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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16626-0.txt b/16626-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16a7681 --- /dev/null +++ b/16626-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3502 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Letters to Helen, by Keith Henderson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Letters to Helen + Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front + +Author: Keith Henderson + +Illustrator: Keith Henderson + +Release Date: August 31, 2005 [EBook #16626] + +Language: English + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HELEN *** + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + + + +[Illustration: CRUCIFIX CORNER +Between MONTAUBAN & HIGH WOOD +One of the hands was shot away, and the figure hangs there suspended +from the other.] + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + +Impressions of an Artist +on the Western Front + +By KEITH HENDERSON + +Illustrated + +LONDON +CHATTO & WINDUS + +MCMXVII + + + + +PREFACE + + +These letters were never intended for publication. + +But when the pictures were brought back from France it was suggested +that they should be reproduced, and a book evolved. + +Then a certain person (who shall be nameless) conceived the dastardly +idea of exposing private correspondence to the public eye. He proved +wilful in the matter, and this book came into the world. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +CRUCIFIX CORNER _Frontispiece_ +A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU _To face page_ 6 +BAILLEUL 10 +LE MONT DES CATS 18 +FRICOURT CEMETERY 32 +TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE 48 +GIRD TRENCH 54 +A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT 60 +A WOUNDED TANK 66 +EXPLOSION OF AN AMMUNITION DUMP 78 +THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT 92 +PERONNE 106 + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + +_June 6, 1916._ + +Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been +to sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. +And now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to +write a letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and +unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most +Sherlock Holmes secrecy. Not a word about which ports we were sailing +from or to. + +However, I'll tell you what I can without disclosing any names of +places. + +After moving off at midnight from among the Hampshire pine-trees, we +eventually reached our port of departure. Great fun detraining the +horses and getting them on board. The men were in the highest spirits. +But how disgusting those cold rank smells of a dock are. + +We sailed the following evening. Hideously rough, and it took seventeen +and a half hours. The men very quiet indeed and packed like sardines. +It was wonderful to think of all those eager souls in all those ships +making for France together over the black deep water. Some had gone +before, and some came after. But the majority went over that night. I +felt decidedly ill. And it was nervous work going round seeing after the +horses and men when a "crisis" might have occurred at any moment! +Luckily, however, dignity was preserved. Land at last "hove in sight" as +the grey morning grew paler and clearer. What busy-looking quays! More +clatter of disembarkation. No time to think or look about. + +Then, all being ready, we mounted and trekked off to a so-called "rest +camp" near the town, most uneasy and hectic. But food late that evening +restored our hilarity. A few hours' sleep and we moved off once more +into the night, the horses' feet sounding loud and harsh on the unending +French cobbles. By 8 a.m. we were all packed into this train. Now we are +passing by lovely, almost English, wooded hills. Here a well-known town +with its cathedral looks most enticing. I long to explore. Such singing +from the men's carriages! Being farmers mostly, they are interested in +the unhedged fields and the acres of cloches. They go into hysterics of +laughter when the French people assail them with smiles, broken +English-French, and long loaves of bread. They think the long loaves +_very_ humorous! There are Y.M.C.A. canteens at most stations, so we are +well fed. The horses are miserable, of course. They were unhappy on +board ship. A horse can't be sick, you know, even if he wants to. And +now they are wretched in their trucks, Rinaldo and Swallow are, of +course, terrified, while Jezebel, having rapidly thought out the +situation, takes it all very quietly. She has just eaten an enormous +lunch. Poor Rinaldo wouldn't touch his, and Swallow only ate a very +little. + +[Sidenote: FRANCE AT LAST] + +In this carriage Jorrocks is snoring like thunder. Edward is eating +chocolate. Sir John is trying to plough through one of "these Frenchy +newspapers--damned nonsense, you know! they don't know what it all means +themselves." And Julian is scrutinizing a map of our area. + +Everyone is so glad to be going up right into it now. That pottering +about at home was most irritating. Just spit and polish, spit and polish +all the time since August, 1914. + +We are all getting cramp, and have to stand up occasionally. Toby has +smoked his fourteenth pipe. + +Oh, look! What a lovely rainbow! Treble. And under it a village with an +estaminet, a dozen slate-roofed houses, and a very new château, hideous +with scarlet bricks and chocolate draw-bridge and pepper-pot turrets. +Poplars and more poplars. Still we rumble along through symmetrical +France. + + +_June 7._ + +We are in one of the most lovely old French châteaux I have ever +imagined. Half château, half farm, fifteen miles behind the line. We +remain here for two or three days. Arrived late last night, tired and +grubby. But, O ye gods, when dawn began to reveal this old courtyard +with its hens and chickens and pigeons! On one side the old house with +its faded shutters. On the other side the old gateway with a square +tower and a pigeon-cote above. Along the other sides old barns. The +country round we have hardly seen, but it looks exquisite. There are +several most attractive foals in a field close by. + +And inside the château funny old-fashioned things--old beds with frowsty +canopies, and old wall-papers with large designs in ferns and +cornucopias. Imitation marble in the hall. Gilded tassels. Alas! my kit +has not yet arrived. It's awful. And the anxiety to draw these things is +feverish. We go so soon. + +When you look out of the rooms into the courtyard, you see our waggons +and draft-horses, and the men eating bully-beef like wolves. Some of +them (including Sergeant Cart) are shaving and washing stripped to the +waist. The others just tear at the bread and beef and munch without +speaking. Corporal Nutley and Corporal Field are pointing with their +tea-mugs to the old gateway and the ducks and things. They all evidently +love it. They sleep in the barns amongst the hay. The sun is warm and +sleepy. + + +_June 8._ + +[Sidenote: THE CHATEAU-FARM] + +Still at this lovely château-farm, and Life seems to have gone into a +trance. I wake up and look out into the courtyard and the sunlight, on +geese, Muscovy ducks, pigs, and pigeons, and it all feels like a +half-forgotten story. There are traces of the Huns, but all that seems +unreal. You hear the boom! boom! boom! of the guns all day, and more so +at night; but nothing can disturb the extraordinary remote peace of this +château. The very stones in the courtyard look more friendly and more +countrified than ordinary stones, as if some ancient fairy lived here. +There's no doubt at all that the men feel it. Several of them have said +how they like the place. They think it's a little bit like ----shire. I +think I know what they mean. + +After the war perhaps we may visit the place together: I should love +showing it to you. I'm not at all sure that it's really very beautiful. +The architecture isn't good when you consider it. But somehow.... + + +_June 10._ + +The same château. We are living a simple and brainless life. No +field-days, of course, and for this relief much thanks. We don't know in +the least what is happening. Troops come and troops go, and guns go by +during the night, and Red Cross waggons go hither and thither, and the +old turkey gobbles. + +Yesterday I was out with my troop, quite uninteresting. But what do you +think? Something exploded not 100 yards away from Rinaldo. I was much +farther off, dismounted. He didn't turn a hair, but only looked round +and watched the smoke. Whereas, as you know, a little bit of paper blown +across the road sends him into paroxysms of terror. + + +[Illustration: A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU DE FEBVIN-PALFART +There are many of these old chateaux-farms in Northern France. The beds +are under great frowsy canopies and all the curtains are looped up with +heavy tassels.] + + +_June 11._ + +I went into an old church in a large town ten miles from here to-day +with Sergeant Hodge. There were the usual tinsel things and red baize +and sham flowers. Sergeant Hodge much impressed. He said after we +emerged: "You know, sir, it's very fine indeed. It puts me in mind of +a bazaar." This was in all good faith, and was intended as a great +compliment to the church! We are having lots of rain, which is bad for +the horses, who are picketed in the open. And thunder. It's often +extremely difficult to tell whether, when the thunder is far away, it is +thunder or guns. Quite a novel experience, and quite pleasant after the +long period of make-believe in England. Discipline. So salutary and so +irksome. Now for the battle. I own I long to get into the thick of it +soon. We see infantry returning and going up, and we feel sick, somehow, +to be still safe. + +This country is very charming, but a bit monotonous. Every road and +every field exactly like every other. + + +_June 13._ + +[Sidenote: A SERVICE FOR KITCHENER] + +A service to-day for Kitchener. And we had to ride fifteen miles there +in pouring rain. Then we stood in deep mud for about an hour, the rain +gradually trickling down our necks. + +To-day delicious rumours of a German defeat at Verdun. Lots of +prisoners, including the Crown Prince! + +Goodness me, such rain. Jezebel bit Swallow above the eye merely to show +what her feelings were. He now has one eye enormously swollen and +almost closed up. It is dressed with iodine, so he looks most +remarkable. His beauty much damaged. But it will only be temporary. + +Hunt tells me that Swallow is so frightened of Jezebel he daren't lie +down at night. But then, Hunt thinks Jezebel a sort of Bucephalus, and +the more horses she kicks or bites the more pride he takes in her. He +has no love for Swallow, unfortunately. + +There's a distant cannonade going on to-day. We all eye each other. + + +_June 17._ + +In the small-hours of to-night we leave this wonderful place. Why we +were ever sent here or why moved away is one of those mysteries only +known to a few staff officials. + +But how we have loved it. At least I have. Some of the others--Jorrocks +for instance--have been bored. But, then, they couldn't draw, poor +dears. Do you know I have done three pictures. That's a lot in this +military life. One of the courtyard, with cocks and hens and things, and +in the distance men cleaning their saddles. Another of the vestibule, +with Julian and Edward consulting over some map or other at a table. +Another of a "fosse" or coal-pit about a mile away. A coal-pit sounds +repulsive, but not so in Northern France. They are away from all houses +and surrounded by corn-fields. The coal refuse is the curious part of +it. Up it comes from the main shaft and is piled up into a series of +large pyramids, visible for miles around. Many of the famous "redoubts" +are coal-refuse pyramids really. And such nice little chimneys. +Rinaldo--gone! Isn't it heartbreaking! An important person comes nosing +round, and asks for him. Sir John doesn't like to refuse. I am +powerless. Adieu, dear Rinaldo! One gets awfully fond of a horse. +Rinaldo was very naughty sometimes, but I loved him all the more for it. +And now his good looks have been disastrous. Oh that he had been uglier. +Isn't it maddening. Such a leaper, so fast, and such courage. Well, +perhaps I shall see him again. + + +_June 19._ + +[Sidenote: FEBVIN TO BAILLEUL] + +At the last moment an order that we are not to go. Then late last night +an order to send on an advanced party of one officer and one sergeant +and two men immediately. So off I go with Sergeant Dobbin and Hunt and +Noad. We had to find billets and bivouacs for the squadron at a place +far from here. This we did, and the squadron has just arrived, and we +have had lunch and are feeling very fat indeed. We have just seen a +pretty aeroplane show. Six of them flew over our heads towards the +Boche, and presently puff, puff! went the little dark clouds of smoke +all amongst them. They then got too high and too far off for us to see, +but we still saw the Archie shells following them. First a flash in the +sky, then a very dark spot; then the spot grows larger and fluffier, and +becomes a dusky little cloud. So you see some flashes, some dark spots, +and some larger fluffy clouds--all on the wretched aeroplane's track. + +Only two returned, alas! but they told us they had brought down three +Aviatiks. + +We're moving with great rapidity up into colder climes. More anon. + + +_June 22._ + +I wrote a p.c. early this morning, as I thought I might get no other +chance. Things are all merry and bright. We have moved up like oiled +lightning from ---- to a rather famous place. Hedges and hop-fields. +Very interesting church--not hurt at all. We are suffering so (at least, +the poor men are) from thirst. There's no water anywhere. I long to gulp +down green pond water. However, that will be remedied shortly, I hope. I +went into the big town and bought a barrel of beer for the men. Tempting +Providence. But there's nothing else. The water isn't good even when +boiled. However, all will be well soon. + + +[Illustration: BAILLEUL +A peaceful place behind the battle.] + + +_June 23._ + +[Sidenote: MANY SMELLS AND NO WATER] + +The most extraordinary things are happening. All very quiet and humdrum +on the surface. Only the aeroplanes are busy, and if the sun is between +you and them there are always the little black high Archie clouds +following them, like vultures appearing from nowhere. + +Our quick bolt up here has had several pleasant results. First, the +country is very beautiful, more hilly in this immediate neighbourhood, +with great plains stretching away on all sides. The low hills all have +woods round them, and a windmill or a church on the top. Second, B +Squadron have already arrived, and our old Brigade-Major and lots of +other old friends. It was most joyous meeting them all again. We came +trotting down one road, covered with dust, and they came trotting down +another road even more covered with dust, having trekked all day. + +Isn't it funny. One gets so quickly used to things that already we have +ceased to notice the smells, which at first made us wield bottles of +disinfectant wherever we went. But now, when the farms and outhouses and +other places where we live smell, we merely laugh, and "fatigues" are +all at work automatically before nightfall, and by next morning--well, +the smells have not gone, but the general feeling is that a good start +has been made. + +The water problem is still unsolved, and we get very thirsty; but thirst +is a small fleabite, after all. "Which would you rather have," I asked a +discontented lance-corporal, "a bit of a thirst or a dentist drilling a +hole down a pet nerve?" And he owned he'd rather have a thirst. You +know, it's most awkward. They come to you when there's any difficulty +and seem to think you can put things right always. For instance, a man +came up the other day: "Please, sir, I've lost my haversack." "When did +you miss it first?" "Between ---- and ----, sir." "Now what do you want +me to do?" "I don't know, sir." "Do you want me to go back to ---- and +search the whole of the twenty odd miles to ---- on the off chance of +finding it?" "No, sir." "Do you want to do so yourself?" "No, sir." "And +even if I ordered you to go, do you think that, with so many troops +about, you would be likely to find it still there?" "No, sir." + +The result is, of course, that I have to buy one for the unfortunate lad +in the nearest town. One must eat. And our haversacks are our larders. +Haversacks are supplied by the army, but it takes such a time to get +anything, that, if the matter is urgent, it has to be done without the +army. We (the bloomin' orficers) have a "mess-cart" for all our absurd +wines and tinned peaches and things, but the men often have nothing but +the contents of their haversacks. + + +_June 25._ + +[Sidenote: READY FOR THE PUSH] + +We are in a funny state of waiting for something to happen. Rumours +flying about all the time. We live on them--a bite off one, a slice off +another, a merry-thought off another. And so we learn the news of the +world. Papers when we get a chance of going into some town, and then +only two days old, or else French, which are very scrappy. Often we get +no news at all for three or four days, except what some passing +ambulance will vouchsafe. And usually they don't really know much. So +when there's an extra heavy strafing or an extra quiet lull we learn +that the entire German staff has been captured, or Rheims evacuated, or +Holland sunk, or something else equally strange. The M.G.'s were +hammering away furiously last night, and the whole line was lovely with +star shells hanging like arc lights in the air, and then dropping slowly +to earth. They light up everything like immense moons. + + +_June 28._ + +Starting from the farm where the horses are hidden at nine o'clock last +night (twenty-one, as we call it out here), after a hot meal, we +marched through Bedfordshire-like country, along ascending paths, to the +bottom of a wooded hill where a motor lorry with picks and shovels met +us. Thence along a narrow muddy path through a wood. The path circles +round the hill. The east side of the hill faces the Boche front line. It +was still quite light. The undergrowth thick and dank. Our fellows very +merry. The Boches know this path, which is pitted with shell holes. They +shell the place by day, oddly enough, but hardly ever by night. + +It was raining gently. Turtle-doves continually crossed our way. I felt +much intrigued. A very weird wood. The guns crashed lethargically, +intermittently. + +When we got round to the east side of the hill, the R.E.'s, who were +acting as guides, comforters, and friends, showed us what we were to do: +to dig a line of trench 6 feet deep, and as narrow as might be, for some +cables that were to lead into a very important set of dug-outs for +certain pink and gold people. + +The dug-outs are deep in the side of the hill. It's what is called an +advanced H.Q.--_i.e._, when the Push begins, the gilded ones will crawl +in and rap out messages to the various commanders, and watch the battle. + +The R.E. officers showed us what was wanted, and each man put in his +pick or shovel to mark the line. This is the procedure: each pick or +shovel about 2 yards apart, and each man delves on that spot till he is +6 feet down. If it were not done like this, then (when it became too +dark to see) the line would be lost. This only applies fully, of course, +when you are in woods or other cover. Digging isn't really a cavalry +job. But what of that? + +[Sidenote: TRENCH DIGGING] + +Well, now we've started. It's about ten o'clock, and getting very dim. +Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle. Humphry and I creep up (neglectful of duty) +to the top of the hill. A tiny tower there, smashed to pieces, but +beautiful in the twilight. We creep about amongst shell craters. +Presently a strange sweet odour. Flowers? Impossible. We stare into the +dusk. An exquisite faint scent all around us. Surely, surely, thyme? +Yes, sweet-williams, thyme. Evidently there has been a cottage here, but +now only a mass of rubble and beams and glass to show where once it was. +Sweet-williams, thyme, and later some Canterbury bells. Another +dream-place, like that old château-farm. + +What a view from here of the German lines and ours! As it gets darker, +the flashes of the guns and the Very lights' solemn brilliance +illuminate the whole show like a map. That tragic ruin of a town on our +left is being shelled as usual. Jim is there. In front of us the German +salient. All comparatively quiet. How lovely it is! The sounds of our +men digging in the wet soil mingle now with other small noises. Voices +underground. Listen. And a mouth-organ's cheery bray coming from the +bowels of the earth. It is pitch-dark. We stand up like Generals +surveying the battle-field. No danger. The Boche does not waste +ammunition. + +The rain is very heavy. I have got a tuft of sweet-william to smell. + +We return to the men. They are wet through, but quite happy and content. +Not a bullet, not a scrap of anything that goes pop. They work in a +warm, wet peace. That is one of the odd things you learn--that only +certain places are dangerous, and usually only at certain times. + +The rain is coming down with tropical intensity. I am in a misty dream. +It's all so mysterious. Suddenly I fall over something--plonk into the +middle of some excavated earth, which the rain has made into semolina +pudding. Tiresome to be absent-minded. How it pours! Midnight. + +The roots of the trees make it very difficult to dig tidily, but the men +use their "billucks" with the unerring skill of farmers, and their +spades and picks as you or I would use a pencil. Time goes on. The +trench must be done before 2.30 a.m. We have to be gone before dawn. It +is nearly done now. Half-past twelve. The rain is stopping. One o'clock. +No, it isn't. It's coming down again. Half-past one. The trench is +finished. We must cover up all signs of it with branches, lest the wily +Taube should see, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. + +A quarter to two. + +[Sidenote: A STRAFE] + +Suddenly crash! bang! clash! boom! bang! We almost jump out of our +skins. Where the deuce were all those guns hidden? From all about us, +and far away behind and on either flank, our guns have begun strafing. +The most hideous and deafening din. + +The ground seems to shake. Then an order comes that we are to clear out +at once. We do so. The Boches haven't answered yet, but they will. The +whole thing seems quite unreal. The men vastly entertained. I honestly +felt as if I were at some exciting melodrama. The least cessation of the +guns, and I found myself saying: "Don't stop! don't stop!" I shouted +into Corporal Nutley's car: "Can you hear what I'm saying?" and he +answered: "No, sir." + +At last we got out into the little path, and had to double along through +the mud. Humphry was last man out, and he saw the one and only shell +the Boches sent over, exploding quite close to the aforementioned +dug-out. + +Isn't it funny. The Boches don't apparently know of this dug-out, or of +the cable trenches, or they would, of course, smash it to pieces. And, +for some reason that I haven't yet grasped, they never reply to our guns +immediately. They wait for perhaps ten minutes, and _then_ they don't +always reply to the same spot we spoke from. As, for example, this wood. +Our guns were all in and round about the wood. The Boches apparently +strafed back at an unoffending village on the west side of the hill. + +So, with our guns still behaving like things delirious, we eventually +reached the horses. Jezebel was quietly gorging herself with long +luscious grass beside the hedge. She told me she hadn't noticed anything +unusual. Poor Swallow was standing quite still, with his nostrils wide +open, breathing hard and trembling all over. A good many horses were +trembling, but the majority agreed with Jezebel: "It's only some silly +nonsense on the part of those Human Beings again. Don't listen." + +Then we saddled up and rode back to a place well behind, where we could +exercise the beasties. They had been given no exercise for three days. +And so home again to this farm. The horses are all in a field surrounded +by trees, and couldn't be seen from above at all. I have seen lots +of other horse-lines of other units, though, much closer to the front +than this is--quite open to view. The fact is, I think, that Hun +aircraft very seldom indeed gets across into our preserves. + + +[Illustration: LE MONT DES CATS +Near YPRES +In the early days of the war spies used to signal from the monastery on +the top of this hill. The country round about is quite flat and +water-logged.] + + +_July 6._ + +[Sidenote: THE ROADS NEAR DRANONTRE] + +Overnight it appears in orders that the roads from ---- to ---- via ---- +are to be reported on with reference to their suitability for heavy +transport, guns, cavalry, infantry, etc. + +So after an early breakfast Hunt comes round, with Swallow for me and +Jezebel for himself, haversack rations for us both, and feeds for the +horses. I feel very much on the qui-vive, as I haven't seen that +particular part before. + +A grey warm day. Some miles to go due south before we get near our +destination. As we approach it we find, as usual, roads and railways +being made, and fatigue-parties repainting tents with blotches and +stripes. Then come notices, "No traffic along this road," or, "This road +liable to be shelled," with signboards at every corner, "To ----" or +some other place in the trenches. Sometimes the notices say +"Something-or-other Avenue" or "Burlington Arcade," etc.--nicknames, but +recognized officially. And all the time we are passing endless lorries +and Red Cross waggons and troops and dug-out camps. As we get closer the +signs of shelling get worse, and children are seen no longer. Old men, +though, occasionally observed working in a field quite unperturbed. +Rarely a French soldier or an interpreter with his sphinx badges. All +this quite lost on Hunt, who has "quite got used to abroad, thank you, +sir." He is eating chocolate or something, half a horse-length (the +correct distance) behind me. + +Now on our left is a famous ridge, with a ruined village on the top. +Not, you understand, a ridge in the Swiss sense, but rather in the +Norfolk sense. I should like to go and see it, but it's too open to the +Boche's eye, and I don't want to dismount yet. So we curve round +right-handed a bit. Aha! "To ----." Nous voilà ! Follow down this muddy +track under cover of the ridge, and we arrive at ----. A wood just +beyond the little town. Oh, mournful wood! "Bois épais, redouble ton +ombre." But they say the anemones and the primroses were as merry and +sweet as ever this spring. Bravo little wood! + +The village is, of course, evacuated by all inhabitants. The houses all +in ruins. By now all the remaining windows have been boarded up and the +blown-out doors barred against prying eyes. Here we are at an old +estaminet called "Aux Coeurs joyeux." There's hardly anything but the +sign left. At the cross-roads in the centre of the town is the church, +so dismal. No roof, pillars broken and lying about the floor amongst +débris of broken images, chairs, and muddy rubble. + +[Sidenote: PLOEGSTEERT] + +As I am coming out I turn over the hand of an image, and underneath it +what the deuce is this? Why, a fragment of an old picture, torn and +decaying away. What shall I do? Leave it to rot? Give it to ... Yes, +exactly ... to whom? And would anyone thank me for it? Just a head of +St. John, very battered and faded. It's a fragment about a foot square, +and through all the mud one can see something like this: A head of St. +John in the corner; rays of light (two very thin small rays) shining on +him, and a look of great suffering on his face. The background a sort of +dull ochre. Evidently once a large composition. There are two books, one +with EVAN, and the other with, I think, BIBLIA SACRA, +written on it. It is quite worthless except from a sentimental point of +view. + +The exposure and the heat of the explosions have sadly cracked and +peeled the paint, but it seems vaguely symbolical. Near here I picked up +some minute bits of green glass. + +However, there was a notice: "It is dangerous to loiter here." So I tore +myself away, and we remounted. The Boche can't see into the town +because of the remaining buildings, but the whole place is utterly +empty--not a dog even. + +Soon the road to the next village _is_ exposed to the Boche's view. +Therefore canvas screens about 20 feet high have been erected, so that, +if necessary, troops, and even lorries, can hurry by. It is most +curious. "But for that thin bit of canvas, my good Swallow, you would +get something into your tummy you wouldn't like," I remarked. At that +moment the sun came out. We were keeping to the side of the road where +it is soft going. Suddenly Swallow leaped like a stag into the middle of +the road all over the _pavé_. Panic terror. He had seen the shadow of a +starling flit across his path! + +Jezebel was tittuping along behind, thinking only of her next feed. I +cannot get her to take any interest in these thrilling spots. Sometimes +a soldier or two would emerge from a cellar, the entrance to which would +be piled up with sand-bags. And once or twice bang! bang! goes a gun +quite close by. + +Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out +of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a +very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three +different bridges--not the old bridges, which are broken down, but +sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on +the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of +the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to +civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way +behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of +those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress +they will look most charming, I think. + +[Sidenote: ARMENTIERES] + +Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from +which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the +everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here. + +Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes +little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering +round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an +A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop +under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing +so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are +practically out of the danger area by now, but you never know. Some +boring A.P.M. might pounce on the sketch and create a botheration. + +Meantime I have been laboriously making pretty maps to present to Sir +John, coloured maps showing where such and such a rise of ground could +be held, or where such and such a road offers difficulties to transport, +etc. But it's not easy to do, and we don't get back to camp till five +minutes before stables, having covered about thirty miles. Besides, we +had to stop and feed ourselves and the horses. + +Then stables. Sergeant Hodge reprimanded for not having reported a bad +kick. Southcombe slacking a bit. Must keep an eagle eye on that young +man. At the end a whistle (no trumpets allowed). The horses all neigh +and toss their heads and paw. Nosebags are put on, and after touring +round to see that all is correct we slope off to tea, which Hale and Co. +have got all ready. Luxurious ménage as of yore. But good when you're +hungry, there's no doubt. We are moving again--probably to-morrow. + + +_July 10._ + +We have moved. The sixth time altogether. Not far though. A close view +of the sweet-william hill. It must be sketched. + +I am sitting on some sacks of corn, wondering why Fritz doesn't lob over +a crump or two, just to wake us up. Jezebel is gorging herself close by. +Swallow eats a bit, and then suddenly looks up and sniffs nervously. I +suppose he has heard a beetle trotting by, or seen a twig fall off a +tree. + +The horses are all picketed out in a field, and we are in bivvies. Hale +has made me a bed out of some poles and wire netting, as he says it is a +clay subsoil and I mustn't lie on the grass. I suppose he knows. + + +_July 12._ + +[Sidenote: THE HORSES] + +I'm writing this in a queer dilapidated mud cottage, inhabited by an +ancient ex-soldier aged eighty-three. He is very difficult to +understand. His language is quite foreign to me. But he owns the +quaintest little doll-like image of the Virgin in a glass case, and +several Bristol balls! I nearly fell flat when I saw them. His +grandfather, I think he says, was in England once. The cottage is quite +close to our present camp, and we go in for meals when it's very wet. + +The bed Hale made me is growing into a house. He has discovered various +old sacks, bits of tarred felt, and planks, and the place is becoming a +most attractive little abode. + +Then you must imagine an old wild-cherry tree, and lots of young oaks +and elders, etc., all round. Jezebel and Swallow live close by. Jezebel +has acquired a new trick. You know she doesn't like having her tummy +groomed. Well, now (especially, of course, when it's very muddy) she +waits till Hunt has finished dressing her, and then, as soon as his back +is turned, she lies down and rolls. Hunt is in despair. He used to be +really fond of her. But now I believe he'd kill her if he could, +sometimes. All his labour entirely and ridiculously in vain. I'm +convinced that she does it on purpose, because she always chooses just +the moment when he has achieved a beautiful polish on her, and either +has to go off to breakfast or else to get the saddle or something. It's +as good as a play. + +We are learning the "tactical" merits of all the roads and woods and +hills (such as they are) all along our sector of front, and as much as +we can, with field-glasses, of the other side. An offensive. What fun. +But exactly where are we going to offend? Rumours everywhere. If, we +say, that village or that ridge has to be taken from this or that +unexpected position, how shall we do it? Suppose we get Fritz on the +hop, as they have near Peronne. Where are the most covered approaches to +the slopes of that hill? Shall we carry the thing off as splendidly as +those squadrons did before Peronne, or shall we bungle the show? You'll +see. + +We get so few papers here, and only two days old at that, but no one +seems much the worse for it. + +[Sidenote: NEUVE EGLISE] + +Only one solitary man with lice so far. The man has been sent away, and +is, I hear, to be given sulphur baths and scrubbed with a scrubbing +brush. + +Oh, I was going to say just now--_re_ reconnoitring--that we were doing +all the ground about a village where there is a church even more smashed +than the St. John place. It is on a hill, and all the village is Sahara. +The church remains with the remnants of four outside walls and the +tower. Fritz does not destroy the tower, as it is a good spot for him to +range on to. And outside the tower, right up at the top, is the bronze +minute-hand of the old clock. The rest of the clock-face has been blown +into the middle of the church, and lies there nearly complete amidst a +crumbled heap of pillars and mortar and chair-legs and pulpit fragments. +One notice on a house amused me so, and the troop too. It says, "Do not +_touch_ this house." The reason being rather obvious. For if you did +touch the house, it would certainly fall on to your head. The next shell +will bring it down, even if it's a couple of hundred yards away, merely +by the vibration. We find shell holes so useful for watering the horses. +They seem to retain water in a most curious way. + + +_July 19._ + +On the move again. A four days' trek. Not more than twenty miles a day, +in order to keep the horses "in the pink." They are certainly very fit +now, and a gentle twenty miles a day just keeps them nicely exercised. +But twenty miles _at a walk_ is not overexciting. Still, it is +interesting to be covering the ground. We already know quite a lot of +the back of the front. Last night we arrived in a cool lull after +showers. From quiet and uneventful stretches of hedgeless corn-fields, +intersected by long straight roads, lined sometimes with poplars, but +more often with lopped wych-elms or willows, we descended rather +suddenly into a little wooded valley where a village sits by the trouty +stream. After watering the horses at the stream, we filed by squadrons +into various fields and picketed down for the night. Some of us in a +small but clean estaminet, others in barns. + +A very peaceful trek, quite different from the dazzling swoop that was +threatened. + + +_July 20._ + +Am I telling you about the things you want to hear? Usually I think I've +talked mostly about our surroundings, doings, and only to a very small +extent about our thoughts. But, truth to relate, we think so little +that there is not much in that line to record. On this job you just +can't think. And a good thing too, perhaps. + +[Sidenote: FLESSELLES] + +However, here we are, and here I expect we shall remain for, say, a +week. The horses are all right out in the open. The men are in barns. +But we are in cottages--real, almost English-looking cottages. Edward +and I share a room in one, and the others are dotted about the village. +Now, this is the cottage: + +From the high street (the only street) you turn into a little gate, and +then walk down a path of brick with a narrow flower border on either +side, and vegetables beyond. The cottage is white, with lace curtains +and brick floors, without carpets, like all French cottages. The walls +have endless pictures of saints and things, with occasional crucifixes +and school certificates and faded photographs of people in stiff dresses +and crimped hair. + +Out at the back more kitchen-garden with some fruit-trees. + +Altogether quite a charming little place. Dusty and rather flat open +country intersected by deepish valleys, not unlike the Cirencester road +if you removed all the woods, or nearly all. We don't, of course, know +what we are going to do now. + + +_July 23._ + +Things is curiouser and curiouser. In all haste we got ready to move. We +then moved like tortoises. I rode over to ---- yesterday. Cavalry all +over the place like locusts. And, lawks! what a din! Guns in a violent +paroxysm of rage. Aeroplanes wandering about in the sky, purring like +angry panthers, all yellow in the sunlight. And all day and night more +dusty men and dusty horses and dusty lorries and dusty guns coming and +going, coming and going. + +The other squadron at last quite close to us. Long talks with Dennis. +He's had an exciting time, and was under orders for a most hair-raising +job, which didn't come off owing to Fritz's tiresome habit of doing the +unexpected. Horrors! The General has been trying Swallow. I fear he may +steal him. Of course he has every right to any horse in the regiment, +but it is quite difficult to smile. Swallow is, unfortunately, even more +showy than Rinaldo was; but he shied at a goat, bless him, and I think +that may just turn the scale. I shall now proceed to train Swallow to +shy at every blade of grass, every grain of sand. Long live that goat! +We are still "standing by." It is a wearing existence. I bathed +yesterday in a well-known river. So beautiful and willowy. + + +_July 28._ + +[Sidenote: A BATH] + +Temperature 100,000°! And I am lying on a bed in a wee cottage, very, +very dusty and dirty. Hale, however, is going to bring some water from +the pump, and, oh Jerusalem, won't it be heavenly--a bath! All these +things off, and lovely clean things on, and lovely coffee to drink when +that's done. I wouldn't change the prospects of the next half-hour for +all the pearls and peacocks of Araby--no, not if you offered me the +Peace of Europe! Europe be blowed! I want my bath. + +You see, it's like this: The corps H.Q. moved to a different area some +days ago, preceded by us. Everything in the area left in an utterly +unorganized, uncatalogued condition. We have to tear round and find out +where the various divisions can go. + +And we have _got_ to find room for more divisions than have ever +occupied this area before. Useless to come back and report that such and +such villages have no water for men or horses. The water has got to be +found. Dig for it. Organize fatigue-parties and dig. Dam up little +trickles by the roadside until quite large ponds are formed. Get the +engineers and pioneers on to it. Labour battalions--anything. So I've +been riding madly about, and I'm like a treacle pudding in a +sand-storm. + +The bath! Hale, you are a most excellent fellow. That'll do splendidly. +Have you got my towel?... INTERVAL.... And now, dear friends, +it is another man that you see before you. A man who has had a bath. A +man less like a bit of oily motor-waste, and more like Sir George +Alexander. This delicious coffee, too! A bowl of it, made by Mme. +Whatever-her-name-is. I take it up in both hands and quaff it. Here's to +You and to Home, and to Everybody--and (just to show there's no ill +feeling) here's to the poor old Boche! + + +_July 29._ + +In the same cottage. + +It's very hot. Ammunition lorries go by in an endless string, making the +deuce of a dust. But we are far away from guns and gun food and noise. I +got leave to go up to ---- yesterday. + +I do dislike noise so, don't you? The noise of a battery in action is +diabolical, and the very thought of it makes me shiver. There go the +senseless lorries, all packed with music for a more hellish orchestra +than you can remotely imagine. The first few bars are enough to drive +you nearly frantic. It's unholy. It seems to split your head and +tear your ears out of their sockets. Can you understand a noise that +hits you? Hits unbearably, and then again. Crashes on to you. Bangs your +bones out of your skin, till you feel dazed and sick. + +Still the lorries go by. + + +[Illustration: FRICOURT CEMETERY +The moon and some signal lights over FRICOURT. LA +BOISELLE just over the hill. French crosses all bent and twisted. +The little chapel still standing.] + + +_August 3._ + +[Sidenote: GUNS AT FRICOURT] + +I hear the General doesn't like Swallow, so there's a good chance of his +returning. When you get angry with Swallow, he loses control of his legs +altogether, and they all fly about in every direction. He is quite like +Rinaldo in character,--not so perpetually fidgety, but as nervous, and +more easily frightened. Jezebel is showing her worth now like a Trojan. +She knows she has to make up for the loss of Swallow (whom I think she +rather misses). She is behaving splendidly. She is blatantly well, and +obeys all orders like clockwork; never tired; always hungry--a model. +The other mare, Moonlight, a dark brown, seems to be somehow exhausted. +I think she has had a very hard time of it, and has been wounded in the +foot. Her foot is all right now, but she seems to have no life left in +her. The war has utterly beaten her. Hunt is grazing and grooming and +petting her all day. So she may pick up. At present she is somehow +rather pathetic. She was with the Indian cavalry before she got +wounded. And then she went to a veterinary hospital. She is well made, +and may possibly brighten up. Hunt declares that she has "lost all her +courage." I'm glad I'm not a horse. + + +_August 5._ + +This is such an amazing country and in such an amazing condition. I +could collect a Harrod's Stores in a day--interesting and useful things, +too. But it's impossible to carry things about. One daren't overload the +horses, and one daren't overload the transport. Both are so heavy laden, +as it is. + +The signal job is quite interesting, really, and the Colonel gives me an +absolutely free hand. + +Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies. I took Jezebel +into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down! So the flies must +just bite, I fear. Large grey brutes. + +Hunt made me laugh so last night. I was looking round the horses with +Edward. They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay. To my +surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed. "Evidently getting +her appetite back," I remarked. "Oh yes, sir," says Hunt; "several +times I've caught her _hollerin'_ for her meals lately!" Isn't that a +lovely expression? + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS] + +Hunt is such a good chap. He thinks nothing of "abroad," but a lot of +the "'osses," as he calls them. I found him what seemed to me a very +nice loft to sleep in when we got here. But no: "I'd rather sleep with +my 'osses, sir, thank you." And he sleeps practically under their noses. +"You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on." + +He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he +attributes the error to one of her moods. + +She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was +hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was +being bitten by a fly, I don't know. No one seems to have seen her do +it. "One of her moods," says Hunt; and that's all there is to be said +about the incident. + +My dear, this country is most enchanting. Far away from nasty noises, +full of unexpected wooded valleys and willowy streams. + +All the little shrines are, as usual, surrounded by half-clipped trees. + +And the wild-flowers. Clear pale blue succory is the most charming of +all, and I am going to send you some plants as soon as they have ceased +flowering. + + +_August 6._ + +You can't think how difficult it is to take any interest in military +matters sometimes. The inclination to let things slide. The feeling that +an order is not so terrifying as it once was; that after all, who will +know or bother if one furtive subaltern creeps out one evening to +sketch? + + +_August 8._ + +Do you know, it's unintelligent, but I do so enjoy being here away from +the fevers of war. War is getting tedious, and the summer is all too +short. + +Swallow is coming back. Isn't it splendid! The General finds him too +irritating and tiresome. Jezebel will be glad, for she doesn't like the +ghost-horse Moonlight, and she never really disliked Swallow. I can't +say she liked him, because she likes no one, dear lamb. But she used to +look on Swallow with rather less suspicion, somehow. And Swallow has a +habit of licking that she approves of. I have often seen her snap at him +even while he is licking her; but he always continues after a moment. I +think it soothes her when the flies are tiresome. + +This place has a beautiful church, which I have drawn. It's quite an +unusually charming bit of the country. + + +_August 11._ + +[Sidenote: DOMART] + +Jezebel did such an astonishing thing yesterday. I was out with the +signallers practising. We didn't want the bother of holding or picketing +the horses. So I ordered "off-saddle," and then put a guard over the +disused quarry where I had decided to leave them. The quarry had a +grassy floor, and walls of chalk that in one place were only about 7 +foot high. Jezebel has been so good (for her) lately, that I determined +to leave her with the other horses. They were stripped of all bridles +and saddles and things, and had heaps of room to wander. + +Meanwhile we were carrying on with our work. + +Presently shouts from the guard. I went back to see what was the matter. +My dear, Jezebel had tried to jump out of the quarry! + +She had tried twice, but the sides were too steep and high, and she had +slipped back. When I arrived, she was quietly grazing as if nothing had +happened. Ah, but wait. This is not all. + +Later on in the morning another hooroosh. A loud squealing and sounds of +kicking. One of her moods again, I thought to myself grimly. That +well-known voice. I should recognize her squeal anywhere. As I was going +towards the quarry with Corporal Dutton to get her tied up or else +hobbled, lo and behold! the two guards had vanished. "What the +devil...." And all of a sudden out pour the horses careering downhill +like mad! It was so appalling that Corporal Dutton and I just stood and +shouted with laughter. + +My dear, if there is anything in the whole world that goads a Major, a +Brigadier, or any other military man, to fury and madness, it is a loose +horse. + +Imagine, then, forty-four horses all riderless, without saddles or +bridles (and therefore almost impossible to catch), stampeding straight +into a corps H.Q. village. This village is crawling with Generals! + +Well, in the end we caught them all, and by some dazzling piece of luck, +for which Allah be praised, no General, no Colonel, nor anyone else, +seems to have got wind of the incident. Subalterns, yes, and I am +sumptuously ragged about it. But how all the Generals and things +happened to be out of sight and hearing at the time, I don't know. And +_still_ this is not the cream of the comedy. + +After giving orders for rounding up the animals, I went on to the quarry +with Corporal Dutton. My dear, _There was Jezebel grazing, as cool as a +cucumber!_ + +She still further insulted me by coming up and trying to push her nose +into my pocket, where I sometimes keep an apple for her. + +[Sidenote: ANOTHER MOVE NORTHWARDS] + +The guards, you see, had instantly gone in to get her away from the +horse she was kicking, when we first heard the commotion. The other +horses had mooned out of the entrance gap, and then, I suppose, +something--a fly, perhaps--had frightened them, and off they had +galloped. While "the accursed female," as we sometimes call Jezebel, too +sensible to stampede, quietly continued feeding. I shall never be taken +in by her air of innocence again. Never. I don't a bit mind saying I was +decidedly alarmed. That mare might have been responsible for the death +of the Corps Commander. + +O Jezebel, I wish I could get angry with you and give you a jolly good +hiding one day. But you know I can't, you dear old thing. I'm writing +this in the orchard, where the H.Q. horses live, and Jezebel is standing +sleepily in the shade of her tree. She looks intensely stupid. She +occasionally tries to flick away a fly with her short tail. Occasionally +she sighs deeply, with that blubbery, spluttery noise that all horses +make when they sigh. + + +_August 15._ + +On the move. This is our first day's trek, and we are at a place where +we have been before--but not the same billets. I am in a cottage with +an earth floor (which looks very odd with a hideous drab-coloured +wall-paper), and small children and hens, both dirty, wander in and out +of my room. It's too hot to keep the door latched. A swallow's nest in +the room next door; and the people say that, although the young have +flown, they still return at night. + + +_August 19._ + +The Adjutant is away, and won't be returning for some time; so I am +still acting. And this, together with signal work, etc., is somewhat +arduous. I live all day in the "office," a very small bivouac in a green +field. There I sit praying for inspiration, when letters come in marked +_Urgent_, beginning something like this: + + "LP/3657042--G1. + + "Ref. your memo HC/516342/L12 of 13/8/16, please find A.F. 361B for + completion and immediate return." + +And I haven't the least idea what I said in my memo HC/516342/L12 of +13/8/16, and I can't find any record of it. And I can't for the life of +me make out how I am meant to fill in A.F. 361B, because I haven't the +least idea what it's all about. + + +_August 26._ + +[Sidenote: BEHIND KEMMEL] + +Impossible to write yesterday, and only a brief scrawl to-day. + +The regiment is being scattered over the face of the earth--an O.P. +here, an O.P. there; a digging-party here, a draining-party there, etc., +etc., etc.; not to mention a few on duty as military police _pro tem._, +others guarding bomb shelters, others reconnoitring new areas for new +divisions, etc. Dennis is very badly wounded. He can't be moved yet. +Some bits of shell went into his thigh, up his back, and it's not +certain yet whether it entered his lungs or not. They are afraid so. He +was on his tummy at an O.P. A crump got him. Dear old Dennis! I hope +he'll pull round. Also Clive is very seriously wounded, I fear. Damn! + + +_August 27._ + +I am Acting Adjutant now. An Adjutant's job is a most hairy job, and I +sit with drops of perspiration dripping off my brow all day. Never see +the horses, never get any exercise except for a moment or two. + + +_August 29._ + +We are probably going to move again soon, and consequently the amount of +correspondence is vast. Clive is better, I think. Dennis about the +same. I suppose a thing can go into your lung and not kill you? + + +_September 2._ + +The Colonel seemed (from a telegram he sent yesterday morning) to be in +a great hurry for me to come down to the other squadron. So I decided to +go by train, and send Hunt with the horses. And this is the train +journey. + +The station at ---- quite recovered and tidy after a feeble strafing the +other day. Even two or three civilians travelling. Not many of the +military--a hundred or so, perhaps, all waiting and smoking idly, each +armed with his "Movement Order." The dull boom of guns not excessive, +though there's a frequent "plom! plom! plom!" of the Archies, and the +sky is dotted with clusters of pretty little shrapnel clouds. Sometimes +the crack! crack! crack! crack! of machine guns high up in the blue. It +makes you feel slightly homesick. I don't quite know why. That sort of +thing isn't done at home. + +[Sidenote: THROUGH HAZEBROUCK] + +In comes the train. The French station officials all in a paroxysm of +excitement because one Tommy throws down a gas helmet for the train to +run over. Up we clamber. Hale heaves up valise and coat and so forth, +and retires to a "third," while I feel a beast lounging in this +luxurious "first." Off we go, and I look out at all the familiar +country. + +There's one of those quaint French notices in the carriage: + + TAISEZ-VOUS! + MÉFIEZ-VOUS! + LES OREILLES ENNEMIES VOUS ÉCOUTENT! + +All too necessary, they tell me. + +_Later._--It is getting dark. We stop at a large town that I know well. +Two hours to wait. I turn in to a Follies show. There is usually one +going on, run by this or that division, all soldiers, but looking very +odd in their paint and ruffles. But what a curious concert. The first +I've seen out here. The comic Scot vastly popular; but even more so are +hideously sentimental songs all about the last bugle and death and my +dead friends under the earth and eternal sleep. You know? However, they +love it, and the dismal piano beats a tinny accompaniment. + +Staff officers even are here, and I recognize one Somerset; also Grey, +who was in the Gun section with Dennis and me, now a Captain. Delightful +talking over old times. + +_Later._--Into the train again. On the platform beforehand I meet a +gunner subaltern. We talk. He's very well read, and interested in lots +of the things I love so much. We discuss the war. He knows a lot of the +billets I know. Evidently we have nearly met out here often before. What +is that book he is reading? Richard Jefferies? From Jefferies to +Maeterlinck. What has become of him? War so foreign to that mystic mind. +Yet his beautiful abbey in Flanders must be in the hands of Fritz, if it +still exists at all. We talk for about two hours. Then he gets out at +----. I don't know what his name is, and very likely I won't ever meet +him again. But out here one makes friends quickly. There are so many of +us all in the same boat. And one hardly expects ever to meet again. Then +(alone in the carriage) I doze. The electric light in full blaze, and no +curtains are down. Stations rather like bad dreams. Soldiers everywhere. +A great clanking of horse-trucks and gun-carriages. Vast stores of +timber for huts. Bookstalls open all night. These trains seem to hoot +and whistle most horribly. Far more noisy than English trains, surely. +That, combined with all the shouting and clatter of trollies, etc., +rather racking in the small hours. At 5 a.m. we arrive at ----, where we +all change. + +_Later._--No one allowed outside the station except officers and +sergeants. But, dash it all, I can't leave Hale here the whole day. Our +train leaves at 8.36 to-night. The R.T.O. will be here at 7 a.m. Let's +see what we can work. Meanwhile (5.30) the platformless station is full +of men, who have just dumped themselves and their kits down where they +stood. They haven't finished sleeping. It looks like a battle-field. +They lie in every attitude, officers among them. Hale is eating from his +bully-beef tin in silence. A few men stand round a Y.M.C.A. stall +drinking coffee or eating chocolate, cake, and stuff. + +[Sidenote: ABBEVILLE] + +_Later._--I got Hale out, and took him to see the cathedral. He said he +thought it must have cost a lot of money. Not a bad criticism, either. +Then I let him go his own way, and now it's 1.45 p.m. Had a charming +lunch--two oeufs à la coque, thé, and croissants. Now I'm sitting by +the side of the river--very peaceful. There's a white goat on the other +bank, and its reflection is dancing gently all the time. + +Several French widows are talking together near the goat, their black +veils hanging funereally; and there's a small boy with socks and a +bowler hat, all black, too. Poor dears! + +Good heavens alive! there's George! He has just flashed by in a car, red +cap and all. If only there had been time to hail him! Now for a sleep +till it's time for tea. + + +_September 5._ + +This is a part of the line I don't know at all, a most exciting area. I +have been up several times into what is by the way of being our front +line, but the whole thing is so chaotic that often the Huns come into +our trenches and we go into theirs quite by mistake. + +I have several times gone right across the open, within full view of +Fritz (whom I could see), at a distance of 600 yards. I think they must +all be very confused, also, as there is very little rifle fire and very +little organized sniping. Nothing but shelling, with the result that for +miles and miles there's just tumbled earth. + +The famous woods you read about are mere scratchy little collections of +a few tree-stumps splintered and wrecked beyond belief. Things lie +scattered everywhere in aimless profusion. Muddy rifles, coats, boots, +and every description of kit, both British and Hun. I have met lots of +men I know, and everyone is very cheery and hopeful. Fritz is +withdrawing his big guns--always a good sign. However, the myriads of +prisoners nearly all look a sound type of man still. They are put to +work a long way behind the line immediately, which is good. + + +_September 7._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME FRONT] + +We have been for some time right up in parts quite destitute of houses +and villages and shops. All the remnants of villages here are ruins. And +messing is consequently more difficult. So may I have a large-sized cake +now and then? + +The war isn't over yet, I fear. We live in the usual touch-and-go +condition. + + +_September 8._ + +Things hum. Troops like ants all over the ground. In tents, in bivvies, +in the open, everywhere. And the eternal chain of motor lorries bringing +up ammunition and supplies. These one sees all over France. But here +they block half the roads. Well, yesterday morning I rode out alone with +the Colonel and two orderlies. We went to some high ground from which +you can see it all, dismounted, and sent the horses back. In front of +us, in the valley, a wrecked town with the strangest thing on the +still-standing tower. I hope to make a picture of it if ever I can get +any time again. + +Later in the day from one of our O.P.'s I began a sketch of the whole +panorama of the battle. Desolate ragged country, torn with shell wounds; +the poor scarecrow trees like arms stretched up to heaven for help. +Fields that once were golden with corn now grey and scarred with white +trenches that look like a network of pale worms lying where they died. + +Now, from another O.P. I'm looking at the arid chaos below. Arid and +lonely-looking, but not silent. A strafe is on. Seems to be getting +louder and more continuous. We passed on our way here a great naval gun +crashing out death to the burrowing Huns. Swallow doesn't like naval +guns. + +From flimsy net shelters flash the expensive guns, and the bombardment +gathers strength, gathers volume, until you'd think something must +burst--the world or the universe: either might split from end to end. +The dust and smoke are gradually making everything invisible. Crumps +come whistling and heaving up great clouds of heavy blackness. We look +at our watches. Zero hour in five minutes. The aeroplanes buzzing aloft, +and the sausages sitting among the low clouds, inert and so +vulnerable-looking. Can there be anything left? Can a single soul live? + + +[Illustration: TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE +They don't look much like trenches, because they were battered to +pieces. A 'dump' on the near horizon was hit by a Boche shell. It blazed +and crackled and smouldered all night, a drifting column of dull pink +smoke.] + + +_September 9._ + +Surely we shall get through. Even in spite of the rain. The rain has +made the country into a quagmire. + +Reconnoitred the front trenches to-day with the Colonel, in a particular +part where everything is at sixes and sevens, and no one quite +knows what we haven't or have got. Most odd. Shells of all calibres +bursting on every side--corpses, odours unspeakable. + +[Sidenote: DELVILLE WOOD] + +You see, things are expected to happen soon, and so I'm anxious to know +all about it. This part of the line is terrific. + +Where we are, and for miles and miles around, myriads of troops, +cavalry, artillery, everything, all camped in the open--no concealment. +Mud? Why, everyone is mud, up to the eyes, and so are the horses. This +big movement has quite dislocated the ordinary trench warfare, and now +all over the dreary uplands are trenches hurriedly dug by the Hun and +then abandoned. Trenches that often barely shelter you above the knees. +Chaos, chaos. Rifles lying to rust in the mud, duds everywhere, men +sitting in dug-outs, not knowing what they are expected to do next. +Others in mere scratched-out shelters or in actual shell holes. +Sometimes they sing. Often they are asleep. Wreckage indescribable. +Shrapnel cracking into black clouds close by. Enormous and magnificent +H.E.'s hurling up black earth and red earth, and smoke that drifts +slowly and solidly away to limbo. Poor dead men lying about, and dead +horses, too. And in the trenches this limitless porridge of mud. +Cr-r-r-ump! go the crumps searching out a battery. But oh the +woods--the poor scarecrow woods. I was in a famous wood that looked +positively devilish in its sinister nakedness. And it's September, too, +when woods are so often at their loveliest. Not a leaf--not one single +leaf; and, instead of undergrowth, just tossed earth, fuses, a boot, a +coat, some wire, and above-ground dead men. Below-ground (or as far +below as they can get in the time) live men. + +The Boche dug-outs are marvellous. They are really works of art. So +solidly, even beautifully built. I went into one that had wooden pillars +supporting the roof like some baronial hall, with neat little cupboards, +tables, beds, and everything complete. There were two of our M.M.G. +officers sleeping there, and we left them sleeping. But emerge out into +daylight, and ye gods! the confusion makes you feel awed. A village is +usually a heap of rubble, with here and there a bit of a gaudy enamelled +coffee-pot or something; a geranium from a window, still growing; a +china egg, a bit of a chair, a bit of an iron gateway. And as far as the +eye can see in this particular region, just undulating stretches of +tormented earth. All the old game of never showing above the parapet is +quite disregarded, for often there is no parapet. Time after time the +Huns could have seen us, and I saw lots of them running across gaps. You +see, no sniping or anything like that can be organized yet. Huns often +come into our lines by mistake, and we do likewise. And when you are not +actually in close view of them, you go across the open. If you get cut +off by a barrage you just wait till it's over. + +I have been round all our M.G. positions and other Detachments. + + +_September 10._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS FLERS] + +About 5 p.m. the mess cook came and said he had been unable to get +enough food in for the morrow, as the expected hampers from England had +not arrived, and the district was so packed with other troops. So we +decided to get some hares or partridges. But it's forbidden to shoot +game. Very well, we wouldn't shoot them. We'd ride them down. The +country behind is entirely open. No hedges. Just gently undulating +uplands. The crops are all cut. So three of us set out. The orderly-room +work had almost been finished, and the remainder could wait. Jezebel was +brought round for me, Chloe for Roger, and Minotaur for the Colonel. The +Colonel's orderly, Corporal Orchard, following on Shotover. We rode back +to the more open country where there are few troops, and then started +the drive. Jezebel on the right, Chloe next, Shotover next, and Minotaur +on the left, at intervals of 20 yards or so. + +It had been decided that, if a hare got up, even while we were after +partridges, we must chase the hare. + +Well, presently a covey got up, and away we galloped up a long slope. +Suddenly a wild tally-ho from Roger. A hare had got up and was lepping +across Jezebel's line. So Jezebel fairly flattened herself out to keep +the hare in. But the hare was across before she could get wide enough. + +Then the hare doubled back and we swung round, so that now Minotaur was +on the right. Hooroosh down the hill. The hare was gaining. There was a +minute brick enclosure a quarter of a mile ahead. The hare was making +for that. And gained it. Check. We surrounded the enclosure and Corporal +Orchard dismounted and went in. After about ten minutes out popped the +hare on t'other side. Loud yells, and after her again. She made for some +high ground where there was a small wood. "Cut her off," signalled the +Colonel wildly. + +Impossible to cut off the hare. She gained the wood, which we +surrounded. But, oh silly hare! she came out the other side. Minotaur +after her like an arrow. + +Then she tried to get away across Jezebel's front. But Jezebel was too +quick, and Chloe came up in support. + +Then the hare doubled again through Shotover and Minotaur, and we swung +about. The hare was getting tired. She had run about three miles. She +then doubled back again through Chloe and Jezebel. + +[Sidenote: CHASING THE HARE] + +But meanwhile the horses were all getting dark with sweat, and although +a low line of upland hid us, we knew we were approaching some reserve +wire. The hare must not gain that wire. + +She was dead beat and going very slow, flopping along, and looked as if +she would tumble head over heels any second. We were close behind her. + +She got into some long grass 20 yards away from the wire, and +disappeared from view. We had got her. Corporal Orchard dismounted and +began beating the grass for her. There! Just missed her. She flopped on +a few yards, and Corporal Orchard dashed after. Then he tripped and +fell. The hare came out of cover and lolloped towards the wire. Yells +from Roger and the Colonel. + +_And the hare got there first!