got on until I came
across the opening of which I had been told, and entered. My first few steps
took me knee deep in mud, and being such hard work over the ploughed fields in
this condition, I was perspiring freely. I dared not get off the beaten track
in case I should miss the farm. After a distance which seemed terribly long and
hard (for every time I heard a rifle shot I "ducked", which made my
pack and blanket shift into a most uncomfortable position) at last, through the
fog, I spotted the farm. I took shelter behind a wall which had a good share of
shell holes, and then I heard some very queer noises proceeding from the other
side. After a few seconds it stopped -
was it somebody in pain who had been hit? - and again it started, so I went
round to investigate and, joy of joys, I found a soldier filling a rum jar with
water from a very old and rusty pump.
I enquired the way to the part of the trenches which
were being occupied by the Queen's Westminsters. His reply to the effect that
he had never heard of them, rather upset my dignity. I told him that we were
relieving the Durham Light Infantry, and he directed me to follow by the side
of a communication trench, which was full of water and did not permit of one
using it, for five hundred yards; and I would then arrive at my
destination.
I found that the communication trench (or rather
ditch) which I had been following, broke off in two directions about 50 yards
from the farm, but as he said that we were on the right, I followed on what I
afterwards discovered was an old front line trench. However, I did not know
this at the time, and continued on my way.
I must have gone nearly a mile before I came to the
conclusion that something was wrong, and I became desperate. The
"whiz" of the bullets told me that I was going parallel with the
trenches, so I struck off at right angles across a field, hoping to meet
somebody. I had not gone more than 50 yards when I saw a light. My heart beat
rapidly, - where was I? Were these the British or German trenches? I laid down
flat in the mud and listened, and heard such language which perhaps at ordinary
times might make me blush, but now it was like the sound of sweet music. I went
nearer making such remarks as "I say, old chap" very quietly for I did
not know where the Germs were, and I was "some windy". No notice was
taken of my remark, for I was outside the trench and no doubt I spoke to softly
to be heard. I went nearer and put one foot inside the trench when a gruff
voice shouted "who the - - - hell of you?". I explained that I was in
the Queen's Westminster rifles, but
that did not seem to satisfy him as he had never heard the name of our
regiment. After explanations and a chat with an Officer who gave me a tot of
rum, I was informed that I would have to go about a mile to the left, and that,
as the trenches in parts were full of water, I had better get out again and
walk along the top. Once inside, I did not quite like the idea of being on top
again, but as there were some men about, it was not so bad. The Germs, I was
told, were some four or five hundred yards in front.
I got out and crossed some fields, being challenged
several times, and asking if I was going in the correct direction, when at last
I came across my Battalion about 10.30 PM saying a sincere prayer, and heaving
a sigh of relief.
I had the only "dug-out" left, and it was
very badly built, the bottom being under the level of the remainder, the result
was about three inches of mud and water. At that time I did not know the way to
construct a good "dug-out" (or "buggy-hutch" as it is
called) otherwise I might have built another, although the ground being so wet,
and there being no wood available then, as there is now for such purposes, I
might not have made a great success of it. However I got my waterproof sheet on
the ground, and was thankful to get my pack, blankets, and equipment off my
back.
No sooner had I done this when I was told that I was
on ration fatigue and had to go out of the trenches twice again to the farm, and
bring in a sack of coke and a tin of tea. By this time I was wet through to the
skin, and it was near midnight, and I thought that I would be able to get some
rest, but I was deceived for, on my return, I had two hours Guard to do. At
1.30 am I was detailed to form one of a party to relieve others who were trench
digging out in front. A new trench was being made as our present one in places
had 6 ft of water in it . So, as soon as I had finished my guard , about 2.00
am, I went about 50 yards in front of our line in the rain and mist to help in
the making of a new trench.