_ + +Inwardly I laughed with joy and relief. Thank goodness that little hare +got away. Corporal Orchard took over the horses, and we went in amongst +the wire, but we never found her. The weeds had grown tall, and were +perfect cover for the poor wee beastie. I sometimes say what I think, +but such views are naturally neither understood nor taken seriously. +And the Major, bless him! likes me to do this type of thing because he +thinks it is good for me. "We must really try and teach you to be more +of a sportsman, you know. Sporting instinct. What? Every Englishman +should have it!" This all very good-humouredly, and I answer, laughing: +"Aha, sir. You see I know better." Which merely stirs some jovial spirit +to stand up and propose: "Gentlemen, fox-hunting!" You see? + + +_September 12._ + +The next act will shortly begin. We are all very hopeful. Certain +signs.... Fritz very nervous. Of that there can be no doubt at all. +Prisoners betray it quite unwillingly. Poor Fritz! He comes to attention +when we go up to him and ask him if he is fairly happy, which he is +(with a smile) invariably. He talks good English, and wishes the war +would end. + +Some of our machine gunners, including Clare, were done in the other +day, and they put up a biscuit tin, with their names pierced in with +nail holes, to mark the spot. This war is the quaintest, most +incongruous show. + + +[Illustration: GIRD TRENCH +Gird Trench was only won after repeated attacks. It was the main German +defence of GEUDECOURT. While this sketch was being made things +were comparatively quiet. And the innumerable people living underground +could get a little sleep.] + + +_September 15._ + +Zero hour has come and gone. The show is a peach. Fritz is scuttling +back with us on his tail. We are to creep up, and as soon as Fritz +is beyond his last line of trenches (which he jolly nearly is now) up +and through we hope to go. + + +_September 20._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS GEUDECOURT] + +We are long past Fritz's first line; past his second line; at his third +line; and his fourth line he is wildly digging now--places for his +M.G.'s wire, etc. But he's very, very hard put to it. We have almost all +the high ground. Our guns are at it day and night. Trench warfare no +longer exists. A few hastily dug holes, a few short lines of trench, +mostly battered to pieces, and that's all. It's almost open fighting. +Even the infantry come up across the open. No communication trenches, +nothing of that sort. The crump holes are continuous. There's scarcely +an inch of ground that isn't a crump hole. + +I was up in an interesting wood this morning with the Colonel. Now, this +will give you some idea of how dislocated and above-ground everything +is: + +We wanted to go to a place the other side of the wood. When we reached +the middle of the wood, where a new O.P. of ours has been established, +Fritz put up a barrage on the edge of the wood. Very well, then. We just +waited at the O.P. till the barrage was over, and then calmly walked +out. The wood is only a few shattered stumps of trees, and the place +where undergrowth once was is one continuous sea of earth thrown about +in every conceivable shape, with dead Tommies and dead Fritzes lying +side by side. So the wood isn't much cover, you can imagine. + +On the far side of the wood is beautiful rolling country, but not green. +It's all brown, just a mess of earth. It's pitted with holes just like +sand after a hailstorm. In the distance you can see real lovely trees, +but nothing grows where the strafing is. Overhead the martins flicker +and swoop, and starlings sail by in circling clouds, while the colossal +noises crash and boom away merrily. + +Ought I, perhaps, not to talk of these things? Does it worry you to +think of crumps bursting and so on? But, really, it seems quite ordinary +and in the day's work here. Men talk of crumps as you would talk of +bread and butter. That is, perhaps, why letters from home that talk +about homely things--cows and lavender and the new chintz--are so +welcome. + +Besides, good heavens! don't you know that there's not a man in France +but knows that the best-beloved ones at home are having a far worse time +than we are having here? Wet clothes? Mud? Shells a-bursting, guns +a-popping? Even a wound, perhaps? Pish! No one _thinks_ at all out +here. There isn't time. Most of the people out here are perfectly happy +and merry, really. The sort of "long-drawn-out-agony" touch is, I think, +rare. + +I'm writing this in a jolly Boche dug-out, all panelled and cosy. +Jezebel and Swallow and a new pack mare I've got are in a valley that's +hardly ever touched, and in fine, all's well. + + +_September 24._ + +[Sidenote: TEAR SHELLS] + +Tear shells or "lachrymatory shells." They haven't been putting many +over lately, apparently. But they put some over the other day, and they +are so amusing that I must describe them to you. + +The Colonel and I were up trying to find a "working-party" from the +regiment. The regiment is sadly split up at present into various parties +doing various jobs in various places, all unpleasant. Better than +infantry work, but still unpleasant. + +We rode up much closer than we have ridden before, and left the +Colonel's orderly and Hale in a bit of a valley with Minotaur, Jezebel, +Hob, and Tank. Tank is a new mare I've got. Hale was riding her, as I +never take Swallow closer than I can help. + +We dismounted in this small valley, and the Colonel's orderly and Hale +were given orders to move if any shells were put over too near them. + +Then the Colonel and I went up through a wood that is just a few +splintered stumps now. + +We passed behind several batteries, and I thought to myself: "Dash it +all! I know my eyes can't be watering because of the noise. What the +deuce is the matter? I hope the Colonel won't notice." + +However, on we waded and plodded. Suddenly the Colonel stopped, and +exclaimed: "Oh damnation! This is perfect nonsense." His eyes were like +tomatoes, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks! + +By this time we could hardly see at all, and it dawned on us that we +must hastily put on our tear goggles, which we had never used before, +but always, of course, carry. They go in the satchel along with the two +gas helmets. + +Presently we met some infantry coming back, all safely begoggled. The +Huns, they told us, were dropping tear shells just into that valley in +front, where our working-party was supposed to be. You can tell them +(the tear shells), they said, by the fluttering sound, and they knock up +no earth and make very little smoke. + +Sure enough, as soon as we got over the brow there they were. They make +a foolish wobbly, wavy sound as they come over, and look most innocent. +So they are really if you get your goggles on in time. But if one bursts +close to you, and you haven't got goggles on, why, then you'll be as +blind as an owl, and you'll weep like a shower bath. + +[Sidenote: BETWEEN HIGH WOOD AND FLERS] + +Then the absurd thing was that we couldn't find the working-party. +Plenty of dead Huns, but nobody alive. Not a sign. Only crumps dropping +here and there and everywhere. So we found a bit of a trench that led +back round the side of the wood. The front line trenches were only very +lightly held, partly because they are almost completely blown in. And we +could get no information as to the working-party at all. + +Presently we saw why. The Huns had put up a barrage across the valley +they were coming up. We knew they would come up this other valley, as +they had to report on their way to H.Q., ---- Division. So we got into a +hole and waited. + +After about half an hour the barrage lifted and up came our +working-party none the worse. It is a most amazing war. People literally +dodge shells and things as you might dodge snow-balls. + +When we arrived back at the place where we left our two men, they also +were not to be seen. + +After some time and anxious inquiries for two men with four horses, we +at last discovered them nearly half a mile away. Fritz had put some +heavy stuff over fairly near, and they had moved. + +"A very interesting bit of the line isn't it, Hale?" I said as we moved +off. "Yes, sir," he said, adding with a fierce frown, "but not very +_safe_, sir." + +And then we all laughed. Hale does frown so when he makes one of his +oracular utterances. + + +[Illustration: A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT +Here, as in many of these sketches, there are no people to be seen, for +the simple reason that they are all underground in dug-outs.] + + +_September 29._ + +It's up to us to reconnoitre carefully every time there is a move +forward, so as to see the new ground. + +One of the most curious and interesting things is this: the Boche rarely +wastes. He only puts his crumps and pip-squeaks just where he thinks (or +knows) our batteries are, and our infantry want to be, and our horses +would be likely to be (if they weren't somewhere else). So that +gradually you begin to track out safe routes. Don't go near the edge of +---- Wood, but 200 yards inside the wood, on the north side, you're +pretty comfy. Don't go near the mangled remains of ---- village, but +keep to the right of it until you get to the wrecked aeroplane, and then +turn down the remains of ---- trench, and you probably won't be touched. +That sort of thing. + +[Sidenote: BOCHE DUG-OUTS] + +I've been sleeping in the most superb Boche dug-out. Very deep; I +should think 30 feet down. The inside is pillared rather like the +studio, and cretonned all over with maroon-coloured stuff instead of +wall-paper. There are lovely little cupboards everywhere, and doors and +window-frames just like a real house. The windows, of course, only look +out on to an air-shaft, so it's very dark, and you have to have candles +all the time. The windows have no glass, of course, as that would be +shattered to smithereens by the vibrations. Then there's an arch and +more steps down lower still, into the bedroom for two. + +Yesterday, being rather misty, I thought as follows: + +"It is too foggy to see what Fritz is doing. No attack is intended or +expected. The Colonel is at corps H.Q. Swallow and Jezebel and Tank are +safe in ---- valley. Roger is still here as Adjutant. Why not an +afternoon off?" + +So picture a holiday-maker armed with a revolver, two gas helmets, tear +goggles, some sandwiches, and a large empty haversack. Now where to go? +What about ---- trench and all round ---- village, even, perhaps, a +lightning five minutes in the village itself? We have just taken the +village, but it's rather an unhealthy spot at present. + +---- trench is a new trench that poor Fritz dug just before he was +driven out of it. I had seen lots of dead Fritzes there the day before. +Also there were reports of curious things flung out into the mud in and +round the village. + +[Sidenote: TROPHIES] + +So I set forth. And at ---- met another fellow I knew, and the affair +became neither more nor less than a search for souvenirs. Here is a +list: + + 1. A few buttons with double-tailed lions. + + 2. Four shoulder-straps with the figure 6 in red. This indicated a + division which has been opposite us for some time and is quite + exhausted, I think. + + 3. One haversack and one respirator haversack. + + 4. One rosary. + + 5. Five different sorts of bayonets from different regiments. These + I thought we might hang up. + + 6. Four tassels. They are worn by Fritz rather in the same sort of + way as lanyards are worn. Quite pretty, though rather soiled and + worn. + + 7. A bit of a wing of a crushed aeroplane that is lying on the + brown, feverish earth like a dead sea-gull. + + 8. A brass spring very beautifully made, that I am going to have + made into a bracelet for you. Also from the aeroplane. + + 9. A cardboard box for signal flares. _Signal Patronen_ they are + labelled. I threw the flares away, as they might go pop _en route_. + + 10. A jolly bit of gilded carving from a house in ---- + + 11. Now then for No. 11! A bit of embroidery. I think it is a + vestment of sorts. It's white, and there's heavy gold embroidery at + the sides. It is a cloak of some description, but the top part, + where there should be a collar or something, is gone. Then + 11A is a piece of black and silver embroidery. It was all + very muddy and riddled with shrapnel or bits of crump, so I just + cut off the only sound bit. Both these things are exceedingly + beautiful. They are probably vestments, because they were quite + near what must have been the church. I am sure it must have been + the church, although I hadn't a map--first, because I saw the + village in the distance some time ago, while the church was still + standing, and therefore I know the church's situation; and, + secondly, because I saw remains of large pillars, and a few bits of + what was once a font amongst the débris. + +There now. Isn't that a good haul! It's not easy to get anything worth +sending home, because everything is so utterly smashed up. + + +_October 2._ + +Jezebel and Swallow and Tank have all been clipped trace high. I am +getting rather attached to Tank. She is so modest and unselfish--a +contrast to Jezebel. She never expects little treats, and seems quite +surprised when I give her anything. Swallow and Jezebel always neigh +when they see my electric torch coming towards them after dinner (while +we are back in these safe places). But Tank is very shy of the light, +and thinks it will bite her. + +Swallow is getting much better, and really seems to understand that the +shells and guns and things probably won't hurt him. We have been most +extraordinarily lucky. The troop that got through nearly to ---- the +other day, hadn't a single casualty, although Dick's own mare was shot +under him and a great many other horses were wounded. The squadron of +---- were very badly scuppered, I fear. But, anyhow, we all feel that +Lloyd George is right. We are just beginning to win. + + +_October 5._ + +It is a glorious day. Such clouds. Swallow kicked up his heels and +played about like a kitten when Hunt took him to water this morning. +It's extraordinary how used the horses are getting to trenches and +wire, etc. At first they were rather afraid to jump these sudden deep +ditches, but now they pop across like rabbits. + + +_October 17._ + +[Sidenote: ARCHIE] + +Yesterday some Hun aeroplanes got across and came right above this camp, +a comfortable way behind the front line. Heavily strafed by our Archies. +The blue sky was dotted all over with the pretty little white clouds of +shrapnel. + +Sergeant Pritchard and I were standing close to Flannagan (one of the +men's horses), and the men were at stables. We were all looking up and +longing to see a Hun aeroplane hit, when suddenly "s-s-s-swish, plop!" +just behind me. It was one of the Archie shrapnel cases. It buried +itself deep in the ground 3 yards from where we were standing. We dug it +up, and I'll bring it home for you. If it isn't too tediously heavy. + +Of course, Archie shrapnel cases all come down, and you see hundreds of +them lying about; but I've never had one so close before. They sometimes +fall broadside on, and sometimes end on, in which case they bury +themselves fairly deep. All the Hun aeroplanes got away, alas! + + +_October 26._ + +Once more I'm going up to the strange dead village of ----. In many ways +I shall be sorry to go back to comfort and billets, because the +material for pictures here is very wonderful. You shall see several +small things (the powers that be call it waste of time!), and it's +infuriating to think that more can't be done. + +I tell you, if you were here, and if I could paint a bit every day, I +should be quite happy. The "subjects" are endless, and in particular I +long to do great big stretches of this bleak brown land. Well, it can't +be helped, so it's no good thinking about it. + + +_October 29._ + +We are moving to a "back area" to-morrow. + + +[Illustration: A WOUNDED TANK +This Tank got hit as it was walking over a house in FLERS. They +covered it up with tarpaulins to prevent the Hun aeroplanes from +obtaining too much information about it. The black stuff is shrapnel. +The pink clouds are sent up by crumps as they explode amongst the +remains of the brick houses.] + + +_November 1._ + +It's a superb day, and we are back at ----, one of our old billets, +right away from the beastliness. And although leave won't be for another +week or two, still, it will come soon. And Swallow is in tremendous +spirits. + +Here is a drawing done surreptitiously of a tank in full view of Fritz. +You see those little stumps of trees? Well, I'll tell you what those are +called when we meet, and also what village is just on their left. You +may say it was stupid to sit in full view of Fritz, but it was the day +after an advance, and there's hardly ever anything doing then in +the way of sniping. The guns, of course, are all pooping off, but they +weren't shelling just there, so it was quite safe. This drawing gives +you some idea of the desolation, but none of the unevenness of the +ground. You can't walk in a bee-line for three yards without getting +into a hole. The last time I was in those parts, by the way, I came on a +rather jolly cottage wineglass that had been thrown out into some soft +mud, and was not even cracked. + + +_November 6._ + +[Sidenote: COCQUEREL] + +An extraordinary change. Let me now give you an idea. + +We are in a pretty little country village miles and miles away, and +(although one of Fritz's aeroplanes flew over the church as bold as +brass just before we got in) the quiet and peace of the place is very +refreshing. And, droll to relate, I'm writing this in bed, with a touch +of flu--such a bed, too, all soft and billowy. In ordinary life it would +be condemned as a "feather" bed, but now it is a bed for princes. + +And the room. A rather dark old-fashioned paper, an old clock ticking, +an old shining chest of drawers with a marble top, and clothes hanging +on pegs. Hale has arranged the pistol, and ammunition, and maps, and +gas helmets, and steel helmet, and spare kit, with great elaboration, +all over the room. At the present moment he is "sweeping out" with the +appropriate hissing noises. The dust will, I hope, subside during the +course of the day. + +Hunt has got Jezebel, Swallow, and Tank into a disused barn, where they +will be warm and happy. + +Out of the window I can see hens pecking in an orchard, and an old grey +pony browsing. The leaves are yellow, and there's no wind. + +The old man and the old lady to whom the cottage belong have brought me +in some little "remèdes," which Tim refuses to let me have. One is what +the old man (an ex-chemist) calls "salicite de métal," and the other is +what the old lady calls a "remède de bonne femme." You rub yourself with +it all over every two hours! + +Tick, tick, tick, tick. Lovely! The old clock is rumbling. It is about +to strike twelve. + +It has struck twelve--no, not struck twelve, rather it has buzzed +twelve, like some old happy bee. + +The hens are still pecking about in the orchard, and the grey pony is +rubbing himself against a tree. + +All so cosy and delicious. Now for a doze. + + +_November 7._ + +[Sidenote: DOZING] + +Here's a poem. It's called + +HENS. + + At the end of the war + (Ring, bells, merry bells!) + We intend + To keep hens, + Me and Helen. + (Ring, bells!) + Such hens! + (Merry bells!) + And though all our hens' eggs be surrounded by shells, + We shall laugh and not care; + For there won't be no war, + And no hell any more, + While Helen is there + With the hens. + +I've just made that up, and the inspiration of so profound an epic has +made me want to doze again. Such a lot of dozing! + + +_November 12._ + +In to-day's letter I enclose a couple of field post-cards which I found +on a Boche dug-out bed-hole. + +I've been so busy these last days, up till late hours, and writing has +been "na-poo." Leave? Yes, leave will come in time. Probably the first +half of December. + +How maddening it is for poor old Tom! It's most damnable hard luck being +kept there without leave such a long time. And I expect that he also +has rather lost interest. At first the men were a great source of +interest, and the horses and everything. Then France and the front were +very interesting. Lastly, being under fire was very interesting. But now +that we are back in Rest, I begin to feel I shall be rather sorry to go +through it again. And Tom has had so much of it. Yes, he ought to come +home. + +The cottage people here have those lovely pale salmon winter +chrysanthemums in their gardens. Don't you like them? + +Since we arrived in this wee village a week ago, I haven't been on a +horse once, and have never seen anything outside the village itself, +which consists of one street and a side-lane. + + +_November 14._ + +I wasn't able to write yesterday, and there may be several blank days to +come. + +Roger is temporarily away, and I am in charge. The thing that's +happening is this: A and B are coming down to us, and others are going +to relieve them. So the arrangements and correspondence are vast. All +the billeting of this town is pushed on to my hands, too; and though +it's only a small village, there's a good lot to do. I can't collect any +thoughts to write to you. You understand, I know, and so I needn't say +more. I'll write again at length when things settle down. This sounds +muddled. But I count on your understanding that I've got more work to do +than I can manage. + + +_November 16._ + +[Sidenote: THE OTHER SQUADRONS ARRIVE] + +To-day, by some amazing fluke, there's a lull. One squadron has gone. +Sir John is on his way down. Julian starts early next week, and Gerald a +few days later. So within a fortnight we shall all be together. Which +will be good. + +Some infantry came in from the line to-day. Oh ye gods! the British +infantry! No rewards, honours, no fame, can ever be enough for them. We +have not yet gone through what they have to go through, but we have been +in and out amongst them all the time, and we know. Thank goodness this +spell of dry weather seems to have come for a few days at least. Cold at +night is nothing. It's wet at night that just kills men right and left. +Alan died yesterday morning. Died of exposure. He caught a chill while +we were up in front, and then got much worse, and it finally developed +into peritonitis and pneumonia. And now he, too, is dead. We were all +very fond of Alan. + +Death is such a little thing. A change of air--no more. Death is the +last day of Term, the last day of the Year. Regret? That's because we +don't understand, quite. + + +_November 17._ + +I sent you off another beastly little scrap of paper to-day, because it +was impossible to write more. Here (7 p.m.) is another moment, so I +snatch it. + +Listen. Of course it is true that leave has been cancelled, but we hear +(Rumour) that this is only for a few days owing to submarines. _If_ +leave reopens again, as seems likely therefore, I go next. I shall have +to hand over Orderly Room and all current correspondence, etc. That +means, with luck, I leave here on the 2nd. Don't, of course, count on +this; but let's toy with the idea. + + +_November 23._ + +I am sitting in the sun, having read your letter. The valley of the ---- +is below me, a mile wide, all reed-beds and half submerged willows, with +the main stream lying like a blue snake amongst pale acres of sedge. + +Damn! I was going to write a long and cosy letter, but was called back. +I had escaped for an hour from Orderly Room with your letter and a +sketchbook, and was caught in the act. No time now. + + +_November 25._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME VALLEY] + +A few more moments with you before you go to bed. + +Yes, isn't it funny how we seem to be talking face to face! And to every +question of mine you reply in three days' time and _vice versa_. It +always sounds to me like this, rather: + + QUESTION. ANSWER. + + _Mon._ Isn't it cold? None. + _Tues._ Have you seen mother? None. + _Wed._ Are you happy? None. + _Thurs._ How are you all? Freezing. + _Fri._ When did I see you last? Only yesterday. + _Sat._ May I have a cake! Yes, very. + _Sun._ How is Queen Anne? Much better. + _Mon._ None. Last April. + _Tues._ None. I'll send one. + _Wed._ None. Dead. + +Don't you find it's a bit like that? What question can I have asked a +week ago to which the answer is a rabbit? So tiresome when we want to +talk at very close range. + +As to leave--well let's not talk about that. Every dog has his day. + +You know the dog who has been shut up in a kennel for a long time? Or +the dog who has been locked up in an empty house for a long time? It'll +be a mixture of these. + +Well, the day will come. + + +_November 27._ + +Can't write properly because it's very cold and I've been riding, and +that makes one's fingers like pink bananas. They don't seem to answer to +the bridle. There's an awful noise of hissing going on. Hale and Hunt +are busy on the horses. + + +_November 28._ + +A box will arrive containing another Bristol ball, which I discovered in +a cottage here, and bought for 1fr. 50c. Rather a jolly green one, +biggish. Also I am enclosing the wineglass from Geudecourt, which I +mentioned some time ago. There can't be any harm in mentioning this +name, as we have left that area some time now. I have got several +sketches of other places round about there, which I hope you will like. +Won't it be fun, when the time comes, looking at them. To-day Hunt came +round in a great state about the horses. Jezebel had pulled up her +shackle, and was in "one of her moods," as Hunt always describes it. She +had been kicking both Tank and Swallow with great violence. He had left +Hale trying to get her quiet, and rushed up to report. + +She was quiet again when I got down, and Hale had tied her up +successfully. + +[Sidenote: THE PRUDENT SERGEANT] + +But the point of telling you of this episode is that meanwhile it was +getting time for the post to go. Prudent Sergeant Marsden (Orderly Room +sergeant) observed that I hadn't addressed the letter yet or signed it +outside. So he did it himself! "You very seldom write any letters to +other addresses, you see, sir, so I thought I'd better address it +myself. I thought it would be _inadvisable_ to miss a post, and I +thought the young lady would forward it on if it was not for her!" + +It made me laugh as I haven't laughed for a long time. Wasn't it nice +and thoughtful. He tells me he duly forged my signature in the left-hand +bottom corner. + +Jorrocks sends his love. "Your little filly" he always calls you. + + +_November 29._ + +About leave. There's no more chance of it at present, I think, as we are +going up to the line again in a week or two, and we want to work off all +the men, who haven't had any leave at all, before moving up mudwards, +when all leave will be stopped. We are engaged at present in +practically rebuilding and making sanitary an entire French village, and +in "training," which means all the old dismal tedium of manoeuvres +plus spit and polish. + +These villages are most amazingly ill-built. Swallow this morning lashed +out on being bitten by Jezebel, and (dear silly Swallow!) instead of +hitting Jezebel, she brought down half the wall of the shed in which +they live, which frightened her to such an extent, Hunt tells me, that +she allowed Jezebel to eat all her food at midday stables. + + +_November 30._ + +We move next week, I think, or possibly the week after. + +We are not going back to quite the same part of the line, but near it. +It will be new country to me altogether, and to everyone else concerned. + +Poor Swallow, poor Jezebel, poor Tank, I'd give anything to shelter you +three; but, alas! I fear you are going to have a nasty time of it now. +All clipped, too. It's Swallow particularly that I tremble for. He does +so throw up the sponge. Tank copies Bird in everything, so she ought to +pull through all right. + + +_December 1._ + +[Sidenote: AMIENS CATHEDRAL] + +All leave is cancelled again, at any rate in this army--possibly on +account of the move, possibly on account of nasty fish in the sea. +However, the telegram says "until further notice," which usually means +for a short time only. Not that it affects me, but it's bad luck on some +of the men who were just off. + +Now about Xmas. I have got a new crop, thank you ever so much, that I +bought at a town near here. + +A beautiful cathedral town. + +With doors all padded up with sand-bags, the great cathedral towers +above the town, and is seen for miles and miles. A good effort. What fun +they must have had building it. What they believed then they expressed +in outward and visible form. What we think now is (or ought to be) very +different indeed from what they thought then. But I can't remember +having ever seen anything that _begins_ to express what we think (or +ought to think) now. + +Everyone in the Church of England now seems to me to think _almost +exactly_ what was thought when this cathedral was built! If this war +achieves nothing else, I pray with all my mind, and all my soul, and all +my strength, that all the sects and all the churches may suddenly feel +tired of all the 1001 little methods of procedure, and say: "Damn it +all! what does all this ancient paraphernalia mean to us? Is God quite +so complicated and involved as we have supposed? Everything else in the +world progresses. Thought progresses. Let us take a deep breath, and +realize that religion ought to be more 'into the future' than even +Zeppelins or Tanks, please." + + +[Illustration: EXPLOSION OF AN AMUNITION DUMP +The smoke from a large explosion usually assumes a queer tree-like form +and disperses slowly.] + + +_December 2._ + +Just been superintending the burying of some horses. A curious job. You +have to disembowel them first. Quite ghoulish. And then head and legs +are cut off, and the whole is buried in a hole 12 feet deep. Up there +they often lie about for some time, and get as smelly as dead human +beings. Back here it all has to be done prestissimo. + +The strange thing is that, whereas before the war I should have felt +sick and possibly dreamt about it, now it seems merely more boring than +most other things of the kind. + +Up there Tommies and Honourables eat their lunch of sandwiches with lots +and lots of dead people in varying stages of decomposition all round. An +odour more hideous than anything you have ever imagined. But you get +used to it. + +[Sidenote: TALKING ABOUT HOME] + +"How unpleasant they are to-day," you say to anyone you are with. +And the answer is probably just a laugh. Then you go on (if things are +quiet) to discuss an imaginary day at home. You would smile. + +We actually discuss everybody's clothes, the things in the room, the +shape of the fireplace, the look of the tea-things and the comfiness of +the chairs. + +And we always end up by saying: "And then after that I shall do +absolutely _Nothing_ for a fortnight!" + + +_December 3._ + +December. Frost on the trees, all fairy-like in this dense mist. Not a +sound. The sun quite small and white and far away. And if we were on the +Cotswolds, I expect we should go out for a bit of a walk, just to warm +up, after breakfast. + + +_December 4._ + +A staff job has been in the air several days. It may or may not come +off. I'm not very keen about it in many ways. But I've a feeling that I +could do it rather well, and so I'm not sure that I oughtn't to accept. + +Jezebel and Swallow have quarrelled. Isn't it awful. Hunt has had to +put Tank in between them. + +Jezebel kicked Swallow, and the blood fairly spouted out--got her in the +leg, and she lost her temper, and began lashing out. Hunt, with great +presence of mind, threw a bucket of water over them both. And as soon as +they were quiet, dear, good, demure little Tank was put in between them +as buffer. + +It's a most dreadful nuisance. They used to get on so well together. I +hope they will leave that curious little Tank alone. Swallow is as lame +as a cat now. The accursed female is very exasperating, I fear. Hunt +quite irritated me for a moment when he remarked, after the incident: +"Oh, it's all right, sir. She was in one of her moods." I pointed out to +him that it was not all right. Whereupon he took it into his head that I +was strafing him, and muttered sulkily: "Well, sir, I must say I never +did like Abroad." + +Which made me laugh to such an extent that I got a sort of fit of +laughing (don't you know?) and couldn't stop. Eventually I had to go +away. He looked so comic and so dejected, and his use of the word Abroad +(as if it were a country in itself) always makes me laugh idiotically. I +haven't seen him since, and it will be difficult to explain the apparent +frivolity. + +Things have been very complicated just lately owing to our having to +make arrangements about taking over this new bit of line. + + +_December 5._ + +[Sidenote: CONCERNING WORK] + +One of the many things the war has taught us, I think, is the +comparative equality of all work. Work depends almost entirely on the +actual number of hours per diem, don't you think? + +Certainly brain work is more tiring than spade work. But I'll guarantee +that the man who does eight hours' brain work is not _much_ more tired +than the man who does eight hours' spade work. + +The only difference is that open-air work means better health, and +consequently more power to work long hours. + +But I really do believe that, for example, a nurse's day's work (either +for wounded or babies) is _just_ as hard as a bricklayer's day, or a +bank clerk's day, or an engine driver's day. And I believe that the +various degrees of skill, necessary for doing any job really well, are +not very different on the whole. Different, yes, but not very different. +A General's job is difficult, but not _much_ more difficult than a +nurse's job. + +And so I believe all jobs ought to be paid on a rather more equal +footing. Not on an equal footing, but a _rather more equal_ footing +than now. + +Do you agree? + + +_December 6._ + +Cathedrals, the earth, the sky, and all that in them is--those are the +things that rest and soothe one out here. Thank God for cathedrals! How +splendid of Litlin, to be getting Bunny taught reels. I do trust she +will give lots of attention to it. + +After seeing a certain amount of human misery and so forth, I believe +more than ever that the whole aim of the world is in the direction of +Joy. And as dancing is one of the most primitive expressions of joy, +give me dancing, says I. + +This is all said in the middle of dictation of orders, and so I expect +it's ungrammatical, but you know what I mean. + + +_December 7._ + +What do you think? I lunched to-day with George. We lunched in a most +superb officers' club, formerly the house of some Count or other: all +white and gold, and chandeliers and mirrors--a dream. + + +_December 8._ + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL ACCEPTS AN APOLOGY] + +Our move has been postponed twice now, and we don't go till Monday. + +But meanwhile I heard from Mark to-day. He is A.D.C. to the G.O.C., and +apparently caught sight of Roger and me the other day, while flashing +past in the G.O.C.'s car. So we are going to have a great meeting. It +will be immense fun. Mark, Dennis and I were all tremendous +friends--just the same type. + +Swallow is much better, and Jezebel says that, if she had known Swallow +would bleed so much, she would have kicked him in a different place, +where he wouldn't have bled so profusely. This, for Jezebel, is +extremely gracious. + +Tank's only remark about being put between the two was: "Well, I'm +always very glad to do what I'm told." + +Swallow is desperately sorry about the whole affair, and is on +tenter-hooks lest Jezebel should never speak to him again. He says she +really didn't mean to kick, and she can't understand how it is that he +has so little control over himself. So all's well. + + +_December 9._ + +Hunt and Hale have made their very tumble-down barn a perfect model of +neatness. They sleep within about 3 yards of the horses' heels. Hunt in +particular never likes to be far away from "my 'osses," as he calls +them. I have less and less say in the matter of the 'osses as time goes +on! I merely say: "Hunt, I want a horse and an orderly at 8 a.m. +to-morrow." + +It's useless for me to say I'd like Swallow or Tank or Jezebel, because, +if I name one in particular, there's always some reason why it would be +better not to ride that one that day. Oh, "she wants shoeing behind," +or, "she had one of her moods this morning, and so I exercised her very +early," or "he didn't eat his corn, and had better stay in." So I just +meekly ask for a horse. And a horse arrives. + +Swallow is still rather lame, but seems better now. And the gentle +influence of Tank is, I really believe, soothing Jezebel. Tank is a very +charming creature, and her perfect manners are a good example to the +other two. But--what an awful admission!--she is so good that I own I +find her rather dull. Poor little Tank! + +Jorrocks has gone off to a nasty place, I fear, with his troop. But all +seems fairly quiet at present. + + +_December 12._ + +The trek is at an end. + +We have arrived at a place well behind the line, and not at all +wrecked, except for holes here and there. But the river! Oh my aunt! +It's marvellous. It winds in and out of low hills, and as I saw it this +evening, from an eminence, it looked more snaky than ever. Huge great +loops with the lovely pale sedges on either side. The almost yellow +hills are dotted with junipers. I long to see it to-morrow morning. +There's no doubt it's one of the most fascinating rivers I've seen. +Hooded crows sailing over the uplands, and I met a flock of bright sweet +goldfinches near some guns, and a tree-creeper in a copse. + +[Sidenote: SAILLY-LE-SEC] + +What a wonderful day! It was snowing all the time, with quite warm, +sunny intervals. Swallow and Tank and Jezebel are all under cover, and +I've actually got a bed! You might not call it a bed, but it is a bed, +because it has four legs (one of them a biscuit tin). The place where we +were going to has been rather too heavily strafed lately, so they are +keeping us back here. + +Things are wonderfully quiet, and there are no batteries near us, which +is pleasant. I did want to show you the beautiful river winding in and +out of the little hills. The great river-bed is quite untouched by +shells here, and the very sight of it would soothe the most jangled +nerves. Oh, it did look so heavenly this evening. Thank God for this +glorious river. The snow melted as it fell. The snow flakes as they +touched the river were like fairies taking headers. + + +_December 15._ + +Isn't this fine about Peace? + +So Fritz would like Peace, would he? No amount of flamboyant talk can +possibly hide the fact that he wants peace. And it isn't the victor who +asks for peace first. Carry on, say we. + + +_December 20._ + +Have you had any of the letters in which I told you how the place we +were to have been sent to was too continuously strafed? And how we were +sent to this very quiet and unwrecked place? And how I've got a bed, and +how happy the horses are? + +About the intelligence job. Things are hanging fire rather, as the Staff +Major, who may ask for me to come away with him to another corps, is now +attached to this corps. So what will be the end of it I don't know. + +Frankly, I am sore tempted for this reason, that I think I could do it +rather well. Of course, each corps does things differently, but, judging +from the way in which this corps likes the job done, I feel certain I +could tackle it in another corps. That's boasting. But you understand +so perfectly. It would be glorious to be doing something really well. + +[Sidenote: A STAFF JOB] + +I _can't_ be an ordinary soldier. Too absent-minded--hopelessly vague +and careless. I live on tenter-hooks always. What detail have I +forgotten? What order did I give that could be taken two ways? + +It's sad for Pat that his friends are gone. I feel so murky when mine +go, that I understand what it must be for him. But friends or no +friends, broken-hearted or whole, we must damned well carry on! And +that's all about it. + +A perfect letter from old Norman to-day. He must be quite useless as a +soldier, whereas at his own job he stands alone, with a wonderful future +before him. Well, well! I meant not to grouse to you again. And here's a +letter nearly full of it. But there, I made a stupid mistake to-day, and +it's all so boring and beastly. + +Anyhow, we are fighting for civilization, and the Huns are, too, in a +way. But our idea of civilization is better than the Huns' idea. So we +gradually win. + + +_December 21._ + +I have at last made up my mind. I'm going to take on this job. How +unwillingly I can hardly tell you. I wanted to be in the great Push +next year so badly. Everyone, everything, is preparing for it. The +cavalry will get through, and I shall be driving about behind in some +gilded car, or watching from some very distant hill with Jezebel (who +won't care a damn whether the cavalry get through or not). + +But I had two interviews with the Major and the General to-day. Coves +like painters seem to be rather wanted, and--well, it's clear now. I +must go. + +To-morrow or next week, perhaps, the extreme fascination of the job will +obliterate a certain feeling of flatness, of disappointment, of ... of +... of shirking. Yes, that's it: I feel as if I were shirking all the +horrors. You see, I shall enjoy this job immensely. All the hateful +"arrangering things" for large numbers of men, all the tiresome +formalities, all the discomfort, all the future dangers, finished +with--over. I don't say that we've had _long_ periods of danger or +_much_ discomfort; but we've had quite enough to make a very ordinary +mortal hope never to go through it again. + +But to think that I've deliberately chosen the easy path. Well, I don't +care! I've chosen it. I meant to choose it. I'm glad I've chosen it. +That is the one job in the whole war that I could do really well. How +best to serve the country--that's the only question. So there you are. +I've been and took the plunge, and I believe I'm right. + +First of all a week or two getting to know the ropes in _this_ corps, +and then off with the Major and the General to another corps. + +My aunt! what an egoistical letter this is. However, to you no +apologies. + + +_December 22._ + +[Sidenote: A DECISION] + +Letters have been lurching in, in threes and fours. But what matters it +how they come? I always know that they are coming. And the future's +where _my_ heart is always. So here's to the letters to come, and here's +to our meeting again, and here's to Life--long, sweet, glorious Life. + +We shall see the Christmas roses of the Cotswolds together one day, and +I think the war will have given them a mysterious loveliness that we +never understood before. Every year they'll come up out of the ground +again and surprise us. I shall be getting older and older--and so will +you, too. And all our little plans will have a quiet, peaceful joy for +us that wouldn't have been possible but for the war. Art will be like +angels coming and going. Effort will be intensified. The lives of the +poor must be happier, because everyone will be more ready to give and +take. + +It won't come all at once. But there'll be a difference. The war will +have made a difference. Thank God for the war! + + +_December 25._ + +[Sidenote: CHRISTMAS 1916] + +Never talk about the "idle" staff. Yesterday we were working absolutely +solid without any break at all except an hour for lunch and an hour for +dinner (tea? away frivolous thought!) from 9 a.m. till 11.30 p.m. Most +interesting; but let's hope this first day's experience won't be a fair +sample, or I shall simply melt down like a guttered candle. None of the +Generals and people seemed to think it unusual. At least they never said +so. Personally I found it quite kolossal. + + +_12.30 a.m._ + +Such a funny Christmas Day! I've been fixing on a large map all the gun +positions on the corps front. There are a very great many, and the +positions must be marked very exactly. I was quite nervous lest there +should be a mistake. It has taken since about two o'clock till now. And +I think it is accurate at last. + +At about 10 p.m. I found out an awful mistake. One of the heavies quite +100 yards wrong, which might have meant that it would be ranging on the +wrong place, and probably do no damage whatever. Desperate thought! + +Well, the staff is the most hard-working body of men I've ever seen. +They don't appear ever to get any exercise. And, really, the work is all +so vital that I don't see how they ever can expect to get any exercise. + +About leave. Possibly on the way up to the other corps a side-slip to +Blighty will be allowed. + +Don't depend on anything. There seems to be a dearth of people who can +do this work, and so it would be unwise to count on getting away. The +thing is, however, conceivable--that is all. + + +_December 27._ + +First of all about current affairs here. + +Captain G---- is probably going to Army, so it is suggested that I shall +take his place here. He runs all the plotting of the aeroplane +photographs, etc., for the corps. It's a most awful and alarming +responsibility, and I don't feel that I can do it yet. May he not get +taken away just for a little while, or I'm lost. + +The corps commander sends for him (he has been doing the job for nine +months), and says: "Now, where is our line at the present moment? Has +so-and-so trench been repaired, and where is so-and-so German battery +that was shelling the ---- Brigade yesterday?" Well, of course I simply +couldn't answer these questions yet. + +The prospect is murky. Given a little time, I think I could do it; but +... well, one can but try. + +I asked the Captain if he thought leave at all possible. He most +strongly advised me not to dream of asking. The corps is certain to +refuse in any case, as they will want me to sweat up the show and get to +know all about it as rapidly as possible. + + +_January 2, 1917._ + +I think I shall be going to live with the R.F.C., so as to be able to +snatch their photographs the instant they come in--puzzle them out--put +them quickly on to a map--and send them off. Everyone then will know far +more quickly what Fritz is up to. + +So don't be surprised if letters are addressed from R.F.C. shortly. I +shall take a couple of draughtsmen and a clerk and an orderly, and Hale. + + +[Illustration: THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT +This small chalk mound was one of the most difficult obstacles on the +way to BAPAUME. In the foreground a large 'crump-hole' and the +remains of a little copse.] + + +_January 11._ + +[Sidenote: AEROPLANE PHOTOGRAPHS] + +I don't know when leave will be possible. This job is rather in the +making, and is really very important stuff. A great responsibility, +says the corps commander. In fact, I am just a bit nervous about +things generally. That battery that was reported in so-and-so wood. Is +it there still? Well, where has it moved to, then? You are not sure? Why +not? No recent photographs of it? But why not? Can it be in so-and-so +quarry, perhaps? That light railway has been repeatedly smashed up by +our heavies. Repaired? What? What evidence have you? Let me have a map +as soon as possible, showing exactly where you believe that line has +been repaired, and the exact position of that battery in the quarry--if +it really is there. But don't tell me it's in the quarry unless you are +quite sure. Yes, sir. And you'd better have the map duplicated. How many +can the draughtsmen print before to-morrow? About 300. Well, send out +copies. I must have that battery silenced at once. Do you see? Can I +rely on it being sent out in time? Yes, sir. + +That's the sort of thing. Things that _must_ be done and quickly. +Perhaps it sounds nothing much--a mere bit of a map. But maps are like +lamps to men in the dark. And they must be accurate. To me, therefore, +the most inaccurate, absent-minded mortal before the war that ever +breathed, it is all a source of great anxiety. + + +_January 12._ + +I've got a bedroom with a brick floor in a cottage. I really hardly know +what it's like, as I arrive there about twelve o'clock every night and +fall into bed, and then up again at 7.30 next morning as a rule, and +frowsy at that. The roads here are just as muddy as ever, and if you go +off the roads you go too deep. We are camouflaging the whole place, and +I think it will soon be very difficult for the Huns to see it. At least, +when I say "we" are camouflaging, I mean that I run out for two minutes +about every three hours, and give hurried directions to a few bewildered +men, and rush in again. I'm sure they think the extraordinary patterns +that I order them to paint all over the huts, etc., are quite mad. The +R.F.C. show isn't ready yet, but it's likely to be so shortly. + + +_January 17._ + +To-day's letter got me into an absurd fit of internal laughter. Hale +brought it in while I was poring over some new photographs of Boche +emplacements, or dug-outs, or something--poring with a magnifying +glass.... And then came your drawings of the rooms at the cottage. + +That'll be admirable. I tried to hold my head and think of exactly how +the cottage looked, and where the new rooms were to be; but somehow I've +got no brains left. And I leave it all to you. One day we shall be able +to discuss it peaceably, but at present this brain is like some limp +jellyfish floating in the sea. + +To-day I'm doing a map, and the draughtsmen are copying it, of some +Boche dug-outs. Ye gods! what do I care about dug-outs! As well make +maps of all the rabbit-holes in Glamorganshire. But there, what's the +good of talking like that. It's got to be done. + + +_January 24._ + +[Sidenote: BUSY DAYS] + +The aeroplanes have brought in the most marvellous photographs, and I am +very busy deciphering them and mapping the information on to a map. + + +_February 8._ + +After many, many days of incessant work comes a brief interval of +repose--till to-morrow morning. + +We moved up here yesterday afternoon late. + +Well, imagine a lovely large hut. + +The room on the left is where all the maps, etc., are made, and the +room on the right is my office. + +But outsiders can't just barge into my office. Oh no! They must ask one +of the orderlies if they can see me. Isn't it ridiculous! + +Then there is a tiny bedroom. + +The office walls are entirely covered now with aeroplane photos and +maps. It is all rather fun, and I think it won't be quite such a strain. +The cold is intense. Hale is functioning with the stove in my room at +the moment. I have said once that I don't really need a fire in my +bedroom; but he evidently has different views, and is firmly lighting +it. He is quite happy here. + +I'm having the hut papered, to make it warmer. And canvas curtains, if +you please! + +The R.F.C. people are most hospitable and nice. I like them very much. +It's all quite interesting, and the aeroplanes are delicious as they +move, buzzing like vast mosquitoes. + +I go down in a side-car every day (that's the programme) to corps H.Q. +to report and get instructions. + + +_February 12._ + +Something may happen to prevent leave before leave comes. You will +understand. I should have to "remain at my post," as novels say. + + +_February 15._ + +[Sidenote: WITH THE R.F.C.] + +A very difficult map has just been finished, and is being printed, and +here we sit down for a little talk together. The war is for the moment +far away. Away anxiety, away nervous apprehension, away fatigue, away +responsibility, away Wilhelm! Let the doors be shut, the curtains drawn. +Listen. An adventure, amusing, and rather exciting. Would you like to +hear about it? Well, I was making a raised map of a particular part of +the line for the corps commander. And I go up from time to time to scan +the ground, so that it may be very accurate and therefore rather useful. +At least that is what I hope. Yesterday, then, up into the blue, piloted +by Eric. + +It was not a good day. In fact, too dud for good observation. But the +relief map must be ready quickly. + +Imagine us, please, robed in leather coats and leather helmets and +gauntlets, and with goggles, waiting at the entrance of a hangar while +the mechanics bring out the gadfly. They have already looked the +creature over with great care. The pale yellow wings glitter against the +violet horizon. The sun is shining, but it's freezing hard. Eric climbs +in, and then I do. I sit behind with the machine gun. + +I clasp a sketchbook, to sketch the lie of the land. O my aunt in +Jericho! isn't it Arctic! Fingers that feel like ammoniated quinine. You +know, a faint unpleasant tingle. + +They are starting the engines. Difficult this cold weather. The +following strange colloquy ensues: + + _Mechanic:_ "Contact." + _Pilot:_ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Switch off." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Suck in." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + +And with a terrific whir the propeller flashes round. The sound +increases, and then decreases slightly, and increases again. The gadfly +moves. Moves more rapidly. Skims along the ground. Rises, rises, rises. +Ah, the beautiful river! Every time I have flown the beauty of that +river catches me in the throat. But this featureless waste. Bereft of +everything but earth, and a few low shelters and gun-pits, and seamed +with trenches. Hideously lonely. + +Well, anyhow, here we are sailing high above it all, the wind +occasionally lifting one of the wings, and then the other, like a +sea-gull's. There is a haze, and it's not easy to see. You peer over the +edge, and behold at last the desired wood. + +[Sidenote: A SCRAP IN THE AIR] + +A wood? That? Good heavens! That poor miserable mess of splinters and +gashed soil? Each time I see one of the woods destroyed by this war I +thank God that our glorious Cotswold woods are still untouched. +Primroses, wood-anemones, squirrels. To think of squirrels!... Not +another aeroplane in sight. Neither our own nor Hun machines. Eric +circles smoothly round above the wood, and then crosses back over +no-man's-land to fly low, so that I can see the wood obliquely. Archie +quite wide of his mark. This doubling and circling perplexes him. The +sketch progresses. I look round from time to time to see that there are +still no Huns about. Eric also looks about. No: nothing in sight. The +guns are pooping off, but the noise of the engines makes the guns sound +like tiny little "pops." There, now I've nearly done. Lucky I came, +because the wood isn't quite what we thought. Yes, that'll do.... We are +up at a considerable height.... + +Suddenly Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! above our heads. Three +Hun aeroplanes right on top of us; Eric drives headlong in a spiral +curve at full speed, smoke trailing out behind. The gun! I fumble. +Can't get round to it. Damn! + +Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! go the Huns. But Eric is faster. Are +they all Huns, though? Shall I fire? Yes. No. They daren't come down low +over our lines. We are safe. Yes, look, they were all Huns. They hang +about far up aloft. The Hun usually hunts in threes. Why, oh why, didn't +I fire? Well, it can't be helped now. Eric looks round. We both laugh. +"Why didn't you fire?" he shouts. I can't hear what he says, but I know +from the shape of his mouth that's what he is saying. I just smile and +shake my head. Can't explain now. + +Where on earth did they come from? Coasting about very high up, I +suppose, and suddenly swooped down at us. + +However, the drawing is done. So that's that. Home, John! + +One little bullet-hole through one of the wings, no more. Indifferent +shooting, my friend Fritz. However, I can't talk, because I never fired +at all! + + +_February 16._ + +I've never thanked you for the chocolates which arrived two days ago. +But they arrived during one of the avalanches of work, and were all +eaten within half an hour or so; not by me, but by various R.F.C. men +who are always coming in and out of my office for "the latest." + +[Sidenote: TOLL OF WAR] + +To-day all frosty and sunny. Think of going on to the terrace at home +before breakfast and seeing some jolly little new flower out, with the +Golden Valley behind, all grey-blue and woody. + +It's all working well here, and, being the representative of the corps, +I have a certain status which is pleasant. They think that I may or may +not give them a good character to the Powers that be. Quite fun. + +They are awfully nice fellows. The only two I knew before were Eric and +Bill Vivian. Bill I have known for a very long time, and during the war +I've seen a great deal of him, and was very fond of him. He was brought +down by Archie yesterday in our lines. Burnt to death. Dead when they +reached him. Yesterday night at mess we were all quite gay. Only one man +showed that his heart was as heavy as lead. And it seemed bad form. +Heaviness of heart is bad form. No gentleman should have a heavy heart. +A sign of weakness, of ill breeding. + + +_February 17._ + +To-day has been one of the jumpy, anxious days again, because something +is to happen shortly, and those concerned are ringing up all the time +asking me this and that about the Boche trenches, etc. And they want +maps of this and plans of that and t'other. It's these times before some +event that are so wearing. The smaller the event, the more wearing very +often, because it's just some one or two officers, perhaps, who are +doing the show, and, of course, half their success or failure depends on +whether an unhappy intelligence officer can tell them exactly what they +are up against, and exactly where it is and so on. I always go on the +principle of assuming the worst. If I think there _may_ be a minny to +meet them, I tell them there _is_ a minny, and probably two. It may not +be very cheering to them. But if the minny is there, well, then I've put +them on their guard; and if it isn't there, well, they can laugh at the +work of the staff, and there's no harm done. People don't realize the +awful strain and responsibility and hard work of staffs. It's sometimes +a nightmare. Think of it in this way: I make a slip. A dozen men get +killed. When the Push comes, I make another slip, and a hundred men get +killed. Perhaps more. All the work of the lazy and incompetent staff! +But if the staffs are lazy and incompetent, then, for goodness' sake, +let's put more energetic and more competent people in their places. But +where are these more competent people? In the divisions? in the +battalions? But that is exactly where the present staffs came from! And +they are the very people who originally jibed at the staffs! Well, +anyhow, the war will end some day. + + +_February 21._ + +[Sidenote: THE WILD DUCK] + +_Re_ America. It doesn't look much as if they were coming in now, does +it? However, one of the Scots Guards gave me June as the end of the war. +He offered me 10 to 1 in francs; but, as I am always rather muddled as +to whether that means that he gives me 10 francs if I win, or I give him +1 franc if I lose, or what, I declined to bet. I expect he thinks I +don't bet on principle. But, anyway, let's hope he wins. + +Leave is off at present. + +The worst of this game is that now I feel I want to do it all myself. I +really do know a fair amount about the Boche lines, and I long to spend +a day wandering about there taking notes! + +I was up yesterday afternoon trying to find out a certain T.M. battery, +and what should fly by quite close and quite unconcerned but a duck! We +were not very high, and it was very misty. The duck just appeared, with +his neck stretched out, eager and oblivious. And then vanished into the +mist again. I was thinking about that duck too much to find out what I +wanted. Anyway, it was a fruitless journey. But flying amongst clouds is +very beautiful. Sometimes we got above the clouds, to where the sun was +functioning away as efficiently as ever. The clouds looked like millions +of feather beds. + + +_March 2._ + +I have been doing some drawings of R.F.C. officers. They love being +"took" out here, and my office is rapidly degenerating into a club, +which makes work no easier. + +Well, you see from the papers what is happening. The Boche retires to +the Hindenburg Line, and we follow. + +I should so love to tell you all about it, but Mum's the word. A great +moral defeat for poor Fritz, anyway. + +The cavalry are sharpening their swords. + +The aeroplanes sail high up in the blue, like hungry hawks. + + +_March 5._ + +I am probably going off to-morrow. Now, where do you think? Paris? +Madrid? Anything of that sort? + +Wrong again. Shall I tell you? + +VICTORIA. + +I'll send you a telegram directly I get across the briny. + +And I plead for no "back from the war tea-parties," please! + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: PERONNE +From BIACHES +A few days after the evacuation. From a distance the place looked almost +intact, as some of the outside walls had been left standing. That white +building in the centre of the town was once the cathedral. MONT ST. +QUENTIN on the left. The thin white lines on the slopes beyond are +trenches.] + + +_March 22._ + +[Sidenote: THE HUN RETREAT] + +The Hun rearguards are now well beyond ----. I knew the place so +intimately from photographs, and from high up in the air, that a view of +it from terra-firma promised to be quite interesting. + +So with great eagerness, some sandwiches, and the faithful sketchbook, I +sallied forth. Harry came, too. A glorious day of brilliant sun and +brief snowstorms. + +From the aerodrome through all this devastated country, past wrecked +villages, orchards laid waste, dug-out camps, bivouac camps, R.E. dumps, +light railways, battered trollies lying on their sides, and all the ugly +confusion of old wire rusted a red-hot colour, bits of corrugated iron, +bits of netting screens, more wire, dead horses, dead men in all stages +of decomposition, legs, hands, heads scattered anywhere, dead trees, +mud, broken rifles, gas-bags, tin helmets, bully-beef tins, derelict +trenches, derelict telephone wires, grenades, aerial torpedoes, all the +toys of war, broken and useless. Tommy, the dear hairies, and the R.E. +dumps, to remind you what vast stores of everything are still being +accumulated. + +The ground becomes more and more like boiling porridge as you approach +no-man's-land. Of no-man's-land itself, perhaps, the less said the +better. No-beast's-land--call it that rather. And yet men have been very +brave, very tender, in no-man's-land. Next we come to those Hun trenches +that I have peered at from a distance so long and mapped so often. It +all seems rather futile now. + +Past the support trenches. Past the second line. Damn it! how much +larger and deeper that old emplacement is than I thought! The country is +less pitted, too. Of course, it hasn't been fought over like our back +areas. Why; here are trees scarcely knocked about at all. A recognizable +field there. How real that stream looks! And, oh Jemima! a blue tit. + +A little distance farther. Over that gentle rise, and there behold ----. +Surely one of the loveliest towns in France, on its low hill surrounded +by the quiet waters of the Somme. From a distance it looks all right; +though somehow, the smoke still ascending from it doesn't look natural. + +As you approach you realize that what looks so charming is just +empty, shelled, charred, and broken. The Huns have destroyed every +single house, all the bridges, and the cathedral, too. The cathedral +that once crowned the town now stands a pale crushed ghost in the +deserted market-place. + +[Sidenote: PERONNE] + +Some of the streets are almost amusing. Imagine Rye with the pretty +alleys so encumbered and piled up with roofs, sofas, the contents of +wardrobes, dormer-windows, smashed mirrors, rubble, and dust, that it's +quite impossible to proceed. Very well, that's ----. + +Go into the houses, and there it's just as it is in the streets. +Everything crushed to atoms. Images of saints have been hurled out on to +garbage-heaps, and in the cathedral huge pillars are lying about in +clumsy confusion amongst chairs, organ pipes, and gilded flowers. + +On a huge notice board in the Grande Place the Hun has written: + + NICHT ARGERN: NUR WUNDERN! + +(Don't argue: only wonder! We the Huns did this. Why discuss what we +have done? We have destroyed your city. Gape and stare, stupid fools! +What does it matter to us? We took your precious town from you, because +we wanted it. Now we don't want it any more. Here it is back again. +With our love.) Some merry soldier wrote that up, I suppose. It was a +pity. + +There were French officers in ---- to-day. I spoke to one. He answered +with a quiet, simple bitterness and determination that would have turned +even a Hohenzollern pale, I think. Unhappy Emperor! he must be feeling +decidedly uneasy nowadays. + +Another odd sight was a tub full of water, with a little dog trying to +get out. But the little dog was dead. A crump evidently landed somewhere +near, and just petrified him, as it were. You often see men like that, +struck dead in the middle of some act. Men are usually turned a dull +purplish or greenish black. So was this little dog. We ate a delicious +lunch on the battlements, our legs dangling 50 feet above the reedy +water. Lots of moorhen and coot swimming about. + +The sun was warm. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. What a heavenly world +it is! + + +_April 6._ + +After a hectic day comes this chance of writing to you. Eleven-thirty +p.m. + +Would you like to hear about night flying? I didn't go, but I sketched +the others going. And these are some notes. A bombing raid. It had been +ordered in the morning. A raid on ----. After a cheery dinner we trooped +out, singing foolish songs. The hangars a few hundred yards away across +the mud. They looked huge and eerie, looming up from the dark ground, +all stately in the moonlight. The moon had a halo, but was very bright, +bright enough to sketch by. + +[Sidenote: NIGHT FLYING] + +Six flares were flickering at intervals round the aerodrome. A vivid +orange colour against the dim blue sky. The horizon was greyer, and +little flames flashed intermittently from it. There were the aeroplanes +waiting. + +It was very cold. Soon the mechanics were starting the machines. The +usual loud spurting and fizzing till presently the first machine begins +to move. A big semi-luminous beetle lurching forward; then faster and +faster and away, lifting up, up, up into the night. Only the lights +visible now, but you can hear the hum of the engines a long way off. +Other machines follow. The sky is full of twinkling fairies. They circle +about for a bit, and then all head towards the east. Gradually the +humming dies away in the distance. Look out for yourselves, you sleeping +Huns! + +A long while afterwards the humming again. + +The first aeroplane is coming home. There he is. Gradually lower and +nearer. The machine descends smoothly on to the ground, turns and +"taxis," spitting angrily towards the hangar where it lives. Muffled +figures get out, and the mechanics take in the machine tail first to its +home. What? oh yes, quite successful. Smashed the place to blazes. +Anyone got a cigarette? Other machines begin coming in. It's such a +clear night that we still stand about in groups waiting for the last one +to arrive. Damn it all! where can old Rupert have got to? We'll just +wait till he comes back, and then bundle off to bed. Anxious? Good Lord, +no! What about? + +Suddenly a small sharp flash high up in the night. Another and another. +The Huns! They are coming. Archie is shelling them. Now another Archie +poops off nearer here. Quick! Where's the orderly officer? + +In a couple of minutes all is dark. Gradually the drone of the Huns, +high up in the air, becomes audible. No. They seem to be steering more +towards ----. Searchlights from three different directions grope slowly +to and fro. Where the devil are the Huns? The searchlights cannot find +them. They must be cruising somewhere up above those thin cirrus clouds. +Are they going to drop bombs on us? No, their direction is too far +south. The searchlights cannot find them. + +[Sidenote: THE END] + +No sign of Rupert yet. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Letters to Helen + Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front + +Author: Keith Henderson + +Illustrator: Keith Henderson + +Release Date: September 2, 2005 [EBook #16626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HELEN *** + + + + +Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger, +Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>LETTERS TO HELEN</h1> +<h2>By KEITH HENDERSON</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus004" id="illus004"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Crucifix Corner"> +<tr><td align='left'>CRUCIFIX CORNER<br /> +Between <span class="smcap">Montauban & High Wood</span><br /><br /> +One of the hands was shot away, and the figure hangs there suspended +from the other. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus004.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + +<h1>LETTERS TO HELEN</h1> + +<h2>Impressions of an Artist<br /> +on the Western Front</h2> + +<h2>By KEITH HENDERSON</h2> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center">Illustrated</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center">LONDON</p> + +<p class="center"><big>CHATTO & WINDUS</big></p> + +<p class="center">MCMXVII +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;"> +<p>These letters were never intended for publication.</p> + +<p>But when the pictures were brought back from France it was suggested +that they should be reproduced, and a book evolved.</p> + +<p>Then a certain person (who shall be nameless) conceived the dastardly +idea of exposing private correspondence to the public eye. He proved +wilful in the matter, and this book came into the world.</p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus004">Crucifix Corner</a></span></td><td align='right'><i>Frontispiece</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus021">A Conference in the Chateau</a></span></td><td align='right'><i>To face page</i> 6</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus029">Bailleul</a></span></td><td align='right'>10</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus041">Le Mont des Cats</a></span></td><td align='right'>18</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus059">Fricourt Cemetery</a></span></td><td align='right'>32</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus079">Trenches between Fricourt and La Boiselle</a></span></td><td align='right'>48</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus089">Gird Trench</a></span></td><td align='right'>54</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus099">A House in Geudecourt</a></span></td><td align='right'>60</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus109">A Wounded Tank</a></span></td><td align='right'>66</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus125">Explosion of an Ammunition Dump</a></span></td><td align='right'>78</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus143">The Butte de Warlencourt</a></span></td><td align='right'>92</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#illus161">Peronne</a></span></td><td align='right'>106</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><small><i>Transcriber's Note: The following probable typos have been left as +in the original:</i></small></p> +<ul><li><small>lepping</small></li> +<li><small>AMUNITION</small></li> +</ul> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LETTERS TO HELEN</h2> + + +<p><i><br />June 6, 1916.</i></p> + +<p>Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been +to sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. +And now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to +write a letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and +unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most +Sherlock Holmes secrecy. Not a word about which ports we were sailing +from or to.</p> + +<p>However, I'll tell you what I can without disclosing any names of +places.</p> + +<p>After moving off at midnight from among the Hampshire pine-trees, we +eventually reached our port of departure. Great fun detraining the +horses and getting them on board. The men were in the highest spirits. +But how disgusting those cold rank smells of a dock are.</p> + +<p>We sailed the following evening. Hideously rough, and it took seventeen +and a half hours. The men very quiet indeed and packed like sardines. +It was wonderful to think of all those eager souls in all those ships +making for France together over the black deep water. Some had gone +before, and some came after. But the majority went over that night. I +felt decidedly ill. And it was nervous work going round seeing after the +horses and men when a "crisis" might have occurred at any moment! +Luckily, however, dignity was preserved. Land at last "hove in sight" as +the grey morning grew paler and clearer. What busy-looking quays! More +clatter of disembarkation. No time to think or look about.</p> + +<p>Then, all being ready, we mounted and trekked off to a so-called "rest +camp" near the town, most uneasy and hectic. But food late that evening +restored our hilarity. A few hours' sleep and we moved off once more +into the night, the horses' feet sounding loud and harsh on the unending +French cobbles. By 8 a.m. we were all packed into this train. Now we are +passing by lovely, almost English, wooded hills. Here a well-known town +with its cathedral looks most enticing. I long to explore. Such singing +from the men's carriages! Being farmers mostly, they are interested in +the unhedged fields and the acres of cloches. They go into hysterics of +laughter when the French people assail them with smiles, broken +English-French, and long loaves of bread. They think the long loaves +<i>very</i> humorous! There are Y.M.C.A. canteens at most stations, so we are +well fed. The horses are miserable, of course. They were unhappy on +board ship. A horse can't be sick, you know, even if he wants to. And +now they are wretched in their trucks, Rinaldo and Swallow are, of +course, terrified, while Jezebel, having rapidly thought out the +situation, takes it all very quietly. She has just eaten an enormous +lunch. Poor Rinaldo wouldn't touch his, and Swallow only ate a very +little.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FRANCE AT LAST</div> + +<p>In this carriage Jorrocks is snoring like thunder. Edward is eating +chocolate. Sir John is trying to plough through one of "these Frenchy +newspapers—damned nonsense, you know! they don't know what it all means +themselves." And Julian is scrutinizing a map of our area.</p> + +<p>Everyone is so glad to be going up right into it now. That pottering +about at home was most irritating. Just spit and polish, spit and polish +all the time since August, 1914.</p> + +<p>We are all getting cramp, and have to stand up occasionally. Toby has +smoked his fourteenth pipe.</p> + +<p>Oh, look! What a lovely rainbow! Treble. And under it a village with an +estaminet, a dozen slate-roofed houses, and a very new château, hideous +with scarlet bricks and chocolate draw-bridge and pepper-pot turrets. +Poplars and more poplars. Still we rumble along through symmetrical +France.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 7.</i></p> + +<p>We are in one of the most lovely old French châteaux I have ever +imagined. Half château, half farm, fifteen miles behind the line. We +remain here for two or three days. Arrived late last night, tired and +grubby. But, O ye gods, when dawn began to reveal this old courtyard +with its hens and chickens and pigeons! On one side the old house with +its faded shutters. On the other side the old gateway with a square +tower and a pigeon-cote above. Along the other sides old barns. The +country round we have hardly seen, but it looks exquisite. There are +several most attractive foals in a field close by.</p> + +<p>And inside the château funny old-fashioned things—old beds with frowsty +canopies, and old wall-papers with large designs in ferns and +cornucopias. Imitation marble in the hall. Gilded tassels. Alas! my kit +has not yet arrived. It's awful. And the anxiety to draw these things is +feverish. We go so soon.</p> + +<p>When you look out of the rooms into the courtyard, you see our waggons +and draft-horses, and the men eating bully-beef like wolves. Some of +them (including Sergeant Cart) are shaving and washing stripped to the +waist. The others just tear at the bread and beef and munch without +speaking. Corporal Nutley and Corporal Field are pointing with their +tea-mugs to the old gateway and the ducks and things. They all evidently +love it. They sleep in the barns amongst the hay. The sun is warm and +sleepy.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 8.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE CHATEAU-FARM</div> + +<p>Still at this lovely château-farm, and Life seems to have gone into a +trance. I wake up and look out into the courtyard and the sunlight, on +geese, Muscovy ducks, pigs, and pigeons, and it all feels like a +half-forgotten story. There are traces of the Huns, but all that seems +unreal. You hear the boom! boom! boom! of the guns all day, and more so +at night; but nothing can disturb the extraordinary remote peace of this +château. The very stones in the courtyard look more friendly and more +countrified than ordinary stones, as if some ancient fairy lived here. +There's no doubt at all that the men feel it. Several of them have said +how they like the place. They think it's a little bit like ——shire. I +think I know what they mean.</p> + +<p>After the war perhaps we may visit the place together: I should love +showing it to you. I'm not at all sure that it's really very beautiful. +The architecture isn't good when you consider it. But somehow....</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 10.</i></p> + +<p>The same château. We are living a simple and brainless life. No +field-days, of course, and for this relief much thanks. We don't know in +the least what is happening. Troops come and troops go, and guns go by +during the night, and Red Cross waggons go hither and thither, and the +old turkey gobbles.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I was out with my troop, quite uninteresting. But what do you +think? Something exploded not 100 yards away from Rinaldo. I was much +farther off, dismounted. He didn't turn a hair, but only looked round +and watched the smoke. Whereas, as you know, a little bit of paper blown +across the road sends him into paroxysms of terror.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus021" id="illus021"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: A Conference in the Chateau de Febvin-Palfart"> +<tr><td align='left'>A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU DE FEBVIN-PALFART<br /><br /> +There are many of these old chateaux-farms in Northern France. The beds +are under great frowsy canopies and all the curtains are looped up with +heavy tassels. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus021.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />June 11.</i></p> + +<p>I went into an old church in a large town ten miles from here to-day +with Sergeant Hodge. There were the usual tinsel things and red baize +and sham flowers. Sergeant Hodge much impressed. He said after we +emerged: "You know, sir, it's very fine indeed. It puts me in mind of +a bazaar." This was in all good faith, and was intended as a great +compliment to the church! We are having lots of rain, which is bad for +the horses, who are picketed in the open. And thunder. It's often +extremely difficult to tell whether, when the thunder is far away, it is +thunder or guns. Quite a novel experience, and quite pleasant after the +long period of make-believe in England. Discipline. So salutary and so +irksome. Now for the battle. I own I long to get into the thick of it +soon. We see infantry returning and going up, and we feel sick, somehow, +to be still safe.</p> + +<p>This country is very charming, but a bit monotonous. Every road and +every field exactly like every other.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 13.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A SERVICE FOR KITCHENER</div> + +<p>A service to-day for Kitchener. And we had to ride fifteen miles there +in pouring rain. Then we stood in deep mud for about an hour, the rain +gradually trickling down our necks.</p> + +<p>To-day delicious rumours of a German defeat at Verdun. Lots of +prisoners, including the Crown Prince!</p> + +<p>Goodness me, such rain. Jezebel bit Swallow above the eye merely to show +what her feelings were. He now has one eye enormously swollen and +almost closed up. It is dressed with iodine, so he looks most +remarkable. His beauty much damaged. But it will only be temporary.</p> + +<p>Hunt tells me that Swallow is so frightened of Jezebel he daren't lie +down at night. But then, Hunt thinks Jezebel a sort of Bucephalus, and +the more horses she kicks or bites the more pride he takes in her. He +has no love for Swallow, unfortunately.</p> + +<p>There's a distant cannonade going on to-day. We all eye each other.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 17.</i></p> + +<p>In the small-hours of to-night we leave this wonderful place. Why we +were ever sent here or why moved away is one of those mysteries only +known to a few staff officials.</p> + +<p>But how we have loved it. At least I have. Some of the others—Jorrocks +for instance—have been bored. But, then, they couldn't draw, poor +dears. Do you know I have done three pictures. That's a lot in this +military life. One of the courtyard, with cocks and hens and things, and +in the distance men cleaning their saddles. Another of the vestibule, +with Julian and Edward consulting over some map or other at a table. +Another of a "fosse" or coal-pit about a mile away. A coal-pit sounds +repulsive, but not so in Northern France. They are away from all houses +and surrounded by corn-fields. The coal refuse is the curious part of +it. Up it comes from the main shaft and is piled up into a series of +large pyramids, visible for miles around. Many of the famous "redoubts" +are coal-refuse pyramids really. And such nice little chimneys. +Rinaldo—gone! Isn't it heartbreaking! An important person comes nosing +round, and asks for him. Sir John doesn't like to refuse. I am +powerless. Adieu, dear Rinaldo! One gets awfully fond of a horse. +Rinaldo was very naughty sometimes, but I loved him all the more for it. +And now his good looks have been disastrous. Oh that he had been uglier. +Isn't it maddening. Such a leaper, so fast, and such courage. Well, +perhaps I shall see him again.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 19.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">FEBVIN TO BAILLEUL</div> + +<p>At the last moment an order that we are not to go. Then late last night +an order to send on an advanced party of one officer and one sergeant +and two men immediately. So off I go with Sergeant Dobbin and Hunt and +Noad. We had to find billets and bivouacs for the squadron at a place +far from here. This we did, and the squadron has just arrived, and we +have had lunch and are feeling very fat indeed. We have just seen a +pretty aeroplane show. Six of them flew over our heads towards the +Boche, and presently puff, puff! went the little dark clouds of smoke +all amongst them. They then got too high and too far off for us to see, +but we still saw the Archie shells following them. First a flash in the +sky, then a very dark spot; then the spot grows larger and fluffier, and +becomes a dusky little cloud. So you see some flashes, some dark spots, +and some larger fluffy clouds—all on the wretched aeroplane's track.</p> + +<p>Only two returned, alas! but they told us they had brought down three +Aviatiks.</p> + +<p>We're moving with great rapidity up into colder climes. More anon.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 22.</i></p> + +<p>I wrote a p.c. early this morning, as I thought I might get no other +chance. Things are all merry and bright. We have moved up like oiled +lightning from —— to a rather famous place. Hedges and hop-fields. +Very interesting church—not hurt at all. We are suffering so (at least, +the poor men are) from thirst. There's no water anywhere. I long to gulp +down green pond water. However, that will be remedied shortly, I hope. I +went into the big town and bought a barrel of beer for the men. Tempting +Providence. But there's nothing else. The water isn't good even when +boiled. However, all will be well soon.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus029" id="illus029"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Bailleul"> +<tr><td align='left'>BAILLEUL<br /><br /> +A peaceful place behind the battle. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus029.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />June 23.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">MANY SMELLS AND NO WATER</div> + +<p>The most extraordinary things are happening. All very quiet and humdrum +on the surface. Only the aeroplanes are busy, and if the sun is between +you and them there are always the little black high Archie clouds +following them, like vultures appearing from nowhere.</p> + +<p>Our quick bolt up here has had several pleasant results. First, the +country is very beautiful, more hilly in this immediate neighbourhood, +with great plains stretching away on all sides. The low hills all have +woods round them, and a windmill or a church on the top. Second, B +Squadron have already arrived, and our old Brigade-Major and lots of +other old friends. It was most joyous meeting them all again. We came +trotting down one road, covered with dust, and they came trotting down +another road even more covered with dust, having trekked all day.</p> + +<p>Isn't it funny. One gets so quickly used to things that already we have +ceased to notice the smells, which at first made us wield bottles of +disinfectant wherever we went. But now, when the farms and outhouses and +other places where we live smell, we merely laugh, and "fatigues" are +all at work automatically before nightfall, and by next morning—well, +the smells have not gone, but the general feeling is that a good start +has been made.</p> + +<p>The water problem is still unsolved, and we get very thirsty; but thirst +is a small fleabite, after all. "Which would you rather have," I asked a +discontented lance-corporal, "a bit of a thirst or a dentist drilling a +hole down a pet nerve?" And he owned he'd rather have a thirst. You +know, it's most awkward. They come to you when there's any difficulty +and seem to think you can put things right always. For instance, a man +came up the other day: "Please, sir, I've lost my haversack." "When did +you miss it first?" "Between —— and ——, sir." "Now what do you want +me to do?" "I don't know, sir." "Do you want me to go back to —— and +search the whole of the twenty odd miles to —— on the off chance of +finding it?" "No, sir." "Do you want to do so yourself?" "No, sir." "And +even if I ordered you to go, do you think that, with so many troops +about, you would be likely to find it still there?" "No, sir."</p> + +<p>The result is, of course, that I have to buy one for the unfortunate lad +in the nearest town. One must eat. And our haversacks are our larders. +Haversacks are supplied by the army, but it takes such a time to get +anything, that, if the matter is urgent, it has to be done without the +army. We (the bloomin' orficers) have a "mess-cart" for all our absurd +wines and tinned peaches and things, but the men often have nothing but +the contents of their haversacks.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 25.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">READY FOR THE PUSH</div> + +<p>We are in a funny state of waiting for something to happen. Rumours +flying about all the time. We live on them—a bite off one, a slice off +another, a merry-thought off another. And so we learn the news of the +world. Papers when we get a chance of going into some town, and then +only two days old, or else French, which are very scrappy. Often we get +no news at all for three or four days, except what some passing +ambulance will vouchsafe. And usually they don't really know much. So +when there's an extra heavy strafing or an extra quiet lull we learn +that the entire German staff has been captured, or Rheims evacuated, or +Holland sunk, or something else equally strange. The M.G.'s were +hammering away furiously last night, and the whole line was lovely with +star shells hanging like arc lights in the air, and then dropping slowly +to earth. They light up everything like immense moons.</p> + + +<p><i><br />June 28.</i></p> + +<p>Starting from the farm where the horses are hidden at nine o'clock last +night (twenty-one, as we call it out here), after a hot meal, we +marched through Bedfordshire-like country, along ascending paths, to the +bottom of a wooded hill where a motor lorry with picks and shovels met +us. Thence along a narrow muddy path through a wood. The path circles +round the hill. The east side of the hill faces the Boche front line. It +was still quite light. The undergrowth thick and dank. Our fellows very +merry. The Boches know this path, which is pitted with shell holes. They +shell the place by day, oddly enough, but hardly ever by night.</p> + +<p>It was raining gently. Turtle-doves continually crossed our way. I felt +much intrigued. A very weird wood. The guns crashed lethargically, +intermittently.</p> + +<p>When we got round to the east side of the hill, the R.E.'s, who were +acting as guides, comforters, and friends, showed us what we were to do: +to dig a line of trench 6 feet deep, and as narrow as might be, for some +cables that were to lead into a very important set of dug-outs for +certain pink and gold people.</p> + +<p>The dug-outs are deep in the side of the hill. It's what is called an +advanced H.Q.—<i>i.e.</i>, when the Push begins, the gilded ones will crawl +in and rap out messages to the various commanders, and watch the battle.</p> + +<p>The R.E. officers showed us what was wanted, and each man put in his +pick or shovel to mark the line. This is the procedure: each pick or +shovel about 2 yards apart, and each man delves on that spot till he is +6 feet down. If it were not done like this, then (when it became too +dark to see) the line would be lost. This only applies fully, of course, +when you are in woods or other cover. Digging isn't really a cavalry +job. But what of that?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">TRENCH DIGGING</div> + +<p>Well, now we've started. It's about ten o'clock, and getting very dim. +Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle. Humphry and I creep up (neglectful of duty) +to the top of the hill. A tiny tower there, smashed to pieces, but +beautiful in the twilight. We creep about amongst shell craters. +Presently a strange sweet odour. Flowers? Impossible. We stare into the +dusk. An exquisite faint scent all around us. Surely, surely, thyme? +Yes, sweet-williams, thyme. Evidently there has been a cottage here, but +now only a mass of rubble and beams and glass to show where once it was. +Sweet-williams, thyme, and later some Canterbury bells. Another +dream-place, like that old château-farm.</p> + +<p>What a view from here of the German lines and ours! As it gets darker, +the flashes of the guns and the Very lights' solemn brilliance +illuminate the whole show like a map. That tragic ruin of a town on our +left is being shelled as usual. Jim is there. In front of us the German +salient. All comparatively quiet. How lovely it is! The sounds of our +men digging in the wet soil mingle now with other small noises. Voices +underground. Listen. And a mouth-organ's cheery bray coming from the +bowels of the earth. It is pitch-dark. We stand up like Generals +surveying the battle-field. No danger. The Boche does not waste +ammunition.</p> + +<p>The rain is very heavy. I have got a tuft of sweet-william to smell.</p> + +<p>We return to the men. They are wet through, but quite happy and content. +Not a bullet, not a scrap of anything that goes pop. They work in a +warm, wet peace. That is one of the odd things you learn—that only +certain places are dangerous, and usually only at certain times.</p> + +<p>The rain is coming down with tropical intensity. I am in a misty dream. +It's all so mysterious. Suddenly I fall over something—plonk into the +middle of some excavated earth, which the rain has made into semolina +pudding. Tiresome to be absent-minded. How it pours! Midnight.</p> + +<p>The roots of the trees make it very difficult to dig tidily, but the men +use their "billucks" with the unerring skill of farmers, and their +spades and picks as you or I would use a pencil. Time goes on. The +trench must be done before 2.30 a.m. We have to be gone before dawn. It +is nearly done now. Half-past twelve. The rain is stopping. One o'clock. +No, it isn't. It's coming down again. Half-past one. The trench is +finished. We must cover up all signs of it with branches, lest the wily +Taube should see, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.</p> + +<p>A quarter to two.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A STRAFE</div> + +<p>Suddenly crash! bang! clash! boom! bang! We almost jump out of our +skins. Where the deuce were all those guns hidden? From all about us, +and far away behind and on either flank, our guns have begun strafing. +The most hideous and deafening din.</p> + +<p>The ground seems to shake. Then an order comes that we are to clear out +at once. We do so. The Boches haven't answered yet, but they will. The +whole thing seems quite unreal. The men vastly entertained. I honestly +felt as if I were at some exciting melodrama. The least cessation of the +guns, and I found myself saying: "Don't stop! don't stop!" I shouted +into Corporal Nutley's car: "Can you hear what I'm saying?" and he +answered: "No, sir."</p> + +<p>At last we got out into the little path, and had to double along through +the mud. Humphry was last man out, and he saw the one and only shell +the Boches sent over, exploding quite close to the aforementioned +dug-out.</p> + +<p>Isn't it funny. The Boches don't apparently know of this dug-out, or of +the cable trenches, or they would, of course, smash it to pieces. And, +for some reason that I haven't yet grasped, they never reply to our guns +immediately. They wait for perhaps ten minutes, and <i>then</i> they don't +always reply to the same spot we spoke from. As, for example, this wood. +Our guns were all in and round about the wood. The Boches apparently +strafed back at an unoffending village on the west side of the hill.</p> + +<p>So, with our guns still behaving like things delirious, we eventually +reached the horses. Jezebel was quietly gorging herself with long +luscious grass beside the hedge. She told me she hadn't noticed anything +unusual. Poor Swallow was standing quite still, with his nostrils wide +open, breathing hard and trembling all over. A good many horses were +trembling, but the majority agreed with Jezebel: "It's only some silly +nonsense on the part of those Human Beings again. Don't listen."</p> + +<p>Then we saddled up and rode back to a place well behind, where we could +exercise the beasties. They had been given no exercise for three days. +And so home again to this farm. The horses are all in a field surrounded +by trees, and couldn't be seen from above at all. I have seen lots +of other horse-lines of other units, though, much closer to the front +than this is—quite open to view. The fact is, I think, that Hun +aircraft very seldom indeed gets across into our preserves.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus041" id="illus041"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Le Mont Des Cats"> +<tr><td align='left'>LE MONT DES CATS<br /> +Near <span class="smcap">Ypres</span><br /><br /> +In the early days of the war spies used to signal from the monastery on +the top of this hill. The country round about is quite flat and +water-logged. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus041.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />July 6.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE ROADS NEAR DRANONTRE</div> + +<p>Overnight it appears in orders that the roads from —— to —— via —— +are to be reported on with reference to their suitability for heavy +transport, guns, cavalry, infantry, etc.</p> + +<p>So after an early breakfast Hunt comes round, with Swallow for me and +Jezebel for himself, haversack rations for us both, and feeds for the +horses. I feel very much on the qui-vive, as I haven't seen that +particular part before.</p> + +<p>A grey warm day. Some miles to go due south before we get near our +destination. As we approach it we find, as usual, roads and railways +being made, and fatigue-parties repainting tents with blotches and +stripes. Then come notices, "No traffic along this road," or, "This road +liable to be shelled," with signboards at every corner, "To ——" or +some other place in the trenches. Sometimes the notices say +"Something-or-other Avenue" or "Burlington Arcade," etc.—nicknames, but +recognized officially. And all the time we are passing endless lorries +and Red Cross waggons and troops and dug-out camps. As we get closer the +signs of shelling get worse, and children are seen no longer. Old men, +though, occasionally observed working in a field quite unperturbed. +Rarely a French soldier or an interpreter with his sphinx badges. All +this quite lost on Hunt, who has "quite got used to abroad, thank you, +sir." He is eating chocolate or something, half a horse-length (the +correct distance) behind me.</p> + +<p>Now on our left is a famous ridge, with a ruined village on the top. +Not, you understand, a ridge in the Swiss sense, but rather in the +Norfolk sense. I should like to go and see it, but it's too open to the +Boche's eye, and I don't want to dismount yet. So we curve round +right-handed a bit. Aha! "To ——." Nous voilà! Follow down this muddy +track under cover of the ridge, and we arrive at ——. A wood just +beyond the little town. Oh, mournful wood! "Bois épais, redouble ton +ombre." But they say the anemones and the primroses were as merry and +sweet as ever this spring. Bravo little wood!</p> + +<p>The village is, of course, evacuated by all inhabitants. The houses all +in ruins. By now all the remaining windows have been boarded up and the +blown-out doors barred against prying eyes. Here we are at an old +estaminet called "Aux Cœurs joyeux." There's hardly anything but the +sign left. At the cross-roads in the centre of the town is the church, +so dismal. No roof, pillars broken and lying about the floor amongst +débris of broken images, chairs, and muddy rubble.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">PLOEGSTEERT</div> + +<p>As I am coming out I turn over the hand of an image, and underneath it +what the deuce is this? Why, a fragment of an old picture, torn and +decaying away. What shall I do? Leave it to rot? Give it to ... Yes, +exactly ... to whom? And would anyone thank me for it? Just a head of +St. John, very battered and faded. It's a fragment about a foot square, +and through all the mud one can see something like this: A head of St. +John in the corner; rays of light (two very thin small rays) shining on +him, and a look of great suffering on his face. The background a sort of +dull ochre. Evidently once a large composition. There are two books, one +with <span class="smcap">evan</span>, and the other with, I think, <span class="smcap">biblia sacra</span>, +written on it. It is quite worthless except from a sentimental point of +view.</p> + +<p>The exposure and the heat of the explosions have sadly cracked and +peeled the paint, but it seems vaguely symbolical. Near here I picked up +some minute bits of green glass.</p> + +<p>However, there was a notice: "It is dangerous to loiter here." So I tore +myself away, and we remounted. The Boche can't see into the town +because of the remaining buildings, but the whole place is utterly +empty—not a dog even.</p> + +<p>Soon the road to the next village <i>is</i> exposed to the Boche's view. +Therefore canvas screens about 20 feet high have been erected, so that, +if necessary, troops, and even lorries, can hurry by. It is most +curious. "But for that thin bit of canvas, my good Swallow, you would +get something into your tummy you wouldn't like," I remarked. At that +moment the sun came out. We were keeping to the side of the road where +it is soft going. Suddenly Swallow leaped like a stag into the middle of +the road all over the <i>pavé</i>. Panic terror. He had seen the shadow of a +starling flit across his path!</p> + +<p>Jezebel was tittuping along behind, thinking only of her next feed. I +cannot get her to take any interest in these thrilling spots. Sometimes +a soldier or two would emerge from a cellar, the entrance to which would +be piled up with sand-bags. And once or twice bang! bang! goes a gun +quite close by.</p> + +<p>Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out +of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a +very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three +different bridges—not the old bridges, which are broken down, but +sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on +the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of +the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to +civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way +behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of +those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress +they will look most charming, I think.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARMENTIERES</div> + +<p>Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from +which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the +everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here.</p> + +<p>Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes +little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering +round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an +A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop +under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing +so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are +practically out of the danger area by now, but you never know. Some +boring A.P.M. might pounce on the sketch and create a botheration.</p> + +<p>Meantime I have been laboriously making pretty maps to present to Sir +John, coloured maps showing where such and such a rise of ground could +be held, or where such and such a road offers difficulties to transport, +etc. But it's not easy to do, and we don't get back to camp till five +minutes before stables, having covered about thirty miles. Besides, we +had to stop and feed ourselves and the horses.</p> + +<p>Then stables. Sergeant Hodge reprimanded for not having reported a bad +kick. Southcombe slacking a bit. Must keep an eagle eye on that young +man. At the end a whistle (no trumpets allowed). The horses all neigh +and toss their heads and paw. Nosebags are put on, and after touring +round to see that all is correct we slope off to tea, which Hale and Co. +have got all ready. Luxurious ménage as of yore. But good when you're +hungry, there's no doubt. We are moving again—probably to-morrow.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 10.</i></p> + +<p>We have moved. The sixth time altogether. Not far though. A close view +of the sweet-william hill. It must be sketched.</p> + +<p>I am sitting on some sacks of corn, wondering why Fritz doesn't lob over +a crump or two, just to wake us up. Jezebel is gorging herself close by. +Swallow eats a bit, and then suddenly looks up and sniffs nervously. I +suppose he has heard a beetle trotting by, or seen a twig fall off a +tree.</p> + +<p>The horses are all picketed out in a field, and we are in bivvies. Hale +has made me a bed out of some poles and wire netting, as he says it is a +clay subsoil and I mustn't lie on the grass. I suppose he knows.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 12.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE HORSES</div> + +<p>I'm writing this in a queer dilapidated mud cottage, inhabited by an +ancient ex-soldier aged eighty-three. He is very difficult to +understand. His language is quite foreign to me. But he owns the +quaintest little doll-like image of the Virgin in a glass case, and +several Bristol balls! I nearly fell flat when I saw them. His +grandfather, I think he says, was in England once. The cottage is quite +close to our present camp, and we go in for meals when it's very wet.</p> + +<p>The bed Hale made me is growing into a house. He has discovered various +old sacks, bits of tarred felt, and planks, and the place is becoming a +most attractive little abode.</p> + +<p>Then you must imagine an old wild-cherry tree, and lots of young oaks +and elders, etc., all round. Jezebel and Swallow live close by. Jezebel +has acquired a new trick. You know she doesn't like having her tummy +groomed. Well, now (especially, of course, when it's very muddy) she +waits till Hunt has finished dressing her, and then, as soon as his back +is turned, she lies down and rolls. Hunt is in despair. He used to be +really fond of her. But now I believe he'd kill her if he could, +sometimes. All his labour entirely and ridiculously in vain. I'm +convinced that she does it on purpose, because she always chooses just +the moment when he has achieved a beautiful polish on her, and either +has to go off to breakfast or else to get the saddle or something. It's +as good as a play.</p> + +<p>We are learning the "tactical" merits of all the roads and woods and +hills (such as they are) all along our sector of front, and as much as +we can, with field-glasses, of the other side. An offensive. What fun. +But exactly where are we going to offend? Rumours everywhere. If, we +say, that village or that ridge has to be taken from this or that +unexpected position, how shall we do it? Suppose we get Fritz on the +hop, as they have near Peronne. Where are the most covered approaches to +the slopes of that hill? Shall we carry the thing off as splendidly as +those squadrons did before Peronne, or shall we bungle the show? You'll +see.</p> + +<p>We get so few papers here, and only two days old at that, but no one +seems much the worse for it.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NEUVE EGLISE</div> + +<p>Only one solitary man with lice so far. The man has been sent away, and +is, I hear, to be given sulphur baths and scrubbed with a scrubbing +brush.</p> + +<p>Oh, I was going to say just now—<i>re</i> reconnoitring—that we were doing +all the ground about a village where there is a church even more smashed +than the St. John place. It is on a hill, and all the village is Sahara. +The church remains with the remnants of four outside walls and the +tower. Fritz does not destroy the tower, as it is a good spot for him to +range on to. And outside the tower, right up at the top, is the bronze +minute-hand of the old clock. The rest of the clock-face has been blown +into the middle of the church, and lies there nearly complete amidst a +crumbled heap of pillars and mortar and chair-legs and pulpit fragments. +One notice on a house amused me so, and the troop too. It says, "Do not +<i>touch</i> this house." The reason being rather obvious. For if you did +touch the house, it would certainly fall on to your head. The next shell +will bring it down, even if it's a couple of hundred yards away, merely +by the vibration. We find shell holes so useful for watering the horses. +They seem to retain water in a most curious way.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 19.</i></p> + +<p>On the move again. A four days' trek. Not more than twenty miles a day, +in order to keep the horses "in the pink." They are certainly very fit +now, and a gentle twenty miles a day just keeps them nicely exercised. +But twenty miles <i>at a walk</i> is not overexciting. Still, it is +interesting to be covering the ground. We already know quite a lot of +the back of the front. Last night we arrived in a cool lull after +showers. From quiet and uneventful stretches of hedgeless corn-fields, +intersected by long straight roads, lined sometimes with poplars, but +more often with lopped wych-elms or willows, we descended rather +suddenly into a little wooded valley where a village sits by the trouty +stream. After watering the horses at the stream, we filed by squadrons +into various fields and picketed down for the night. Some of us in a +small but clean estaminet, others in barns.</p> + +<p>A very peaceful trek, quite different from the dazzling swoop that was +threatened.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 20.</i></p> + +<p>Am I telling you about the things you want to hear? Usually I think I've +talked mostly about our surroundings, doings, and only to a very small +extent about our thoughts. But, truth to relate, we think so little +that there is not much in that line to record. On this job you just +can't think. And a good thing too, perhaps.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">FLESSELLES</div> + +<p>However, here we are, and here I expect we shall remain for, say, a +week. The horses are all right out in the open. The men are in barns. +But we are in cottages—real, almost English-looking cottages. Edward +and I share a room in one, and the others are dotted about the village. +Now, this is the cottage:</p> + +<p>From the high street (the only street) you turn into a little gate, and +then walk down a path of brick with a narrow flower border on either +side, and vegetables beyond. The cottage is white, with lace curtains +and brick floors, without carpets, like all French cottages. The walls +have endless pictures of saints and things, with occasional crucifixes +and school certificates and faded photographs of people in stiff dresses +and crimped hair.</p> + +<p>Out at the back more kitchen-garden with some fruit-trees.</p> + +<p>Altogether quite a charming little place. Dusty and rather flat open +country intersected by deepish valleys, not unlike the Cirencester road +if you removed all the woods, or nearly all. We don't, of course, know +what we are going to do now.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 23.</i></p> + +<p>Things is curiouser and curiouser. In all haste we got ready to move. We +then moved like tortoises. I rode over to —— yesterday. Cavalry all +over the place like locusts. And, lawks! what a din! Guns in a violent +paroxysm of rage. Aeroplanes wandering about in the sky, purring like +angry panthers, all yellow in the sunlight. And all day and night more +dusty men and dusty horses and dusty lorries and dusty guns coming and +going, coming and going.</p> + +<p>The other squadron at last quite close to us. Long talks with Dennis. +He's had an exciting time, and was under orders for a most hair-raising +job, which didn't come off owing to Fritz's tiresome habit of doing the +unexpected. Horrors! The General has been trying Swallow. I fear he may +steal him. Of course he has every right to any horse in the regiment, +but it is quite difficult to smile. Swallow is, unfortunately, even more +showy than Rinaldo was; but he shied at a goat, bless him, and I think +that may just turn the scale. I shall now proceed to train Swallow to +shy at every blade of grass, every grain of sand. Long live that goat! +We are still "standing by." It is a wearing existence. I bathed +yesterday in a well-known river. So beautiful and willowy.</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 28.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A BATH</div> + +<p>Temperature 100,000°! And I am lying on a bed in a wee cottage, very, +very dusty and dirty. Hale, however, is going to bring some water from +the pump, and, oh Jerusalem, won't it be heavenly—a bath! All these +things off, and lovely clean things on, and lovely coffee to drink when +that's done. I wouldn't change the prospects of the next half-hour for +all the pearls and peacocks of Araby—no, not if you offered me the +Peace of Europe! Europe be blowed! I want my bath.