I had done some digging in England which permitted
an occasional rest, but when digging under fire it is a different tale
altogether. In the previous party two men had been hit, and we had to dig deep
enough to get into the hole under cover, and then make up the line. We dug with
feverish haste, and were getting on well, when the man next to me, (who
happened to be the fellow I had slept next to in the Erquinghem schools) was
shot , and he died before the Stretcher Bearers had got him to the Dressing
Station. But this naturally made a dig harder than ever until I thought that my
arms would drop out of their sockets. We had to get to a certain depth before
dawn for the trench had to be improved, and when the Germs spotted in the
morning that we had been working, they would make a point of firing heavily all
the next night in the hope of catching the working party. We therefore kept
going until about 4.30 am when we went back to our old trenches and turned in
for a rest. I had got nicely off to sleep (in spite of the wet) when at 5.15 am
we were roused for the "stand to" which takes place before dawn and
sunset each day, as this is the time it is most likely for an attack to be
delivered.
10.12.1914
We "stood down" after a couple of hours,
and then had to clean our rifles and swords which in every case were covered
with mud and rust. This is by no means an easy job when one's supply of rifle
rag is scarce and muddy. It was now 8.00 am and we started on
"bully", biscuits, jam, and water (we had no wood to light a fire to
boil Tea) which we consumed together with a fair supply of mud. After breakfast and inspection of rifles the
trench had to be cleared and the water bailed out as much as possible, and
portions which had fallen in during the night and to be banked up. I then went on Guard for an hour which
brought us near dinner-time. By way of a change the menu was altered to
biscuits, "Bully", water, and Jam. After dinner I had a couple of
hours rest until the evening "stand to" and then we had tea of jam,
biscuits, mud, water, with a drop of rum, (another change of diet). During the night I did two hours digging,
and four hrs Guard, for which considering the "night" started at 4.00
pm gave me more rest.
It rained during the afternoon and I was beginning
to feel the cold which was very severe. As a matter of fact these trenches were
the worst I have ever been in whether winter or summer, so perhaps there is
some excuse when I say that by this time I was very miserable and as anxious to
get out of the trenches as I had been to get in, although my occupation had
been so short a time.
14.12.1914
This is the general outline of what took place every
day, with a few casualties, for until 14th December, when at 1.15 am
the germs started a heavy cannonade of shells and rifle fire on our right which
necessitated our being on guard or through the night. Further German artillery
set fire to two farms in our immediate area which gave such a glare that it
prevented the men from bringing up the rations for the next day as they had to
come overland, the communications trenches being flooded. As a matter of fact
during the winter the communication trenches are very seldom used as travelling
is so difficult, and even in the summer men prefer to walk across fields to the
front line rather than use the communications trenches, as there are so many
twists and turns in a communication trench that very often the distance is
doubled. The turns (or "traverses") are to prevent a shell, should it
burst in the trench, from going right along the line. These traverses being
about 10 ft one from the other, the damage of the shell would be confined to
this space.
During the night I had rather a narrow shave. My
rifle, with bayonet fixed, was pointing through my loophole and when I moved a
couple of yards away to get at the mug of rum which I was sharing with the man
next to me, a bullet hit my rifle smashing both my sword and barrel. If I had
been standing behind, I would not like to say where the destination of the
bullet would have been.
15.12.1914
The next day we had more rain and the trenches were
flooded. During the afternoon I took off my greatcoat to scrape the mud away
from which was adhering and making the coat weigh very heavily. I must have
lifted it slightly in the air for I had just put it on top of my dug-out, when,
- "ping" - it was hit by a bullet which embedded itself a foot of two
in the mud. I dug that bullet out to keep as a souvenir, but when I returned to
England, it was left in my pack, and I have not recovered it.
A large number of men by this time were suffering
from such complaints as Rheumatism, Frost Bite, Trench Feet, and suchlike,
which caused them to be removed from the trenches and many got back to England.
The cold had been very intense, and we had been standing in water, at times up
to our hips, whilst the rest of our clothing was soaked through. We had slept
in this state, and had no wash since entering the trenches, so it can hardly be
wondered at that there was illness about. Now that I look back and think of my
first experience of the trenches, which was certainly the worst, I really
cannot understand how I am alive to tell the tale. Apart from the risk of being
shot, being in wet clothes for so long a period is serious, and when at home on
a rainy night, one takes elaborate precautions against cold if the feet get
slightly wet, whereas out there no notice whatever can be taken of the
elements. It is marvellous that we did not all have Rheumatic Fever at the very
least, and although I did have a touch of Rheumatism, it was not serious enough
for me to have to leave the trench but only added a little more misery to my
already unhappy condition.
17.12.1914
I am by no means mentioning all our casualties for
then this would be too painful reading, but worthy of mention was a stretcher
bearer who was killed on Thursday 17th December by a shell, whilst
attending to a wounded comrade.
18.12.1914
We were
relieved from the trenches in the evening of the Friday 18th
December by the Royal Fusiliers, after a period of nine days which was quite
enough for me.
At this time we were attached to the 7th
Division until our brigade could make arrangements for us to join them, and we
had no sooner got into billets (empty houses full of shell holes) in Chappelle
d'Armentieres when a great deal of activity sprung up opposite the part of the
line held by the Second Division and we had to "stand to" which meant
another night without taking off our boots and clothes and sleeping in
equipment, as if in the trenches.
19.12.1914
The next morning we took off our wet clothes, had a
good wash, scraped the mud off our jackets, overcoats, puttees, cleaned rifles,
opened parcels from home and had a good feed. (letters and small parcels are
delivered in the trenches when possible). When in the middle of these
undertakings the Germs shelled the billets occupied by "A" Company
and a shell fell in the middle of a room in which a rifle inspection was being
held, killing three or four and wounding others. It is not only in the trenches
where there is danger, but anywhere near the firing line, and one is never sure
of his life from the time first going to the trenches, until one leaves for a
real rest, which in our case was not granted whilst I was with the Battalion in
Flanders, a period of nearly 10
months.
20.12.1914
Our clothes were useless even after the mud had been
scraped off, therefore next day, Sunday 20th December, we were
issued with new clothing and boots and felt more comfortable than we had for a
long time. At 4.00 pm we were called up to act as reserves to the firing line,
and marched to a barn 50 yards behind the front trenches and slept there during
the night, leaving. before dusk next morning.
22.12.1914
Tuesday 22nd December saw me back with
the Signal Service Section and I was very thankful, for I did not want another turn
in the trenches such as I had gone through and I felt sorry for the other men
who were not as fortunate as I. It was not very long before I started on my
signalling duties, in the afternoon being detailed to go with one company who
were to be reserves in the Farm where I had been with my Company two days
previously, and I took my cycle in case there was an attack, no Telegraph wires
being laid on at this point of the line. My duty if an attack were made, would
be to fetch reinforcements. I started out about an hour after the company,
another cyclist having gone with them. I passed the railway line at Chappelle
d'Armentieres and turned to the left down a road running parallel with the
lines. About half way along the length of this road one came under range of
rifle fire, but having now got used to bullets being nearby, and being on my
cycle, I did not have uncomfortable feelings such as I had before. As a matter
of fact I was feeling very happy and contented as I had rejoined the Signal
Section, and I quite enjoyed the sensation of cycling under fire for the first
time. It is full of excitement as is apparent from the following. I turned to
the right at the end of the road, and the farm for which I was making was a
matter of a 100 yards along (I knew my way this time). The road I took ran
parallel with the trenches, and at this point the Germs were not much more than
60 to 70 yards away. After slackening slightly to turn the corner, I commenced
to get up speed (as it is not advisable to waste time in these conditions) when
the Bosches sent up a starlight which fell a few yards behind me.
I was instantly spotted as my handlebars reflected
the light, and I was thrown in bold relief. I immediately applied my brakes and
threw myself into a ditch and the side of the road and remained whilst the
Germs opened a heavy rifle fire in the direction in which I was. I had time to
think, and I decided to wait for 5 or 10 minutes in case they should
re-commence, and this proved to be the case, for after a pause of some 30
seconds they started again. However they did no harm, and 10 minutes later I
mounted and got safely to the farm where I "turned in" on some straw
and spent a very comfortable night in spite of the noise as the bullets hit the
other side of the stone wall. We left just before daylight and, with the other
cyclists, I went to the Signallers' billet and rested again until
dinner-time.