</p> + +<p>You see, it's like this: The corps H.Q. moved to a different area some +days ago, preceded by us. Everything in the area left in an utterly +unorganized, uncatalogued condition. We have to tear round and find out +where the various divisions can go.</p> + +<p>And we have <i>got</i> to find room for more divisions than have ever +occupied this area before. Useless to come back and report that such and +such villages have no water for men or horses. The water has got to be +found. Dig for it. Organize fatigue-parties and dig. Dam up little +trickles by the roadside until quite large ponds are formed. Get the +engineers and pioneers on to it. Labour battalions—anything. So I've +been riding madly about, and I'm like a treacle pudding in a +sand-storm.</p> + +<p>The bath! Hale, you are a most excellent fellow. That'll do splendidly. +Have you got my towel?... <span class="smcap">Interval</span>.... And now, dear friends, +it is another man that you see before you. A man who has had a bath. A +man less like a bit of oily motor-waste, and more like Sir George +Alexander. This delicious coffee, too! A bowl of it, made by Mme. +Whatever-her-name-is. I take it up in both hands and quaff it. Here's to +You and to Home, and to Everybody—and (just to show there's no ill +feeling) here's to the poor old Boche!</p> + + +<p><i><br />July 29.</i></p> + +<p>In the same cottage.</p> + +<p>It's very hot. Ammunition lorries go by in an endless string, making the +deuce of a dust. But we are far away from guns and gun food and noise. I +got leave to go up to —— yesterday.</p> + +<p>I do dislike noise so, don't you? The noise of a battery in action is +diabolical, and the very thought of it makes me shiver. There go the +senseless lorries, all packed with music for a more hellish orchestra +than you can remotely imagine. The first few bars are enough to drive +you nearly frantic. It's unholy. It seems to split your head and +tear your ears out of their sockets. Can you understand a noise that +hits you? Hits unbearably, and then again. Crashes on to you. Bangs your +bones out of your skin, till you feel dazed and sick.</p> + +<p>Still the lorries go by.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus059" id="illus059"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Fricourt Cemetary"> +<tr><td align='left'>FRICOURT CEMETERY<br /><br /> +The moon and some signal lights over <span class="smcap">Fricourt</span>. <span class="smcap">La +Boiselle</span> just over the hill. French crosses all bent and twisted. +The little chapel still standing. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus059.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />August 3.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">GUNS AT FRICOURT</div> + +<p>I hear the General doesn't like Swallow, so there's a good chance of his +returning. When you get angry with Swallow, he loses control of his legs +altogether, and they all fly about in every direction. He is quite like +Rinaldo in character,—not so perpetually fidgety, but as nervous, and +more easily frightened. Jezebel is showing her worth now like a Trojan. +She knows she has to make up for the loss of Swallow (whom I think she +rather misses). She is behaving splendidly. She is blatantly well, and +obeys all orders like clockwork; never tired; always hungry—a model. +The other mare, Moonlight, a dark brown, seems to be somehow exhausted. +I think she has had a very hard time of it, and has been wounded in the +foot. Her foot is all right now, but she seems to have no life left in +her. The war has utterly beaten her. Hunt is grazing and grooming and +petting her all day. So she may pick up. At present she is somehow +rather pathetic. She was with the Indian cavalry before she got +wounded. And then she went to a veterinary hospital. She is well made, +and may possibly brighten up. Hunt declares that she has "lost all her +courage." I'm glad I'm not a horse.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 5.</i></p> + +<p>This is such an amazing country and in such an amazing condition. I +could collect a Harrod's Stores in a day—interesting and useful things, +too. But it's impossible to carry things about. One daren't overload the +horses, and one daren't overload the transport. Both are so heavy laden, +as it is.</p> + +<p>The signal job is quite interesting, really, and the Colonel gives me an +absolutely free hand.</p> + +<p>Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies. I took Jezebel +into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down! So the flies must +just bite, I fear. Large grey brutes.</p> + +<p>Hunt made me laugh so last night. I was looking round the horses with +Edward. They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay. To my +surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed. "Evidently getting +her appetite back," I remarked. "Oh yes, sir," says Hunt; "several +times I've caught her <i>hollerin'</i> for her meals lately!" Isn't that a +lovely expression?</p> + +<div class="sidenote">JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS</div> + +<p>Hunt is such a good chap. He thinks nothing of "abroad," but a lot of +the "'osses," as he calls them. I found him what seemed to me a very +nice loft to sleep in when we got here. But no: "I'd rather sleep with +my 'osses, sir, thank you." And he sleeps practically under their noses. +"You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on."</p> + +<p>He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he +attributes the error to one of her moods.</p> + +<p>She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was +hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was +being bitten by a fly, I don't know. No one seems to have seen her do +it. "One of her moods," says Hunt; and that's all there is to be said +about the incident.</p> + +<p>My dear, this country is most enchanting. Far away from nasty noises, +full of unexpected wooded valleys and willowy streams.</p> + +<p>All the little shrines are, as usual, surrounded by half-clipped trees.</p> + +<p>And the wild-flowers. Clear pale blue succory is the most charming of +all, and I am going to send you some plants as soon as they have ceased +flowering.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 6.</i></p> + +<p>You can't think how difficult it is to take any interest in military +matters sometimes. The inclination to let things slide. The feeling that +an order is not so terrifying as it once was; that after all, who will +know or bother if one furtive subaltern creeps out one evening to +sketch?</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 8.</i></p> + +<p>Do you know, it's unintelligent, but I do so enjoy being here away from +the fevers of war. War is getting tedious, and the summer is all too +short.</p> + +<p>Swallow is coming back. Isn't it splendid! The General finds him too +irritating and tiresome. Jezebel will be glad, for she doesn't like the +ghost-horse Moonlight, and she never really disliked Swallow. I can't +say she liked him, because she likes no one, dear lamb. But she used to +look on Swallow with rather less suspicion, somehow. And Swallow has a +habit of licking that she approves of. I have often seen her snap at him +even while he is licking her; but he always continues after a moment. I +think it soothes her when the flies are tiresome.</p> + +<p>This place has a beautiful church, which I have drawn. It's quite an +unusually charming bit of the country.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 11.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">DOMART</div> + +<p>Jezebel did such an astonishing thing yesterday. I was out with the +signallers practising. We didn't want the bother of holding or picketing +the horses. So I ordered "off-saddle," and then put a guard over the +disused quarry where I had decided to leave them. The quarry had a +grassy floor, and walls of chalk that in one place were only about 7 +foot high. Jezebel has been so good (for her) lately, that I determined +to leave her with the other horses. They were stripped of all bridles +and saddles and things, and had heaps of room to wander.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile we were carrying on with our work.</p> + +<p>Presently shouts from the guard. I went back to see what was the matter. +My dear, Jezebel had tried to jump out of the quarry!</p> + +<p>She had tried twice, but the sides were too steep and high, and she had +slipped back. When I arrived, she was quietly grazing as if nothing had +happened. Ah, but wait. This is not all.</p> + +<p>Later on in the morning another hooroosh. A loud squealing and sounds of +kicking. One of her moods again, I thought to myself grimly. That +well-known voice. I should recognize her squeal anywhere. As I was going +towards the quarry with Corporal Dutton to get her tied up or else +hobbled, lo and behold! the two guards had vanished. "What the +devil...." And all of a sudden out pour the horses careering downhill +like mad! It was so appalling that Corporal Dutton and I just stood and +shouted with laughter.</p> + +<p>My dear, if there is anything in the whole world that goads a Major, a +Brigadier, or any other military man, to fury and madness, it is a loose +horse.</p> + +<p>Imagine, then, forty-four horses all riderless, without saddles or +bridles (and therefore almost impossible to catch), stampeding straight +into a corps H.Q. village. This village is crawling with Generals!</p> + +<p>Well, in the end we caught them all, and by some dazzling piece of luck, +for which Allah be praised, no General, no Colonel, nor anyone else, +seems to have got wind of the incident. Subalterns, yes, and I am +sumptuously ragged about it. But how all the Generals and things +happened to be out of sight and hearing at the time, I don't know. And +<i>still</i> this is not the cream of the comedy.</p> + +<p>After giving orders for rounding up the animals, I went on to the quarry +with Corporal Dutton. My dear, <i>There was Jezebel grazing, as cool as a +cucumber!</i></p> + +<p>She still further insulted me by coming up and trying to push her nose +into my pocket, where I sometimes keep an apple for her.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ANOTHER MOVE NORTHWARDS</div> + +<p>The guards, you see, had instantly gone in to get her away from the +horse she was kicking, when we first heard the commotion. The other +horses had mooned out of the entrance gap, and then, I suppose, +something—a fly, perhaps—had frightened them, and off they had +galloped. While "the accursed female," as we sometimes call Jezebel, too +sensible to stampede, quietly continued feeding. I shall never be taken +in by her air of innocence again. Never. I don't a bit mind saying I was +decidedly alarmed. That mare might have been responsible for the death +of the Corps Commander.</p> + +<p>O Jezebel, I wish I could get angry with you and give you a jolly good +hiding one day. But you know I can't, you dear old thing. I'm writing +this in the orchard, where the H.Q. horses live, and Jezebel is standing +sleepily in the shade of her tree. She looks intensely stupid. She +occasionally tries to flick away a fly with her short tail. Occasionally +she sighs deeply, with that blubbery, spluttery noise that all horses +make when they sigh.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 15.</i></p> + +<p>On the move. This is our first day's trek, and we are at a place where +we have been before—but not the same billets. I am in a cottage with +an earth floor (which looks very odd with a hideous drab-coloured +wall-paper), and small children and hens, both dirty, wander in and out +of my room. It's too hot to keep the door latched. A swallow's nest in +the room next door; and the people say that, although the young have +flown, they still return at night.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 19.</i></p> + +<p>The Adjutant is away, and won't be returning for some time; so I am +still acting. And this, together with signal work, etc., is somewhat +arduous. I live all day in the "office," a very small bivouac in a green +field. There I sit praying for inspiration, when letters come in marked +<i>Urgent</i>, beginning something like this:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"LP/3657042—G1.</p> + +<p>"Ref. your memo HC/516342/L12 of 13/8/16, please find A.F. 361B for +completion and immediate return."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And I haven't the least idea what I said in my memo HC/516342/L12 of +13/8/16, and I can't find any record of it. And I can't for the life of +me make out how I am meant to fill in A.F. 361B, because I haven't the +least idea what it's all about.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 26.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">BEHIND KEMMEL</div> + +<p>Impossible to write yesterday, and only a brief scrawl to-day.</p> + +<p>The regiment is being scattered over the face of the earth—an O.P. +here, an O.P. there; a digging-party here, a draining-party there, etc., +etc., etc.; not to mention a few on duty as military police <i>pro tem.</i>, +others guarding bomb shelters, others reconnoitring new areas for new +divisions, etc. Dennis is very badly wounded. He can't be moved yet. +Some bits of shell went into his thigh, up his back, and it's not +certain yet whether it entered his lungs or not. They are afraid so. He +was on his tummy at an O.P. A crump got him. Dear old Dennis! I hope +he'll pull round. Also Clive is very seriously wounded, I fear. Damn!</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 27.</i></p> + +<p>I am Acting Adjutant now. An Adjutant's job is a most hairy job, and I +sit with drops of perspiration dripping off my brow all day. Never see +the horses, never get any exercise except for a moment or two.</p> + + +<p><i><br />August 29.</i></p> + +<p>We are probably going to move again soon, and consequently the amount of +correspondence is vast. Clive is better, I think. Dennis about the +same. I suppose a thing can go into your lung and not kill you?</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 2.</i></p> + +<p>The Colonel seemed (from a telegram he sent yesterday morning) to be in +a great hurry for me to come down to the other squadron. So I decided to +go by train, and send Hunt with the horses. And this is the train +journey.</p> + +<p>The station at —— quite recovered and tidy after a feeble strafing the +other day. Even two or three civilians travelling. Not many of the +military—a hundred or so, perhaps, all waiting and smoking idly, each +armed with his "Movement Order." The dull boom of guns not excessive, +though there's a frequent "plom! plom! plom!" of the Archies, and the +sky is dotted with clusters of pretty little shrapnel clouds. Sometimes +the crack! crack! crack! crack! of machine guns high up in the blue. It +makes you feel slightly homesick. I don't quite know why. That sort of +thing isn't done at home.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THROUGH HAZEBROUCK</div> + +<p>In comes the train. The French station officials all in a paroxysm of +excitement because one Tommy throws down a gas helmet for the train to +run over. Up we clamber. Hale heaves up valise and coat and so forth, +and retires to a "third," while I feel a beast lounging in this +luxurious "first." Off we go, and I look out at all the familiar +country.</p> + +<p>There's one of those quaint French notices in the carriage:</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Sign"> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Taisez-vous</span>!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Méfiez-vous</span>!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Les oreilles ennemies vous écoutent</span>!</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>All too necessary, they tell me.</p> + +<p><i><br />Later.</i>—It is getting dark. We stop at a large town that I know well. +Two hours to wait. I turn in to a Follies show. There is usually one +going on, run by this or that division, all soldiers, but looking very +odd in their paint and ruffles. But what a curious concert. The first +I've seen out here. The comic Scot vastly popular; but even more so are +hideously sentimental songs all about the last bugle and death and my +dead friends under the earth and eternal sleep. You know? However, they +love it, and the dismal piano beats a tinny accompaniment.</p> + +<p>Staff officers even are here, and I recognize one Somerset; also Grey, +who was in the Gun section with Dennis and me, now a Captain. Delightful +talking over old times.</p> + +<p><i><br />Later.</i>—Into the train again. On the platform beforehand I meet a +gunner subaltern. We talk. He's very well read, and interested in lots +of the things I love so much. We discuss the war. He knows a lot of the +billets I know. Evidently we have nearly met out here often before. What +is that book he is reading? Richard Jefferies? From Jefferies to +Maeterlinck. What has become of him? War so foreign to that mystic mind. +Yet his beautiful abbey in Flanders must be in the hands of Fritz, if it +still exists at all. We talk for about two hours. Then he gets out at +——. I don't know what his name is, and very likely I won't ever meet +him again. But out here one makes friends quickly. There are so many of +us all in the same boat. And one hardly expects ever to meet again. Then +(alone in the carriage) I doze. The electric light in full blaze, and no +curtains are down. Stations rather like bad dreams. Soldiers everywhere. +A great clanking of horse-trucks and gun-carriages. Vast stores of +timber for huts. Bookstalls open all night. These trains seem to hoot +and whistle most horribly. Far more noisy than English trains, surely. +That, combined with all the shouting and clatter of trollies, etc., +rather racking in the small hours. At 5 a.m. we arrive at ——, where we +all change.</p> + +<p><i><br />Later.</i>—No one allowed outside the station except officers and +sergeants. But, dash it all, I can't leave Hale here the whole day. Our +train leaves at 8.36 to-night. The R.T.O. will be here at 7 a.m. Let's +see what we can work. Meanwhile (5.30) the platformless station is full +of men, who have just dumped themselves and their kits down where they +stood. They haven't finished sleeping. It looks like a battle-field. +They lie in every attitude, officers among them. Hale is eating from his +bully-beef tin in silence. A few men stand round a Y.M.C.A. stall +drinking coffee or eating chocolate, cake, and stuff.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">ABBEVILLE</div> + +<p><i><br />Later.</i>—I got Hale out, and took him to see the cathedral. He said he +thought it must have cost a lot of money. Not a bad criticism, either. +Then I let him go his own way, and now it's 1.45 p.m. Had a charming +lunch—two œufs à la coque, thé, and croissants. Now I'm sitting by +the side of the river—very peaceful. There's a white goat on the other +bank, and its reflection is dancing gently all the time.</p> + +<p>Several French widows are talking together near the goat, their black +veils hanging funereally; and there's a small boy with socks and a +bowler hat, all black, too. Poor dears!</p> + +<p>Good heavens alive! there's George! He has just flashed by in a car, red +cap and all. If only there had been time to hail him! Now for a sleep +till it's time for tea.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 5.</i></p> + +<p>This is a part of the line I don't know at all, a most exciting area. I +have been up several times into what is by the way of being our front +line, but the whole thing is so chaotic that often the Huns come into +our trenches and we go into theirs quite by mistake.</p> + +<p>I have several times gone right across the open, within full view of +Fritz (whom I could see), at a distance of 600 yards. I think they must +all be very confused, also, as there is very little rifle fire and very +little organized sniping. Nothing but shelling, with the result that for +miles and miles there's just tumbled earth.</p> + +<p>The famous woods you read about are mere scratchy little collections of +a few tree-stumps splintered and wrecked beyond belief. Things lie +scattered everywhere in aimless profusion. Muddy rifles, coats, boots, +and every description of kit, both British and Hun. I have met lots of +men I know, and everyone is very cheery and hopeful. Fritz is +withdrawing his big guns—always a good sign. However, the myriads of +prisoners nearly all look a sound type of man still. They are put to +work a long way behind the line immediately, which is good.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 7.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SOMME FRONT</div> + +<p>We have been for some time right up in parts quite destitute of houses +and villages and shops. All the remnants of villages here are ruins. And +messing is consequently more difficult. So may I have a large-sized cake +now and then?</p> + +<p>The war isn't over yet, I fear. We live in the usual touch-and-go +condition.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 8.</i></p> + +<p>Things hum. Troops like ants all over the ground. In tents, in bivvies, +in the open, everywhere. And the eternal chain of motor lorries bringing +up ammunition and supplies. These one sees all over France. But here +they block half the roads. Well, yesterday morning I rode out alone with +the Colonel and two orderlies. We went to some high ground from which +you can see it all, dismounted, and sent the horses back. In front of +us, in the valley, a wrecked town with the strangest thing on the +still-standing tower. I hope to make a picture of it if ever I can get +any time again.</p> + +<p>Later in the day from one of our O.P.'s I began a sketch of the whole +panorama of the battle. Desolate ragged country, torn with shell wounds; +the poor scarecrow trees like arms stretched up to heaven for help. +Fields that once were golden with corn now grey and scarred with white +trenches that look like a network of pale worms lying where they died.</p> + +<p>Now, from another O.P. I'm looking at the arid chaos below. Arid and +lonely-looking, but not silent. A strafe is on. Seems to be getting +louder and more continuous. We passed on our way here a great naval gun +crashing out death to the burrowing Huns. Swallow doesn't like naval +guns.</p> + +<p>From flimsy net shelters flash the expensive guns, and the bombardment +gathers strength, gathers volume, until you'd think something must +burst—the world or the universe: either might split from end to end. +The dust and smoke are gradually making everything invisible. Crumps +come whistling and heaving up great clouds of heavy blackness. We look +at our watches. Zero hour in five minutes. The aeroplanes buzzing aloft, +and the sausages sitting among the low clouds, inert and so +vulnerable-looking. Can there be anything left? Can a single soul live?</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus079" id="illus079"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Trenches between Fricourt and La Boiselle"> +<tr><td align='left'>TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE<br /><br /> +They don't look much like trenches, because they were battered to +pieces. A 'dump' on the near horizon was hit by a Boche shell. It blazed +and crackled and smouldered all night, a drifting column of dull pink +smoke. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus079.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />September 9.</i></p> + +<p>Surely we shall get through. Even in spite of the rain. The rain has +made the country into a quagmire.</p> + +<p>Reconnoitred the front trenches to-day with the Colonel, in a particular +part where everything is at sixes and sevens, and no one quite +knows what we haven't or have got. Most odd. Shells of all calibres +bursting on every side—corpses, odours unspeakable.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">DELVILLE WOOD</div> + +<p>You see, things are expected to happen soon, and so I'm anxious to know +all about it. This part of the line is terrific.</p> + +<p>Where we are, and for miles and miles around, myriads of troops, +cavalry, artillery, everything, all camped in the open—no concealment. +Mud? Why, everyone is mud, up to the eyes, and so are the horses. This +big movement has quite dislocated the ordinary trench warfare, and now +all over the dreary uplands are trenches hurriedly dug by the Hun and +then abandoned. Trenches that often barely shelter you above the knees. +Chaos, chaos. Rifles lying to rust in the mud, duds everywhere, men +sitting in dug-outs, not knowing what they are expected to do next. +Others in mere scratched-out shelters or in actual shell holes. +Sometimes they sing. Often they are asleep. Wreckage indescribable. +Shrapnel cracking into black clouds close by. Enormous and magnificent +H.E.'s hurling up black earth and red earth, and smoke that drifts +slowly and solidly away to limbo. Poor dead men lying about, and dead +horses, too. And in the trenches this limitless porridge of mud. +Cr-r-r-ump! go the crumps searching out a battery. But oh the +woods—the poor scarecrow woods. I was in a famous wood that looked +positively devilish in its sinister nakedness. And it's September, too, +when woods are so often at their loveliest. Not a leaf—not one single +leaf; and, instead of undergrowth, just tossed earth, fuses, a boot, a +coat, some wire, and above-ground dead men. Below-ground (or as far +below as they can get in the time) live men.</p> + +<p>The Boche dug-outs are marvellous. They are really works of art. So +solidly, even beautifully built. I went into one that had wooden pillars +supporting the roof like some baronial hall, with neat little cupboards, +tables, beds, and everything complete. There were two of our M.M.G. +officers sleeping there, and we left them sleeping. But emerge out into +daylight, and ye gods! the confusion makes you feel awed. A village is +usually a heap of rubble, with here and there a bit of a gaudy enamelled +coffee-pot or something; a geranium from a window, still growing; a +china egg, a bit of a chair, a bit of an iron gateway. And as far as the +eye can see in this particular region, just undulating stretches of +tormented earth. All the old game of never showing above the parapet is +quite disregarded, for often there is no parapet. Time after time the +Huns could have seen us, and I saw lots of them running across gaps. You +see, no sniping or anything like that can be organized yet. Huns often +come into our lines by mistake, and we do likewise. And when you are not +actually in close view of them, you go across the open. If you get cut +off by a barrage you just wait till it's over.</p> + +<p>I have been round all our M.G. positions and other Detachments.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 10.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">TOWARDS FLERS</div> + +<p>About 5 p.m. the mess cook came and said he had been unable to get +enough food in for the morrow, as the expected hampers from England had +not arrived, and the district was so packed with other troops. So we +decided to get some hares or partridges. But it's forbidden to shoot +game. Very well, we wouldn't shoot them. We'd ride them down. The +country behind is entirely open. No hedges. Just gently undulating +uplands. The crops are all cut. So three of us set out. The orderly-room +work had almost been finished, and the remainder could wait. Jezebel was +brought round for me, Chloe for Roger, and Minotaur for the Colonel. The +Colonel's orderly, Corporal Orchard, following on Shotover. We rode back +to the more open country where there are few troops, and then started +the drive. Jezebel on the right, Chloe next, Shotover next, and Minotaur +on the left, at intervals of 20 yards or so.</p> + +<p>It had been decided that, if a hare got up, even while we were after +partridges, we must chase the hare.</p> + +<p>Well, presently a covey got up, and away we galloped up a long slope. +Suddenly a wild tally-ho from Roger. A hare had got up and was lepping +across Jezebel's line. So Jezebel fairly flattened herself out to keep +the hare in. But the hare was across before she could get wide enough.</p> + +<p>Then the hare doubled back and we swung round, so that now Minotaur was +on the right. Hooroosh down the hill. The hare was gaining. There was a +minute brick enclosure a quarter of a mile ahead. The hare was making +for that. And gained it. Check. We surrounded the enclosure and Corporal +Orchard dismounted and went in. After about ten minutes out popped the +hare on t'other side. Loud yells, and after her again. She made for some +high ground where there was a small wood. "Cut her off," signalled the +Colonel wildly.</p> + +<p>Impossible to cut off the hare. She gained the wood, which we +surrounded. But, oh silly hare! she came out the other side. Minotaur +after her like an arrow.</p> + +<p>Then she tried to get away across Jezebel's front. But Jezebel was too +quick, and Chloe came up in support.</p> + +<p>Then the hare doubled again through Shotover and Minotaur, and we swung +about. The hare was getting tired. She had run about three miles. She +then doubled back again through Chloe and Jezebel.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">CHASING THE HARE</div> + +<p>But meanwhile the horses were all getting dark with sweat, and although +a low line of upland hid us, we knew we were approaching some reserve +wire. The hare must not gain that wire.</p> + +<p>She was dead beat and going very slow, flopping along, and looked as if +she would tumble head over heels any second. We were close behind her.</p> + +<p>She got into some long grass 20 yards away from the wire, and +disappeared from view. We had got her. Corporal Orchard dismounted and +began beating the grass for her. There! Just missed her. She flopped on +a few yards, and Corporal Orchard dashed after. Then he tripped and +fell. The hare came out of cover and lolloped towards the wire. Yells +from Roger and the Colonel.</p> + +<p><i><br />And the hare got there first!</i></p> + +<p>Inwardly I laughed with joy and relief. Thank goodness that little hare +got away. Corporal Orchard took over the horses, and we went in amongst +the wire, but we never found her. The weeds had grown tall, and were +perfect cover for the poor wee beastie. I sometimes say what I think, +but such views are naturally neither understood nor taken seriously. +And the Major, bless him! likes me to do this type of thing because he +thinks it is good for me. "We must really try and teach you to be more +of a sportsman, you know. Sporting instinct. What? Every Englishman +should have it!" This all very good-humouredly, and I answer, laughing: +"Aha, sir. You see I know better." Which merely stirs some jovial spirit +to stand up and propose: "Gentlemen, fox-hunting!" You see?</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 12.</i></p> + +<p>The next act will shortly begin. We are all very hopeful. Certain +signs.... Fritz very nervous. Of that there can be no doubt at all. +Prisoners betray it quite unwillingly. Poor Fritz! He comes to attention +when we go up to him and ask him if he is fairly happy, which he is +(with a smile) invariably. He talks good English, and wishes the war +would end.</p> + +<p>Some of our machine gunners, including Clare, were done in the other +day, and they put up a biscuit tin, with their names pierced in with +nail holes, to mark the spot. This war is the quaintest, most +incongruous show.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus089" id="illus089"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Gird Trench"> +<tr><td align='left'>GIRD TRENCH<br /><br /> +Gird Trench was only won after repeeated +attacks. It was the main German defence of +<span class="smcap">Geudecourt</span>. While this sketch was being +made things were comparatively quiet. And the +innumerable people living underground could get +a little sleep. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus089.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + +<p><i><br />September 15.</i></p> + +<p>Zero hour has come and gone. The show is a peach. Fritz is scuttling +back with us on his tail. We are to creep up, and as soon as Fritz +is beyond his last line of trenches (which he jolly nearly is now) up +and through we hope to go.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 20.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">TOWARDS GEUDECOURT</div> + +<p>We are long past Fritz's first line; past his second line; at his third +line; and his fourth line he is wildly digging now—places for his +M.G.'s wire, etc. But he's very, very hard put to it. We have almost all +the high ground. Our guns are at it day and night. Trench warfare no +longer exists. A few hastily dug holes, a few short lines of trench, +mostly battered to pieces, and that's all. It's almost open fighting. +Even the infantry come up across the open. No communication trenches, +nothing of that sort. The crump holes are continuous. There's scarcely +an inch of ground that isn't a crump hole.</p> + +<p>I was up in an interesting wood this morning with the Colonel. Now, this +will give you some idea of how dislocated and above-ground everything +is:</p> + +<p>We wanted to go to a place the other side of the wood. When we reached +the middle of the wood, where a new O.P. of ours has been established, +Fritz put up a barrage on the edge of the wood. Very well, then. We just +waited at the O.P. till the barrage was over, and then calmly walked +out. The wood is only a few shattered stumps of trees, and the place +where undergrowth once was is one continuous sea of earth thrown about +in every conceivable shape, with dead Tommies and dead Fritzes lying +side by side. So the wood isn't much cover, you can imagine.</p> + +<p>On the far side of the wood is beautiful rolling country, but not green. +It's all brown, just a mess of earth. It's pitted with holes just like +sand after a hailstorm. In the distance you can see real lovely trees, +but nothing grows where the strafing is. Overhead the martins flicker +and swoop, and starlings sail by in circling clouds, while the colossal +noises crash and boom away merrily.</p> + +<p>Ought I, perhaps, not to talk of these things? Does it worry you to +think of crumps bursting and so on? But, really, it seems quite ordinary +and in the day's work here. Men talk of crumps as you would talk of +bread and butter. That is, perhaps, why letters from home that talk +about homely things—cows and lavender and the new chintz—are so +welcome.</p> + +<p>Besides, good heavens! don't you know that there's not a man in France +but knows that the best-beloved ones at home are having a far worse time +than we are having here? Wet clothes? Mud? Shells a-bursting, guns +a-popping? Even a wound, perhaps? Pish! No one <i>thinks</i> at all out +here. There isn't time. Most of the people out here are perfectly happy +and merry, really. The sort of "long-drawn-out-agony" touch is, I think, +rare.</p> + +<p>I'm writing this in a jolly Boche dug-out, all panelled and cosy. +Jezebel and Swallow and a new pack mare I've got are in a valley that's +hardly ever touched, and in fine, all's well.</p> + + +<p><i><br />September 24.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">TEAR SHELLS</div> + +<p>Tear shells or "lachrymatory shells." They haven't been putting many +over lately, apparently. But they put some over the other day, and they +are so amusing that I must describe them to you.</p> + +<p>The Colonel and I were up trying to find a "working-party" from the +regiment. The regiment is sadly split up at present into various parties +doing various jobs in various places, all unpleasant. Better than +infantry work, but still unpleasant.</p> + +<p>We rode up much closer than we have ridden before, and left the +Colonel's orderly and Hale in a bit of a valley with Minotaur, Jezebel, +Hob, and Tank. Tank is a new mare I've got. Hale was riding her, as I +never take Swallow closer than I can help.</p> + +<p>We dismounted in this small valley, and the Colonel's orderly and Hale +were given orders to move if any shells were put over too near them.</p> + +<p>Then the Colonel and I went up through a wood that is just a few +splintered stumps now.</p> + +<p>We passed behind several batteries, and I thought to myself: "Dash it +all! I know my eyes can't be watering because of the noise. What the +deuce is the matter? I hope the Colonel won't notice."</p> + +<p>However, on we waded and plodded. Suddenly the Colonel stopped, and +exclaimed: "Oh damnation! This is perfect nonsense." His eyes were like +tomatoes, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks!</p> + +<p>By this time we could hardly see at all, and it dawned on us that we +must hastily put on our tear goggles, which we had never used before, +but always, of course, carry. They go in the satchel along with the two +gas helmets.</p> + +<p>Presently we met some infantry coming back, all safely begoggled. The +Huns, they told us, were dropping tear shells just into that valley in +front, where our working-party was supposed to be. You can tell them +(the tear shells), they said, by the fluttering sound, and they knock up +no earth and make very little smoke.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, as soon as we got over the brow there they were. They make +a foolish wobbly, wavy sound as they come over, and look most innocent. +So they are really if you get your goggles on in time. But if one bursts +close to you, and you haven't got goggles on, why, then you'll be as +blind as an owl, and you'll weep like a shower bath.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BETWEEN HIGH WOOD AND FLERS</div> + +<p>Then the absurd thing was that we couldn't find the working-party. +Plenty of dead Huns, but nobody alive. Not a sign. Only crumps dropping +here and there and everywhere. So we found a bit of a trench that led +back round the side of the wood. The front line trenches were only very +lightly held, partly because they are almost completely blown in. And we +could get no information as to the working-party at all.</p> + +<p>Presently we saw why. The Huns had put up a barrage across the valley +they were coming up. We knew they would come up this other valley, as +they had to report on their way to H.Q., —— Division. So we got into a +hole and waited.</p> + +<p>After about half an hour the barrage lifted and up came our +working-party none the worse. It is a most amazing war. People literally +dodge shells and things as you might dodge snow-balls.</p> + +<p>When we arrived back at the place where we left our two men, they also +were not to be seen.</p> + +<p>After some time and anxious inquiries for two men with four horses, we +at last discovered them nearly half a mile away. Fritz had put some +heavy stuff over fairly near, and they had moved.</p> + +<p>"A very interesting bit of the line isn't it, Hale?" I said as we moved +off. "Yes, sir," he said, adding with a fierce frown, "but not very +<i>safe</i>, sir."</p> + +<p>And then we all laughed. Hale does frown so when he makes one of his +oracular utterances.</p> + + + + +<p><i><br />September 29.</i></p> + +<p>It's up to us to reconnoitre carefully every time there is a move +forward, so as to see the new ground.</p> + +<p>One of the most curious and interesting things is this: the Boche rarely +wastes. He only puts his crumps and pip-squeaks just where he thinks (or +knows) our batteries are, and our infantry want to be, and our horses +would be likely to be (if they weren't somewhere else). So that +gradually you begin to track out safe routes. Don't go near the edge of +—— Wood, but 200 yards inside the wood, on the north side, you're +pretty comfy. Don't go near the mangled remains of —— village, but +keep to the right of it until you get to the wrecked aeroplane, and then +turn down the remains of —— trench, and you probably won't be touched. +That sort of thing.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">BOCHE DUG-OUTS</div> + +<p>I've been sleeping in the most superb Boche dug-out. Very deep; I +should think 30 feet down. The inside is pillared rather like the +studio, and cretonned all over with maroon-coloured stuff instead of +wall-paper. There are lovely little cupboards everywhere, and doors and +window-frames just like a real house. The windows, of course, only look +out on to an air-shaft, so it's very dark, and you have to have candles +all the time. The windows have no glass, of course, as that would be +shattered to smithereens by the vibrations. Then there's an arch and +more steps down lower still, into the bedroom for two.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, being rather misty, I thought as follows:</p> + +<p>"It is too foggy to see what Fritz is doing. No attack is intended or +expected. The Colonel is at corps H.Q. Swallow and Jezebel and Tank are +safe in —— valley. Roger is still here as Adjutant. Why not an +afternoon off?"</p> + +<p>So picture a holiday-maker armed with a revolver, two gas helmets, tear +goggles, some sandwiches, and a large empty haversack. Now where to go? +What about —— trench and all round —— village, even, perhaps, a +lightning five minutes in the village itself? We have just taken the +village, but it's rather an unhealthy spot at present.</p> + +<p>—— trench is a new trench that poor Fritz dug just before he was +driven out of it. I had seen lots of dead Fritzes there the day before. +Also there were reports of curious things flung out into the mud in and +round the village.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus099" id="illus099"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: A House in Geudecourt"> +<tr><td align='left'>A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT<br /><br /> +Here, as in many of these sketches, there are no people to be seen, for +the simple reason that they are all underground in dug-outs. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus099.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="sidenote">TROPHIES</div> + +<p>So I set forth. And at —— met another fellow I knew, and the affair +became neither more nor less than a search for souvenirs. Here is a +list:</p> + +<ol><li> A few buttons with double-tailed lions.</li> + +<li> Four shoulder-straps with the figure 6 in red. This indicated a +division which has been opposite us for some time and is quite +exhausted, I think.</li> + +<li> One haversack and one respirator haversack.</li> + +<li> One rosary.</li> + +<li> Five different sorts of bayonets from different regiments. These +I thought we might hang up.</li> + +<li> Four tassels. They are worn by Fritz rather in the same sort of +way as lanyards are worn. Quite pretty, though rather soiled and +worn.</li> + +<li> A bit of a wing of a crushed aeroplane that is lying on the +brown, feverish earth like a dead sea-gull.</li> + +<li> A brass spring very beautifully made, that I am going to have +made into a bracelet for you. Also from the aeroplane.</li> + +<li> A cardboard box for signal flares. <i>Signal Patronen</i> they are +labelled. I threw the flares away, as they might go pop <i>en route</i>.</li> + +<li> A jolly bit of gilded carving from a house in ——</li> + +<li> Now then for No. 11! A bit of embroidery. I think it is a +vestment of sorts. It's white, and there's heavy gold embroidery at +the sides. It is a cloak of some description, but the top part, +where there should be a collar or something, is gone. Then +<span class="smcap">11a</span> is a piece of black and silver embroidery. It was all +very muddy and riddled with shrapnel or bits of crump, so I just +cut off the only sound bit. Both these things are exceedingly +beautiful. They are probably vestments, because they were quite +near what must have been the church. I am sure it must have been +the church, although I hadn't a map—first, because I saw the +village in the distance some time ago, while the church was still +standing, and therefore I know the church's situation; and, +secondly, because I saw remains of large pillars, and a few bits of +what was once a font amongst the débris.</li></ol> + + +<p>There now. Isn't that a good haul! It's not easy to get anything worth +sending home, because everything is so utterly smashed up.</p> + + +<p><i><br />October 2.</i></p> + +<p>Jezebel and Swallow and Tank have all been clipped trace high. I am +getting rather attached to Tank. She is so modest and unselfish—a +contrast to Jezebel. She never expects little treats, and seems quite +surprised when I give her anything. Swallow and Jezebel always neigh +when they see my electric torch coming towards them after dinner (while +we are back in these safe places). But Tank is very shy of the light, +and thinks it will bite her.</p> + +<p>Swallow is getting much better, and really seems to understand that the +shells and guns and things probably won't hurt him. We have been most +extraordinarily lucky. The troop that got through nearly to —— the +other day, hadn't a single casualty, although Dick's own mare was shot +under him and a great many other horses were wounded. The squadron of +—— were very badly scuppered, I fear. But, anyhow, we all feel that +Lloyd George is right. We are just beginning to win.</p> + + +<p><i><br />October 5.</i></p> + +<p>It is a glorious day. Such clouds. Swallow kicked up his heels and +played about like a kitten when Hunt took him to water this morning. +It's extraordinary how used the horses are getting to trenches and +wire, etc. At first they were rather afraid to jump these sudden deep +ditches, but now they pop across like rabbits.</p> + + +<p><i><br />October 17.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">ARCHIE</div> + +<p>Yesterday some Hun aeroplanes got across and came right above this camp, +a comfortable way behind the front line. Heavily strafed by our Archies. +The blue sky was dotted all over with the pretty little white clouds of +shrapnel.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Pritchard and I were standing close to Flannagan (one of the +men's horses), and the men were at stables. We were all looking up and +longing to see a Hun aeroplane hit, when suddenly "s-s-s-swish, plop!" +just behind me. It was one of the Archie shrapnel cases. It buried +itself deep in the ground 3 yards from where we were standing. We dug it +up, and I'll bring it home for you. If it isn't too tediously heavy.</p> + +<p>Of course, Archie shrapnel cases all come down, and you see hundreds of +them lying about; but I've never had one so close before. They sometimes +fall broadside on, and sometimes end on, in which case they bury +themselves fairly deep. All the Hun aeroplanes got away, alas!</p> + + +<p><i><br />October 26.</i></p> + +<p>Once more I'm going up to the strange dead village of ——. In many ways +I shall be sorry to go back to comfort and billets, because the +material for pictures here is very wonderful. You shall see several +small things (the powers that be call it waste of time!), and it's +infuriating to think that more can't be done.</p> + +<p>I tell you, if you were here, and if I could paint a bit every day, I +should be quite happy. The "subjects" are endless, and in particular I +long to do great big stretches of this bleak brown land. Well, it can't +be helped, so it's no good thinking about it.</p> + + +<p><i><br />October 29.</i></p> + +<p>We are moving to a "back area" to-morrow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus109" id="illus109"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: A Wounded Tank"> +<tr><td align='left'>A WOUNDED TANK<br /><br /> +This Tank got hit as it was walking over a house in <span class="smcap">Flers</span>. They +covered it up with tarpaulins to prevent the Hun aeroplanes from +obtaining too much information about it. The black stuff is shrapnel. +The pink clouds are sent up by crumps as they explode amongst the +remains of the brick houses. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus109.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />November 1.</i></p> + +<p>It's a superb day, and we are back at ——, one of our old billets, +right away from the beastliness. And although leave won't be for another +week or two, still, it will come soon. And Swallow is in tremendous +spirits.</p> + +<p>Here is a drawing done surreptitiously of a tank in full view of Fritz. +You see those little stumps of trees? Well, I'll tell you what those are +called when we meet, and also what village is just on their left. You +may say it was stupid to sit in full view of Fritz, but it was the day +after an advance, and there's hardly ever anything doing then in +the way of sniping. The guns, of course, are all pooping off, but they +weren't shelling just there, so it was quite safe. This drawing gives +you some idea of the desolation, but none of the unevenness of the +ground. You can't walk in a bee-line for three yards without getting +into a hole. The last time I was in those parts, by the way, I came on a +rather jolly cottage wineglass that had been thrown out into some soft +mud, and was not even cracked.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 6.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">COCQUEREL</div> + +<p>An extraordinary change. Let me now give you an idea.</p> + +<p>We are in a pretty little country village miles and miles away, and +(although one of Fritz's aeroplanes flew over the church as bold as +brass just before we got in) the quiet and peace of the place is very +refreshing. And, droll to relate, I'm writing this in bed, with a touch +of flu—such a bed, too, all soft and billowy. In ordinary life it would +be condemned as a "feather" bed, but now it is a bed for princes.</p> + +<p>And the room. A rather dark old-fashioned paper, an old clock ticking, +an old shining chest of drawers with a marble top, and clothes hanging +on pegs. Hale has arranged the pistol, and ammunition, and maps, and +gas helmets, and steel helmet, and spare kit, with great elaboration, +all over the room. At the present moment he is "sweeping out" with the +appropriate hissing noises. The dust will, I hope, subside during the +course of the day.</p> + +<p>Hunt has got Jezebel, Swallow, and Tank into a disused barn, where they +will be warm and happy.</p> + +<p>Out of the window I can see hens pecking in an orchard, and an old grey +pony browsing. The leaves are yellow, and there's no wind.</p> + +<p>The old man and the old lady to whom the cottage belong have brought me +in some little "remèdes," which Tim refuses to let me have. One is what +the old man (an ex-chemist) calls "salicite de métal," and the other is +what the old lady calls a "remède de bonne femme." You rub yourself with +it all over every two hours!</p> + +<p>Tick, tick, tick, tick. Lovely! The old clock is rumbling. It is about +to strike twelve.</p> + +<p>It has struck twelve—no, not struck twelve, rather it has buzzed +twelve, like some old happy bee.</p> + +<p>The hens are still pecking about in the orchard, and the grey pony is +rubbing himself against a tree.</p> + +<p>All so cosy and delicious. Now for a doze.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 7.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">DOZING</div> + +<p>Here's a poem. It's called</p> + +<div class="poem"><span class="i10">HENS.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the end of the war<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(Ring, bells, merry bells!)<br /></span> +<span class="i10">We intend<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To keep hens,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Me and Helen.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(Ring, bells!)<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Such hens!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(Merry bells!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though all our hens' eggs be surrounded by shells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We shall laugh and not care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there won't be no war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no hell any more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Helen is there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the hens.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I've just made that up, and the inspiration of so profound an epic has +made me want to doze again. Such a lot of dozing!</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 12.</i></p> + +<p>In to-day's letter I enclose a couple of field post-cards which I found +on a Boche dug-out bed-hole.</p> + +<p>I've been so busy these last days, up till late hours, and writing has +been "na-poo." Leave? Yes, leave will come in time. Probably the first +half of December.</p> + +<p>How maddening it is for poor old Tom! It's most damnable hard luck being +kept there without leave such a long time. And I expect that he also +has rather lost interest. At first the men were a great source of +interest, and the horses and everything. Then France and the front were +very interesting. Lastly, being under fire was very interesting. But now +that we are back in Rest, I begin to feel I shall be rather sorry to go +through it again. And Tom has had so much of it. Yes, he ought to come +home.</p> + +<p>The cottage people here have those lovely pale salmon winter +chrysanthemums in their gardens. Don't you like them?</p> + +<p>Since we arrived in this wee village a week ago, I haven't been on a +horse once, and have never seen anything outside the village itself, +which consists of one street and a side-lane.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 14.</i></p> + +<p>I wasn't able to write yesterday, and there may be several blank days to +come.</p> + +<p>Roger is temporarily away, and I am in charge. The thing that's +happening is this: A and B are coming down to us, and others are going +to relieve them. So the arrangements and correspondence are vast. All +the billeting of this town is pushed on to my hands, too; and though +it's only a small village, there's a good lot to do. I can't collect any +thoughts to write to you. You understand, I know, and so I needn't say +more. I'll write again at length when things settle down. This sounds +muddled. But I count on your understanding that I've got more work to do +than I can manage.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 16.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE OTHER SQUADRONS ARRIVE</div> + +<p>To-day, by some amazing fluke, there's a lull. One squadron has gone. +Sir John is on his way down. Julian starts early next week, and Gerald a +few days later. So within a fortnight we shall all be together. Which +will be good.</p> + +<p>Some infantry came in from the line to-day. Oh ye gods! the British +infantry! No rewards, honours, no fame, can ever be enough for them. We +have not yet gone through what they have to go through, but we have been +in and out amongst them all the time, and we know. Thank goodness this +spell of dry weather seems to have come for a few days at least. Cold at +night is nothing. It's wet at night that just kills men right and left. +Alan died yesterday morning. Died of exposure. He caught a chill while +we were up in front, and then got much worse, and it finally developed +into peritonitis and pneumonia. And now he, too, is dead. We were all +very fond of Alan.</p> + +<p>Death is such a little thing. A change of air—no more. Death is the +last day of Term, the last day of the Year. Regret? That's because we +don't understand, quite.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 17.</i></p> + +<p>I sent you off another beastly little scrap of paper to-day, because it +was impossible to write more. Here (7 p.m.) is another moment, so I +snatch it.</p> + +<p>Listen. Of course it is true that leave has been cancelled, but we hear +(Rumour) that this is only for a few days owing to submarines. <i>If</i> +leave reopens again, as seems likely therefore, I go next. I shall have +to hand over Orderly Room and all current correspondence, etc. That +means, with luck, I leave here on the 2nd. Don't, of course, count on +this; but let's toy with the idea.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 23.</i></p> + +<p>I am sitting in the sun, having read your letter. The valley of the —— +is below me, a mile wide, all reed-beds and half submerged willows, with +the main stream lying like a blue snake amongst pale acres of sedge.</p> + +<p>Damn! I was going to write a long and cosy letter, but was called back. +I had escaped for an hour from Orderly Room with your letter and a +sketchbook, and was caught in the act. No time now.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 25.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE SOMME VALLEY</div> + +<p>A few more moments with you before you go to bed.</p> + +<p>Yes, isn't it funny how we seem to be talking face to face! And to every +question of mine you reply in three days' time and <i>vice versa</i>. It +always sounds to me like this, rather:</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Conversation"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Question.</span></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Answer.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Mon.</i></td><td align='left'>Isn't it cold?</td><td align='left'>None.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Tues.</i></td><td align='left'>Have you seen mother?</td><td align='left'>None.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Wed.</i></td><td align='left'>Are you happy?</td><td align='left'>None.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Thurs.</i></td><td align='left'>How are you all?</td><td align='left'>Freezing.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Fri.</i></td><td align='left'>When did I see you last? </td><td align='left'>Only yesterday.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Sat.</i></td><td align='left'>May I have a cake!</td><td align='left'>Yes, very.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Sun.</i></td><td align='left'>How is Queen Anne?</td><td align='left'>Much better.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Mon.</i></td><td align='left'>None.</td><td align='left'>Last April.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Tues.</i></td><td align='left'>None.</td><td align='left'>I'll send one.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><i>Wed.</i></td><td align='left'>None.</td><td align='left'>Dead.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>Don't you find it's a bit like that? What question can I have asked a +week ago to which the answer is a rabbit? So tiresome when we want to +talk at very close range.</p> + +<p>As to leave—well let's not talk about that. Every dog has his day.</p> + +<p>You know the dog who has been shut up in a kennel for a long time? Or +the dog who has been locked up in an empty house for a long time? It'll +be a mixture of these.</p> + +<p>Well, the day will come.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 27.</i></p> + +<p>Can't write properly because it's very cold and I've been riding, and +that makes one's fingers like pink bananas. They don't seem to answer to +the bridle. There's an awful noise of hissing going on. Hale and Hunt +are busy on the horses.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 28.</i></p> + +<p>A box will arrive containing another Bristol ball, which I discovered in +a cottage here, and bought for 1fr. 50c. Rather a jolly green one, +biggish. Also I am enclosing the wineglass from Geudecourt, which I +mentioned some time ago. There can't be any harm in mentioning this +name, as we have left that area some time now. I have got several +sketches of other places round about there, which I hope you will like. +Won't it be fun, when the time comes, looking at them. To-day Hunt came +round in a great state about the horses. Jezebel had pulled up her +shackle, and was in "one of her moods," as Hunt always describes it. She +had been kicking both Tank and Swallow with great violence. He had left +Hale trying to get her quiet, and rushed up to report.