23.12.1914
At night we were for the trenches again, and I went
to headquarters which was in the cellars of the Farm I mentioned when I first
went to the trenches. Headquarters is where the Commanding Officer and the
Adjutant stay, and the chief signal station of the Battalion is there. A wire
runs from Battalion headquarters to Brigade headquarters, and also lines are laid
on in the other direction to each Company in the trench. It is always best to
be on Headquarters Signal Station as invariably the Office has been built by
the Royal Engineers, fitted with spaces for instruments, and is usually
"comfortable". Often headquarters is in a cellar of a house or farm
as in this case, whereas a station in the trench is an ordinary
"dug-out" where perhaps one has to work the "buzzer " lying
on one's back, which is by no means conducive to speed or accurate working. My
experience in the trenches proves that the signallers "dug-outs" are
the best, for when one Battalion relieves another the same "dug-out",
which in the first place has been chosen for signalling on account of its being
dry and roomy for working purposes, is handed over to the in-coming signallers,
whereas any "dug-out" available the other men have to take, and to a
certain extent the signallers worked together to have a good
"dug-out".
I was on duty on the trench lines from 5.00 pm to
9.00 pm and had plenty to do to keep myself occupied. At this time none of the
section knew the Morse Code well enough for rapid working, and in Our spare
time we used to practise, for when there are several long messages and one
cannot get them through much quicker than six or eight words a minute, it is
going to take a considerable time to finish the work. By the time I left the
Battalion, we were working at a speed of 20 to 25 words a minute.
With regard to messages, it is not always a case of
urgent military matters being wired through, but such as "Tell Mr blank
his breakfast is ready" etc. It is also possible for a person to hand a
telegram in at the Signal Office in the trench for an address in London or any
part of the world (Germany and her allied countries excluded) paying the
prescribed fee, which will be delivered however with a fair delay, as the
message has to go through the Signal Offices of the Battalion, Brigade,
Division, Army Corps, and other stations before it gets well away from the
fighting area.
I had a full night's rest as I had been on duty the
night before, and except for a certain amount of artillery activity on the part
of the Germs, it was fairly quiet.
24.12.1914
I was on duty again from 8.00 am to midday on
Thursday 24th December (Xmas eve) and in the afternoon I crawled
behind a hedge and got to some cottages where we had left our cycles, and gave
mine a clean up, which was very necessary. It was a beautiful sunny day, and
very clear. There was a factory behind the houses and this could be reached
without any great difficulty. It had been badly shelled. A high chimney had
been hit, the shell having made a large hole near the top, but otherwise it was
sound.
With another man I went to have a look round the
factory for "souvenirs" such as Shell heads or anything of interest.
Of course we should not have been near the place, but it was interesting.
Whilst looking at the furnace, my chum, who knew something of factories,
mentioned that if we got through the furnace we would be able to go inside the
chimney and being a clear day, we might get a View behind the German lines. I
suggested that he should lead the way so he crawled through the grate and I
followed. We looked up through the chimney and saw the sky, and inside the
chimney there were rungs placed at certain intervals, so we commenced climbing
with the idea of reaching the shell hole above. My chum went first, and well I
knew it, for at every step he took I got a supply of soot and dust. We reached
the shell hole, and with a pair of field glasses saw the Germs a mile or so
behind the firing line, some working, others walking or cycling, carts with
rations or wounded men passing along the roads in rear of their lines. Altogether it was a very interesting
experience.
We came down singly so as not to let the one
underneath get too much soot, and returned to headquarters for a wash and brush
up, which was very necessary. But we had just got back, when the Germs sent
over about a dozen shells near the factory, but they did no damage. Evidently
we had been spotted and the Bosches thought that it was an observation station,
and every now and again they would send a few shells at the factory, so we were
instrumental in wasting the Germs ammunition. At any rate I hope that we chose
for our observation stations cleaner places than this chimney.
Towards evening the Germs became very hilarious,
singing and shouting out to us. They said in English that if we did not fire
they would not, and eventually it was arranged that shots should not be exchanged.