</p> + +<p>She was quiet again when I got down, and Hale had tied her up +successfully.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE PRUDENT SERGEANT</div> + +<p>But the point of telling you of this episode is that meanwhile it was +getting time for the post to go. Prudent Sergeant Marsden (Orderly Room +sergeant) observed that I hadn't addressed the letter yet or signed it +outside. So he did it himself! "You very seldom write any letters to +other addresses, you see, sir, so I thought I'd better address it +myself. I thought it would be <i>inadvisable</i> to miss a post, and I +thought the young lady would forward it on if it was not for her!"</p> + +<p>It made me laugh as I haven't laughed for a long time. Wasn't it nice +and thoughtful. He tells me he duly forged my signature in the left-hand +bottom corner.</p> + +<p>Jorrocks sends his love. "Your little filly" he always calls you.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 29.</i></p> + +<p>About leave. There's no more chance of it at present, I think, as we are +going up to the line again in a week or two, and we want to work off all +the men, who haven't had any leave at all, before moving up mudwards, +when all leave will be stopped. We are engaged at present in +practically rebuilding and making sanitary an entire French village, and +in "training," which means all the old dismal tedium of manœuvres +plus spit and polish.</p> + +<p>These villages are most amazingly ill-built. Swallow this morning lashed +out on being bitten by Jezebel, and (dear silly Swallow!) instead of +hitting Jezebel, she brought down half the wall of the shed in which +they live, which frightened her to such an extent, Hunt tells me, that +she allowed Jezebel to eat all her food at midday stables.</p> + + +<p><i><br />November 30.</i></p> + +<p>We move next week, I think, or possibly the week after.</p> + +<p>We are not going back to quite the same part of the line, but near it. +It will be new country to me altogether, and to everyone else concerned.</p> + +<p>Poor Swallow, poor Jezebel, poor Tank, I'd give anything to shelter you +three; but, alas! I fear you are going to have a nasty time of it now. +All clipped, too. It's Swallow particularly that I tremble for. He does +so throw up the sponge. Tank copies Bird in everything, so she ought to +pull through all right.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 1.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">AMIENS CATHEDRAL</div> + +<p>All leave is cancelled again, at any rate in this army—possibly on +account of the move, possibly on account of nasty fish in the sea. +However, the telegram says "until further notice," which usually means +for a short time only. Not that it affects me, but it's bad luck on some +of the men who were just off.</p> + +<p>Now about Xmas. I have got a new crop, thank you ever so much, that I +bought at a town near here.</p> + +<p>A beautiful cathedral town.</p> + +<p>With doors all padded up with sand-bags, the great cathedral towers +above the town, and is seen for miles and miles. A good effort. What fun +they must have had building it. What they believed then they expressed +in outward and visible form. What we think now is (or ought to be) very +different indeed from what they thought then. But I can't remember +having ever seen anything that <i>begins</i> to express what we think (or +ought to think) now.</p> + +<p>Everyone in the Church of England now seems to me to think <i>almost +exactly</i> what was thought when this cathedral was built! If this war +achieves nothing else, I pray with all my mind, and all my soul, and all +my strength, that all the sects and all the churches may suddenly feel +tired of all the 1001 little methods of procedure, and say: "Damn it +all! what does all this ancient paraphernalia mean to us? Is God quite +so complicated and involved as we have supposed? Everything else in the +world progresses. Thought progresses. Let us take a deep breath, and +realize that religion ought to be more 'into the future' than even +Zeppelins or Tanks, please."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus125" id="illus125"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Explosion of an Amunition Dump"> +<tr><td align='left'>EXPLOSION OF AN AMUNITION DUMP<br /><br /> +The smoke from a large explosion usually assumes a queer tree-like form +and disperses slowly. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus125.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />December 2.</i></p> + +<p>Just been superintending the burying of some horses. A curious job. You +have to disembowel them first. Quite ghoulish. And then head and legs +are cut off, and the whole is buried in a hole 12 feet deep. Up there +they often lie about for some time, and get as smelly as dead human +beings. Back here it all has to be done prestissimo.</p> + +<p>The strange thing is that, whereas before the war I should have felt +sick and possibly dreamt about it, now it seems merely more boring than +most other things of the kind.</p> + +<p>Up there Tommies and Honourables eat their lunch of sandwiches with lots +and lots of dead people in varying stages of decomposition all round. An +odour more hideous than anything you have ever imagined. But you get +used to it.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">TALKING ABOUT HOME</div> + +<p>"How unpleasant they are to-day," you say to anyone you are with. +And the answer is probably just a laugh. Then you go on (if things are +quiet) to discuss an imaginary day at home. You would smile.</p> + +<p>We actually discuss everybody's clothes, the things in the room, the +shape of the fireplace, the look of the tea-things and the comfiness of +the chairs.</p> + +<p>And we always end up by saying: "And then after that I shall do +absolutely <i>Nothing</i> for a fortnight!"</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 3.</i></p> + +<p>December. Frost on the trees, all fairy-like in this dense mist. Not a +sound. The sun quite small and white and far away. And if we were on the +Cotswolds, I expect we should go out for a bit of a walk, just to warm +up, after breakfast.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 4.</i></p> + +<p>A staff job has been in the air several days. It may or may not come +off. I'm not very keen about it in many ways. But I've a feeling that I +could do it rather well, and so I'm not sure that I oughtn't to accept.</p> + +<p>Jezebel and Swallow have quarrelled. Isn't it awful. Hunt has had to +put Tank in between them.</p> + +<p>Jezebel kicked Swallow, and the blood fairly spouted out—got her in the +leg, and she lost her temper, and began lashing out. Hunt, with great +presence of mind, threw a bucket of water over them both. And as soon as +they were quiet, dear, good, demure little Tank was put in between them +as buffer.</p> + +<p>It's a most dreadful nuisance. They used to get on so well together. I +hope they will leave that curious little Tank alone. Swallow is as lame +as a cat now. The accursed female is very exasperating, I fear. Hunt +quite irritated me for a moment when he remarked, after the incident: +"Oh, it's all right, sir. She was in one of her moods." I pointed out to +him that it was not all right. Whereupon he took it into his head that I +was strafing him, and muttered sulkily: "Well, sir, I must say I never +did like Abroad."</p> + +<p>Which made me laugh to such an extent that I got a sort of fit of +laughing (don't you know?) and couldn't stop. Eventually I had to go +away. He looked so comic and so dejected, and his use of the word Abroad +(as if it were a country in itself) always makes me laugh idiotically. I +haven't seen him since, and it will be difficult to explain the apparent +frivolity.</p> + +<p>Things have been very complicated just lately owing to our having to +make arrangements about taking over this new bit of line.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 5.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">CONCERNING WORK</div> + +<p>One of the many things the war has taught us, I think, is the +comparative equality of all work. Work depends almost entirely on the +actual number of hours per diem, don't you think?</p> + +<p>Certainly brain work is more tiring than spade work. But I'll guarantee +that the man who does eight hours' brain work is not <i>much</i> more tired +than the man who does eight hours' spade work.</p> + +<p>The only difference is that open-air work means better health, and +consequently more power to work long hours.</p> + +<p>But I really do believe that, for example, a nurse's day's work (either +for wounded or babies) is <i>just</i> as hard as a bricklayer's day, or a +bank clerk's day, or an engine driver's day. And I believe that the +various degrees of skill, necessary for doing any job really well, are +not very different on the whole. Different, yes, but not very different. +A General's job is difficult, but not <i>much</i> more difficult than a +nurse's job.</p> + +<p>And so I believe all jobs ought to be paid on a rather more equal +footing. Not on an equal footing, but a <i>rather more equal</i> footing +than now.</p> + +<p>Do you agree?</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 6.</i></p> + +<p>Cathedrals, the earth, the sky, and all that in them is—those are the +things that rest and soothe one out here. Thank God for cathedrals! How +splendid of Litlin, to be getting Bunny taught reels. I do trust she +will give lots of attention to it.</p> + +<p>After seeing a certain amount of human misery and so forth, I believe +more than ever that the whole aim of the world is in the direction of +Joy. And as dancing is one of the most primitive expressions of joy, +give me dancing, says I.</p> + +<p>This is all said in the middle of dictation of orders, and so I expect +it's ungrammatical, but you know what I mean.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 7.</i></p> + +<p>What do you think? I lunched to-day with George. We lunched in a most +superb officers' club, formerly the house of some Count or other: all +white and gold, and chandeliers and mirrors—a dream.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 8.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">JEZEBEL ACCEPTS AN APOLOGY</div> + +<p>Our move has been postponed twice now, and we don't go till Monday.</p> + +<p>But meanwhile I heard from Mark to-day. He is A.D.C. to the G.O.C., and +apparently caught sight of Roger and me the other day, while flashing +past in the G.O.C.'s car. So we are going to have a great meeting. It +will be immense fun. Mark, Dennis and I were all tremendous +friends—just the same type.</p> + +<p>Swallow is much better, and Jezebel says that, if she had known Swallow +would bleed so much, she would have kicked him in a different place, +where he wouldn't have bled so profusely. This, for Jezebel, is +extremely gracious.</p> + +<p>Tank's only remark about being put between the two was: "Well, I'm +always very glad to do what I'm told."</p> + +<p>Swallow is desperately sorry about the whole affair, and is on +tenter-hooks lest Jezebel should never speak to him again. He says she +really didn't mean to kick, and she can't understand how it is that he +has so little control over himself. So all's well.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 9.</i></p> + +<p>Hunt and Hale have made their very tumble-down barn a perfect model of +neatness. They sleep within about 3 yards of the horses' heels. Hunt in +particular never likes to be far away from "my 'osses," as he calls +them. I have less and less say in the matter of the 'osses as time goes +on! I merely say: "Hunt, I want a horse and an orderly at 8 a.m. +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>It's useless for me to say I'd like Swallow or Tank or Jezebel, because, +if I name one in particular, there's always some reason why it would be +better not to ride that one that day. Oh, "she wants shoeing behind," +or, "she had one of her moods this morning, and so I exercised her very +early," or "he didn't eat his corn, and had better stay in." So I just +meekly ask for a horse. And a horse arrives.</p> + +<p>Swallow is still rather lame, but seems better now. And the gentle +influence of Tank is, I really believe, soothing Jezebel. Tank is a very +charming creature, and her perfect manners are a good example to the +other two. But—what an awful admission!—she is so good that I own I +find her rather dull. Poor little Tank!</p> + +<p>Jorrocks has gone off to a nasty place, I fear, with his troop. But all +seems fairly quiet at present.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 12.</i></p> + +<p>The trek is at an end.</p> + +<p>We have arrived at a place well behind the line, and not at all +wrecked, except for holes here and there. But the river! Oh my aunt! +It's marvellous. It winds in and out of low hills, and as I saw it this +evening, from an eminence, it looked more snaky than ever. Huge great +loops with the lovely pale sedges on either side. The almost yellow +hills are dotted with junipers. I long to see it to-morrow morning. +There's no doubt it's one of the most fascinating rivers I've seen. +Hooded crows sailing over the uplands, and I met a flock of bright sweet +goldfinches near some guns, and a tree-creeper in a copse.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">SAILLY-LE-SEC</div> + +<p>What a wonderful day! It was snowing all the time, with quite warm, +sunny intervals. Swallow and Tank and Jezebel are all under cover, and +I've actually got a bed! You might not call it a bed, but it is a bed, +because it has four legs (one of them a biscuit tin). The place where we +were going to has been rather too heavily strafed lately, so they are +keeping us back here.</p> + +<p>Things are wonderfully quiet, and there are no batteries near us, which +is pleasant. I did want to show you the beautiful river winding in and +out of the little hills. The great river-bed is quite untouched by +shells here, and the very sight of it would soothe the most jangled +nerves. Oh, it did look so heavenly this evening. Thank God for this +glorious river. The snow melted as it fell. The snow flakes as they +touched the river were like fairies taking headers.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 15.</i></p> + +<p>Isn't this fine about Peace?</p> + +<p>So Fritz would like Peace, would he? No amount of flamboyant talk can +possibly hide the fact that he wants peace. And it isn't the victor who +asks for peace first. Carry on, say we.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 20.</i></p> + +<p>Have you had any of the letters in which I told you how the place we +were to have been sent to was too continuously strafed? And how we were +sent to this very quiet and unwrecked place? And how I've got a bed, and +how happy the horses are?</p> + +<p>About the intelligence job. Things are hanging fire rather, as the Staff +Major, who may ask for me to come away with him to another corps, is now +attached to this corps. So what will be the end of it I don't know.</p> + +<p>Frankly, I am sore tempted for this reason, that I think I could do it +rather well. Of course, each corps does things differently, but, judging +from the way in which this corps likes the job done, I feel certain I +could tackle it in another corps. That's boasting. But you understand +so perfectly. It would be glorious to be doing something really well.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A STAFF JOB</div> + +<p>I <i>can't</i> be an ordinary soldier. Too absent-minded—hopelessly vague +and careless. I live on tenter-hooks always. What detail have I +forgotten? What order did I give that could be taken two ways?</p> + +<p>It's sad for Pat that his friends are gone. I feel so murky when mine +go, that I understand what it must be for him. But friends or no +friends, broken-hearted or whole, we must damned well carry on! And +that's all about it.</p> + +<p>A perfect letter from old Norman to-day. He must be quite useless as a +soldier, whereas at his own job he stands alone, with a wonderful future +before him. Well, well! I meant not to grouse to you again. And here's a +letter nearly full of it. But there, I made a stupid mistake to-day, and +it's all so boring and beastly.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, we are fighting for civilization, and the Huns are, too, in a +way. But our idea of civilization is better than the Huns' idea. So we +gradually win.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 21.</i></p> + +<p>I have at last made up my mind. I'm going to take on this job. How +unwillingly I can hardly tell you. I wanted to be in the great Push +next year so badly. Everyone, everything, is preparing for it. The +cavalry will get through, and I shall be driving about behind in some +gilded car, or watching from some very distant hill with Jezebel (who +won't care a damn whether the cavalry get through or not).</p> + +<p>But I had two interviews with the Major and the General to-day. Coves +like painters seem to be rather wanted, and—well, it's clear now. I +must go.</p> + +<p>To-morrow or next week, perhaps, the extreme fascination of the job will +obliterate a certain feeling of flatness, of disappointment, of ... of +... of shirking. Yes, that's it: I feel as if I were shirking all the +horrors. You see, I shall enjoy this job immensely. All the hateful +"arrangering things" for large numbers of men, all the tiresome +formalities, all the discomfort, all the future dangers, finished +with—over. I don't say that we've had <i>long</i> periods of danger or +<i>much</i> discomfort; but we've had quite enough to make a very ordinary +mortal hope never to go through it again.</p> + +<p>But to think that I've deliberately chosen the easy path. Well, I don't +care! I've chosen it. I meant to choose it. I'm glad I've chosen it. +That is the one job in the whole war that I could do really well. How +best to serve the country—that's the only question. So there you are. +I've been and took the plunge, and I believe I'm right.</p> + +<p>First of all a week or two getting to know the ropes in <i>this</i> corps, +and then off with the Major and the General to another corps.</p> + +<p>My aunt! what an egoistical letter this is. However, to you no +apologies.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 22.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">A DECISION</div> + +<p>Letters have been lurching in, in threes and fours. But what matters it +how they come? I always know that they are coming. And the future's +where <i>my</i> heart is always. So here's to the letters to come, and here's +to our meeting again, and here's to Life—long, sweet, glorious Life.</p> + +<p>We shall see the Christmas roses of the Cotswolds together one day, and +I think the war will have given them a mysterious loveliness that we +never understood before. Every year they'll come up out of the ground +again and surprise us. I shall be getting older and older—and so will +you, too. And all our little plans will have a quiet, peaceful joy for +us that wouldn't have been possible but for the war. Art will be like +angels coming and going. Effort will be intensified. The lives of the +poor must be happier, because everyone will be more ready to give and +take.</p> + +<p>It won't come all at once. But there'll be a difference. The war will +have made a difference. Thank God for the war!</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 25.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">CHRISTMAS 1916</div> + +<p>Never talk about the "idle" staff. Yesterday we were working absolutely +solid without any break at all except an hour for lunch and an hour for +dinner (tea? away frivolous thought!) from 9 a.m. till 11.30 p.m. Most +interesting; but let's hope this first day's experience won't be a fair +sample, or I shall simply melt down like a guttered candle. None of the +Generals and people seemed to think it unusual. At least they never said +so. Personally I found it quite kolossal.</p> + + +<p><i><br />12.30 a.m.</i></p> + +<p>Such a funny Christmas Day! I've been fixing on a large map all the gun +positions on the corps front. There are a very great many, and the +positions must be marked very exactly. I was quite nervous lest there +should be a mistake. It has taken since about two o'clock till now. And +I think it is accurate at last.</p> + +<p>At about 10 p.m. I found out an awful mistake. One of the heavies quite +100 yards wrong, which might have meant that it would be ranging on the +wrong place, and probably do no damage whatever. Desperate thought!</p> + +<p>Well, the staff is the most hard-working body of men I've ever seen. +They don't appear ever to get any exercise. And, really, the work is all +so vital that I don't see how they ever can expect to get any exercise.</p> + +<p>About leave. Possibly on the way up to the other corps a side-slip to +Blighty will be allowed.</p> + +<p>Don't depend on anything. There seems to be a dearth of people who can +do this work, and so it would be unwise to count on getting away. The +thing is, however, conceivable—that is all.</p> + + +<p><i><br />December 27.</i></p> + +<p>First of all about current affairs here.</p> + +<p>Captain G—— is probably going to Army, so it is suggested that I shall +take his place here. He runs all the plotting of the aeroplane +photographs, etc., for the corps. It's a most awful and alarming +responsibility, and I don't feel that I can do it yet. May he not get +taken away just for a little while, or I'm lost.</p> + +<p>The corps commander sends for him (he has been doing the job for nine +months), and says: "Now, where is our line at the present moment? Has +so-and-so trench been repaired, and where is so-and-so German battery +that was shelling the —— Brigade yesterday?" Well, of course I simply +couldn't answer these questions yet.</p> + +<p>The prospect is murky. Given a little time, I think I could do it; but +... well, one can but try.</p> + +<p>I asked the Captain if he thought leave at all possible. He most +strongly advised me not to dream of asking. The corps is certain to +refuse in any case, as they will want me to sweat up the show and get to +know all about it as rapidly as possible.</p> + + +<p><i><br />January 2, 1917.</i></p> + +<p>I think I shall be going to live with the R.F.C., so as to be able to +snatch their photographs the instant they come in—puzzle them out—put +them quickly on to a map—and send them off. Everyone then will know far +more quickly what Fritz is up to.</p> + +<p>So don't be surprised if letters are addressed from R.F.C. shortly. I +shall take a couple of draughtsmen and a clerk and an orderly, and Hale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus143" id="illus143"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: The Butte De Warlencourt"> +<tr><td align='left'>THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT<br /><br /> +This small chalk mound was one of the most difficult obstacles on the +way to <span class="smcap">Bapaume</span>. In the foreground a large 'crump-hole' and the +remains of a little copse. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus143.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />January 11.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">AEROPLANE PHOTOGRAPHS</div> + +<p>I don't know when leave will be possible. This job is rather in the +making, and is really very important stuff. A great responsibility, +says the corps commander. In fact, I am just a bit nervous about +things generally. That battery that was reported in so-and-so wood. Is +it there still? Well, where has it moved to, then? You are not sure? Why +not? No recent photographs of it? But why not? Can it be in so-and-so +quarry, perhaps? That light railway has been repeatedly smashed up by +our heavies. Repaired? What? What evidence have you? Let me have a map +as soon as possible, showing exactly where you believe that line has +been repaired, and the exact position of that battery in the quarry—if +it really is there. But don't tell me it's in the quarry unless you are +quite sure. Yes, sir. And you'd better have the map duplicated. How many +can the draughtsmen print before to-morrow? About 300. Well, send out +copies. I must have that battery silenced at once. Do you see? Can I +rely on it being sent out in time? Yes, sir.</p> + +<p>That's the sort of thing. Things that <i>must</i> be done and quickly. +Perhaps it sounds nothing much—a mere bit of a map. But maps are like +lamps to men in the dark. And they must be accurate. To me, therefore, +the most inaccurate, absent-minded mortal before the war that ever +breathed, it is all a source of great anxiety.</p> + + +<p><i><br />January 12.</i></p> + +<p>I've got a bedroom with a brick floor in a cottage. I really hardly know +what it's like, as I arrive there about twelve o'clock every night and +fall into bed, and then up again at 7.30 next morning as a rule, and +frowsy at that. The roads here are just as muddy as ever, and if you go +off the roads you go too deep. We are camouflaging the whole place, and +I think it will soon be very difficult for the Huns to see it. At least, +when I say "we" are camouflaging, I mean that I run out for two minutes +about every three hours, and give hurried directions to a few bewildered +men, and rush in again. I'm sure they think the extraordinary patterns +that I order them to paint all over the huts, etc., are quite mad. The +R.F.C. show isn't ready yet, but it's likely to be so shortly.</p> + + +<p><i><br />January 17.</i></p> + +<p>To-day's letter got me into an absurd fit of internal laughter. Hale +brought it in while I was poring over some new photographs of Boche +emplacements, or dug-outs, or something—poring with a magnifying +glass.... And then came your drawings of the rooms at the cottage.</p> + +<p>That'll be admirable. I tried to hold my head and think of exactly how +the cottage looked, and where the new rooms were to be; but somehow I've +got no brains left. And I leave it all to you. One day we shall be able +to discuss it peaceably, but at present this brain is like some limp +jellyfish floating in the sea.</p> + +<p>To-day I'm doing a map, and the draughtsmen are copying it, of some +Boche dug-outs. Ye gods! what do I care about dug-outs! As well make +maps of all the rabbit-holes in Glamorganshire. But there, what's the +good of talking like that. It's got to be done.</p> + + +<p><i><br />January 24.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">BUSY DAYS</div> + +<p>The aeroplanes have brought in the most marvellous photographs, and I am +very busy deciphering them and mapping the information on to a map.</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 8.</i></p> + +<p>After many, many days of incessant work comes a brief interval of +repose—till to-morrow morning.</p> + +<p>We moved up here yesterday afternoon late.</p> + +<p>Well, imagine a lovely large hut.</p> + +<p>The room on the left is where all the maps, etc., are made, and the +room on the right is my office.</p> + +<p>But outsiders can't just barge into my office. Oh no! They must ask one +of the orderlies if they can see me. Isn't it ridiculous!</p> + +<p>Then there is a tiny bedroom.</p> + +<p>The office walls are entirely covered now with aeroplane photos and +maps. It is all rather fun, and I think it won't be quite such a strain. +The cold is intense. Hale is functioning with the stove in my room at +the moment. I have said once that I don't really need a fire in my +bedroom; but he evidently has different views, and is firmly lighting +it. He is quite happy here.</p> + +<p>I'm having the hut papered, to make it warmer. And canvas curtains, if +you please!</p> + +<p>The R.F.C. people are most hospitable and nice. I like them very much. +It's all quite interesting, and the aeroplanes are delicious as they +move, buzzing like vast mosquitoes.</p> + +<p>I go down in a side-car every day (that's the programme) to corps H.Q. +to report and get instructions.</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 12.</i></p> + +<p>Something may happen to prevent leave before leave comes. You will +understand. I should have to "remain at my post," as novels say.</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 15.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">WITH THE R.F.C.</div> + +<p>A very difficult map has just been finished, and is being printed, and +here we sit down for a little talk together. The war is for the moment +far away. Away anxiety, away nervous apprehension, away fatigue, away +responsibility, away Wilhelm! Let the doors be shut, the curtains drawn. +Listen. An adventure, amusing, and rather exciting. Would you like to +hear about it? Well, I was making a raised map of a particular part of +the line for the corps commander. And I go up from time to time to scan +the ground, so that it may be very accurate and therefore rather useful. +At least that is what I hope. Yesterday, then, up into the blue, piloted +by Eric.</p> + +<p>It was not a good day. In fact, too dud for good observation. But the +relief map must be ready quickly.</p> + +<p>Imagine us, please, robed in leather coats and leather helmets and +gauntlets, and with goggles, waiting at the entrance of a hangar while +the mechanics bring out the gadfly. They have already looked the +creature over with great care. The pale yellow wings glitter against the +violet horizon. The sun is shining, but it's freezing hard. Eric climbs +in, and then I do. I sit behind with the machine gun.</p> + +<p>I clasp a sketchbook, to sketch the lie of the land. O my aunt in +Jericho! isn't it Arctic! Fingers that feel like ammoniated quinine. You +know, a faint unpleasant tingle.</p> + +<p>They are starting the engines. Difficult this cold weather. The +following strange colloquy ensues:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Mechanic:</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Pilot:</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>M.</i> "Switch off."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> "Switch off."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>M.</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>M.</i> "Switch off."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> "Suck in."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>M.</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>P.</i> "Contact."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And with a terrific whir the propeller flashes round. The sound +increases, and then decreases slightly, and increases again. The gadfly +moves. Moves more rapidly. Skims along the ground. Rises, rises, rises. +Ah, the beautiful river! Every time I have flown the beauty of that +river catches me in the throat. But this featureless waste. Bereft of +everything but earth, and a few low shelters and gun-pits, and seamed +with trenches. Hideously lonely.</p> + +<p>Well, anyhow, here we are sailing high above it all, the wind +occasionally lifting one of the wings, and then the other, like a +sea-gull's. There is a haze, and it's not easy to see. You peer over the +edge, and behold at last the desired wood.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">A SCRAP IN THE AIR</div> + +<p>A wood? That? Good heavens! That poor miserable mess of splinters and +gashed soil? Each time I see one of the woods destroyed by this war I +thank God that our glorious Cotswold woods are still untouched. +Primroses, wood-anemones, squirrels. To think of squirrels!... Not +another aeroplane in sight. Neither our own nor Hun machines. Eric +circles smoothly round above the wood, and then crosses back over +no-man's-land to fly low, so that I can see the wood obliquely. Archie +quite wide of his mark. This doubling and circling perplexes him. The +sketch progresses. I look round from time to time to see that there are +still no Huns about. Eric also looks about. No: nothing in sight. The +guns are pooping off, but the noise of the engines makes the guns sound +like tiny little "pops." There, now I've nearly done. Lucky I came, +because the wood isn't quite what we thought. Yes, that'll do.... We are +up at a considerable height....</p> + +<p>Suddenly Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! above our heads. Three +Hun aeroplanes right on top of us; Eric drives headlong in a spiral +curve at full speed, smoke trailing out behind. The gun! I fumble. +Can't get round to it. Damn!</p> + +<p>Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! go the Huns. But Eric is faster. Are +they all Huns, though? Shall I fire? Yes. No. They daren't come down low +over our lines. We are safe. Yes, look, they were all Huns. They hang +about far up aloft. The Hun usually hunts in threes. Why, oh why, didn't +I fire? Well, it can't be helped now. Eric looks round. We both laugh. +"Why didn't you fire?" he shouts. I can't hear what he says, but I know +from the shape of his mouth that's what he is saying. I just smile and +shake my head. Can't explain now.</p> + +<p>Where on earth did they come from? Coasting about very high up, I +suppose, and suddenly swooped down at us.</p> + +<p>However, the drawing is done. So that's that. Home, John!</p> + +<p>One little bullet-hole through one of the wings, no more. Indifferent +shooting, my friend Fritz. However, I can't talk, because I never fired +at all!</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 16.</i></p> + +<p>I've never thanked you for the chocolates which arrived two days ago. +But they arrived during one of the avalanches of work, and were all +eaten within half an hour or so; not by me, but by various R.F.C. men +who are always coming in and out of my office for "the latest."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">TOLL OF WAR</div> + +<p>To-day all frosty and sunny. Think of going on to the terrace at home +before breakfast and seeing some jolly little new flower out, with the +Golden Valley behind, all grey-blue and woody.</p> + +<p>It's all working well here, and, being the representative of the corps, +I have a certain status which is pleasant. They think that I may or may +not give them a good character to the Powers that be. Quite fun.</p> + +<p>They are awfully nice fellows. The only two I knew before were Eric and +Bill Vivian. Bill I have known for a very long time, and during the war +I've seen a great deal of him, and was very fond of him. He was brought +down by Archie yesterday in our lines. Burnt to death. Dead when they +reached him. Yesterday night at mess we were all quite gay. Only one man +showed that his heart was as heavy as lead. And it seemed bad form. +Heaviness of heart is bad form. No gentleman should have a heavy heart. +A sign of weakness, of ill breeding.</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 17.</i></p> + +<p>To-day has been one of the jumpy, anxious days again, because something +is to happen shortly, and those concerned are ringing up all the time +asking me this and that about the Boche trenches, etc. And they want +maps of this and plans of that and t'other. It's these times before some +event that are so wearing. The smaller the event, the more wearing very +often, because it's just some one or two officers, perhaps, who are +doing the show, and, of course, half their success or failure depends on +whether an unhappy intelligence officer can tell them exactly what they +are up against, and exactly where it is and so on. I always go on the +principle of assuming the worst. If I think there <i>may</i> be a minny to +meet them, I tell them there <i>is</i> a minny, and probably two. It may not +be very cheering to them. But if the minny is there, well, then I've put +them on their guard; and if it isn't there, well, they can laugh at the +work of the staff, and there's no harm done. People don't realize the +awful strain and responsibility and hard work of staffs. It's sometimes +a nightmare. Think of it in this way: I make a slip. A dozen men get +killed. When the Push comes, I make another slip, and a hundred men get +killed. Perhaps more. All the work of the lazy and incompetent staff! +But if the staffs are lazy and incompetent, then, for goodness' sake, +let's put more energetic and more competent people in their places. But +where are these more competent people? In the divisions? in the +battalions? But that is exactly where the present staffs came from! And +they are the very people who originally jibed at the staffs! Well, +anyhow, the war will end some day.</p> + + +<p><i><br />February 21.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE WILD DUCK</div> + +<p><i><br />Re</i> America. It doesn't look much as if they were coming in now, does +it? However, one of the Scots Guards gave me June as the end of the war. +He offered me 10 to 1 in francs; but, as I am always rather muddled as +to whether that means that he gives me 10 francs if I win, or I give him +1 franc if I lose, or what, I declined to bet. I expect he thinks I +don't bet on principle. But, anyway, let's hope he wins.</p> + +<p>Leave is off at present.</p> + +<p>The worst of this game is that now I feel I want to do it all myself. I +really do know a fair amount about the Boche lines, and I long to spend +a day wandering about there taking notes!</p> + +<p>I was up yesterday afternoon trying to find out a certain T.M. battery, +and what should fly by quite close and quite unconcerned but a duck! We +were not very high, and it was very misty. The duck just appeared, with +his neck stretched out, eager and oblivious. And then vanished into the +mist again. I was thinking about that duck too much to find out what I +wanted. Anyway, it was a fruitless journey. But flying amongst clouds is +very beautiful. Sometimes we got above the clouds, to where the sun was +functioning away as efficiently as ever. The clouds looked like millions +of feather beds.</p> + + +<p><i><br />March 2.</i></p> + +<p>I have been doing some drawings of R.F.C. officers. They love being +"took" out here, and my office is rapidly degenerating into a club, +which makes work no easier.</p> + +<p>Well, you see from the papers what is happening. The Boche retires to +the Hindenburg Line, and we follow.</p> + +<p>I should so love to tell you all about it, but Mum's the word. A great +moral defeat for poor Fritz, anyway.</p> + +<p>The cavalry are sharpening their swords.</p> + +<p>The aeroplanes sail high up in the blue, like hungry hawks.</p> + + +<p><i><br />March 5.</i></p> + +<p>I am probably going off to-morrow. Now, where do you think? Paris? +Madrid? Anything of that sort?</p> + +<p>Wrong again. Shall I tell you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Victoria.</span></p> + +<p>I'll send you a telegram directly I get across the briny.</p> + +<p>And I plead for no "back from the war tea-parties," please!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='center'> +<a name="illus161" id="illus161"></a> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration: Peronne"> +<tr><td align='left'>PERONNE<br /> +From <span class="smcap">Biaches</span><br /><br /> +A few days after the evacuation. From a distance the place looked almost +intact, as some of the outside walls had been left standing. That white +building in the centre of the town was once the cathedral. <span class="smcap">Mont St. +Quentin</span> on the left. The thin white lines on the slopes beyond are +trenches. +</td><td align='left'><img src="images/illus161.jpg" alt="illustration" title="illustration" /></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><i><br />March 22.</i></p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE HUN RETREAT</div> + +<p>The Hun rearguards are now well beyond ——. I knew the place so +intimately from photographs, and from high up in the air, that a view of +it from terra-firma promised to be quite interesting.</p> + +<p>So with great eagerness, some sandwiches, and the faithful sketchbook, I +sallied forth. Harry came, too. A glorious day of brilliant sun and +brief snowstorms.</p> + +<p>From the aerodrome through all this devastated country, past wrecked +villages, orchards laid waste, dug-out camps, bivouac camps, R.E. dumps, +light railways, battered trollies lying on their sides, and all the ugly +confusion of old wire rusted a red-hot colour, bits of corrugated iron, +bits of netting screens, more wire, dead horses, dead men in all stages +of decomposition, legs, hands, heads scattered anywhere, dead trees, +mud, broken rifles, gas-bags, tin helmets, bully-beef tins, derelict +trenches, derelict telephone wires, grenades, aerial torpedoes, all the +toys of war, broken and useless. Tommy, the dear hairies, and the R.E. +dumps, to remind you what vast stores of everything are still being +accumulated.</p> + +<p>The ground becomes more and more like boiling porridge as you approach +no-man's-land. Of no-man's-land itself, perhaps, the less said the +better. No-beast's-land—call it that rather. And yet men have been very +brave, very tender, in no-man's-land. Next we come to those Hun trenches +that I have peered at from a distance so long and mapped so often. It +all seems rather futile now.</p> + +<p>Past the support trenches. Past the second line. Damn it! how much +larger and deeper that old emplacement is than I thought! The country is +less pitted, too. Of course, it hasn't been fought over like our back +areas. Why; here are trees scarcely knocked about at all. A recognizable +field there. How real that stream looks! And, oh Jemima! a blue tit.</p> + +<p>A little distance farther. Over that gentle rise, and there behold ——. +Surely one of the loveliest towns in France, on its low hill surrounded +by the quiet waters of the Somme. From a distance it looks all right; +though somehow, the smoke still ascending from it doesn't look natural.</p> + +<p>As you approach you realize that what looks so charming is just +empty, shelled, charred, and broken. The Huns have destroyed every +single house, all the bridges, and the cathedral, too. The cathedral +that once crowned the town now stands a pale crushed ghost in the +deserted market-place.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">PERONNE</div> + +<p>Some of the streets are almost amusing. Imagine Rye with the pretty +alleys so encumbered and piled up with roofs, sofas, the contents of +wardrobes, dormer-windows, smashed mirrors, rubble, and dust, that it's +quite impossible to proceed. Very well, that's ——.</p> + +<p>Go into the houses, and there it's just as it is in the streets. +Everything crushed to atoms. Images of saints have been hurled out on to +garbage-heaps, and in the cathedral huge pillars are lying about in +clumsy confusion amongst chairs, organ pipes, and gilded flowers.</p> + +<p>On a huge notice board in the Grande Place the Hun has written:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Nicht argern: nur wundern!</span></p></blockquote> + +<p>(Don't argue: only wonder! We the Huns did this. Why discuss what we +have done? We have destroyed your city. Gape and stare, stupid fools! +What does it matter to us? We took your precious town from you, because +we wanted it. Now we don't want it any more. Here it is back again. +With our love.) Some merry soldier wrote that up, I suppose. It was a +pity.</p> + +<p>There were French officers in —— to-day. I spoke to one. He answered +with a quiet, simple bitterness and determination that would have turned +even a Hohenzollern pale, I think. Unhappy Emperor! he must be feeling +decidedly uneasy nowadays.</p> + +<p>Another odd sight was a tub full of water, with a little dog trying to +get out. But the little dog was dead. A crump evidently landed somewhere +near, and just petrified him, as it were. You often see men like that, +struck dead in the middle of some act. Men are usually turned a dull +purplish or greenish black. So was this little dog. We ate a delicious +lunch on the battlements, our legs dangling 50 feet above the reedy +water. Lots of moorhen and coot swimming about.</p> + +<p>The sun was warm. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. What a heavenly world +it is!</p> + + +<p><i><br />April 6.</i></p> + +<p>After a hectic day comes this chance of writing to you. Eleven-thirty +p.m.</p> + +<p>Would you like to hear about night flying? I didn't go, but I sketched +the others going. And these are some notes. A bombing raid. It had been +ordered in the morning. A raid on ——. After a cheery dinner we trooped +out, singing foolish songs. The hangars a few hundred yards away across +the mud. They looked huge and eerie, looming up from the dark ground, +all stately in the moonlight. The moon had a halo, but was very bright, +bright enough to sketch by.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">NIGHT FLYING</div> + +<p>Six flares were flickering at intervals round the aerodrome. A vivid +orange colour against the dim blue sky. The horizon was greyer, and +little flames flashed intermittently from it. There were the aeroplanes +waiting.</p> + +<p>It was very cold. Soon the mechanics were starting the machines. The +usual loud spurting and fizzing till presently the first machine begins +to move. A big semi-luminous beetle lurching forward; then faster and +faster and away, lifting up, up, up into the night. Only the lights +visible now, but you can hear the hum of the engines a long way off. +Other machines follow. The sky is full of twinkling fairies. They circle +about for a bit, and then all head towards the east. Gradually the +humming dies away in the distance. Look out for yourselves, you sleeping +Huns!</p> + +<p>A long while afterwards the humming again.</p> + +<p>The first aeroplane is coming home. There he is. Gradually lower and +nearer. The machine descends smoothly on to the ground, turns and +"taxis," spitting angrily towards the hangar where it lives. Muffled +figures get out, and the mechanics take in the machine tail first to its +home. What? oh yes, quite successful. Smashed the place to blazes. +Anyone got a cigarette? Other machines begin coming in. It's such a +clear night that we still stand about in groups waiting for the last one +to arrive. Damn it all! where can old Rupert have got to? We'll just +wait till he comes back, and then bundle off to bed. Anxious? Good Lord, +no! What about?</p> + +<p>Suddenly a small sharp flash high up in the night. Another and another. +The Huns! They are coming. Archie is shelling them. Now another Archie +poops off nearer here. Quick! Where's the orderly officer?</p> + +<p>In a couple of minutes all is dark. Gradually the drone of the Huns, +high up in the air, becomes audible. No. They seem to be steering more +towards ——. Searchlights from three different directions grope slowly +to and fro. Where the devil are the Huns? The searchlights cannot find +them. They must be cruising somewhere up above those thin cirrus clouds. +Are they going to drop bombs on us? No, their direction is too far +south. The searchlights cannot find them.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">THE END</div> + +<p>No sign of Rupert yet. Probably he has landed at another aerodrome. Dear +old Rupert. One of the very best in this world. He'll be all right. Come +on. It's too cold. Let's turn in.</p> + + + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">printed by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">billing and sons, limited</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">guildford, england</span> +</p> + + + + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> +<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;"> +<p class="right"><big>Select Announcements</big><br /> +of some new and recent<br /> +volumes published by<br /> +Chatto & Windus.</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<p class="center">NEW BOOKS</p> +<p class="center">Published by Chatto & Windus</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p><br /></p> +<h3>A SHORT HISTORY OF +ENGLAND</h3> +<p class="center">By G.K. CHESTERTON</p> +<p class="center"><small>Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net</small></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<h3>BOOKS AND PERSONS</h3> +<p class="center">By ARNOLD BENNETT</p> +<p class="center"><small>Second Impression. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..071e5c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #16626 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16626) diff --git a/old/16626-8.txt b/old/16626-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..653b2fb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16626-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3513 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Letters to Helen, by Keith Henderson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Letters to Helen + Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front + +Author: Keith Henderson + +Illustrator: Keith Henderson + +Release Date: August 31, 2005 [EBook #16626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HELEN *** + + + + +Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger, +Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + + + +[Illustration: CRUCIFIX CORNER +Between MONTAUBAN & HIGH WOOD +One of the hands was shot away, and the figure hangs there suspended +from the other.] + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + +Impressions of an Artist +on the Western Front + +By KEITH HENDERSON + +Illustrated + +LONDON +CHATTO & WINDUS + +MCMXVII + + + + +PREFACE + + +These letters were never intended for publication. + +But when the pictures were brought back from France it was suggested +that they should be reproduced, and a book evolved. + +Then a certain person (who shall be nameless) conceived the dastardly +idea of exposing private correspondence to the public eye. He proved +wilful in the matter, and this book came into the world. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +CRUCIFIX CORNER _Frontispiece_ +A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU _To face page_ 6 +BAILLEUL 10 +LE MONT DES CATS 18 +FRICOURT CEMETERY 32 +TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE 48 +GIRD TRENCH 54 +A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT 60 +A WOUNDED TANK 66 +EXPLOSION OF AN AMMUNITION DUMP 78 +THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT 92 +PERONNE 106 + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + +_June 6, 1916._ + +Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been +to sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. +And now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to +write a letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and +unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most +Sherlock Holmes secrecy. Not a word about which ports we were sailing +from or to. + +However, I'll tell you what I can without disclosing any names of +places. + +After moving off at midnight from among the Hampshire pine-trees, we +eventually reached our port of departure. Great fun detraining the +horses and getting them on board. The men were in the highest spirits. +But how disgusting those cold rank smells of a dock are. + +We sailed the following evening. Hideously rough, and it took seventeen +and a half hours. The men very quiet indeed and packed like sardines. +It was wonderful to think of all those eager souls in all those ships +making for France together over the black deep water. Some had gone +before, and some came after. But the majority went over that night. I +felt decidedly ill. And it was nervous work going round seeing after the +horses and men when a "crisis" might have occurred at any moment! +Luckily, however, dignity was preserved. Land at last "hove in sight" as +the grey morning grew paler and clearer. What busy-looking quays! More +clatter of disembarkation. No time to think or look about. + +Then, all being ready, we mounted and trekked off to a so-called "rest +camp" near the town, most uneasy and hectic. But food late that evening +restored our hilarity. A few hours' sleep and we moved off once more +into the night, the horses' feet sounding loud and harsh on the unending +French cobbles. By 8 a.m. we were all packed into this train. Now we are +passing by lovely, almost English, wooded hills. Here a well-known town +with its cathedral looks most enticing. I long to explore. Such singing +from the men's carriages! Being farmers mostly, they are interested in +the unhedged fields and the acres of cloches. They go into hysterics of +laughter when the French people assail them with smiles, broken +English-French, and long loaves of bread. They think the long loaves +_very_ humorous! There are Y.M.C.A. canteens at most stations, so we are +well fed. The horses are miserable, of course. They were unhappy on +board ship. A horse can't be sick, you know, even if he wants to. And +now they are wretched in their trucks, Rinaldo and Swallow are, of +course, terrified, while Jezebel, having rapidly thought out the +situation, takes it all very quietly. She has just eaten an enormous +lunch. Poor Rinaldo wouldn't touch his, and Swallow only ate a very +little. + +[Sidenote: FRANCE AT LAST] + +In this carriage Jorrocks is snoring like thunder. Edward is eating +chocolate. Sir John is trying to plough through one of "these Frenchy +newspapers--damned nonsense, you know! they don't know what it all means +themselves." And Julian is scrutinizing a map of our area. + +Everyone is so glad to be going up right into it now. That pottering +about at home was most irritating. Just spit and polish, spit and polish +all the time since August, 1914. + +We are all getting cramp, and have to stand up occasionally. Toby has +smoked his fourteenth pipe. + +Oh, look! What a lovely rainbow! Treble. And under it a village with an +estaminet, a dozen slate-roofed houses, and a very new château, hideous +with scarlet bricks and chocolate draw-bridge and pepper-pot turrets. +Poplars and more poplars. Still we rumble along through symmetrical +France. + + +_June 7._ + +We are in one of the most lovely old French châteaux I have ever +imagined. Half château, half farm, fifteen miles behind the line. We +remain here for two or three days. Arrived late last night, tired and +grubby. But, O ye gods, when dawn began to reveal this old courtyard +with its hens and chickens and pigeons! On one side the old house with +its faded shutters. On the other side the old gateway with a square +tower and a pigeon-cote above. Along the other sides old barns. The +country round we have hardly seen, but it looks exquisite. There are +several most attractive foals in a field close by. + +And inside the château funny old-fashioned things--old beds with frowsty +canopies, and old wall-papers with large designs in ferns and +cornucopias. Imitation marble in the hall. Gilded tassels. Alas! my kit +has not yet arrived. It's awful. And the anxiety to draw these things is +feverish. We go so soon. + +When you look out of the rooms into the courtyard, you see our waggons +and draft-horses, and the men eating bully-beef like wolves. Some of +them (including Sergeant Cart) are shaving and washing stripped to the +waist. The others just tear at the bread and beef and munch without +speaking. Corporal Nutley and Corporal Field are pointing with their +tea-mugs to the old gateway and the ducks and things. They all evidently +love it. They sleep in the barns amongst the hay. The sun is warm and +sleepy. + + +_June 8._ + +[Sidenote: THE CHATEAU-FARM] + +Still at this lovely château-farm, and Life seems to have gone into a +trance. I wake up and look out into the courtyard and the sunlight, on +geese, Muscovy ducks, pigs, and pigeons, and it all feels like a +half-forgotten story. There are traces of the Huns, but all that seems +unreal. You hear the boom! boom! boom! of the guns all day, and more so +at night; but nothing can disturb the extraordinary remote peace of this +château. The very stones in the courtyard look more friendly and more +countrified than ordinary stones, as if some ancient fairy lived here. +There's no doubt at all that the men feel it. Several of them have said +how they like the place. They think it's a little bit like ----shire. I +think I know what they mean. + +After the war perhaps we may visit the place together: I should love +showing it to you. I'm not at all sure that it's really very beautiful. +The architecture isn't good when you consider it. But somehow.... + + +_June 10._ + +The same château. We are living a simple and brainless life. No +field-days, of course, and for this relief much thanks. We don't know in +the least what is happening. Troops come and troops go, and guns go by +during the night, and Red Cross waggons go hither and thither, and the +old turkey gobbles. + +Yesterday I was out with my troop, quite uninteresting. But what do you +think? Something exploded not 100 yards away from Rinaldo. I was much +farther off, dismounted. He didn't turn a hair, but only looked round +and watched the smoke. Whereas, as you know, a little bit of paper blown +across the road sends him into paroxysms of terror. + + +[Illustration: A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU DE FEBVIN-PALFART +There are many of these old chateaux-farms in Northern France. The beds +are under great frowsy canopies and all the curtains are looped up with +heavy tassels.] + + +_June 11._ + +I went into an old church in a large town ten miles from here to-day +with Sergeant Hodge. There were the usual tinsel things and red baize +and sham flowers. Sergeant Hodge much impressed. He said after we +emerged: "You know, sir, it's very fine indeed. It puts me in mind of +a bazaar." This was in all good faith, and was intended as a great +compliment to the church! We are having lots of rain, which is bad for +the horses, who are picketed in the open. And thunder. It's often +extremely difficult to tell whether, when the thunder is far away, it is +thunder or guns. Quite a novel experience, and quite pleasant after the +long period of make-believe in England. Discipline. So salutary and so +irksome. Now for the battle. I own I long to get into the thick of it +soon. We see infantry returning and going up, and we feel sick, somehow, +to be still safe. + +This country is very charming, but a bit monotonous. Every road and +every field exactly like every other. + + +_June 13._ + +[Sidenote: A SERVICE FOR KITCHENER] + +A service to-day for Kitchener. And we had to ride fifteen miles there +in pouring rain. Then we stood in deep mud for about an hour, the rain +gradually trickling down our necks. + +To-day delicious rumours of a German defeat at Verdun. Lots of +prisoners, including the Crown Prince! + +Goodness me, such rain. Jezebel bit Swallow above the eye merely to show +what her feelings were. He now has one eye enormously swollen and +almost closed up. It is dressed with iodine, so he looks most +remarkable. His beauty much damaged. But it will only be temporary. + +Hunt tells me that Swallow is so frightened of Jezebel he daren't lie +down at night. But then, Hunt thinks Jezebel a sort of Bucephalus, and +the more horses she kicks or bites the more pride he takes in her. He +has no love for Swallow, unfortunately. + +There's a distant cannonade going on to-day. We all eye each other. + + +_June 17._ + +In the small-hours of to-night we leave this wonderful place. Why we +were ever sent here or why moved away is one of those mysteries only +known to a few staff officials. + +But how we have loved it. At least I have. Some of the others--Jorrocks +for instance--have been bored. But, then, they couldn't draw, poor +dears. Do you know I have done three pictures. That's a lot in this +military life. One of the courtyard, with cocks and hens and things, and +in the distance men cleaning their saddles. Another of the vestibule, +with Julian and Edward consulting over some map or other at a table. +Another of a "fosse" or coal-pit about a mile away. A coal-pit sounds +repulsive, but not so in Northern France. They are away from all houses +and surrounded by corn-fields. The coal refuse is the curious part of +it. Up it comes from the main shaft and is piled up into a series of +large pyramids, visible for miles around. Many of the famous "redoubts" +are coal-refuse pyramids really. And such nice little chimneys. +Rinaldo--gone! Isn't it heartbreaking! An important person comes nosing +round, and asks for him. Sir John doesn't like to refuse. I am +powerless. Adieu, dear Rinaldo! One gets awfully fond of a horse. +Rinaldo was very naughty sometimes, but I loved him all the more for it. +And now his good looks have been disastrous. Oh that he had been uglier. +Isn't it maddening. Such a leaper, so fast, and such courage. Well, +perhaps I shall see him again. + + +_June 19._ + +[Sidenote: FEBVIN TO BAILLEUL] + +At the last moment an order that we are not to go. Then late last night +an order to send on an advanced party of one officer and one sergeant +and two men immediately. So off I go with Sergeant Dobbin and Hunt and +Noad. We had to find billets and bivouacs for the squadron at a place +far from here. This we did, and the squadron has just arrived, and we +have had lunch and are feeling very fat indeed. We have just seen a +pretty aeroplane show. Six of them flew over our heads towards the +Boche, and presently puff, puff! went the little dark clouds of smoke +all amongst them. They then got too high and too far off for us to see, +but we still saw the Archie shells following them. First a flash in the +sky, then a very dark spot; then the spot grows larger and fluffier, and +becomes a dusky little cloud. So you see some flashes, some dark spots, +and some larger fluffy clouds--all on the wretched aeroplane's track. + +Only two returned, alas! but they told us they had brought down three +Aviatiks. + +We're moving with great rapidity up into colder climes. More anon. + + +_June 22._ + +I wrote a p.c. early this morning, as I thought I might get no other +chance. Things are all merry and bright. We have moved up like oiled +lightning from ---- to a rather famous place. Hedges and hop-fields. +Very interesting church--not hurt at all. We are suffering so (at least, +the poor men are) from thirst. There's no water anywhere. I long to gulp +down green pond water. However, that will be remedied shortly, I hope. I +went into the big town and bought a barrel of beer for the men. Tempting +Providence. But there's nothing else. The water isn't good even when +boiled. However, all will be well soon. + + +[Illustration: BAILLEUL +A peaceful place behind the battle.] + + +_June 23._ + +[Sidenote: MANY SMELLS AND NO WATER] + +The most extraordinary things are happening. All very quiet and humdrum +on the surface. Only the aeroplanes are busy, and if the sun is between +you and them there are always the little black high Archie clouds +following them, like vultures appearing from nowhere. + +Our quick bolt up here has had several pleasant results. First, the +country is very beautiful, more hilly in this immediate neighbourhood, +with great plains stretching away on all sides. The low hills all have +woods round them, and a windmill or a church on the top. Second, B +Squadron have already arrived, and our old Brigade-Major and lots of +other old friends. It was most joyous meeting them all again. We came +trotting down one road, covered with dust, and they came trotting down +another road even more covered with dust, having trekked all day. + +Isn't it funny. One gets so quickly used to things that already we have +ceased to notice the smells, which at first made us wield bottles of +disinfectant wherever we went. But now, when the farms and outhouses and +other places where we live smell, we merely laugh, and "fatigues" are +all at work automatically before nightfall, and by next morning--well, +the smells have not gone, but the general feeling is that a good start +has been made. + +The water problem is still unsolved, and we get very thirsty; but thirst +is a small fleabite, after all. "Which would you rather have," I asked a +discontented lance-corporal, "a bit of a thirst or a dentist drilling a +hole down a pet nerve?" And he owned he'd rather have a thirst. You +know, it's most awkward. They come to you when there's any difficulty +and seem to think you can put things right always. For instance, a man +came up the other day: "Please, sir, I've lost my haversack." "When did +you miss it first?" "Between ---- and ----, sir." "Now what do you want +me to do?" "I don't know, sir." "Do you want me to go back to ---- and +search the whole of the twenty odd miles to ---- on the off chance of +finding it?" "No, sir." "Do you want to do so yourself?" "No, sir." "And +even if I ordered you to go, do you think that, with so many troops +about, you would be likely to find it still there?" "No, sir." + +The result is, of course, that I have to buy one for the unfortunate lad +in the nearest town. One must eat. And our haversacks are our larders. +Haversacks are supplied by the army, but it takes such a time to get +anything, that, if the matter is urgent, it has to be done without the +army. We (the bloomin' orficers) have a "mess-cart" for all our absurd +wines and tinned peaches and things, but the men often have nothing but +the contents of their haversacks. + + +_June 25._ + +[Sidenote: READY FOR THE PUSH] + +We are in a funny state of waiting for something to happen. Rumours +flying about all the time. We live on them--a bite off one, a slice off +another, a merry-thought off another. And so we learn the news of the +world. Papers when we get a chance of going into some town, and then +only two days old, or else French, which are very scrappy. Often we get +no news at all for three or four days, except what some passing +ambulance will vouchsafe. And usually they don't really know much. So +when there's an extra heavy strafing or an extra quiet lull we learn +that the entire German staff has been captured, or Rheims evacuated, or +Holland sunk, or something else equally strange. The M.G.'s were +hammering away furiously last night, and the whole line was lovely with +star shells hanging like arc lights in the air, and then dropping slowly +to earth. They light up everything like immense moons. + + +_June 28._ + +Starting from the farm where the horses are hidden at nine o'clock last +night (twenty-one, as we call it out here), after a hot meal, we +marched through Bedfordshire-like country, along ascending paths, to the +bottom of a wooded hill where a motor lorry with picks and shovels met +us. Thence along a narrow muddy path through a wood. The path circles +round the hill. The east side of the hill faces the Boche front line. It +was still quite light. The undergrowth thick and dank. Our fellows very +merry. The Boches know this path, which is pitted with shell holes. They +shell the place by day, oddly enough, but hardly ever by night. + +It was raining gently. Turtle-doves continually crossed our way. I felt +much intrigued. A very weird wood. The guns crashed lethargically, +intermittently. + +When we got round to the east side of the hill, the R.E.'s, who were +acting as guides, comforters, and friends, showed us what we were to do: +to dig a line of trench 6 feet deep, and as narrow as might be, for some +cables that were to lead into a very important set of dug-outs for +certain pink and gold people. + +The dug-outs are deep in the side of the hill. It's what is called an +advanced H.Q.--_i.e._, when the Push begins, the gilded ones will crawl +in and rap out messages to the various commanders, and watch the battle. + +The R.E. officers showed us what was wanted, and each man put in his +pick or shovel to mark the line. This is the procedure: each pick or +shovel about 2 yards apart, and each man delves on that spot till he is +6 feet down. If it were not done like this, then (when it became too +dark to see) the line would be lost. This only applies fully, of course, +when you are in woods or other cover. Digging isn't really a cavalry +job. But what of that? + +[Sidenote: TRENCH DIGGING] + +Well, now we've started. It's about ten o'clock, and getting very dim. +Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle. Humphry and I creep up (neglectful of duty) +to the top of the hill. A tiny tower there, smashed to pieces, but +beautiful in the twilight. We creep about amongst shell craters. +Presently a strange sweet odour. Flowers? Impossible. We stare into the +dusk. An exquisite faint scent all around us. Surely, surely, thyme? +Yes, sweet-williams, thyme. Evidently there has been a cottage here, but +now only a mass of rubble and beams and glass to show where once it was. +Sweet-williams, thyme, and later some Canterbury bells. Another +dream-place, like that old château-farm. + +What a view from here of the German lines and ours! As it gets darker, +the flashes of the guns and the Very lights' solemn brilliance +illuminate the whole show like a map. That tragic ruin of a town on our +left is being shelled as usual. Jim is there. In front of us the German +salient. All comparatively quiet. How lovely it is! The sounds of our +men digging in the wet soil mingle now with other small noises. Voices +underground. Listen. And a mouth-organ's cheery bray coming from the +bowels of the earth. It is pitch-dark. We stand up like Generals +surveying the battle-field. No danger. The Boche does not waste +ammunition. + +The rain is very heavy. I have got a tuft of sweet-william to smell. + +We return to the men. They are wet through, but quite happy and content. +Not a bullet, not a scrap of anything that goes pop. They work in a +warm, wet peace. That is one of the odd things you learn--that only +certain places are dangerous, and usually only at certain times. + +The rain is coming down with tropical intensity. I am in a misty dream. +It's all so mysterious. Suddenly I fall over something--plonk into the +middle of some excavated earth, which the rain has made into semolina +pudding. Tiresome to be absent-minded. How it pours! Midnight. + +The roots of the trees make it very difficult to dig tidily, but the men +use their "billucks" with the unerring skill of farmers, and their +spades and picks as you or I would use a pencil. Time goes on. The +trench must be done before 2.30 a.m. We have to be gone before dawn. It +is nearly done now. Half-past twelve. The rain is stopping. One o'clock. +No, it isn't. It's coming down again. Half-past one. The trench is +finished. We must cover up all signs of it with branches, lest the wily +Taube should see, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. + +A quarter to two. + +[Sidenote: A STRAFE] + +Suddenly crash! bang! clash! boom! bang! We almost jump out of our +skins. Where the deuce were all those guns hidden? From all about us, +and far away behind and on either flank, our guns have begun strafing. +The most hideous and deafening din. + +The ground seems to shake. Then an order comes that we are to clear out +at once. We do so. The Boches haven't answered yet, but they will. The +whole thing seems quite unreal. The men vastly entertained. I honestly +felt as if I were at some exciting melodrama. The least cessation of the +guns, and I found myself saying: "Don't stop! don't stop!" I shouted +into Corporal Nutley's car: "Can you hear what I'm saying?" and he +answered: "No, sir." + +At last we got out into the little path, and had to double along through +the mud. Humphry was last man out, and he saw the one and only shell +the Boches sent over, exploding quite close to the aforementioned +dug-out. + +Isn't it funny. The Boches don't apparently know of this dug-out, or of +the cable trenches, or they would, of course, smash it to pieces. And, +for some reason that I haven't yet grasped, they never reply to our guns +immediately. They wait for perhaps ten minutes, and _then_ they don't +always reply to the same spot we spoke from. As, for example, this wood. +Our guns were all in and round about the wood. The Boches apparently +strafed back at an unoffending village on the west side of the hill. + +So, with our guns still behaving like things delirious, we eventually +reached the horses. Jezebel was quietly gorging herself with long +luscious grass beside the hedge. She told me she hadn't noticed anything +unusual. Poor Swallow was standing quite still, with his nostrils wide +open, breathing hard and trembling all over. A good many horses were +trembling, but the majority agreed with Jezebel: "It's only some silly +nonsense on the part of those Human Beings again. Don't listen." + +Then we saddled up and rode back to a place well behind, where we could +exercise the beasties. They had been given no exercise for three days. +And so home again to this farm. The horses are all in a field surrounded +by trees, and couldn't be seen from above at all. I have seen lots +of other horse-lines of other units, though, much closer to the front +than this is--quite open to view. The fact is, I think, that Hun +aircraft very seldom indeed gets across into our preserves. + + +[Illustration: LE MONT DES CATS +Near YPRES +In the early days of the war spies used to signal from the monastery on +the top of this hill. The country round about is quite flat and +water-logged.] + + +_July 6._ + +[Sidenote: THE ROADS NEAR DRANONTRE] + +Overnight it appears in orders that the roads from ---- to ---- via ---- +are to be reported on with reference to their suitability for heavy +transport, guns, cavalry, infantry, etc. + +So after an early breakfast Hunt comes round, with Swallow for me and +Jezebel for himself, haversack rations for us both, and feeds for the +horses. I feel very much on the qui-vive, as I haven't seen that +particular part before. + +A grey warm day. Some miles to go due south before we get near our +destination. As we approach it we find, as usual, roads and railways +being made, and fatigue-parties repainting tents with blotches and +stripes. Then come notices, "No traffic along this road," or, "This road +liable to be shelled," with signboards at every corner, "To ----" or +some other place in the trenches. Sometimes the notices say +"Something-or-other Avenue" or "Burlington Arcade," etc.--nicknames, but +recognized officially. And all the time we are passing endless lorries +and Red Cross waggons and troops and dug-out camps. As we get closer the +signs of shelling get worse, and children are seen no longer. Old men, +though, occasionally observed working in a field quite unperturbed. +Rarely a French soldier or an interpreter with his sphinx badges. All +this quite lost on Hunt, who has "quite got used to abroad, thank you, +sir." He is eating chocolate or something, half a horse-length (the +correct distance) behind me. + +Now on our left is a famous ridge, with a ruined village on the top. +Not, you understand, a ridge in the Swiss sense, but rather in the +Norfolk sense. I should like to go and see it, but it's too open to the +Boche's eye, and I don't want to dismount yet. So we curve round +right-handed a bit. Aha! "To ----." Nous voilà! Follow down this muddy +track under cover of the ridge, and we arrive at ----. A wood just +beyond the little town. Oh, mournful wood! "Bois épais, redouble ton +ombre." But they say the anemones and the primroses were as merry and +sweet as ever this spring. Bravo little wood! + +The village is, of course, evacuated by all inhabitants. The houses all +in ruins. By now all the remaining windows have been boarded up and the +blown-out doors barred against prying eyes. Here we are at an old +estaminet called "Aux Coeurs joyeux." There's hardly anything but the +sign left. At the cross-roads in the centre of the town is the church, +so dismal. No roof, pillars broken and lying about the floor amongst +débris of broken images, chairs, and muddy rubble. + +[Sidenote: PLOEGSTEERT] + +As I am coming out I turn over the hand of an image, and underneath it +what the deuce is this? Why, a fragment of an old picture, torn and +decaying away. What shall I do? Leave it to rot? Give it to ... Yes, +exactly ... to whom? And would anyone thank me for it? Just a head of +St. John, very battered and faded. It's a fragment about a foot square, +and through all the mud one can see something like this: A head of St. +John in the corner; rays of light (two very thin small rays) shining on +him, and a look of great suffering on his face. The background a sort of +dull ochre. Evidently once a large composition. There are two books, one +with EVAN, and the other with, I think, BIBLIA SACRA, +written on it. It is quite worthless except from a sentimental point of +view. + +The exposure and the heat of the explosions have sadly cracked and +peeled the paint, but it seems vaguely symbolical. Near here I picked up +some minute bits of green glass. + +However, there was a notice: "It is dangerous to loiter here." So I tore +myself away, and we remounted. The Boche can't see into the town +because of the remaining buildings, but the whole place is utterly +empty--not a dog even. + +Soon the road to the next village _is_ exposed to the Boche's view. +Therefore canvas screens about 20 feet high have been erected, so that, +if necessary, troops, and even lorries, can hurry by. It is most +curious. "But for that thin bit of canvas, my good Swallow, you would +get something into your tummy you wouldn't like," I remarked. At that +moment the sun came out. We were keeping to the side of the road where +it is soft going. Suddenly Swallow leaped like a stag into the middle of +the road all over the _pavé_. Panic terror. He had seen the shadow of a +starling flit across his path! + +Jezebel was tittuping along behind, thinking only of her next feed. I +cannot get her to take any interest in these thrilling spots. Sometimes +a soldier or two would emerge from a cellar, the entrance to which would +be piled up with sand-bags. And once or twice bang! bang! goes a gun +quite close by. + +Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out +of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a +very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three +different bridges--not the old bridges, which are broken down, but +sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on +the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of +the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to +civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way +behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of +those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress +they will look most charming, I think. + +[Sidenote: ARMENTIERES] + +Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from +which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the +everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here. + +Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes +little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering +round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an +A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop +under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing +so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are +practically out of the danger area by now, but you never know. Some +boring A.P.M. might pounce on the sketch and create a botheration. + +Meantime I have been laboriously making pretty maps to present to Sir +John, coloured maps showing where such and such a rise of ground could +be held, or where such and such a road offers difficulties to transport, +etc. But it's not easy to do, and we don't get back to camp till five +minutes before stables, having covered about thirty miles. Besides, we +had to stop and feed ourselves and the horses. + +Then stables. Sergeant Hodge reprimanded for not having reported a bad +kick. Southcombe slacking a bit. Must keep an eagle eye on that young +man. At the end a whistle (no trumpets allowed). The horses all neigh +and toss their heads and paw. Nosebags are put on, and after touring +round to see that all is correct we slope off to tea, which Hale and Co. +have got all ready. Luxurious ménage as of yore. But good when you're +hungry, there's no doubt. We are moving again--probably to-morrow. + + +_July 10._ + +We have moved. The sixth time altogether. Not far though. A close view +of the sweet-william hill. It must be sketched. + +I am sitting on some sacks of corn, wondering why Fritz doesn't lob over +a crump or two, just to wake us up. Jezebel is gorging herself close by. +Swallow eats a bit, and then suddenly looks up and sniffs nervously. I +suppose he has heard a beetle trotting by, or seen a twig fall off a +tree. + +The horses are all picketed out in a field, and we are in bivvies. Hale +has made me a bed out of some poles and wire netting, as he says it is a +clay subsoil and I mustn't lie on the grass. I suppose he knows. + + +_July 12._ + +[Sidenote: THE HORSES] + +I'm writing this in a queer dilapidated mud cottage, inhabited by an +ancient ex-soldier aged eighty-three. He is very difficult to +understand. His language is quite foreign to me. But he owns the +quaintest little doll-like image of the Virgin in a glass case, and +several Bristol balls! I nearly fell flat when I saw them. His +grandfather, I think he says, was in England once. The cottage is quite +close to our present camp, and we go in for meals when it's very wet. + +The bed Hale made me is growing into a house. He has discovered various +old sacks, bits of tarred felt, and planks, and the place is becoming a +most attractive little abode. + +Then you must imagine an old wild-cherry tree, and lots of young oaks +and elders, etc., all round. Jezebel and Swallow live close by. Jezebel +has acquired a new trick. You know she doesn't like having her tummy +groomed. Well, now (especially, of course, when it's very muddy) she +waits till Hunt has finished dressing her, and then, as soon as his back +is turned, she lies down and rolls. Hunt is in despair. He used to be +really fond of her. But now I believe he'd kill her if he could, +sometimes. All his labour entirely and ridiculously in vain. I'm +convinced that she does it on purpose, because she always chooses just +the moment when he has achieved a beautiful polish on her, and either +has to go off to breakfast or else to get the saddle or something. It's +as good as a play. + +We are learning the "tactical" merits of all the roads and woods and +hills (such as they are) all along our sector of front, and as much as +we can, with field-glasses, of the other side. An offensive. What fun. +But exactly where are we going to offend? Rumours everywhere. If, we +say, that village or that ridge has to be taken from this or that +unexpected position, how shall we do it? Suppose we get Fritz on the +hop, as they have near Peronne. Where are the most covered approaches to +the slopes of that hill? Shall we carry the thing off as splendidly as +those squadrons did before Peronne, or shall we bungle the show? You'll +see. + +We get so few papers here, and only two days old at that, but no one +seems much the worse for it. + +[Sidenote: NEUVE EGLISE] + +Only one solitary man with lice so far. The man has been sent away, and +is, I hear, to be given sulphur baths and scrubbed with a scrubbing +brush. + +Oh, I was going to say just now--_re_ reconnoitring--that we were doing +all the ground about a village where there is a church even more smashed +than the St. John place. It is on a hill, and all the village is Sahara. +The church remains with the remnants of four outside walls and the +tower. Fritz does not destroy the tower, as it is a good spot for him to +range on to. And outside the tower, right up at the top, is the bronze +minute-hand of the old clock. The rest of the clock-face has been blown +into the middle of the church, and lies there nearly complete amidst a +crumbled heap of pillars and mortar and chair-legs and pulpit fragments. +One notice on a house amused me so, and the troop too. It says, "Do not +_touch_ this house." The reason being rather obvious. For if you did +touch the house, it would certainly fall on to your head. The next shell +will bring it down, even if it's a couple of hundred yards away, merely +by the vibration. We find shell holes so useful for watering the horses. +They seem to retain water in a most curious way. + + +_July 19._ + +On the move again. A four days' trek. Not more than twenty miles a day, +in order to keep the horses "in the pink." They are certainly very fit +now, and a gentle twenty miles a day just keeps them nicely exercised. +But twenty miles _at a walk_ is not overexciting. Still, it is +interesting to be covering the ground. We already know quite a lot of +the back of the front. Last night we arrived in a cool lull after +showers. From quiet and uneventful stretches of hedgeless corn-fields, +intersected by long straight roads, lined sometimes with poplars, but +more often with lopped wych-elms or willows, we descended rather +suddenly into a little wooded valley where a village sits by the trouty +stream. After watering the horses at the stream, we filed by squadrons +into various fields and picketed down for the night. Some of us in a +small but clean estaminet, others in barns. + +A very peaceful trek, quite different from the dazzling swoop that was +threatened. + + +_July 20._ + +Am I telling you about the things you want to hear? Usually I think I've +talked mostly about our surroundings, doings, and only to a very small +extent about our thoughts. But, truth to relate, we think so little +that there is not much in that line to record. On this job you just +can't think. And a good thing too, perhaps. + +[Sidenote: FLESSELLES] + +However, here we are, and here I expect we shall remain for, say, a +week. The horses are all right out in the open. The men are in barns. +But we are in cottages--real, almost English-looking cottages. Edward +and I share a room in one, and the others are dotted about the village. +Now, this is the cottage: + +From the high street (the only street) you turn into a little gate, and +then walk down a path of brick with a narrow flower border on either +side, and vegetables beyond. The cottage is white, with lace curtains +and brick floors, without carpets, like all French cottages. The walls +have endless pictures of saints and things, with occasional crucifixes +and school certificates and faded photographs of people in stiff dresses +and crimped hair. + +Out at the back more kitchen-garden with some fruit-trees. + +Altogether quite a charming little place. Dusty and rather flat open +country intersected by deepish valleys, not unlike the Cirencester road +if you removed all the woods, or nearly all. We don't, of course, know +what we are going to do now. + + +_July 23._ + +Things is curiouser and curiouser. In all haste we got ready to move. We +then moved like tortoises. I rode over to ---- yesterday. Cavalry all +over the place like locusts. And, lawks! what a din! Guns in a violent +paroxysm of rage. Aeroplanes wandering about in the sky, purring like +angry panthers, all yellow in the sunlight. And all day and night more +dusty men and dusty horses and dusty lorries and dusty guns coming and +going, coming and going. + +The other squadron at last quite close to us. Long talks with Dennis. +He's had an exciting time, and was under orders for a most hair-raising +job, which didn't come off owing to Fritz's tiresome habit of doing the +unexpected. Horrors! The General has been trying Swallow. I fear he may +steal him. Of course he has every right to any horse in the regiment, +but it is quite difficult to smile. Swallow is, unfortunately, even more +showy than Rinaldo was; but he shied at a goat, bless him, and I think +that may just turn the scale. I shall now proceed to train Swallow to +shy at every blade of grass, every grain of sand. Long live that goat! +We are still "standing by." It is a wearing existence. I bathed +yesterday in a well-known river. So beautiful and willowy. + + +_July 28._ + +[Sidenote: A BATH] + +Temperature 100,000°! And I am lying on a bed in a wee cottage, very, +very dusty and dirty. Hale, however, is going to bring some water from +the pump, and, oh Jerusalem, won't it be heavenly--a bath! All these +things off, and lovely clean things on, and lovely coffee to drink when +that's done. I wouldn't change the prospects of the next half-hour for +all the pearls and peacocks of Araby--no, not if you offered me the +Peace of Europe! Europe be blowed! I want my bath. + +You see, it's like this: The corps H.Q. moved to a different area some +days ago, preceded by us. Everything in the area left in an utterly +unorganized, uncatalogued condition. We have to tear round and find out +where the various divisions can go. + +And we have _got_ to find room for more divisions than have ever +occupied this area before. Useless to come back and report that such and +such villages have no water for men or horses. The water has got to be +found. Dig for it. Organize fatigue-parties and dig. Dam up little +trickles by the roadside until quite large ponds are formed. Get the +engineers and pioneers on to it. Labour battalions--anything. So I've +been riding madly about, and I'm like a treacle pudding in a +sand-storm. + +The bath! Hale, you are a most excellent fellow. That'll do splendidly. +Have you got my towel?... INTERVAL.... And now, dear friends, +it is another man that you see before you. A man who has had a bath. A +man less like a bit of oily motor-waste, and more like Sir George +Alexander. This delicious coffee, too! A bowl of it, made by Mme. +Whatever-her-name-is. I take it up in both hands and quaff it. Here's to +You and to Home, and to Everybody--and (just to show there's no ill +feeling) here's to the poor old Boche! + + +_July 29._ + +In the same cottage. + +It's very hot. Ammunition lorries go by in an endless string, making the +deuce of a dust. But we are far away from guns and gun food and noise. I +got leave to go up to ---- yesterday. + +I do dislike noise so, don't you? The noise of a battery in action is +diabolical, and the very thought of it makes me shiver. There go the +senseless lorries, all packed with music for a more hellish orchestra +than you can remotely imagine. The first few bars are enough to drive +you nearly frantic. It's unholy. It seems to split your head and +tear your ears out of their sockets. Can you understand a noise that +hits you? Hits unbearably, and then again. Crashes on to you. Bangs your +bones out of your skin, till you feel dazed and sick. + +Still the lorries go by. + + +[Illustration: FRICOURT CEMETERY +The moon and some signal lights over FRICOURT. LA +BOISELLE just over the hill. French crosses all bent and twisted. +The little chapel still standing.] + + +_August 3._ + +[Sidenote: GUNS AT FRICOURT] + +I hear the General doesn't like Swallow, so there's a good chance of his +returning. When you get angry with Swallow, he loses control of his legs +altogether, and they all fly about in every direction. He is quite like +Rinaldo in character,--not so perpetually fidgety, but as nervous, and +more easily frightened. Jezebel is showing her worth now like a Trojan. +She knows she has to make up for the loss of Swallow (whom I think she +rather misses). She is behaving splendidly. She is blatantly well, and +obeys all orders like clockwork; never tired; always hungry--a model. +The other mare, Moonlight, a dark brown, seems to be somehow exhausted. +I think she has had a very hard time of it, and has been wounded in the +foot. Her foot is all right now, but she seems to have no life left in +her. The war has utterly beaten her. Hunt is grazing and grooming and +petting her all day. So she may pick up. At present she is somehow +rather pathetic. She was with the Indian cavalry before she got +wounded. And then she went to a veterinary hospital. She is well made, +and may possibly brighten up. Hunt declares that she has "lost all her +courage." I'm glad I'm not a horse. + + +_August 5._ + +This is such an amazing country and in such an amazing condition. I +could collect a Harrod's Stores in a day--interesting and useful things, +too. But it's impossible to carry things about. One daren't overload the +horses, and one daren't overload the transport. Both are so heavy laden, +as it is. + +The signal job is quite interesting, really, and the Colonel gives me an +absolutely free hand. + +Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies. I took Jezebel +into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down! So the flies must +just bite, I fear. Large grey brutes. + +Hunt made me laugh so last night. I was looking round the horses with +Edward. They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay. To my +surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed. "Evidently getting +her appetite back," I remarked. "Oh yes, sir," says Hunt; "several +times I've caught her _hollerin'_ for her meals lately!" Isn't that a +lovely expression? + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS] + +Hunt is such a good chap. He thinks nothing of "abroad," but a lot of +the "'osses," as he calls them. I found him what seemed to me a very +nice loft to sleep in when we got here. But no: "I'd rather sleep with +my 'osses, sir, thank you." And he sleeps practically under their noses. +"You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on." + +He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he +attributes the error to one of her moods. + +She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was +hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was +being bitten by a fly, I don't know. No one seems to have seen her do +it. "One of her moods," says Hunt; and that's all there is to be said +about the incident. + +My dear, this country is most enchanting. Far away from nasty noises, +full of unexpected wooded valleys and willowy streams. + +All the little shrines are, as usual, surrounded by half-clipped trees. + +And the wild-flowers. Clear pale blue succory is the most charming of +all, and I am going to send you some plants as soon as they have ceased +flowering. + + +_August 6._ + +You can't think how difficult it is to take any interest in military +matters sometimes. The inclination to let things slide. The feeling that +an order is not so terrifying as it once was; that after all, who will +know or bother if one furtive subaltern creeps out one evening to +sketch? + + +_August 8._ + +Do you know, it's unintelligent, but I do so enjoy being here away from +the fevers of war. War is getting tedious, and the summer is all too +short. + +Swallow is coming back. Isn't it splendid! The General finds him too +irritating and tiresome. Jezebel will be glad, for she doesn't like the +ghost-horse Moonlight, and she never really disliked Swallow. I can't +say she liked him, because she likes no one, dear lamb. But she used to +look on Swallow with rather less suspicion, somehow. And Swallow has a +habit of licking that she approves of. I have often seen her snap at him +even while he is licking her; but he always continues after a moment. I +think it soothes her when the flies are tiresome. + +This place has a beautiful church, which I have drawn. It's quite an +unusually charming bit of the country. + + +_August 11._ + +[Sidenote: DOMART] + +Jezebel did such an astonishing thing yesterday. I was out with the +signallers practising. We didn't want the bother of holding or picketing +the horses. So I ordered "off-saddle," and then put a guard over the +disused quarry where I had decided to leave them. The quarry had a +grassy floor, and walls of chalk that in one place were only about 7 +foot high. Jezebel has been so good (for her) lately, that I determined +to leave her with the other horses. They were stripped of all bridles +and saddles and things, and had heaps of room to wander. + +Meanwhile we were carrying on with our work. + +Presently shouts from the guard. I went back to see what was the matter. +My dear, Jezebel had tried to jump out of the quarry! + +She had tried twice, but the sides were too steep and high, and she had +slipped back. When I arrived, she was quietly grazing as if nothing had +happened. Ah, but wait. This is not all. + +Later on in the morning another hooroosh. A loud squealing and sounds of +kicking. One of her moods again, I thought to myself grimly. That +well-known voice. I should recognize her squeal anywhere. As I was going +towards the quarry with Corporal Dutton to get her tied up or else +hobbled, lo and behold! the two guards had vanished. "What the +devil...." And all of a sudden out pour the horses careering downhill +like mad! It was so appalling that Corporal Dutton and I just stood and +shouted with laughter. + +My dear, if there is anything in the whole world that goads a Major, a +Brigadier, or any other military man, to fury and madness, it is a loose +horse. + +Imagine, then, forty-four horses all riderless, without saddles or +bridles (and therefore almost impossible to catch), stampeding straight +into a corps H.Q. village. This village is crawling with Generals! + +Well, in the end we caught them all, and by some dazzling piece of luck, +for which Allah be praised, no General, no Colonel, nor anyone else, +seems to have got wind of the incident. Subalterns, yes, and I am +sumptuously ragged about it. But how all the Generals and things +happened to be out of sight and hearing at the time, I don't know. And +_still_ this is not the cream of the comedy. + +After giving orders for rounding up the animals, I went on to the quarry +with Corporal Dutton. My dear, _There was Jezebel grazing, as cool as a +cucumber!_ + +She still further insulted me by coming up and trying to push her nose +into my pocket, where I sometimes keep an apple for her. + +[Sidenote: ANOTHER MOVE NORTHWARDS] + +The guards, you see, had instantly gone in to get her away from the +horse she was kicking, when we first heard the commotion. The other +horses had mooned out of the entrance gap, and then, I suppose, +something--a fly, perhaps--had frightened them, and off they had +galloped. While "the accursed female," as we sometimes call Jezebel, too +sensible to stampede, quietly continued feeding. I shall never be taken +in by her air of innocence again. Never. I don't a bit mind saying I was +decidedly alarmed. That mare might have been responsible for the death +of the Corps Commander. + +O Jezebel, I wish I could get angry with you and give you a jolly good +hiding one day. But you know I can't, you dear old thing. I'm writing +this in the orchard, where the H.Q. horses live, and Jezebel is standing +sleepily in the shade of her tree. She looks intensely stupid. She +occasionally tries to flick away a fly with her short tail. Occasionally +she sighs deeply, with that blubbery, spluttery noise that all horses +make when they sigh. + + +_August 15._ + +On the move. This is our first day's trek, and we are at a place where +we have been before--but not the same billets. I am in a cottage with +an earth floor (which looks very odd with a hideous drab-coloured +wall-paper), and small children and hens, both dirty, wander in and out +of my room. It's too hot to keep the door latched. A swallow's nest in +the room next door; and the people say that, although the young have +flown, they still return at night. + + +_August 19._ + +The Adjutant is away, and won't be returning for some time; so I am +still acting. And this, together with signal work, etc., is somewhat +arduous. I live all day in the "office," a very small bivouac in a green +field. There I sit praying for inspiration, when letters come in marked +_Urgent_, beginning something like this: + + "LP/3657042--G1. + + "Ref. your memo HC/516342/L12 of 13/8/16, please find A.F. 361B for + completion and immediate return." + +And I haven't the least idea what I said in my memo HC/516342/L12 of +13/8/16, and I can't find any record of it. And I can't for the life of +me make out how I am meant to fill in A.F. 361B, because I haven't the +least idea what it's all about. + + +_August 26._ + +[Sidenote: BEHIND KEMMEL] + +Impossible to write yesterday, and only a brief scrawl to-day. + +The regiment is being scattered over the face of the earth--an O.P. +here, an O.P. there; a digging-party here, a draining-party there, etc., +etc., etc.; not to mention a few on duty as military police _pro tem._, +others guarding bomb shelters, others reconnoitring new areas for new +divisions, etc. Dennis is very badly wounded. He can't be moved yet. +Some bits of shell went into his thigh, up his back, and it's not +certain yet whether it entered his lungs or not. They are afraid so. He +was on his tummy at an O.P. A crump got him. Dear old Dennis! I hope +he'll pull round. Also Clive is very seriously wounded, I fear. Damn! + + +_August 27._ + +I am Acting Adjutant now. An Adjutant's job is a most hairy job, and I +sit with drops of perspiration dripping off my brow all day. Never see +the horses, never get any exercise except for a moment or two. + + +_August 29._ + +We are probably going to move again soon, and consequently the amount of +correspondence is vast. Clive is better, I think. Dennis about the +same. I suppose a thing can go into your lung and not kill you? + + +_September 2._ + +The Colonel seemed (from a telegram he sent yesterday morning) to be in +a great hurry for me to come down to the other squadron. So I decided to +go by train, and send Hunt with the horses. And this is the train +journey. + +The station at ---- quite recovered and tidy after a feeble strafing the +other day. Even two or three civilians travelling. Not many of the +military--a hundred or so, perhaps, all waiting and smoking idly, each +armed with his "Movement Order." The dull boom of guns not excessive, +though there's a frequent "plom! plom! plom!" of the Archies, and the +sky is dotted with clusters of pretty little shrapnel clouds. Sometimes +the crack! crack! crack! crack! of machine guns high up in the blue. It +makes you feel slightly homesick. I don't quite know why. That sort of +thing isn't done at home. + +[Sidenote: THROUGH HAZEBROUCK] + +In comes the train. The French station officials all in a paroxysm of +excitement because one Tommy throws down a gas helmet for the train to +run over. Up we clamber. Hale heaves up valise and coat and so forth, +and retires to a "third," while I feel a beast lounging in this +luxurious "first." Off we go, and I look out at all the familiar +country. + +There's one of those quaint French notices in the carriage: + + TAISEZ-VOUS! + MÉFIEZ-VOUS! + LES OREILLES ENNEMIES VOUS ÉCOUTENT! + +All too necessary, they tell me. + +_Later._--It is getting dark. We stop at a large town that I know well. +Two hours to wait. I turn in to a Follies show. There is usually one +going on, run by this or that division, all soldiers, but looking very +odd in their paint and ruffles. But what a curious concert. The first +I've seen out here. The comic Scot vastly popular; but even more so are +hideously sentimental songs all about the last bugle and death and my +dead friends under the earth and eternal sleep. You know? However, they +love it, and the dismal piano beats a tinny accompaniment. + +Staff officers even are here, and I recognize one Somerset; also Grey, +who was in the Gun section with Dennis and me, now a Captain. Delightful +talking over old times. + +_Later._--Into the train again. On the platform beforehand I meet a +gunner subaltern. We talk. He's very well read, and interested in lots +of the things I love so much. We discuss the war. He knows a lot of the +billets I know. Evidently we have nearly met out here often before. What +is that book he is reading? Richard Jefferies? From Jefferies to +Maeterlinck. What has become of him? War so foreign to that mystic mind. +Yet his beautiful abbey in Flanders must be in the hands of Fritz, if it +still exists at all. We talk for about two hours. Then he gets out at +----. I don't know what his name is, and very likely I won't ever meet +him again. But out here one makes friends quickly. There are so many of +us all in the same boat. And one hardly expects ever to meet again. Then +(alone in the carriage) I doze. The electric light in full blaze, and no +curtains are down. Stations rather like bad dreams. Soldiers everywhere. +A great clanking of horse-trucks and gun-carriages. Vast stores of +timber for huts. Bookstalls open all night. These trains seem to hoot +and whistle most horribly. Far more noisy than English trains, surely. +That, combined with all the shouting and clatter of trollies, etc., +rather racking in the small hours. At 5 a.m. we arrive at ----, where we +all change. + +_Later._--No one allowed outside the station except officers and +sergeants. But, dash it all, I can't leave Hale here the whole day. Our +train leaves at 8.36 to-night. The R.T.O. will be here at 7 a.m. Let's +see what we can work. Meanwhile (5.30) the platformless station is full +of men, who have just dumped themselves and their kits down where they +stood. They haven't finished sleeping. It looks like a battle-field. +They lie in every attitude, officers among them. Hale is eating from his +bully-beef tin in silence. A few men stand round a Y.M.C.A. stall +drinking coffee or eating chocolate, cake, and stuff. + +[Sidenote: ABBEVILLE] + +_Later._--I got Hale out, and took him to see the cathedral. He said he +thought it must have cost a lot of money. Not a bad criticism, either. +Then I let him go his own way, and now it's 1.45 p.m. Had a charming +lunch--two oeufs à la coque, thé, and croissants. Now I'm sitting by +the side of the river--very peaceful. There's a white goat on the other +bank, and its reflection is dancing gently all the time. + +Several French widows are talking together near the goat, their black +veils hanging funereally; and there's a small boy with socks and a +bowler hat, all black, too. Poor dears! + +Good heavens alive! there's George! He has just flashed by in a car, red +cap and all. If only there had been time to hail him! Now for a sleep +till it's time for tea. + + +_September 5._ + +This is a part of the line I don't know at all, a most exciting area. I +have been up several times into what is by the way of being our front +line, but the whole thing is so chaotic that often the Huns come into +our trenches and we go into theirs quite by mistake. + +I have several times gone right across the open, within full view of +Fritz (whom I could see), at a distance of 600 yards. I think they must +all be very confused, also, as there is very little rifle fire and very +little organized sniping. Nothing but shelling, with the result that for +miles and miles there's just tumbled earth. + +The famous woods you read about are mere scratchy little collections of +a few tree-stumps splintered and wrecked beyond belief. Things lie +scattered everywhere in aimless profusion. Muddy rifles, coats, boots, +and every description of kit, both British and Hun. I have met lots of +men I know, and everyone is very cheery and hopeful. Fritz is +withdrawing his big guns--always a good sign. However, the myriads of +prisoners nearly all look a sound type of man still. They are put to +work a long way behind the line immediately, which is good. + + +_September 7._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME FRONT] + +We have been for some time right up in parts quite destitute of houses +and villages and shops. All the remnants of villages here are ruins. And +messing is consequently more difficult. So may I have a large-sized cake +now and then? + +The war isn't over yet, I fear. We live in the usual touch-and-go +condition. + + +_September 8._ + +Things hum. Troops like ants all over the ground. In tents, in bivvies, +in the open, everywhere. And the eternal chain of motor lorries bringing +up ammunition and supplies. These one sees all over France. But here +they block half the roads. Well, yesterday morning I rode out alone with +the Colonel and two orderlies. We went to some high ground from which +you can see it all, dismounted, and sent the horses back. In front of +us, in the valley, a wrecked town with the strangest thing on the +still-standing tower. I hope to make a picture of it if ever I can get +any time again. + +Later in the day from one of our O.P.'s I began a sketch of the whole +panorama of the battle. Desolate ragged country, torn with shell wounds; +the poor scarecrow trees like arms stretched up to heaven for help. +Fields that once were golden with corn now grey and scarred with white +trenches that look like a network of pale worms lying where they died. + +Now, from another O.P. I'm looking at the arid chaos below. Arid and +lonely-looking, but not silent. A strafe is on. Seems to be getting +louder and more continuous. We passed on our way here a great naval gun +crashing out death to the burrowing Huns. Swallow doesn't like naval +guns. + +From flimsy net shelters flash the expensive guns, and the bombardment +gathers strength, gathers volume, until you'd think something must +burst--the world or the universe: either might split from end to end. +The dust and smoke are gradually making everything invisible. Crumps +come whistling and heaving up great clouds of heavy blackness. We look +at our watches. Zero hour in five minutes. The aeroplanes buzzing aloft, +and the sausages sitting among the low clouds, inert and so +vulnerable-looking. Can there be anything left? Can a single soul live? + + +[Illustration: TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE +They don't look much like trenches, because they were battered to +pieces. A 'dump' on the near horizon was hit by a Boche shell. It blazed +and crackled and smouldered all night, a drifting column of dull pink +smoke.] + + +_September 9._ + +Surely we shall get through. Even in spite of the rain. The rain has +made the country into a quagmire. + +Reconnoitred the front trenches to-day with the Colonel, in a particular +part where everything is at sixes and sevens, and no one quite +knows what we haven't or have got. Most odd. Shells of all calibres +bursting on every side--corpses, odours unspeakable. + +[Sidenote: DELVILLE WOOD] + +You see, things are expected to happen soon, and so I'm anxious to know +all about it. This part of the line is terrific. + +Where we are, and for miles and miles around, myriads of troops, +cavalry, artillery, everything, all camped in the open--no concealment. +Mud? Why, everyone is mud, up to the eyes, and so are the horses. This +big movement has quite dislocated the ordinary trench warfare, and now +all over the dreary uplands are trenches hurriedly dug by the Hun and +then abandoned. Trenches that often barely shelter you above the knees. +Chaos, chaos. Rifles lying to rust in the mud, duds everywhere, men +sitting in dug-outs, not knowing what they are expected to do next. +Others in mere scratched-out shelters or in actual shell holes. +Sometimes they sing. Often they are asleep. Wreckage indescribable. +Shrapnel cracking into black clouds close by. Enormous and magnificent +H.E.'s hurling up black earth and red earth, and smoke that drifts +slowly and solidly away to limbo. Poor dead men lying about, and dead +horses, too. And in the trenches this limitless porridge of mud. +Cr-r-r-ump! go the crumps searching out a battery. But oh the +woods--the poor scarecrow woods. I was in a famous wood that looked +positively devilish in its sinister nakedness. And it's September, too, +when woods are so often at their loveliest. Not a leaf--not one single +leaf; and, instead of undergrowth, just tossed earth, fuses, a boot, a +coat, some wire, and above-ground dead men. Below-ground (or as far +below as they can get in the time) live men. + +The Boche dug-outs are marvellous. They are really works of art. So +solidly, even beautifully built. I went into one that had wooden pillars +supporting the roof like some baronial hall, with neat little cupboards, +tables, beds, and everything complete. There were two of our M.M.G. +officers sleeping there, and we left them sleeping. But emerge out into +daylight, and ye gods! the confusion makes you feel awed. A village is +usually a heap of rubble, with here and there a bit of a gaudy enamelled +coffee-pot or something; a geranium from a window, still growing; a +china egg, a bit of a chair, a bit of an iron gateway. And as far as the +eye can see in this particular region, just undulating stretches of +tormented earth. All the old game of never showing above the parapet is +quite disregarded, for often there is no parapet. Time after time the +Huns could have seen us, and I saw lots of them running across gaps. You +see, no sniping or anything like that can be organized yet. Huns often +come into our lines by mistake, and we do likewise. And when you are not +actually in close view of them, you go across the open. If you get cut +off by a barrage you just wait till it's over. + +I have been round all our M.G. positions and other Detachments. + + +_September 10._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS FLERS] + +About 5 p.m. the mess cook came and said he had been unable to get +enough food in for the morrow, as the expected hampers from England had +not arrived, and the district was so packed with other troops. So we +decided to get some hares or partridges. But it's forbidden to shoot +game. Very well, we wouldn't shoot them. We'd ride them down. The +country behind is entirely open. No hedges. Just gently undulating +uplands. The crops are all cut. So three of us set out. The orderly-room +work had almost been finished, and the remainder could wait. Jezebel was +brought round for me, Chloe for Roger, and Minotaur for the Colonel. The +Colonel's orderly, Corporal Orchard, following on Shotover. We rode back +to the more open country where there are few troops, and then started +the drive. Jezebel on the right, Chloe next, Shotover next, and Minotaur +on the left, at intervals of 20 yards or so. + +It had been decided that, if a hare got up, even while we were after +partridges, we must chase the hare. + +Well, presently a covey got up, and away we galloped up a long slope. +Suddenly a wild tally-ho from Roger. A hare had got up and was lepping +across Jezebel's line. So Jezebel fairly flattened herself out to keep +the hare in. But the hare was across before she could get wide enough. + +Then the hare doubled back and we swung round, so that now Minotaur was +on the right. Hooroosh down the hill. The hare was gaining. There was a +minute brick enclosure a quarter of a mile ahead. The hare was making +for that. And gained it. Check. We surrounded the enclosure and Corporal +Orchard dismounted and went in. After about ten minutes out popped the +hare on t'other side. Loud yells, and after her again. She made for some +high ground where there was a small wood. "Cut her off," signalled the +Colonel wildly. + +Impossible to cut off the hare. She gained the wood, which we +surrounded. But, oh silly hare! she came out the other side. Minotaur +after her like an arrow. + +Then she tried to get away across Jezebel's front. But Jezebel was too +quick, and Chloe came up in support. + +Then the hare doubled again through Shotover and Minotaur, and we swung +about. The hare was getting tired. She had run about three miles. She +then doubled back again through Chloe and Jezebel. + +[Sidenote: CHASING THE HARE] + +But meanwhile the horses were all getting dark with sweat, and although +a low line of upland hid us, we knew we were approaching some reserve +wire. The hare must not gain that wire. + +She was dead beat and going very slow, flopping along, and looked as if +she would tumble head over heels any second. We were close behind her. + +She got into some long grass 20 yards away from the wire, and +disappeared from view. We had got her. Corporal Orchard dismounted and +began beating the grass for her. There! Just missed her. She flopped on +a few yards, and Corporal Orchard dashed after. Then he tripped and +fell. The hare came out of cover and lolloped towards the wire. Yells +from Roger and the Colonel. + +_And the hare got there first!