With this they lit fires outside their trench, and sat round and commenced a
concert, incidentally singing some English songs to the accompaniment of a
bugle band. A German officer carrying a lantern came slightly forward and asked
to see one of our officers to arrange a truce for tomorrow (Xmas day)
An officer went out (after we had stood at our posts
with rifles loaded in case of treachery) and arrangements were made that
between 10.00 am and 12 noon, and from 2.00 pm to 4.00 pm tomorrow, intercourse
between the Germs and ourselves should take place. It was a beautiful night and
a sharp frost set in, and when we awoke in the morning the ground was covered
with a white raiment. It was indeed an ideal Christmas, and the spirit of peace
and goodwill was very striking in comparison with the hatred and death-dealing
of the past few months. One appreciated in a new light the meaning of
Christianity, for it certainly was marvellous that such a change in the
attitude of the opposing armies could be wrought by an Event which happened
nigh on 2000 years ago.
25.12.1914
(Xmas day)
During the night two men were reported to be missing
and I had to go out early in the morning on my cycle to try to find them. I went
to the Dressing Station in Chappelle d'Armentieres a mile or so away, but they
had not been there. Later in the day the Bosches told us that two men the night
before had walked into their trench in a state which proved that they had
"drunk of the loving cup, not wisely, but too well". We asked that
they should be returned to us, but they refused on account of the fact that
these men had seen the position of their machine guns. They promised, however,
to wire to their headquarters, and see what could be done in the matter. Later
we were informed that it had been decided to intern them in a Civilian Camp,
and not treat them as prisoners of war, so as this seemed fair and the only
course open we left it at that.
At 9.00 am as I was off duty I received permission
to go to Mass at a Church which I had discovered whilst hunting for the missing
men. This Church was terribly shelled, and was within the range of rifle fire,
as was clearly proved by the condition of the wall facing the trenches, and no
effort had been made to clear the wreckage, as to attempt this would have been
fraught with danger. A priest, however, had come in from Armentieres to
minister to the few people who were still living in the district. In this
Church which would hold about 300, there were some 30 people, and I was the
only soldier. It was indeed a unique service, and during a short address which
the priest gave I was about the only one who was not crying, and that because I
did not understand much of what was being said.
I returned to headquarters and went on duty from
noon to 2 PM, during which time I partook of my Christmas Fair which consisted
of "Bully", "Spuds", Xmas pudding, and vin rouge, which
latter we found in one of the cellars on the farm.
In the afternoon I went out and had a chat with
"our friends the enemy". Many of the Germs had costumes on which had
been taken from the houses nearby, and one facetious fellow had a blouse,
skirt, top hat, and umbrella, which grotesque figure caused much merriment.
Various souvenirs were exchanged which I managed to send home. We also had an
opportunity of seeing the famous Iron Cross which some of the men wore attached
to a black and white riband. These crosses are very well made and have an
edging of silver. The man's name is engraved on one side, and the reason of the
award briefly stated on the other. I have also a number of Germ signatures and
addresses on a fly leaf of my "Active Service Pay Book" and it was
arranged that at the end of the war we would write one to the other if we came
through safely.
The Germs wanted to continue a partial truce until
the New Year, for as some of them said, they were heartily sick of the war, and
did not want to fight, but as we were leaving the trenches early next morning,
and naturally did not want them to know, we insisted on the truce ending at
midnight, at which time our artillery sent over to them four shells of small
calibre to let them know that the truce, at which the whole World would wonder,
was ended, and in its place, death and bloodshed would once more reign
supreme.
26.12.1914
At 4.30 am next morning we were relieved in the
trenches and marched a distance of 3 or 4 miles to Houplines which proved to be
our "home" for the next five months. We were billeted in a flax mill
which was not at all comfortable, but just now it was impossible to have a
better resting place.
We had come to Houplines to join the 18th Brigade in
the 6th Division, as previously we had only been temporarily attached to the
7th Division. During the day I was on cycling duty, so was unable to make up
for the little sleep I had had the night before.
27.12.1914