_ + +Inwardly I laughed with joy and relief. Thank goodness that little hare +got away. Corporal Orchard took over the horses, and we went in amongst +the wire, but we never found her. The weeds had grown tall, and were +perfect cover for the poor wee beastie. I sometimes say what I think, +but such views are naturally neither understood nor taken seriously. +And the Major, bless him! likes me to do this type of thing because he +thinks it is good for me. "We must really try and teach you to be more +of a sportsman, you know. Sporting instinct. What? Every Englishman +should have it!" This all very good-humouredly, and I answer, laughing: +"Aha, sir. You see I know better." Which merely stirs some jovial spirit +to stand up and propose: "Gentlemen, fox-hunting!" You see? + + +_September 12._ + +The next act will shortly begin. We are all very hopeful. Certain +signs.... Fritz very nervous. Of that there can be no doubt at all. +Prisoners betray it quite unwillingly. Poor Fritz! He comes to attention +when we go up to him and ask him if he is fairly happy, which he is +(with a smile) invariably. He talks good English, and wishes the war +would end. + +Some of our machine gunners, including Clare, were done in the other +day, and they put up a biscuit tin, with their names pierced in with +nail holes, to mark the spot. This war is the quaintest, most +incongruous show. + + +[Illustration: GIRD TRENCH +Gird Trench was only won after repeated attacks. It was the main German +defence of GEUDECOURT. While this sketch was being made things +were comparatively quiet. And the innumerable people living underground +could get a little sleep.] + + +_September 15._ + +Zero hour has come and gone. The show is a peach. Fritz is scuttling +back with us on his tail. We are to creep up, and as soon as Fritz +is beyond his last line of trenches (which he jolly nearly is now) up +and through we hope to go. + + +_September 20._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS GEUDECOURT] + +We are long past Fritz's first line; past his second line; at his third +line; and his fourth line he is wildly digging now--places for his +M.G.'s wire, etc. But he's very, very hard put to it. We have almost all +the high ground. Our guns are at it day and night. Trench warfare no +longer exists. A few hastily dug holes, a few short lines of trench, +mostly battered to pieces, and that's all. It's almost open fighting. +Even the infantry come up across the open. No communication trenches, +nothing of that sort. The crump holes are continuous. There's scarcely +an inch of ground that isn't a crump hole. + +I was up in an interesting wood this morning with the Colonel. Now, this +will give you some idea of how dislocated and above-ground everything +is: + +We wanted to go to a place the other side of the wood. When we reached +the middle of the wood, where a new O.P. of ours has been established, +Fritz put up a barrage on the edge of the wood. Very well, then. We just +waited at the O.P. till the barrage was over, and then calmly walked +out. The wood is only a few shattered stumps of trees, and the place +where undergrowth once was is one continuous sea of earth thrown about +in every conceivable shape, with dead Tommies and dead Fritzes lying +side by side. So the wood isn't much cover, you can imagine. + +On the far side of the wood is beautiful rolling country, but not green. +It's all brown, just a mess of earth. It's pitted with holes just like +sand after a hailstorm. In the distance you can see real lovely trees, +but nothing grows where the strafing is. Overhead the martins flicker +and swoop, and starlings sail by in circling clouds, while the colossal +noises crash and boom away merrily. + +Ought I, perhaps, not to talk of these things? Does it worry you to +think of crumps bursting and so on? But, really, it seems quite ordinary +and in the day's work here. Men talk of crumps as you would talk of +bread and butter. That is, perhaps, why letters from home that talk +about homely things--cows and lavender and the new chintz--are so +welcome. + +Besides, good heavens! don't you know that there's not a man in France +but knows that the best-beloved ones at home are having a far worse time +than we are having here? Wet clothes? Mud? Shells a-bursting, guns +a-popping? Even a wound, perhaps? Pish! No one _thinks_ at all out +here. There isn't time. Most of the people out here are perfectly happy +and merry, really. The sort of "long-drawn-out-agony" touch is, I think, +rare. + +I'm writing this in a jolly Boche dug-out, all panelled and cosy. +Jezebel and Swallow and a new pack mare I've got are in a valley that's +hardly ever touched, and in fine, all's well. + + +_September 24._ + +[Sidenote: TEAR SHELLS] + +Tear shells or "lachrymatory shells." They haven't been putting many +over lately, apparently. But they put some over the other day, and they +are so amusing that I must describe them to you. + +The Colonel and I were up trying to find a "working-party" from the +regiment. The regiment is sadly split up at present into various parties +doing various jobs in various places, all unpleasant. Better than +infantry work, but still unpleasant. + +We rode up much closer than we have ridden before, and left the +Colonel's orderly and Hale in a bit of a valley with Minotaur, Jezebel, +Hob, and Tank. Tank is a new mare I've got. Hale was riding her, as I +never take Swallow closer than I can help. + +We dismounted in this small valley, and the Colonel's orderly and Hale +were given orders to move if any shells were put over too near them. + +Then the Colonel and I went up through a wood that is just a few +splintered stumps now. + +We passed behind several batteries, and I thought to myself: "Dash it +all! I know my eyes can't be watering because of the noise. What the +deuce is the matter? I hope the Colonel won't notice." + +However, on we waded and plodded. Suddenly the Colonel stopped, and +exclaimed: "Oh damnation! This is perfect nonsense." His eyes were like +tomatoes, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks! + +By this time we could hardly see at all, and it dawned on us that we +must hastily put on our tear goggles, which we had never used before, +but always, of course, carry. They go in the satchel along with the two +gas helmets. + +Presently we met some infantry coming back, all safely begoggled. The +Huns, they told us, were dropping tear shells just into that valley in +front, where our working-party was supposed to be. You can tell them +(the tear shells), they said, by the fluttering sound, and they knock up +no earth and make very little smoke. + +Sure enough, as soon as we got over the brow there they were. They make +a foolish wobbly, wavy sound as they come over, and look most innocent. +So they are really if you get your goggles on in time. But if one bursts +close to you, and you haven't got goggles on, why, then you'll be as +blind as an owl, and you'll weep like a shower bath. + +[Sidenote: BETWEEN HIGH WOOD AND FLERS] + +Then the absurd thing was that we couldn't find the working-party. +Plenty of dead Huns, but nobody alive. Not a sign. Only crumps dropping +here and there and everywhere. So we found a bit of a trench that led +back round the side of the wood. The front line trenches were only very +lightly held, partly because they are almost completely blown in. And we +could get no information as to the working-party at all. + +Presently we saw why. The Huns had put up a barrage across the valley +they were coming up. We knew they would come up this other valley, as +they had to report on their way to H.Q., ---- Division. So we got into a +hole and waited. + +After about half an hour the barrage lifted and up came our +working-party none the worse. It is a most amazing war. People literally +dodge shells and things as you might dodge snow-balls. + +When we arrived back at the place where we left our two men, they also +were not to be seen. + +After some time and anxious inquiries for two men with four horses, we +at last discovered them nearly half a mile away. Fritz had put some +heavy stuff over fairly near, and they had moved. + +"A very interesting bit of the line isn't it, Hale?" I said as we moved +off. "Yes, sir," he said, adding with a fierce frown, "but not very +_safe_, sir." + +And then we all laughed. Hale does frown so when he makes one of his +oracular utterances. + + +[Illustration: A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT +Here, as in many of these sketches, there are no people to be seen, for +the simple reason that they are all underground in dug-outs.] + + +_September 29._ + +It's up to us to reconnoitre carefully every time there is a move +forward, so as to see the new ground. + +One of the most curious and interesting things is this: the Boche rarely +wastes. He only puts his crumps and pip-squeaks just where he thinks (or +knows) our batteries are, and our infantry want to be, and our horses +would be likely to be (if they weren't somewhere else). So that +gradually you begin to track out safe routes. Don't go near the edge of +---- Wood, but 200 yards inside the wood, on the north side, you're +pretty comfy. Don't go near the mangled remains of ---- village, but +keep to the right of it until you get to the wrecked aeroplane, and then +turn down the remains of ---- trench, and you probably won't be touched. +That sort of thing. + +[Sidenote: BOCHE DUG-OUTS] + +I've been sleeping in the most superb Boche dug-out. Very deep; I +should think 30 feet down. The inside is pillared rather like the +studio, and cretonned all over with maroon-coloured stuff instead of +wall-paper. There are lovely little cupboards everywhere, and doors and +window-frames just like a real house. The windows, of course, only look +out on to an air-shaft, so it's very dark, and you have to have candles +all the time. The windows have no glass, of course, as that would be +shattered to smithereens by the vibrations. Then there's an arch and +more steps down lower still, into the bedroom for two. + +Yesterday, being rather misty, I thought as follows: + +"It is too foggy to see what Fritz is doing. No attack is intended or +expected. The Colonel is at corps H.Q. Swallow and Jezebel and Tank are +safe in ---- valley. Roger is still here as Adjutant. Why not an +afternoon off?" + +So picture a holiday-maker armed with a revolver, two gas helmets, tear +goggles, some sandwiches, and a large empty haversack. Now where to go? +What about ---- trench and all round ---- village, even, perhaps, a +lightning five minutes in the village itself? We have just taken the +village, but it's rather an unhealthy spot at present. + +---- trench is a new trench that poor Fritz dug just before he was +driven out of it. I had seen lots of dead Fritzes there the day before. +Also there were reports of curious things flung out into the mud in and +round the village. + +[Sidenote: TROPHIES] + +So I set forth. And at ---- met another fellow I knew, and the affair +became neither more nor less than a search for souvenirs. Here is a +list: + + 1. A few buttons with double-tailed lions. + + 2. Four shoulder-straps with the figure 6 in red. This indicated a + division which has been opposite us for some time and is quite + exhausted, I think. + + 3. One haversack and one respirator haversack. + + 4. One rosary. + + 5. Five different sorts of bayonets from different regiments. These + I thought we might hang up. + + 6. Four tassels. They are worn by Fritz rather in the same sort of + way as lanyards are worn. Quite pretty, though rather soiled and + worn. + + 7. A bit of a wing of a crushed aeroplane that is lying on the + brown, feverish earth like a dead sea-gull. + + 8. A brass spring very beautifully made, that I am going to have + made into a bracelet for you. Also from the aeroplane. + + 9. A cardboard box for signal flares. _Signal Patronen_ they are + labelled. I threw the flares away, as they might go pop _en route_. + + 10. A jolly bit of gilded carving from a house in ---- + + 11. Now then for No. 11! A bit of embroidery. I think it is a + vestment of sorts. It's white, and there's heavy gold embroidery at + the sides. It is a cloak of some description, but the top part, + where there should be a collar or something, is gone. Then + 11A is a piece of black and silver embroidery. It was all + very muddy and riddled with shrapnel or bits of crump, so I just + cut off the only sound bit. Both these things are exceedingly + beautiful. They are probably vestments, because they were quite + near what must have been the church. I am sure it must have been + the church, although I hadn't a map--first, because I saw the + village in the distance some time ago, while the church was still + standing, and therefore I know the church's situation; and, + secondly, because I saw remains of large pillars, and a few bits of + what was once a font amongst the débris. + +There now. Isn't that a good haul! It's not easy to get anything worth +sending home, because everything is so utterly smashed up. + + +_October 2._ + +Jezebel and Swallow and Tank have all been clipped trace high. I am +getting rather attached to Tank. She is so modest and unselfish--a +contrast to Jezebel. She never expects little treats, and seems quite +surprised when I give her anything. Swallow and Jezebel always neigh +when they see my electric torch coming towards them after dinner (while +we are back in these safe places). But Tank is very shy of the light, +and thinks it will bite her. + +Swallow is getting much better, and really seems to understand that the +shells and guns and things probably won't hurt him. We have been most +extraordinarily lucky. The troop that got through nearly to ---- the +other day, hadn't a single casualty, although Dick's own mare was shot +under him and a great many other horses were wounded. The squadron of +---- were very badly scuppered, I fear. But, anyhow, we all feel that +Lloyd George is right. We are just beginning to win. + + +_October 5._ + +It is a glorious day. Such clouds. Swallow kicked up his heels and +played about like a kitten when Hunt took him to water this morning. +It's extraordinary how used the horses are getting to trenches and +wire, etc. At first they were rather afraid to jump these sudden deep +ditches, but now they pop across like rabbits. + + +_October 17._ + +[Sidenote: ARCHIE] + +Yesterday some Hun aeroplanes got across and came right above this camp, +a comfortable way behind the front line. Heavily strafed by our Archies. +The blue sky was dotted all over with the pretty little white clouds of +shrapnel. + +Sergeant Pritchard and I were standing close to Flannagan (one of the +men's horses), and the men were at stables. We were all looking up and +longing to see a Hun aeroplane hit, when suddenly "s-s-s-swish, plop!" +just behind me. It was one of the Archie shrapnel cases. It buried +itself deep in the ground 3 yards from where we were standing. We dug it +up, and I'll bring it home for you. If it isn't too tediously heavy. + +Of course, Archie shrapnel cases all come down, and you see hundreds of +them lying about; but I've never had one so close before. They sometimes +fall broadside on, and sometimes end on, in which case they bury +themselves fairly deep. All the Hun aeroplanes got away, alas! + + +_October 26._ + +Once more I'm going up to the strange dead village of ----. In many ways +I shall be sorry to go back to comfort and billets, because the +material for pictures here is very wonderful. You shall see several +small things (the powers that be call it waste of time!), and it's +infuriating to think that more can't be done. + +I tell you, if you were here, and if I could paint a bit every day, I +should be quite happy. The "subjects" are endless, and in particular I +long to do great big stretches of this bleak brown land. Well, it can't +be helped, so it's no good thinking about it. + + +_October 29._ + +We are moving to a "back area" to-morrow. + + +[Illustration: A WOUNDED TANK +This Tank got hit as it was walking over a house in FLERS. They +covered it up with tarpaulins to prevent the Hun aeroplanes from +obtaining too much information about it. The black stuff is shrapnel. +The pink clouds are sent up by crumps as they explode amongst the +remains of the brick houses.] + + +_November 1._ + +It's a superb day, and we are back at ----, one of our old billets, +right away from the beastliness. And although leave won't be for another +week or two, still, it will come soon. And Swallow is in tremendous +spirits. + +Here is a drawing done surreptitiously of a tank in full view of Fritz. +You see those little stumps of trees? Well, I'll tell you what those are +called when we meet, and also what village is just on their left. You +may say it was stupid to sit in full view of Fritz, but it was the day +after an advance, and there's hardly ever anything doing then in +the way of sniping. The guns, of course, are all pooping off, but they +weren't shelling just there, so it was quite safe. This drawing gives +you some idea of the desolation, but none of the unevenness of the +ground. You can't walk in a bee-line for three yards without getting +into a hole. The last time I was in those parts, by the way, I came on a +rather jolly cottage wineglass that had been thrown out into some soft +mud, and was not even cracked. + + +_November 6._ + +[Sidenote: COCQUEREL] + +An extraordinary change. Let me now give you an idea. + +We are in a pretty little country village miles and miles away, and +(although one of Fritz's aeroplanes flew over the church as bold as +brass just before we got in) the quiet and peace of the place is very +refreshing. And, droll to relate, I'm writing this in bed, with a touch +of flu--such a bed, too, all soft and billowy. In ordinary life it would +be condemned as a "feather" bed, but now it is a bed for princes. + +And the room. A rather dark old-fashioned paper, an old clock ticking, +an old shining chest of drawers with a marble top, and clothes hanging +on pegs. Hale has arranged the pistol, and ammunition, and maps, and +gas helmets, and steel helmet, and spare kit, with great elaboration, +all over the room. At the present moment he is "sweeping out" with the +appropriate hissing noises. The dust will, I hope, subside during the +course of the day. + +Hunt has got Jezebel, Swallow, and Tank into a disused barn, where they +will be warm and happy. + +Out of the window I can see hens pecking in an orchard, and an old grey +pony browsing. The leaves are yellow, and there's no wind. + +The old man and the old lady to whom the cottage belong have brought me +in some little "remèdes," which Tim refuses to let me have. One is what +the old man (an ex-chemist) calls "salicite de métal," and the other is +what the old lady calls a "remède de bonne femme." You rub yourself with +it all over every two hours! + +Tick, tick, tick, tick. Lovely! The old clock is rumbling. It is about +to strike twelve. + +It has struck twelve--no, not struck twelve, rather it has buzzed +twelve, like some old happy bee. + +The hens are still pecking about in the orchard, and the grey pony is +rubbing himself against a tree. + +All so cosy and delicious. Now for a doze. + + +_November 7._ + +[Sidenote: DOZING] + +Here's a poem. It's called + +HENS. + + At the end of the war + (Ring, bells, merry bells!) + We intend + To keep hens, + Me and Helen. + (Ring, bells!) + Such hens! + (Merry bells!) + And though all our hens' eggs be surrounded by shells, + We shall laugh and not care; + For there won't be no war, + And no hell any more, + While Helen is there + With the hens. + +I've just made that up, and the inspiration of so profound an epic has +made me want to doze again. Such a lot of dozing! + + +_November 12._ + +In to-day's letter I enclose a couple of field post-cards which I found +on a Boche dug-out bed-hole. + +I've been so busy these last days, up till late hours, and writing has +been "na-poo." Leave? Yes, leave will come in time. Probably the first +half of December. + +How maddening it is for poor old Tom! It's most damnable hard luck being +kept there without leave such a long time. And I expect that he also +has rather lost interest. At first the men were a great source of +interest, and the horses and everything. Then France and the front were +very interesting. Lastly, being under fire was very interesting. But now +that we are back in Rest, I begin to feel I shall be rather sorry to go +through it again. And Tom has had so much of it. Yes, he ought to come +home. + +The cottage people here have those lovely pale salmon winter +chrysanthemums in their gardens. Don't you like them? + +Since we arrived in this wee village a week ago, I haven't been on a +horse once, and have never seen anything outside the village itself, +which consists of one street and a side-lane. + + +_November 14._ + +I wasn't able to write yesterday, and there may be several blank days to +come. + +Roger is temporarily away, and I am in charge. The thing that's +happening is this: A and B are coming down to us, and others are going +to relieve them. So the arrangements and correspondence are vast. All +the billeting of this town is pushed on to my hands, too; and though +it's only a small village, there's a good lot to do. I can't collect any +thoughts to write to you. You understand, I know, and so I needn't say +more. I'll write again at length when things settle down. This sounds +muddled. But I count on your understanding that I've got more work to do +than I can manage. + + +_November 16._ + +[Sidenote: THE OTHER SQUADRONS ARRIVE] + +To-day, by some amazing fluke, there's a lull. One squadron has gone. +Sir John is on his way down. Julian starts early next week, and Gerald a +few days later. So within a fortnight we shall all be together. Which +will be good. + +Some infantry came in from the line to-day. Oh ye gods! the British +infantry! No rewards, honours, no fame, can ever be enough for them. We +have not yet gone through what they have to go through, but we have been +in and out amongst them all the time, and we know. Thank goodness this +spell of dry weather seems to have come for a few days at least. Cold at +night is nothing. It's wet at night that just kills men right and left. +Alan died yesterday morning. Died of exposure. He caught a chill while +we were up in front, and then got much worse, and it finally developed +into peritonitis and pneumonia. And now he, too, is dead. We were all +very fond of Alan. + +Death is such a little thing. A change of air--no more. Death is the +last day of Term, the last day of the Year. Regret? That's because we +don't understand, quite. + + +_November 17._ + +I sent you off another beastly little scrap of paper to-day, because it +was impossible to write more. Here (7 p.m.) is another moment, so I +snatch it. + +Listen. Of course it is true that leave has been cancelled, but we hear +(Rumour) that this is only for a few days owing to submarines. _If_ +leave reopens again, as seems likely therefore, I go next. I shall have +to hand over Orderly Room and all current correspondence, etc. That +means, with luck, I leave here on the 2nd. Don't, of course, count on +this; but let's toy with the idea. + + +_November 23._ + +I am sitting in the sun, having read your letter. The valley of the ---- +is below me, a mile wide, all reed-beds and half submerged willows, with +the main stream lying like a blue snake amongst pale acres of sedge. + +Damn! I was going to write a long and cosy letter, but was called back. +I had escaped for an hour from Orderly Room with your letter and a +sketchbook, and was caught in the act. No time now. + + +_November 25._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME VALLEY] + +A few more moments with you before you go to bed. + +Yes, isn't it funny how we seem to be talking face to face! And to every +question of mine you reply in three days' time and _vice versa_. It +always sounds to me like this, rather: + + QUESTION. ANSWER. + + _Mon._ Isn't it cold? None. + _Tues._ Have you seen mother? None. + _Wed._ Are you happy? None. + _Thurs._ How are you all? Freezing. + _Fri._ When did I see you last? Only yesterday. + _Sat._ May I have a cake! Yes, very. + _Sun._ How is Queen Anne? Much better. + _Mon._ None. Last April. + _Tues._ None. I'll send one. + _Wed._ None. Dead. + +Don't you find it's a bit like that? What question can I have asked a +week ago to which the answer is a rabbit? So tiresome when we want to +talk at very close range. + +As to leave--well let's not talk about that. Every dog has his day. + +You know the dog who has been shut up in a kennel for a long time? Or +the dog who has been locked up in an empty house for a long time? It'll +be a mixture of these. + +Well, the day will come. + + +_November 27._ + +Can't write properly because it's very cold and I've been riding, and +that makes one's fingers like pink bananas. They don't seem to answer to +the bridle. There's an awful noise of hissing going on. Hale and Hunt +are busy on the horses. + + +_November 28._ + +A box will arrive containing another Bristol ball, which I discovered in +a cottage here, and bought for 1fr. 50c. Rather a jolly green one, +biggish. Also I am enclosing the wineglass from Geudecourt, which I +mentioned some time ago. There can't be any harm in mentioning this +name, as we have left that area some time now. I have got several +sketches of other places round about there, which I hope you will like. +Won't it be fun, when the time comes, looking at them. To-day Hunt came +round in a great state about the horses. Jezebel had pulled up her +shackle, and was in "one of her moods," as Hunt always describes it. She +had been kicking both Tank and Swallow with great violence. He had left +Hale trying to get her quiet, and rushed up to report. + +She was quiet again when I got down, and Hale had tied her up +successfully. + +[Sidenote: THE PRUDENT SERGEANT] + +But the point of telling you of this episode is that meanwhile it was +getting time for the post to go. Prudent Sergeant Marsden (Orderly Room +sergeant) observed that I hadn't addressed the letter yet or signed it +outside. So he did it himself! "You very seldom write any letters to +other addresses, you see, sir, so I thought I'd better address it +myself. I thought it would be _inadvisable_ to miss a post, and I +thought the young lady would forward it on if it was not for her!" + +It made me laugh as I haven't laughed for a long time. Wasn't it nice +and thoughtful. He tells me he duly forged my signature in the left-hand +bottom corner. + +Jorrocks sends his love. "Your little filly" he always calls you. + + +_November 29._ + +About leave. There's no more chance of it at present, I think, as we are +going up to the line again in a week or two, and we want to work off all +the men, who haven't had any leave at all, before moving up mudwards, +when all leave will be stopped. We are engaged at present in +practically rebuilding and making sanitary an entire French village, and +in "training," which means all the old dismal tedium of manoeuvres +plus spit and polish. + +These villages are most amazingly ill-built. Swallow this morning lashed +out on being bitten by Jezebel, and (dear silly Swallow!) instead of +hitting Jezebel, she brought down half the wall of the shed in which +they live, which frightened her to such an extent, Hunt tells me, that +she allowed Jezebel to eat all her food at midday stables. + + +_November 30._ + +We move next week, I think, or possibly the week after. + +We are not going back to quite the same part of the line, but near it. +It will be new country to me altogether, and to everyone else concerned. + +Poor Swallow, poor Jezebel, poor Tank, I'd give anything to shelter you +three; but, alas! I fear you are going to have a nasty time of it now. +All clipped, too. It's Swallow particularly that I tremble for. He does +so throw up the sponge. Tank copies Bird in everything, so she ought to +pull through all right. + + +_December 1._ + +[Sidenote: AMIENS CATHEDRAL] + +All leave is cancelled again, at any rate in this army--possibly on +account of the move, possibly on account of nasty fish in the sea. +However, the telegram says "until further notice," which usually means +for a short time only. Not that it affects me, but it's bad luck on some +of the men who were just off. + +Now about Xmas. I have got a new crop, thank you ever so much, that I +bought at a town near here. + +A beautiful cathedral town. + +With doors all padded up with sand-bags, the great cathedral towers +above the town, and is seen for miles and miles. A good effort. What fun +they must have had building it. What they believed then they expressed +in outward and visible form. What we think now is (or ought to be) very +different indeed from what they thought then. But I can't remember +having ever seen anything that _begins_ to express what we think (or +ought to think) now. + +Everyone in the Church of England now seems to me to think _almost +exactly_ what was thought when this cathedral was built! If this war +achieves nothing else, I pray with all my mind, and all my soul, and all +my strength, that all the sects and all the churches may suddenly feel +tired of all the 1001 little methods of procedure, and say: "Damn it +all! what does all this ancient paraphernalia mean to us? Is God quite +so complicated and involved as we have supposed? Everything else in the +world progresses. Thought progresses. Let us take a deep breath, and +realize that religion ought to be more 'into the future' than even +Zeppelins or Tanks, please." + + +[Illustration: EXPLOSION OF AN AMUNITION DUMP +The smoke from a large explosion usually assumes a queer tree-like form +and disperses slowly.] + + +_December 2._ + +Just been superintending the burying of some horses. A curious job. You +have to disembowel them first. Quite ghoulish. And then head and legs +are cut off, and the whole is buried in a hole 12 feet deep. Up there +they often lie about for some time, and get as smelly as dead human +beings. Back here it all has to be done prestissimo. + +The strange thing is that, whereas before the war I should have felt +sick and possibly dreamt about it, now it seems merely more boring than +most other things of the kind. + +Up there Tommies and Honourables eat their lunch of sandwiches with lots +and lots of dead people in varying stages of decomposition all round. An +odour more hideous than anything you have ever imagined. But you get +used to it. + +[Sidenote: TALKING ABOUT HOME] + +"How unpleasant they are to-day," you say to anyone you are with. +And the answer is probably just a laugh. Then you go on (if things are +quiet) to discuss an imaginary day at home. You would smile. + +We actually discuss everybody's clothes, the things in the room, the +shape of the fireplace, the look of the tea-things and the comfiness of +the chairs. + +And we always end up by saying: "And then after that I shall do +absolutely _Nothing_ for a fortnight!" + + +_December 3._ + +December. Frost on the trees, all fairy-like in this dense mist. Not a +sound. The sun quite small and white and far away. And if we were on the +Cotswolds, I expect we should go out for a bit of a walk, just to warm +up, after breakfast. + + +_December 4._ + +A staff job has been in the air several days. It may or may not come +off. I'm not very keen about it in many ways. But I've a feeling that I +could do it rather well, and so I'm not sure that I oughtn't to accept. + +Jezebel and Swallow have quarrelled. Isn't it awful. Hunt has had to +put Tank in between them. + +Jezebel kicked Swallow, and the blood fairly spouted out--got her in the +leg, and she lost her temper, and began lashing out. Hunt, with great +presence of mind, threw a bucket of water over them both. And as soon as +they were quiet, dear, good, demure little Tank was put in between them +as buffer. + +It's a most dreadful nuisance. They used to get on so well together. I +hope they will leave that curious little Tank alone. Swallow is as lame +as a cat now. The accursed female is very exasperating, I fear. Hunt +quite irritated me for a moment when he remarked, after the incident: +"Oh, it's all right, sir. She was in one of her moods." I pointed out to +him that it was not all right. Whereupon he took it into his head that I +was strafing him, and muttered sulkily: "Well, sir, I must say I never +did like Abroad." + +Which made me laugh to such an extent that I got a sort of fit of +laughing (don't you know?) and couldn't stop. Eventually I had to go +away. He looked so comic and so dejected, and his use of the word Abroad +(as if it were a country in itself) always makes me laugh idiotically. I +haven't seen him since, and it will be difficult to explain the apparent +frivolity. + +Things have been very complicated just lately owing to our having to +make arrangements about taking over this new bit of line. + + +_December 5._ + +[Sidenote: CONCERNING WORK] + +One of the many things the war has taught us, I think, is the +comparative equality of all work. Work depends almost entirely on the +actual number of hours per diem, don't you think? + +Certainly brain work is more tiring than spade work. But I'll guarantee +that the man who does eight hours' brain work is not _much_ more tired +than the man who does eight hours' spade work. + +The only difference is that open-air work means better health, and +consequently more power to work long hours. + +But I really do believe that, for example, a nurse's day's work (either +for wounded or babies) is _just_ as hard as a bricklayer's day, or a +bank clerk's day, or an engine driver's day. And I believe that the +various degrees of skill, necessary for doing any job really well, are +not very different on the whole. Different, yes, but not very different. +A General's job is difficult, but not _much_ more difficult than a +nurse's job. + +And so I believe all jobs ought to be paid on a rather more equal +footing. Not on an equal footing, but a _rather more equal_ footing +than now. + +Do you agree? + + +_December 6._ + +Cathedrals, the earth, the sky, and all that in them is--those are the +things that rest and soothe one out here. Thank God for cathedrals! How +splendid of Litlin, to be getting Bunny taught reels. I do trust she +will give lots of attention to it. + +After seeing a certain amount of human misery and so forth, I believe +more than ever that the whole aim of the world is in the direction of +Joy. And as dancing is one of the most primitive expressions of joy, +give me dancing, says I. + +This is all said in the middle of dictation of orders, and so I expect +it's ungrammatical, but you know what I mean. + + +_December 7._ + +What do you think? I lunched to-day with George. We lunched in a most +superb officers' club, formerly the house of some Count or other: all +white and gold, and chandeliers and mirrors--a dream. + + +_December 8._ + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL ACCEPTS AN APOLOGY] + +Our move has been postponed twice now, and we don't go till Monday. + +But meanwhile I heard from Mark to-day. He is A.D.C. to the G.O.C., and +apparently caught sight of Roger and me the other day, while flashing +past in the G.O.C.'s car. So we are going to have a great meeting. It +will be immense fun. Mark, Dennis and I were all tremendous +friends--just the same type. + +Swallow is much better, and Jezebel says that, if she had known Swallow +would bleed so much, she would have kicked him in a different place, +where he wouldn't have bled so profusely. This, for Jezebel, is +extremely gracious. + +Tank's only remark about being put between the two was: "Well, I'm +always very glad to do what I'm told." + +Swallow is desperately sorry about the whole affair, and is on +tenter-hooks lest Jezebel should never speak to him again. He says she +really didn't mean to kick, and she can't understand how it is that he +has so little control over himself. So all's well. + + +_December 9._ + +Hunt and Hale have made their very tumble-down barn a perfect model of +neatness. They sleep within about 3 yards of the horses' heels. Hunt in +particular never likes to be far away from "my 'osses," as he calls +them. I have less and less say in the matter of the 'osses as time goes +on! I merely say: "Hunt, I want a horse and an orderly at 8 a.m. +to-morrow." + +It's useless for me to say I'd like Swallow or Tank or Jezebel, because, +if I name one in particular, there's always some reason why it would be +better not to ride that one that day. Oh, "she wants shoeing behind," +or, "she had one of her moods this morning, and so I exercised her very +early," or "he didn't eat his corn, and had better stay in." So I just +meekly ask for a horse. And a horse arrives. + +Swallow is still rather lame, but seems better now. And the gentle +influence of Tank is, I really believe, soothing Jezebel. Tank is a very +charming creature, and her perfect manners are a good example to the +other two. But--what an awful admission!--she is so good that I own I +find her rather dull. Poor little Tank! + +Jorrocks has gone off to a nasty place, I fear, with his troop. But all +seems fairly quiet at present. + + +_December 12._ + +The trek is at an end. + +We have arrived at a place well behind the line, and not at all +wrecked, except for holes here and there. But the river! Oh my aunt! +It's marvellous. It winds in and out of low hills, and as I saw it this +evening, from an eminence, it looked more snaky than ever. Huge great +loops with the lovely pale sedges on either side. The almost yellow +hills are dotted with junipers. I long to see it to-morrow morning. +There's no doubt it's one of the most fascinating rivers I've seen. +Hooded crows sailing over the uplands, and I met a flock of bright sweet +goldfinches near some guns, and a tree-creeper in a copse. + +[Sidenote: SAILLY-LE-SEC] + +What a wonderful day! It was snowing all the time, with quite warm, +sunny intervals. Swallow and Tank and Jezebel are all under cover, and +I've actually got a bed! You might not call it a bed, but it is a bed, +because it has four legs (one of them a biscuit tin). The place where we +were going to has been rather too heavily strafed lately, so they are +keeping us back here. + +Things are wonderfully quiet, and there are no batteries near us, which +is pleasant. I did want to show you the beautiful river winding in and +out of the little hills. The great river-bed is quite untouched by +shells here, and the very sight of it would soothe the most jangled +nerves. Oh, it did look so heavenly this evening. Thank God for this +glorious river. The snow melted as it fell. The snow flakes as they +touched the river were like fairies taking headers. + + +_December 15._ + +Isn't this fine about Peace? + +So Fritz would like Peace, would he? No amount of flamboyant talk can +possibly hide the fact that he wants peace. And it isn't the victor who +asks for peace first. Carry on, say we. + + +_December 20._ + +Have you had any of the letters in which I told you how the place we +were to have been sent to was too continuously strafed? And how we were +sent to this very quiet and unwrecked place? And how I've got a bed, and +how happy the horses are? + +About the intelligence job. Things are hanging fire rather, as the Staff +Major, who may ask for me to come away with him to another corps, is now +attached to this corps. So what will be the end of it I don't know. + +Frankly, I am sore tempted for this reason, that I think I could do it +rather well. Of course, each corps does things differently, but, judging +from the way in which this corps likes the job done, I feel certain I +could tackle it in another corps. That's boasting. But you understand +so perfectly. It would be glorious to be doing something really well. + +[Sidenote: A STAFF JOB] + +I _can't_ be an ordinary soldier. Too absent-minded--hopelessly vague +and careless. I live on tenter-hooks always. What detail have I +forgotten? What order did I give that could be taken two ways? + +It's sad for Pat that his friends are gone. I feel so murky when mine +go, that I understand what it must be for him. But friends or no +friends, broken-hearted or whole, we must damned well carry on! And +that's all about it. + +A perfect letter from old Norman to-day. He must be quite useless as a +soldier, whereas at his own job he stands alone, with a wonderful future +before him. Well, well! I meant not to grouse to you again. And here's a +letter nearly full of it. But there, I made a stupid mistake to-day, and +it's all so boring and beastly. + +Anyhow, we are fighting for civilization, and the Huns are, too, in a +way. But our idea of civilization is better than the Huns' idea. So we +gradually win. + + +_December 21._ + +I have at last made up my mind. I'm going to take on this job. How +unwillingly I can hardly tell you. I wanted to be in the great Push +next year so badly. Everyone, everything, is preparing for it. The +cavalry will get through, and I shall be driving about behind in some +gilded car, or watching from some very distant hill with Jezebel (who +won't care a damn whether the cavalry get through or not). + +But I had two interviews with the Major and the General to-day. Coves +like painters seem to be rather wanted, and--well, it's clear now. I +must go. + +To-morrow or next week, perhaps, the extreme fascination of the job will +obliterate a certain feeling of flatness, of disappointment, of ... of +... of shirking. Yes, that's it: I feel as if I were shirking all the +horrors. You see, I shall enjoy this job immensely. All the hateful +"arrangering things" for large numbers of men, all the tiresome +formalities, all the discomfort, all the future dangers, finished +with--over. I don't say that we've had _long_ periods of danger or +_much_ discomfort; but we've had quite enough to make a very ordinary +mortal hope never to go through it again. + +But to think that I've deliberately chosen the easy path. Well, I don't +care! I've chosen it. I meant to choose it. I'm glad I've chosen it. +That is the one job in the whole war that I could do really well. How +best to serve the country--that's the only question. So there you are. +I've been and took the plunge, and I believe I'm right. + +First of all a week or two getting to know the ropes in _this_ corps, +and then off with the Major and the General to another corps. + +My aunt! what an egoistical letter this is. However, to you no +apologies. + + +_December 22._ + +[Sidenote: A DECISION] + +Letters have been lurching in, in threes and fours. But what matters it +how they come? I always know that they are coming. And the future's +where _my_ heart is always. So here's to the letters to come, and here's +to our meeting again, and here's to Life--long, sweet, glorious Life. + +We shall see the Christmas roses of the Cotswolds together one day, and +I think the war will have given them a mysterious loveliness that we +never understood before. Every year they'll come up out of the ground +again and surprise us. I shall be getting older and older--and so will +you, too. And all our little plans will have a quiet, peaceful joy for +us that wouldn't have been possible but for the war. Art will be like +angels coming and going. Effort will be intensified. The lives of the +poor must be happier, because everyone will be more ready to give and +take. + +It won't come all at once. But there'll be a difference. The war will +have made a difference. Thank God for the war! + + +_December 25._ + +[Sidenote: CHRISTMAS 1916] + +Never talk about the "idle" staff. Yesterday we were working absolutely +solid without any break at all except an hour for lunch and an hour for +dinner (tea? away frivolous thought!) from 9 a.m. till 11.30 p.m. Most +interesting; but let's hope this first day's experience won't be a fair +sample, or I shall simply melt down like a guttered candle. None of the +Generals and people seemed to think it unusual. At least they never said +so. Personally I found it quite kolossal. + + +_12.30 a.m._ + +Such a funny Christmas Day! I've been fixing on a large map all the gun +positions on the corps front. There are a very great many, and the +positions must be marked very exactly. I was quite nervous lest there +should be a mistake. It has taken since about two o'clock till now. And +I think it is accurate at last. + +At about 10 p.m. I found out an awful mistake. One of the heavies quite +100 yards wrong, which might have meant that it would be ranging on the +wrong place, and probably do no damage whatever. Desperate thought! + +Well, the staff is the most hard-working body of men I've ever seen. +They don't appear ever to get any exercise. And, really, the work is all +so vital that I don't see how they ever can expect to get any exercise. + +About leave. Possibly on the way up to the other corps a side-slip to +Blighty will be allowed. + +Don't depend on anything. There seems to be a dearth of people who can +do this work, and so it would be unwise to count on getting away. The +thing is, however, conceivable--that is all. + + +_December 27._ + +First of all about current affairs here. + +Captain G---- is probably going to Army, so it is suggested that I shall +take his place here. He runs all the plotting of the aeroplane +photographs, etc., for the corps. It's a most awful and alarming +responsibility, and I don't feel that I can do it yet. May he not get +taken away just for a little while, or I'm lost. + +The corps commander sends for him (he has been doing the job for nine +months), and says: "Now, where is our line at the present moment? Has +so-and-so trench been repaired, and where is so-and-so German battery +that was shelling the ---- Brigade yesterday?" Well, of course I simply +couldn't answer these questions yet. + +The prospect is murky. Given a little time, I think I could do it; but +... well, one can but try. + +I asked the Captain if he thought leave at all possible. He most +strongly advised me not to dream of asking. The corps is certain to +refuse in any case, as they will want me to sweat up the show and get to +know all about it as rapidly as possible. + + +_January 2, 1917._ + +I think I shall be going to live with the R.F.C., so as to be able to +snatch their photographs the instant they come in--puzzle them out--put +them quickly on to a map--and send them off. Everyone then will know far +more quickly what Fritz is up to. + +So don't be surprised if letters are addressed from R.F.C. shortly. I +shall take a couple of draughtsmen and a clerk and an orderly, and Hale. + + +[Illustration: THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT +This small chalk mound was one of the most difficult obstacles on the +way to BAPAUME. In the foreground a large 'crump-hole' and the +remains of a little copse.] + + +_January 11._ + +[Sidenote: AEROPLANE PHOTOGRAPHS] + +I don't know when leave will be possible. This job is rather in the +making, and is really very important stuff. A great responsibility, +says the corps commander. In fact, I am just a bit nervous about +things generally. That battery that was reported in so-and-so wood. Is +it there still? Well, where has it moved to, then? You are not sure? Why +not? No recent photographs of it? But why not? Can it be in so-and-so +quarry, perhaps? That light railway has been repeatedly smashed up by +our heavies. Repaired? What? What evidence have you? Let me have a map +as soon as possible, showing exactly where you believe that line has +been repaired, and the exact position of that battery in the quarry--if +it really is there. But don't tell me it's in the quarry unless you are +quite sure. Yes, sir. And you'd better have the map duplicated. How many +can the draughtsmen print before to-morrow? About 300. Well, send out +copies. I must have that battery silenced at once. Do you see? Can I +rely on it being sent out in time? Yes, sir. + +That's the sort of thing. Things that _must_ be done and quickly. +Perhaps it sounds nothing much--a mere bit of a map. But maps are like +lamps to men in the dark. And they must be accurate. To me, therefore, +the most inaccurate, absent-minded mortal before the war that ever +breathed, it is all a source of great anxiety. + + +_January 12._ + +I've got a bedroom with a brick floor in a cottage. I really hardly know +what it's like, as I arrive there about twelve o'clock every night and +fall into bed, and then up again at 7.30 next morning as a rule, and +frowsy at that. The roads here are just as muddy as ever, and if you go +off the roads you go too deep. We are camouflaging the whole place, and +I think it will soon be very difficult for the Huns to see it. At least, +when I say "we" are camouflaging, I mean that I run out for two minutes +about every three hours, and give hurried directions to a few bewildered +men, and rush in again. I'm sure they think the extraordinary patterns +that I order them to paint all over the huts, etc., are quite mad. The +R.F.C. show isn't ready yet, but it's likely to be so shortly. + + +_January 17._ + +To-day's letter got me into an absurd fit of internal laughter. Hale +brought it in while I was poring over some new photographs of Boche +emplacements, or dug-outs, or something--poring with a magnifying +glass.... And then came your drawings of the rooms at the cottage. + +That'll be admirable. I tried to hold my head and think of exactly how +the cottage looked, and where the new rooms were to be; but somehow I've +got no brains left. And I leave it all to you. One day we shall be able +to discuss it peaceably, but at present this brain is like some limp +jellyfish floating in the sea. + +To-day I'm doing a map, and the draughtsmen are copying it, of some +Boche dug-outs. Ye gods! what do I care about dug-outs! As well make +maps of all the rabbit-holes in Glamorganshire. But there, what's the +good of talking like that. It's got to be done. + + +_January 24._ + +[Sidenote: BUSY DAYS] + +The aeroplanes have brought in the most marvellous photographs, and I am +very busy deciphering them and mapping the information on to a map. + + +_February 8._ + +After many, many days of incessant work comes a brief interval of +repose--till to-morrow morning. + +We moved up here yesterday afternoon late. + +Well, imagine a lovely large hut. + +The room on the left is where all the maps, etc., are made, and the +room on the right is my office. + +But outsiders can't just barge into my office. Oh no! They must ask one +of the orderlies if they can see me. Isn't it ridiculous! + +Then there is a tiny bedroom. + +The office walls are entirely covered now with aeroplane photos and +maps. It is all rather fun, and I think it won't be quite such a strain. +The cold is intense. Hale is functioning with the stove in my room at +the moment. I have said once that I don't really need a fire in my +bedroom; but he evidently has different views, and is firmly lighting +it. He is quite happy here. + +I'm having the hut papered, to make it warmer. And canvas curtains, if +you please! + +The R.F.C. people are most hospitable and nice. I like them very much. +It's all quite interesting, and the aeroplanes are delicious as they +move, buzzing like vast mosquitoes. + +I go down in a side-car every day (that's the programme) to corps H.Q. +to report and get instructions. + + +_February 12._ + +Something may happen to prevent leave before leave comes. You will +understand. I should have to "remain at my post," as novels say. + + +_February 15._ + +[Sidenote: WITH THE R.F.C.] + +A very difficult map has just been finished, and is being printed, and +here we sit down for a little talk together. The war is for the moment +far away. Away anxiety, away nervous apprehension, away fatigue, away +responsibility, away Wilhelm! Let the doors be shut, the curtains drawn. +Listen. An adventure, amusing, and rather exciting. Would you like to +hear about it? Well, I was making a raised map of a particular part of +the line for the corps commander. And I go up from time to time to scan +the ground, so that it may be very accurate and therefore rather useful. +At least that is what I hope. Yesterday, then, up into the blue, piloted +by Eric. + +It was not a good day. In fact, too dud for good observation. But the +relief map must be ready quickly. + +Imagine us, please, robed in leather coats and leather helmets and +gauntlets, and with goggles, waiting at the entrance of a hangar while +the mechanics bring out the gadfly. They have already looked the +creature over with great care. The pale yellow wings glitter against the +violet horizon. The sun is shining, but it's freezing hard. Eric climbs +in, and then I do. I sit behind with the machine gun. + +I clasp a sketchbook, to sketch the lie of the land. O my aunt in +Jericho! isn't it Arctic! Fingers that feel like ammoniated quinine. You +know, a faint unpleasant tingle. + +They are starting the engines. Difficult this cold weather. The +following strange colloquy ensues: + + _Mechanic:_ "Contact." + _Pilot:_ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Switch off." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Suck in." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + +And with a terrific whir the propeller flashes round. The sound +increases, and then decreases slightly, and increases again. The gadfly +moves. Moves more rapidly. Skims along the ground. Rises, rises, rises. +Ah, the beautiful river! Every time I have flown the beauty of that +river catches me in the throat. But this featureless waste. Bereft of +everything but earth, and a few low shelters and gun-pits, and seamed +with trenches. Hideously lonely. + +Well, anyhow, here we are sailing high above it all, the wind +occasionally lifting one of the wings, and then the other, like a +sea-gull's. There is a haze, and it's not easy to see. You peer over the +edge, and behold at last the desired wood. + +[Sidenote: A SCRAP IN THE AIR] + +A wood? That? Good heavens! That poor miserable mess of splinters and +gashed soil? Each time I see one of the woods destroyed by this war I +thank God that our glorious Cotswold woods are still untouched. +Primroses, wood-anemones, squirrels. To think of squirrels!... Not +another aeroplane in sight. Neither our own nor Hun machines. Eric +circles smoothly round above the wood, and then crosses back over +no-man's-land to fly low, so that I can see the wood obliquely. Archie +quite wide of his mark. This doubling and circling perplexes him. The +sketch progresses. I look round from time to time to see that there are +still no Huns about. Eric also looks about. No: nothing in sight. The +guns are pooping off, but the noise of the engines makes the guns sound +like tiny little "pops." There, now I've nearly done. Lucky I came, +because the wood isn't quite what we thought. Yes, that'll do.... We are +up at a considerable height.... + +Suddenly Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! above our heads. Three +Hun aeroplanes right on top of us; Eric drives headlong in a spiral +curve at full speed, smoke trailing out behind. The gun! I fumble. +Can't get round to it. Damn! + +Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! go the Huns. But Eric is faster. Are +they all Huns, though? Shall I fire? Yes. No. They daren't come down low +over our lines. We are safe. Yes, look, they were all Huns. They hang +about far up aloft. The Hun usually hunts in threes. Why, oh why, didn't +I fire? Well, it can't be helped now. Eric looks round. We both laugh. +"Why didn't you fire?" he shouts. I can't hear what he says, but I know +from the shape of his mouth that's what he is saying. I just smile and +shake my head. Can't explain now. + +Where on earth did they come from? Coasting about very high up, I +suppose, and suddenly swooped down at us. + +However, the drawing is done. So that's that. Home, John! + +One little bullet-hole through one of the wings, no more. Indifferent +shooting, my friend Fritz. However, I can't talk, because I never fired +at all! + + +_February 16._ + +I've never thanked you for the chocolates which arrived two days ago. +But they arrived during one of the avalanches of work, and were all +eaten within half an hour or so; not by me, but by various R.F.C. men +who are always coming in and out of my office for "the latest." + +[Sidenote: TOLL OF WAR] + +To-day all frosty and sunny. Think of going on to the terrace at home +before breakfast and seeing some jolly little new flower out, with the +Golden Valley behind, all grey-blue and woody. + +It's all working well here, and, being the representative of the corps, +I have a certain status which is pleasant. They think that I may or may +not give them a good character to the Powers that be. Quite fun. + +They are awfully nice fellows. The only two I knew before were Eric and +Bill Vivian. Bill I have known for a very long time, and during the war +I've seen a great deal of him, and was very fond of him. He was brought +down by Archie yesterday in our lines. Burnt to death. Dead when they +reached him. Yesterday night at mess we were all quite gay. Only one man +showed that his heart was as heavy as lead. And it seemed bad form. +Heaviness of heart is bad form. No gentleman should have a heavy heart. +A sign of weakness, of ill breeding. + + +_February 17._ + +To-day has been one of the jumpy, anxious days again, because something +is to happen shortly, and those concerned are ringing up all the time +asking me this and that about the Boche trenches, etc. And they want +maps of this and plans of that and t'other. It's these times before some +event that are so wearing. The smaller the event, the more wearing very +often, because it's just some one or two officers, perhaps, who are +doing the show, and, of course, half their success or failure depends on +whether an unhappy intelligence officer can tell them exactly what they +are up against, and exactly where it is and so on. I always go on the +principle of assuming the worst. If I think there _may_ be a minny to +meet them, I tell them there _is_ a minny, and probably two. It may not +be very cheering to them. But if the minny is there, well, then I've put +them on their guard; and if it isn't there, well, they can laugh at the +work of the staff, and there's no harm done. People don't realize the +awful strain and responsibility and hard work of staffs. It's sometimes +a nightmare. Think of it in this way: I make a slip. A dozen men get +killed. When the Push comes, I make another slip, and a hundred men get +killed. Perhaps more. All the work of the lazy and incompetent staff! +But if the staffs are lazy and incompetent, then, for goodness' sake, +let's put more energetic and more competent people in their places. But +where are these more competent people? In the divisions? in the +battalions? But that is exactly where the present staffs came from! And +they are the very people who originally jibed at the staffs! Well, +anyhow, the war will end some day. + + +_February 21._ + +[Sidenote: THE WILD DUCK] + +_Re_ America. It doesn't look much as if they were coming in now, does +it? However, one of the Scots Guards gave me June as the end of the war. +He offered me 10 to 1 in francs; but, as I am always rather muddled as +to whether that means that he gives me 10 francs if I win, or I give him +1 franc if I lose, or what, I declined to bet. I expect he thinks I +don't bet on principle. But, anyway, let's hope he wins. + +Leave is off at present. + +The worst of this game is that now I feel I want to do it all myself. I +really do know a fair amount about the Boche lines, and I long to spend +a day wandering about there taking notes! + +I was up yesterday afternoon trying to find out a certain T.M. battery, +and what should fly by quite close and quite unconcerned but a duck! We +were not very high, and it was very misty. The duck just appeared, with +his neck stretched out, eager and oblivious. And then vanished into the +mist again. I was thinking about that duck too much to find out what I +wanted. Anyway, it was a fruitless journey. But flying amongst clouds is +very beautiful. Sometimes we got above the clouds, to where the sun was +functioning away as efficiently as ever. The clouds looked like millions +of feather beds. + + +_March 2._ + +I have been doing some drawings of R.F.C. officers. They love being +"took" out here, and my office is rapidly degenerating into a club, +which makes work no easier. + +Well, you see from the papers what is happening. The Boche retires to +the Hindenburg Line, and we follow. + +I should so love to tell you all about it, but Mum's the word. A great +moral defeat for poor Fritz, anyway. + +The cavalry are sharpening their swords. + +The aeroplanes sail high up in the blue, like hungry hawks. + + +_March 5._ + +I am probably going off to-morrow. Now, where do you think? Paris? +Madrid? Anything of that sort? + +Wrong again. Shall I tell you? + +VICTORIA. + +I'll send you a telegram directly I get across the briny. + +And I plead for no "back from the war tea-parties," please! + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: PERONNE +From BIACHES +A few days after the evacuation. From a distance the place looked almost +intact, as some of the outside walls had been left standing. That white +building in the centre of the town was once the cathedral. MONT ST. +QUENTIN on the left. The thin white lines on the slopes beyond are +trenches.] + + +_March 22._ + +[Sidenote: THE HUN RETREAT] + +The Hun rearguards are now well beyond ----. I knew the place so +intimately from photographs, and from high up in the air, that a view of +it from terra-firma promised to be quite interesting. + +So with great eagerness, some sandwiches, and the faithful sketchbook, I +sallied forth. Harry came, too. A glorious day of brilliant sun and +brief snowstorms. + +From the aerodrome through all this devastated country, past wrecked +villages, orchards laid waste, dug-out camps, bivouac camps, R.E. dumps, +light railways, battered trollies lying on their sides, and all the ugly +confusion of old wire rusted a red-hot colour, bits of corrugated iron, +bits of netting screens, more wire, dead horses, dead men in all stages +of decomposition, legs, hands, heads scattered anywhere, dead trees, +mud, broken rifles, gas-bags, tin helmets, bully-beef tins, derelict +trenches, derelict telephone wires, grenades, aerial torpedoes, all the +toys of war, broken and useless. Tommy, the dear hairies, and the R.E. +dumps, to remind you what vast stores of everything are still being +accumulated. + +The ground becomes more and more like boiling porridge as you approach +no-man's-land. Of no-man's-land itself, perhaps, the less said the +better. No-beast's-land--call it that rather. And yet men have been very +brave, very tender, in no-man's-land. Next we come to those Hun trenches +that I have peered at from a distance so long and mapped so often. It +all seems rather futile now. + +Past the support trenches. Past the second line. Damn it! how much +larger and deeper that old emplacement is than I thought! The country is +less pitted, too. Of course, it hasn't been fought over like our back +areas. Why; here are trees scarcely knocked about at all. A recognizable +field there. How real that stream looks! And, oh Jemima! a blue tit. + +A little distance farther. Over that gentle rise, and there behold ----. +Surely one of the loveliest towns in France, on its low hill surrounded +by the quiet waters of the Somme. From a distance it looks all right; +though somehow, the smoke still ascending from it doesn't look natural. + +As you approach you realize that what looks so charming is just +empty, shelled, charred, and broken. The Huns have destroyed every +single house, all the bridges, and the cathedral, too. The cathedral +that once crowned the town now stands a pale crushed ghost in the +deserted market-place. + +[Sidenote: PERONNE] + +Some of the streets are almost amusing. Imagine Rye with the pretty +alleys so encumbered and piled up with roofs, sofas, the contents of +wardrobes, dormer-windows, smashed mirrors, rubble, and dust, that it's +quite impossible to proceed. Very well, that's ----. + +Go into the houses, and there it's just as it is in the streets. +Everything crushed to atoms. Images of saints have been hurled out on to +garbage-heaps, and in the cathedral huge pillars are lying about in +clumsy confusion amongst chairs, organ pipes, and gilded flowers. + +On a huge notice board in the Grande Place the Hun has written: + + NICHT ARGERN: NUR WUNDERN! + +(Don't argue: only wonder! We the Huns did this. Why discuss what we +have done? We have destroyed your city. Gape and stare, stupid fools! +What does it matter to us? We took your precious town from you, because +we wanted it. Now we don't want it any more. Here it is back again. +With our love.) Some merry soldier wrote that up, I suppose. It was a +pity. + +There were French officers in ---- to-day. I spoke to one. He answered +with a quiet, simple bitterness and determination that would have turned +even a Hohenzollern pale, I think. Unhappy Emperor! he must be feeling +decidedly uneasy nowadays. + +Another odd sight was a tub full of water, with a little dog trying to +get out. But the little dog was dead. A crump evidently landed somewhere +near, and just petrified him, as it were. You often see men like that, +struck dead in the middle of some act. Men are usually turned a dull +purplish or greenish black. So was this little dog. We ate a delicious +lunch on the battlements, our legs dangling 50 feet above the reedy +water. Lots of moorhen and coot swimming about. + +The sun was warm. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. What a heavenly world +it is! + + +_April 6._ + +After a hectic day comes this chance of writing to you. Eleven-thirty +p.m. + +Would you like to hear about night flying? I didn't go, but I sketched +the others going. And these are some notes. A bombing raid. It had been +ordered in the morning. A raid on ----. After a cheery dinner we trooped +out, singing foolish songs. The hangars a few hundred yards away across +the mud. They looked huge and eerie, looming up from the dark ground, +all stately in the moonlight. The moon had a halo, but was very bright, +bright enough to sketch by. + +[Sidenote: NIGHT FLYING] + +Six flares were flickering at intervals round the aerodrome. A vivid +orange colour against the dim blue sky. The horizon was greyer, and +little flames flashed intermittently from it. There were the aeroplanes +waiting. + +It was very cold. Soon the mechanics were starting the machines. The +usual loud spurting and fizzing till presently the first machine begins +to move. A big semi-luminous beetle lurching forward; then faster and +faster and away, lifting up, up, up into the night. Only the lights +visible now, but you can hear the hum of the engines a long way off. +Other machines follow. The sky is full of twinkling fairies. They circle +about for a bit, and then all head towards the east. Gradually the +humming dies away in the distance. Look out for yourselves, you sleeping +Huns! + +A long while afterwards the humming again. + +The first aeroplane is coming home. There he is. Gradually lower and +nearer. The machine descends smoothly on to the ground, turns and +"taxis," spitting angrily towards the hangar where it lives. Muffled +figures get out, and the mechanics take in the machine tail first to its +home. What? oh yes, quite successful. Smashed the place to blazes. +Anyone got a cigarette? Other machines begin coming in. It's such a +clear night that we still stand about in groups waiting for the last one +to arrive. Damn it all! where can old Rupert have got to? We'll just +wait till he comes back, and then bundle off to bed. Anxious? Good Lord, +no! What about? + +Suddenly a small sharp flash high up in the night. Another and another. +The Huns! They are coming. Archie is shelling them. Now another Archie +poops off nearer here. Quick! Where's the orderly officer? + +In a couple of minutes all is dark. Gradually the drone of the Huns, +high up in the air, becomes audible. No. They seem to be steering more +towards ----. Searchlights from three different directions grope slowly +to and fro. Where the devil are the Huns? The searchlights cannot find +them. They must be cruising somewhere up above those thin cirrus clouds. +Are they going to drop bombs on us? No, their direction is too far +south. The searchlights cannot find them. + +[Sidenote: THE END] + +No sign of Rupert yet. Probably he has landed at another aerodrome. Dear +old Rupert. One of the very best in this world. He'll be all right. Come +on. It's too cold. Let's turn in. + + + + +PRINTED BY +BILLING AND SONS, LIMITED +GUILDFORD, ENGLAND + + + + +Select Announcements of some new and recent volumes +published by Chatto & Windus. + +NEW BOOKS +Published by Chatto & Windus + + +A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLAND +By G.K. CHESTERTON +Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +BOOKS AND PERSONS +By ARNOLD BENNETT +Second Impression. Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +GERMAN PROBLEMS AND PERSONALITIES +By CHARLES SAROLEA +Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +FORTY YEARS OF "SPY" +By LESLIE WARD +New and Cheaper Edition, with all the original colour plates. +Demy 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d. net + +THE INDUSTRIAL OUTLOOK +By Various Authors. Edited by H. 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Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s. 6d. net + +THE TIDINGS BROUGHT TO MARY +A MYSTERY: BY PAUL CLAUDEL +Translated from the French by LOUISE MORGAN SILL +Fcap. 4to., cloth, 6s. net + + + + +BOOKS ON ART +Published by Chatto & Windus + + +NOTES ON THE SCIENCE OF PICTURE MAKING +By C.J. 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Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/16626-h.zip b/old/16626-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c22f940 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16626-h.zip diff --git a/old/16626.txt b/old/16626.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2bc4be --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16626.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3513 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Letters to Helen, by Keith Henderson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Letters to Helen + Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front + +Author: Keith Henderson + +Illustrator: Keith Henderson + +Release Date: August 31, 2005 [EBook #16626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HELEN *** + + + + +Produced by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto), Suzanne Lybarger, +Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + + + +[Illustration: CRUCIFIX CORNER +Between MONTAUBAN & HIGH WOOD +One of the hands was shot away, and the figure hangs there suspended +from the other.] + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + +Impressions of an Artist +on the Western Front + +By KEITH HENDERSON + +Illustrated + +LONDON +CHATTO & WINDUS + +MCMXVII + + + + +PREFACE + + +These letters were never intended for publication. + +But when the pictures were brought back from France it was suggested +that they should be reproduced, and a book evolved. + +Then a certain person (who shall be nameless) conceived the dastardly +idea of exposing private correspondence to the public eye. He proved +wilful in the matter, and this book came into the world. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +CRUCIFIX CORNER _Frontispiece_ +A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU _To face page_ 6 +BAILLEUL 10 +LE MONT DES CATS 18 +FRICOURT CEMETERY 32 +TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE 48 +GIRD TRENCH 54 +A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT 60 +A WOUNDED TANK 66 +EXPLOSION OF AN AMMUNITION DUMP 78 +THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT 92 +PERONNE 106 + + + + +LETTERS TO HELEN + + +_June 6, 1916._ + +Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been +to sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. +And now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to +write a letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and +unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most +Sherlock Holmes secrecy. Not a word about which ports we were sailing +from or to. + +However, I'll tell you what I can without disclosing any names of +places. + +After moving off at midnight from among the Hampshire pine-trees, we +eventually reached our port of departure. Great fun detraining the +horses and getting them on board. The men were in the highest spirits. +But how disgusting those cold rank smells of a dock are. + +We sailed the following evening. Hideously rough, and it took seventeen +and a half hours. The men very quiet indeed and packed like sardines. +It was wonderful to think of all those eager souls in all those ships +making for France together over the black deep water. Some had gone +before, and some came after. But the majority went over that night. I +felt decidedly ill. And it was nervous work going round seeing after the +horses and men when a "crisis" might have occurred at any moment! +Luckily, however, dignity was preserved. Land at last "hove in sight" as +the grey morning grew paler and clearer. What busy-looking quays! More +clatter of disembarkation. No time to think or look about. + +Then, all being ready, we mounted and trekked off to a so-called "rest +camp" near the town, most uneasy and hectic. But food late that evening +restored our hilarity. A few hours' sleep and we moved off once more +into the night, the horses' feet sounding loud and harsh on the unending +French cobbles. By 8 a.m. we were all packed into this train. Now we are +passing by lovely, almost English, wooded hills. Here a well-known town +with its cathedral looks most enticing. I long to explore. Such singing +from the men's carriages! Being farmers mostly, they are interested in +the unhedged fields and the acres of cloches. They go into hysterics of +laughter when the French people assail them with smiles, broken +English-French, and long loaves of bread. They think the long loaves +_very_ humorous! There are Y.M.C.A. canteens at most stations, so we are +well fed. The horses are miserable, of course. They were unhappy on +board ship. A horse can't be sick, you know, even if he wants to. And +now they are wretched in their trucks, Rinaldo and Swallow are, of +course, terrified, while Jezebel, having rapidly thought out the +situation, takes it all very quietly. She has just eaten an enormous +lunch. Poor Rinaldo wouldn't touch his, and Swallow only ate a very +little. + +[Sidenote: FRANCE AT LAST] + +In this carriage Jorrocks is snoring like thunder. Edward is eating +chocolate. Sir John is trying to plough through one of "these Frenchy +newspapers--damned nonsense, you know! they don't know what it all means +themselves." And Julian is scrutinizing a map of our area. + +Everyone is so glad to be going up right into it now. That pottering +about at home was most irritating. Just spit and polish, spit and polish +all the time since August, 1914. + +We are all getting cramp, and have to stand up occasionally. Toby has +smoked his fourteenth pipe. + +Oh, look! What a lovely rainbow! Treble. And under it a village with an +estaminet, a dozen slate-roofed houses, and a very new chateau, hideous +with scarlet bricks and chocolate draw-bridge and pepper-pot turrets. +Poplars and more poplars. Still we rumble along through symmetrical +France. + + +_June 7._ + +We are in one of the most lovely old French chateaux I have ever +imagined. Half chateau, half farm, fifteen miles behind the line. We +remain here for two or three days. Arrived late last night, tired and +grubby. But, O ye gods, when dawn began to reveal this old courtyard +with its hens and chickens and pigeons! On one side the old house with +its faded shutters. On the other side the old gateway with a square +tower and a pigeon-cote above. Along the other sides old barns. The +country round we have hardly seen, but it looks exquisite. There are +several most attractive foals in a field close by. + +And inside the chateau funny old-fashioned things--old beds with frowsty +canopies, and old wall-papers with large designs in ferns and +cornucopias. Imitation marble in the hall. Gilded tassels. Alas! my kit +has not yet arrived. It's awful. And the anxiety to draw these things is +feverish. We go so soon. + +When you look out of the rooms into the courtyard, you see our waggons +and draft-horses, and the men eating bully-beef like wolves. Some of +them (including Sergeant Cart) are shaving and washing stripped to the +waist. The others just tear at the bread and beef and munch without +speaking. Corporal Nutley and Corporal Field are pointing with their +tea-mugs to the old gateway and the ducks and things. They all evidently +love it. They sleep in the barns amongst the hay. The sun is warm and +sleepy. + + +_June 8._ + +[Sidenote: THE CHATEAU-FARM] + +Still at this lovely chateau-farm, and Life seems to have gone into a +trance. I wake up and look out into the courtyard and the sunlight, on +geese, Muscovy ducks, pigs, and pigeons, and it all feels like a +half-forgotten story. There are traces of the Huns, but all that seems +unreal. You hear the boom! boom! boom! of the guns all day, and more so +at night; but nothing can disturb the extraordinary remote peace of this +chateau. The very stones in the courtyard look more friendly and more +countrified than ordinary stones, as if some ancient fairy lived here. +There's no doubt at all that the men feel it. Several of them have said +how they like the place. They think it's a little bit like ----shire. I +think I know what they mean. + +After the war perhaps we may visit the place together: I should love +showing it to you. I'm not at all sure that it's really very beautiful. +The architecture isn't good when you consider it. But somehow.... + + +_June 10._ + +The same chateau. We are living a simple and brainless life. No +field-days, of course, and for this relief much thanks. We don't know in +the least what is happening. Troops come and troops go, and guns go by +during the night, and Red Cross waggons go hither and thither, and the +old turkey gobbles. + +Yesterday I was out with my troop, quite uninteresting. But what do you +think? Something exploded not 100 yards away from Rinaldo. I was much +farther off, dismounted. He didn't turn a hair, but only looked round +and watched the smoke. Whereas, as you know, a little bit of paper blown +across the road sends him into paroxysms of terror. + + +[Illustration: A CONFERENCE IN THE CHATEAU DE FEBVIN-PALFART +There are many of these old chateaux-farms in Northern France. The beds +are under great frowsy canopies and all the curtains are looped up with +heavy tassels.] + + +_June 11._ + +I went into an old church in a large town ten miles from here to-day +with Sergeant Hodge. There were the usual tinsel things and red baize +and sham flowers. Sergeant Hodge much impressed. He said after we +emerged: "You know, sir, it's very fine indeed. It puts me in mind of +a bazaar." This was in all good faith, and was intended as a great +compliment to the church! We are having lots of rain, which is bad for +the horses, who are picketed in the open. And thunder. It's often +extremely difficult to tell whether, when the thunder is far away, it is +thunder or guns. Quite a novel experience, and quite pleasant after the +long period of make-believe in England. Discipline. So salutary and so +irksome. Now for the battle. I own I long to get into the thick of it +soon. We see infantry returning and going up, and we feel sick, somehow, +to be still safe. + +This country is very charming, but a bit monotonous. Every road and +every field exactly like every other. + + +_June 13._ + +[Sidenote: A SERVICE FOR KITCHENER] + +A service to-day for Kitchener. And we had to ride fifteen miles there +in pouring rain. Then we stood in deep mud for about an hour, the rain +gradually trickling down our necks. + +To-day delicious rumours of a German defeat at Verdun. Lots of +prisoners, including the Crown Prince! + +Goodness me, such rain. Jezebel bit Swallow above the eye merely to show +what her feelings were. He now has one eye enormously swollen and +almost closed up. It is dressed with iodine, so he looks most +remarkable. His beauty much damaged. But it will only be temporary. + +Hunt tells me that Swallow is so frightened of Jezebel he daren't lie +down at night. But then, Hunt thinks Jezebel a sort of Bucephalus, and +the more horses she kicks or bites the more pride he takes in her. He +has no love for Swallow, unfortunately. + +There's a distant cannonade going on to-day. We all eye each other. + + +_June 17._ + +In the small-hours of to-night we leave this wonderful place. Why we +were ever sent here or why moved away is one of those mysteries only +known to a few staff officials. + +But how we have loved it. At least I have. Some of the others--Jorrocks +for instance--have been bored. But, then, they couldn't draw, poor +dears. Do you know I have done three pictures. That's a lot in this +military life. One of the courtyard, with cocks and hens and things, and +in the distance men cleaning their saddles. Another of the vestibule, +with Julian and Edward consulting over some map or other at a table. +Another of a "fosse" or coal-pit about a mile away. A coal-pit sounds +repulsive, but not so in Northern France. They are away from all houses +and surrounded by corn-fields. The coal refuse is the curious part of +it. Up it comes from the main shaft and is piled up into a series of +large pyramids, visible for miles around. Many of the famous "redoubts" +are coal-refuse pyramids really. And such nice little chimneys. +Rinaldo--gone! Isn't it heartbreaking! An important person comes nosing +round, and asks for him. Sir John doesn't like to refuse. I am +powerless. Adieu, dear Rinaldo! One gets awfully fond of a horse. +Rinaldo was very naughty sometimes, but I loved him all the more for it. +And now his good looks have been disastrous. Oh that he had been uglier. +Isn't it maddening. Such a leaper, so fast, and such courage. Well, +perhaps I shall see him again. + + +_June 19._ + +[Sidenote: FEBVIN TO BAILLEUL] + +At the last moment an order that we are not to go. Then late last night +an order to send on an advanced party of one officer and one sergeant +and two men immediately. So off I go with Sergeant Dobbin and Hunt and +Noad. We had to find billets and bivouacs for the squadron at a place +far from here. This we did, and the squadron has just arrived, and we +have had lunch and are feeling very fat indeed. We have just seen a +pretty aeroplane show. Six of them flew over our heads towards the +Boche, and presently puff, puff! went the little dark clouds of smoke +all amongst them. They then got too high and too far off for us to see, +but we still saw the Archie shells following them. First a flash in the +sky, then a very dark spot; then the spot grows larger and fluffier, and +becomes a dusky little cloud. So you see some flashes, some dark spots, +and some larger fluffy clouds--all on the wretched aeroplane's track. + +Only two returned, alas! but they told us they had brought down three +Aviatiks. + +We're moving with great rapidity up into colder climes. More anon. + + +_June 22._ + +I wrote a p.c. early this morning, as I thought I might get no other +chance. Things are all merry and bright. We have moved up like oiled +lightning from ---- to a rather famous place. Hedges and hop-fields. +Very interesting church--not hurt at all. We are suffering so (at least, +the poor men are) from thirst. There's no water anywhere. I long to gulp +down green pond water. However, that will be remedied shortly, I hope. I +went into the big town and bought a barrel of beer for the men. Tempting +Providence. But there's nothing else. The water isn't good even when +boiled. However, all will be well soon. + + +[Illustration: BAILLEUL +A peaceful place behind the battle.] + + +_June 23._ + +[Sidenote: MANY SMELLS AND NO WATER] + +The most extraordinary things are happening. All very quiet and humdrum +on the surface. Only the aeroplanes are busy, and if the sun is between +you and them there are always the little black high Archie clouds +following them, like vultures appearing from nowhere. + +Our quick bolt up here has had several pleasant results. First, the +country is very beautiful, more hilly in this immediate neighbourhood, +with great plains stretching away on all sides. The low hills all have +woods round them, and a windmill or a church on the top. Second, B +Squadron have already arrived, and our old Brigade-Major and lots of +other old friends. It was most joyous meeting them all again. We came +trotting down one road, covered with dust, and they came trotting down +another road even more covered with dust, having trekked all day. + +Isn't it funny. One gets so quickly used to things that already we have +ceased to notice the smells, which at first made us wield bottles of +disinfectant wherever we went. But now, when the farms and outhouses and +other places where we live smell, we merely laugh, and "fatigues" are +all at work automatically before nightfall, and by next morning--well, +the smells have not gone, but the general feeling is that a good start +has been made. + +The water problem is still unsolved, and we get very thirsty; but thirst +is a small fleabite, after all. "Which would you rather have," I asked a +discontented lance-corporal, "a bit of a thirst or a dentist drilling a +hole down a pet nerve?" And he owned he'd rather have a thirst. You +know, it's most awkward. They come to you when there's any difficulty +and seem to think you can put things right always. For instance, a man +came up the other day: "Please, sir, I've lost my haversack." "When did +you miss it first?" "Between ---- and ----, sir." "Now what do you want +me to do?" "I don't know, sir." "Do you want me to go back to ---- and +search the whole of the twenty odd miles to ---- on the off chance of +finding it?" "No, sir." "Do you want to do so yourself?" "No, sir." "And +even if I ordered you to go, do you think that, with so many troops +about, you would be likely to find it still there?" "No, sir." + +The result is, of course, that I have to buy one for the unfortunate lad +in the nearest town. One must eat. And our haversacks are our larders. +Haversacks are supplied by the army, but it takes such a time to get +anything, that, if the matter is urgent, it has to be done without the +army. We (the bloomin' orficers) have a "mess-cart" for all our absurd +wines and tinned peaches and things, but the men often have nothing but +the contents of their haversacks. + + +_June 25._ + +[Sidenote: READY FOR THE PUSH] + +We are in a funny state of waiting for something to happen. Rumours +flying about all the time. We live on them--a bite off one, a slice off +another, a merry-thought off another. And so we learn the news of the +world. Papers when we get a chance of going into some town, and then +only two days old, or else French, which are very scrappy. Often we get +no news at all for three or four days, except what some passing +ambulance will vouchsafe. And usually they don't really know much. So +when there's an extra heavy strafing or an extra quiet lull we learn +that the entire German staff has been captured, or Rheims evacuated, or +Holland sunk, or something else equally strange. The M.G.'s were +hammering away furiously last night, and the whole line was lovely with +star shells hanging like arc lights in the air, and then dropping slowly +to earth. They light up everything like immense moons. + + +_June 28._ + +Starting from the farm where the horses are hidden at nine o'clock last +night (twenty-one, as we call it out here), after a hot meal, we +marched through Bedfordshire-like country, along ascending paths, to the +bottom of a wooded hill where a motor lorry with picks and shovels met +us. Thence along a narrow muddy path through a wood. The path circles +round the hill. The east side of the hill faces the Boche front line. It +was still quite light. The undergrowth thick and dank. Our fellows very +merry. The Boches know this path, which is pitted with shell holes. They +shell the place by day, oddly enough, but hardly ever by night. + +It was raining gently. Turtle-doves continually crossed our way. I felt +much intrigued. A very weird wood. The guns crashed lethargically, +intermittently. + +When we got round to the east side of the hill, the R.E.'s, who were +acting as guides, comforters, and friends, showed us what we were to do: +to dig a line of trench 6 feet deep, and as narrow as might be, for some +cables that were to lead into a very important set of dug-outs for +certain pink and gold people. + +The dug-outs are deep in the side of the hill. It's what is called an +advanced H.Q.--_i.e._, when the Push begins, the gilded ones will crawl +in and rap out messages to the various commanders, and watch the battle. + +The R.E. officers showed us what was wanted, and each man put in his +pick or shovel to mark the line. This is the procedure: each pick or +shovel about 2 yards apart, and each man delves on that spot till he is +6 feet down. If it were not done like this, then (when it became too +dark to see) the line would be lost. This only applies fully, of course, +when you are in woods or other cover. Digging isn't really a cavalry +job. But what of that? + +[Sidenote: TRENCH DIGGING] + +Well, now we've started. It's about ten o'clock, and getting very dim. +Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle. Humphry and I creep up (neglectful of duty) +to the top of the hill. A tiny tower there, smashed to pieces, but +beautiful in the twilight. We creep about amongst shell craters. +Presently a strange sweet odour. Flowers? Impossible. We stare into the +dusk. An exquisite faint scent all around us. Surely, surely, thyme? +Yes, sweet-williams, thyme. Evidently there has been a cottage here, but +now only a mass of rubble and beams and glass to show where once it was. +Sweet-williams, thyme, and later some Canterbury bells. Another +dream-place, like that old chateau-farm. + +What a view from here of the German lines and ours! As it gets darker, +the flashes of the guns and the Very lights' solemn brilliance +illuminate the whole show like a map. That tragic ruin of a town on our +left is being shelled as usual. Jim is there. In front of us the German +salient. All comparatively quiet. How lovely it is! The sounds of our +men digging in the wet soil mingle now with other small noises. Voices +underground. Listen. And a mouth-organ's cheery bray coming from the +bowels of the earth. It is pitch-dark. We stand up like Generals +surveying the battle-field. No danger. The Boche does not waste +ammunition. + +The rain is very heavy. I have got a tuft of sweet-william to smell. + +We return to the men. They are wet through, but quite happy and content. +Not a bullet, not a scrap of anything that goes pop. They work in a +warm, wet peace. That is one of the odd things you learn--that only +certain places are dangerous, and usually only at certain times. + +The rain is coming down with tropical intensity. I am in a misty dream. +It's all so mysterious. Suddenly I fall over something--plonk into the +middle of some excavated earth, which the rain has made into semolina +pudding. Tiresome to be absent-minded. How it pours! Midnight. + +The roots of the trees make it very difficult to dig tidily, but the men +use their "billucks" with the unerring skill of farmers, and their +spades and picks as you or I would use a pencil. Time goes on. The +trench must be done before 2.30 a.m. We have to be gone before dawn. It +is nearly done now. Half-past twelve. The rain is stopping. One o'clock. +No, it isn't. It's coming down again. Half-past one. The trench is +finished. We must cover up all signs of it with branches, lest the wily +Taube should see, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. + +A quarter to two. + +[Sidenote: A STRAFE] + +Suddenly crash! bang! clash! boom! bang! We almost jump out of our +skins. Where the deuce were all those guns hidden? From all about us, +and far away behind and on either flank, our guns have begun strafing. +The most hideous and deafening din. + +The ground seems to shake. Then an order comes that we are to clear out +at once. We do so. The Boches haven't answered yet, but they will. The +whole thing seems quite unreal. The men vastly entertained. I honestly +felt as if I were at some exciting melodrama. The least cessation of the +guns, and I found myself saying: "Don't stop! don't stop!" I shouted +into Corporal Nutley's car: "Can you hear what I'm saying?" and he +answered: "No, sir." + +At last we got out into the little path, and had to double along through +the mud. Humphry was last man out, and he saw the one and only shell +the Boches sent over, exploding quite close to the aforementioned +dug-out. + +Isn't it funny. The Boches don't apparently know of this dug-out, or of +the cable trenches, or they would, of course, smash it to pieces. And, +for some reason that I haven't yet grasped, they never reply to our guns +immediately. They wait for perhaps ten minutes, and _then_ they don't +always reply to the same spot we spoke from. As, for example, this wood. +Our guns were all in and round about the wood. The Boches apparently +strafed back at an unoffending village on the west side of the hill. + +So, with our guns still behaving like things delirious, we eventually +reached the horses. Jezebel was quietly gorging herself with long +luscious grass beside the hedge. She told me she hadn't noticed anything +unusual. Poor Swallow was standing quite still, with his nostrils wide +open, breathing hard and trembling all over. A good many horses were +trembling, but the majority agreed with Jezebel: "It's only some silly +nonsense on the part of those Human Beings again. Don't listen." + +Then we saddled up and rode back to a place well behind, where we could +exercise the beasties. They had been given no exercise for three days. +And so home again to this farm. The horses are all in a field surrounded +by trees, and couldn't be seen from above at all. I have seen lots +of other horse-lines of other units, though, much closer to the front +than this is--quite open to view. The fact is, I think, that Hun +aircraft very seldom indeed gets across into our preserves. + + +[Illustration: LE MONT DES CATS +Near YPRES +In the early days of the war spies used to signal from the monastery on +the top of this hill. The country round about is quite flat and +water-logged.] + + +_July 6._ + +[Sidenote: THE ROADS NEAR DRANONTRE] + +Overnight it appears in orders that the roads from ---- to ---- via ---- +are to be reported on with reference to their suitability for heavy +transport, guns, cavalry, infantry, etc. + +So after an early breakfast Hunt comes round, with Swallow for me and +Jezebel for himself, haversack rations for us both, and feeds for the +horses. I feel very much on the qui-vive, as I haven't seen that +particular part before. + +A grey warm day. Some miles to go due south before we get near our +destination. As we approach it we find, as usual, roads and railways +being made, and fatigue-parties repainting tents with blotches and +stripes. Then come notices, "No traffic along this road," or, "This road +liable to be shelled," with signboards at every corner, "To ----" or +some other place in the trenches. Sometimes the notices say +"Something-or-other Avenue" or "Burlington Arcade," etc.--nicknames, but +recognized officially. And all the time we are passing endless lorries +and Red Cross waggons and troops and dug-out camps. As we get closer the +signs of shelling get worse, and children are seen no longer. Old men, +though, occasionally observed working in a field quite unperturbed. +Rarely a French soldier or an interpreter with his sphinx badges. All +this quite lost on Hunt, who has "quite got used to abroad, thank you, +sir." He is eating chocolate or something, half a horse-length (the +correct distance) behind me. + +Now on our left is a famous ridge, with a ruined village on the top. +Not, you understand, a ridge in the Swiss sense, but rather in the +Norfolk sense. I should like to go and see it, but it's too open to the +Boche's eye, and I don't want to dismount yet. So we curve round +right-handed a bit. Aha! "To ----." Nous voila! Follow down this muddy +track under cover of the ridge, and we arrive at ----. A wood just +beyond the little town. Oh, mournful wood! "Bois epais, redouble ton +ombre." But they say the anemones and the primroses were as merry and +sweet as ever this spring. Bravo little wood! + +The village is, of course, evacuated by all inhabitants. The houses all +in ruins. By now all the remaining windows have been boarded up and the +blown-out doors barred against prying eyes. Here we are at an old +estaminet called "Aux Coeurs joyeux." There's hardly anything but the +sign left. At the cross-roads in the centre of the town is the church, +so dismal. No roof, pillars broken and lying about the floor amongst +debris of broken images, chairs, and muddy rubble. + +[Sidenote: PLOEGSTEERT] + +As I am coming out I turn over the hand of an image, and underneath it +what the deuce is this? Why, a fragment of an old picture, torn and +decaying away. What shall I do? Leave it to rot? Give it to ... Yes, +exactly ... to whom? And would anyone thank me for it? Just a head of +St. John, very battered and faded. It's a fragment about a foot square, +and through all the mud one can see something like this: A head of St. +John in the corner; rays of light (two very thin small rays) shining on +him, and a look of great suffering on his face. The background a sort of +dull ochre. Evidently once a large composition. There are two books, one +with EVAN, and the other with, I think, BIBLIA SACRA, +written on it. It is quite worthless except from a sentimental point of +view. + +The exposure and the heat of the explosions have sadly cracked and +peeled the paint, but it seems vaguely symbolical. Near here I picked up +some minute bits of green glass. + +However, there was a notice: "It is dangerous to loiter here." So I tore +myself away, and we remounted. The Boche can't see into the town +because of the remaining buildings, but the whole place is utterly +empty--not a dog even. + +Soon the road to the next village _is_ exposed to the Boche's view. +Therefore canvas screens about 20 feet high have been erected, so that, +if necessary, troops, and even lorries, can hurry by. It is most +curious. "But for that thin bit of canvas, my good Swallow, you would +get something into your tummy you wouldn't like," I remarked. At that +moment the sun came out. We were keeping to the side of the road where +it is soft going. Suddenly Swallow leaped like a stag into the middle of +the road all over the _pave_. Panic terror. He had seen the shadow of a +starling flit across his path! + +Jezebel was tittuping along behind, thinking only of her next feed. I +cannot get her to take any interest in these thrilling spots. Sometimes +a soldier or two would emerge from a cellar, the entrance to which would +be piled up with sand-bags. And once or twice bang! bang! goes a gun +quite close by. + +Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out +of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a +very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three +different bridges--not the old bridges, which are broken down, but +sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on +the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of +the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to +civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way +behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of +those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress +they will look most charming, I think. + +[Sidenote: ARMENTIERES] + +Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from +which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the +everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here. + +Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes +little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering +round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an +A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop +under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing +so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are +practically out of the danger area by now, but you never know. Some +boring A.P.M. might pounce on the sketch and create a botheration. + +Meantime I have been laboriously making pretty maps to present to Sir +John, coloured maps showing where such and such a rise of ground could +be held, or where such and such a road offers difficulties to transport, +etc. But it's not easy to do, and we don't get back to camp till five +minutes before stables, having covered about thirty miles. Besides, we +had to stop and feed ourselves and the horses. + +Then stables. Sergeant Hodge reprimanded for not having reported a bad +kick. Southcombe slacking a bit. Must keep an eagle eye on that young +man. At the end a whistle (no trumpets allowed). The horses all neigh +and toss their heads and paw. Nosebags are put on, and after touring +round to see that all is correct we slope off to tea, which Hale and Co. +have got all ready. Luxurious menage as of yore. But good when you're +hungry, there's no doubt. We are moving again--probably to-morrow. + + +_July 10._ + +We have moved. The sixth time altogether. Not far though. A close view +of the sweet-william hill. It must be sketched. + +I am sitting on some sacks of corn, wondering why Fritz doesn't lob over +a crump or two, just to wake us up. Jezebel is gorging herself close by. +Swallow eats a bit, and then suddenly looks up and sniffs nervously. I +suppose he has heard a beetle trotting by, or seen a twig fall off a +tree. + +The horses are all picketed out in a field, and we are in bivvies. Hale +has made me a bed out of some poles and wire netting, as he says it is a +clay subsoil and I mustn't lie on the grass. I suppose he knows. + + +_July 12._ + +[Sidenote: THE HORSES] + +I'm writing this in a queer dilapidated mud cottage, inhabited by an +ancient ex-soldier aged eighty-three. He is very difficult to +understand. His language is quite foreign to me. But he owns the +quaintest little doll-like image of the Virgin in a glass case, and +several Bristol balls! I nearly fell flat when I saw them. His +grandfather, I think he says, was in England once. The cottage is quite +close to our present camp, and we go in for meals when it's very wet. + +The bed Hale made me is growing into a house. He has discovered various +old sacks, bits of tarred felt, and planks, and the place is becoming a +most attractive little abode. + +Then you must imagine an old wild-cherry tree, and lots of young oaks +and elders, etc., all round. Jezebel and Swallow live close by. Jezebel +has acquired a new trick. You know she doesn't like having her tummy +groomed. Well, now (especially, of course, when it's very muddy) she +waits till Hunt has finished dressing her, and then, as soon as his back +is turned, she lies down and rolls. Hunt is in despair. He used to be +really fond of her. But now I believe he'd kill her if he could, +sometimes. All his labour entirely and ridiculously in vain. I'm +convinced that she does it on purpose, because she always chooses just +the moment when he has achieved a beautiful polish on her, and either +has to go off to breakfast or else to get the saddle or something. It's +as good as a play. + +We are learning the "tactical" merits of all the roads and woods and +hills (such as they are) all along our sector of front, and as much as +we can, with field-glasses, of the other side. An offensive. What fun. +But exactly where are we going to offend? Rumours everywhere. If, we +say, that village or that ridge has to be taken from this or that +unexpected position, how shall we do it? Suppose we get Fritz on the +hop, as they have near Peronne. Where are the most covered approaches to +the slopes of that hill? Shall we carry the thing off as splendidly as +those squadrons did before Peronne, or shall we bungle the show? You'll +see. + +We get so few papers here, and only two days old at that, but no one +seems much the worse for it. + +[Sidenote: NEUVE EGLISE] + +Only one solitary man with lice so far. The man has been sent away, and +is, I hear, to be given sulphur baths and scrubbed with a scrubbing +brush. + +Oh, I was going to say just now--_re_ reconnoitring--that we were doing +all the ground about a village where there is a church even more smashed +than the St. John place. It is on a hill, and all the village is Sahara. +The church remains with the remnants of four outside walls and the +tower. Fritz does not destroy the tower, as it is a good spot for him to +range on to. And outside the tower, right up at the top, is the bronze +minute-hand of the old clock. The rest of the clock-face has been blown +into the middle of the church, and lies there nearly complete amidst a +crumbled heap of pillars and mortar and chair-legs and pulpit fragments. +One notice on a house amused me so, and the troop too. It says, "Do not +_touch_ this house." The reason being rather obvious. For if you did +touch the house, it would certainly fall on to your head. The next shell +will bring it down, even if it's a couple of hundred yards away, merely +by the vibration. We find shell holes so useful for watering the horses. +They seem to retain water in a most curious way. + + +_July 19._ + +On the move again. A four days' trek. Not more than twenty miles a day, +in order to keep the horses "in the pink." They are certainly very fit +now, and a gentle twenty miles a day just keeps them nicely exercised. +But twenty miles _at a walk_ is not overexciting. Still, it is +interesting to be covering the ground. We already know quite a lot of +the back of the front. Last night we arrived in a cool lull after +showers. From quiet and uneventful stretches of hedgeless corn-fields, +intersected by long straight roads, lined sometimes with poplars, but +more often with lopped wych-elms or willows, we descended rather +suddenly into a little wooded valley where a village sits by the trouty +stream. After watering the horses at the stream, we filed by squadrons +into various fields and picketed down for the night. Some of us in a +small but clean estaminet, others in barns. + +A very peaceful trek, quite different from the dazzling swoop that was +threatened. + + +_July 20._ + +Am I telling you about the things you want to hear? Usually I think I've +talked mostly about our surroundings, doings, and only to a very small +extent about our thoughts. But, truth to relate, we think so little +that there is not much in that line to record. On this job you just +can't think. And a good thing too, perhaps. + +[Sidenote: FLESSELLES] + +However, here we are, and here I expect we shall remain for, say, a +week. The horses are all right out in the open. The men are in barns. +But we are in cottages--real, almost English-looking cottages. Edward +and I share a room in one, and the others are dotted about the village. +Now, this is the cottage: + +From the high street (the only street) you turn into a little gate, and +then walk down a path of brick with a narrow flower border on either +side, and vegetables beyond. The cottage is white, with lace curtains +and brick floors, without carpets, like all French cottages. The walls +have endless pictures of saints and things, with occasional crucifixes +and school certificates and faded photographs of people in stiff dresses +and crimped hair. + +Out at the back more kitchen-garden with some fruit-trees. + +Altogether quite a charming little place. Dusty and rather flat open +country intersected by deepish valleys, not unlike the Cirencester road +if you removed all the woods, or nearly all. We don't, of course, know +what we are going to do now. + + +_July 23._ + +Things is curiouser and curiouser. In all haste we got ready to move. We +then moved like tortoises. I rode over to ---- yesterday. Cavalry all +over the place like locusts. And, lawks! what a din! Guns in a violent +paroxysm of rage. Aeroplanes wandering about in the sky, purring like +angry panthers, all yellow in the sunlight. And all day and night more +dusty men and dusty horses and dusty lorries and dusty guns coming and +going, coming and going. + +The other squadron at last quite close to us. Long talks with Dennis. +He's had an exciting time, and was under orders for a most hair-raising +job, which didn't come off owing to Fritz's tiresome habit of doing the +unexpected. Horrors! The General has been trying Swallow. I fear he may +steal him. Of course he has every right to any horse in the regiment, +but it is quite difficult to smile. Swallow is, unfortunately, even more +showy than Rinaldo was; but he shied at a goat, bless him, and I think +that may just turn the scale. I shall now proceed to train Swallow to +shy at every blade of grass, every grain of sand. Long live that goat! +We are still "standing by." It is a wearing existence. I bathed +yesterday in a well-known river. So beautiful and willowy. + + +_July 28._ + +[Sidenote: A BATH] + +Temperature 100,000 deg.! And I am lying on a bed in a wee cottage, very, +very dusty and dirty. Hale, however, is going to bring some water from +the pump, and, oh Jerusalem, won't it be heavenly--a bath! All these +things off, and lovely clean things on, and lovely coffee to drink when +that's done. I wouldn't change the prospects of the next half-hour for +all the pearls and peacocks of Araby--no, not if you offered me the +Peace of Europe! Europe be blowed! I want my bath. + +You see, it's like this: The corps H.Q. moved to a different area some +days ago, preceded by us. Everything in the area left in an utterly +unorganized, uncatalogued condition. We have to tear round and find out +where the various divisions can go. + +And we have _got_ to find room for more divisions than have ever +occupied this area before. Useless to come back and report that such and +such villages have no water for men or horses. The water has got to be +found. Dig for it. Organize fatigue-parties and dig. Dam up little +trickles by the roadside until quite large ponds are formed. Get the +engineers and pioneers on to it. Labour battalions--anything. So I've +been riding madly about, and I'm like a treacle pudding in a +sand-storm. + +The bath! Hale, you are a most excellent fellow. That'll do splendidly. +Have you got my towel?... INTERVAL.... And now, dear friends, +it is another man that you see before you. A man who has had a bath. A +man less like a bit of oily motor-waste, and more like Sir George +Alexander. This delicious coffee, too! A bowl of it, made by Mme. +Whatever-her-name-is. I take it up in both hands and quaff it. Here's to +You and to Home, and to Everybody--and (just to show there's no ill +feeling) here's to the poor old Boche! + + +_July 29._ + +In the same cottage. + +It's very hot. Ammunition lorries go by in an endless string, making the +deuce of a dust. But we are far away from guns and gun food and noise. I +got leave to go up to ---- yesterday. + +I do dislike noise so, don't you? The noise of a battery in action is +diabolical, and the very thought of it makes me shiver. There go the +senseless lorries, all packed with music for a more hellish orchestra +than you can remotely imagine. The first few bars are enough to drive +you nearly frantic. It's unholy. It seems to split your head and +tear your ears out of their sockets. Can you understand a noise that +hits you? Hits unbearably, and then again. Crashes on to you. Bangs your +bones out of your skin, till you feel dazed and sick. + +Still the lorries go by. + + +[Illustration: FRICOURT CEMETERY +The moon and some signal lights over FRICOURT. LA +BOISELLE just over the hill. French crosses all bent and twisted. +The little chapel still standing.] + + +_August 3._ + +[Sidenote: GUNS AT FRICOURT] + +I hear the General doesn't like Swallow, so there's a good chance of his +returning. When you get angry with Swallow, he loses control of his legs +altogether, and they all fly about in every direction. He is quite like +Rinaldo in character,--not so perpetually fidgety, but as nervous, and +more easily frightened. Jezebel is showing her worth now like a Trojan. +She knows she has to make up for the loss of Swallow (whom I think she +rather misses). She is behaving splendidly. She is blatantly well, and +obeys all orders like clockwork; never tired; always hungry--a model. +The other mare, Moonlight, a dark brown, seems to be somehow exhausted. +I think she has had a very hard time of it, and has been wounded in the +foot. Her foot is all right now, but she seems to have no life left in +her. The war has utterly beaten her. Hunt is grazing and grooming and +petting her all day. So she may pick up. At present she is somehow +rather pathetic. She was with the Indian cavalry before she got +wounded. And then she went to a veterinary hospital. She is well made, +and may possibly brighten up. Hunt declares that she has "lost all her +courage." I'm glad I'm not a horse. + + +_August 5._ + +This is such an amazing country and in such an amazing condition. I +could collect a Harrod's Stores in a day--interesting and useful things, +too. But it's impossible to carry things about. One daren't overload the +horses, and one daren't overload the transport. Both are so heavy laden, +as it is. + +The signal job is quite interesting, really, and the Colonel gives me an +absolutely free hand. + +Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies. I took Jezebel +into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down! So the flies must +just bite, I fear. Large grey brutes. + +Hunt made me laugh so last night. I was looking round the horses with +Edward. They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay. To my +surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed. "Evidently getting +her appetite back," I remarked. "Oh yes, sir," says Hunt; "several +times I've caught her _hollerin'_ for her meals lately!" Isn't that a +lovely expression? + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS] + +Hunt is such a good chap. He thinks nothing of "abroad," but a lot of +the "'osses," as he calls them. I found him what seemed to me a very +nice loft to sleep in when we got here. But no: "I'd rather sleep with +my 'osses, sir, thank you." And he sleeps practically under their noses. +"You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on." + +He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he +attributes the error to one of her moods. + +She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was +hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was +being bitten by a fly, I don't know. No one seems to have seen her do +it. "One of her moods," says Hunt; and that's all there is to be said +about the incident. + +My dear, this country is most enchanting. Far away from nasty noises, +full of unexpected wooded valleys and willowy streams. + +All the little shrines are, as usual, surrounded by half-clipped trees. + +And the wild-flowers. Clear pale blue succory is the most charming of +all, and I am going to send you some plants as soon as they have ceased +flowering. + + +_August 6._ + +You can't think how difficult it is to take any interest in military +matters sometimes. The inclination to let things slide. The feeling that +an order is not so terrifying as it once was; that after all, who will +know or bother if one furtive subaltern creeps out one evening to +sketch? + + +_August 8._ + +Do you know, it's unintelligent, but I do so enjoy being here away from +the fevers of war. War is getting tedious, and the summer is all too +short. + +Swallow is coming back. Isn't it splendid! The General finds him too +irritating and tiresome. Jezebel will be glad, for she doesn't like the +ghost-horse Moonlight, and she never really disliked Swallow. I can't +say she liked him, because she likes no one, dear lamb. But she used to +look on Swallow with rather less suspicion, somehow. And Swallow has a +habit of licking that she approves of. I have often seen her snap at him +even while he is licking her; but he always continues after a moment. I +think it soothes her when the flies are tiresome. + +This place has a beautiful church, which I have drawn. It's quite an +unusually charming bit of the country. + + +_August 11._ + +[Sidenote: DOMART] + +Jezebel did such an astonishing thing yesterday. I was out with the +signallers practising. We didn't want the bother of holding or picketing +the horses. So I ordered "off-saddle," and then put a guard over the +disused quarry where I had decided to leave them. The quarry had a +grassy floor, and walls of chalk that in one place were only about 7 +foot high. Jezebel has been so good (for her) lately, that I determined +to leave her with the other horses. They were stripped of all bridles +and saddles and things, and had heaps of room to wander. + +Meanwhile we were carrying on with our work. + +Presently shouts from the guard. I went back to see what was the matter. +My dear, Jezebel had tried to jump out of the quarry! + +She had tried twice, but the sides were too steep and high, and she had +slipped back. When I arrived, she was quietly grazing as if nothing had +happened. Ah, but wait. This is not all. + +Later on in the morning another hooroosh. A loud squealing and sounds of +kicking. One of her moods again, I thought to myself grimly. That +well-known voice. I should recognize her squeal anywhere. As I was going +towards the quarry with Corporal Dutton to get her tied up or else +hobbled, lo and behold! the two guards had vanished. "What the +devil...." And all of a sudden out pour the horses careering downhill +like mad! It was so appalling that Corporal Dutton and I just stood and +shouted with laughter. + +My dear, if there is anything in the whole world that goads a Major, a +Brigadier, or any other military man, to fury and madness, it is a loose +horse. + +Imagine, then, forty-four horses all riderless, without saddles or +bridles (and therefore almost impossible to catch), stampeding straight +into a corps H.Q. village. This village is crawling with Generals! + +Well, in the end we caught them all, and by some dazzling piece of luck, +for which Allah be praised, no General, no Colonel, nor anyone else, +seems to have got wind of the incident. Subalterns, yes, and I am +sumptuously ragged about it. But how all the Generals and things +happened to be out of sight and hearing at the time, I don't know. And +_still_ this is not the cream of the comedy. + +After giving orders for rounding up the animals, I went on to the quarry +with Corporal Dutton. My dear, _There was Jezebel grazing, as cool as a +cucumber!_ + +She still further insulted me by coming up and trying to push her nose +into my pocket, where I sometimes keep an apple for her. + +[Sidenote: ANOTHER MOVE NORTHWARDS] + +The guards, you see, had instantly gone in to get her away from the +horse she was kicking, when we first heard the commotion. The other +horses had mooned out of the entrance gap, and then, I suppose, +something--a fly, perhaps--had frightened them, and off they had +galloped. While "the accursed female," as we sometimes call Jezebel, too +sensible to stampede, quietly continued feeding. I shall never be taken +in by her air of innocence again. Never. I don't a bit mind saying I was +decidedly alarmed. That mare might have been responsible for the death +of the Corps Commander. + +O Jezebel, I wish I could get angry with you and give you a jolly good +hiding one day. But you know I can't, you dear old thing. I'm writing +this in the orchard, where the H.Q. horses live, and Jezebel is standing +sleepily in the shade of her tree. She looks intensely stupid. She +occasionally tries to flick away a fly with her short tail. Occasionally +she sighs deeply, with that blubbery, spluttery noise that all horses +make when they sigh. + + +_August 15._ + +On the move. This is our first day's trek, and we are at a place where +we have been before--but not the same billets. I am in a cottage with +an earth floor (which looks very odd with a hideous drab-coloured +wall-paper), and small children and hens, both dirty, wander in and out +of my room. It's too hot to keep the door latched. A swallow's nest in +the room next door; and the people say that, although the young have +flown, they still return at night. + + +_August 19._ + +The Adjutant is away, and won't be returning for some time; so I am +still acting. And this, together with signal work, etc., is somewhat +arduous. I live all day in the "office," a very small bivouac in a green +field. There I sit praying for inspiration, when letters come in marked +_Urgent_, beginning something like this: + + "LP/3657042--G1. + + "Ref. your memo HC/516342/L12 of 13/8/16, please find A.F. 361B for + completion and immediate return." + +And I haven't the least idea what I said in my memo HC/516342/L12 of +13/8/16, and I can't find any record of it. And I can't for the life of +me make out how I am meant to fill in A.F. 361B, because I haven't the +least idea what it's all about. + + +_August 26._ + +[Sidenote: BEHIND KEMMEL] + +Impossible to write yesterday, and only a brief scrawl to-day. + +The regiment is being scattered over the face of the earth--an O.P. +here, an O.P. there; a digging-party here, a draining-party there, etc., +etc., etc.; not to mention a few on duty as military police _pro tem._, +others guarding bomb shelters, others reconnoitring new areas for new +divisions, etc. Dennis is very badly wounded. He can't be moved yet. +Some bits of shell went into his thigh, up his back, and it's not +certain yet whether it entered his lungs or not. They are afraid so. He +was on his tummy at an O.P. A crump got him. Dear old Dennis! I hope +he'll pull round. Also Clive is very seriously wounded, I fear. Damn! + + +_August 27._ + +I am Acting Adjutant now. An Adjutant's job is a most hairy job, and I +sit with drops of perspiration dripping off my brow all day. Never see +the horses, never get any exercise except for a moment or two. + + +_August 29._ + +We are probably going to move again soon, and consequently the amount of +correspondence is vast. Clive is better, I think. Dennis about the +same. I suppose a thing can go into your lung and not kill you? + + +_September 2._ + +The Colonel seemed (from a telegram he sent yesterday morning) to be in +a great hurry for me to come down to the other squadron. So I decided to +go by train, and send Hunt with the horses. And this is the train +journey. + +The station at ---- quite recovered and tidy after a feeble strafing the +other day. Even two or three civilians travelling. Not many of the +military--a hundred or so, perhaps, all waiting and smoking idly, each +armed with his "Movement Order." The dull boom of guns not excessive, +though there's a frequent "plom! plom! plom!" of the Archies, and the +sky is dotted with clusters of pretty little shrapnel clouds. Sometimes +the crack! crack! crack! crack! of machine guns high up in the blue. It +makes you feel slightly homesick. I don't quite know why. That sort of +thing isn't done at home. + +[Sidenote: THROUGH HAZEBROUCK] + +In comes the train. The French station officials all in a paroxysm of +excitement because one Tommy throws down a gas helmet for the train to +run over. Up we clamber. Hale heaves up valise and coat and so forth, +and retires to a "third," while I feel a beast lounging in this +luxurious "first." Off we go, and I look out at all the familiar +country. + +There's one of those quaint French notices in the carriage: + + TAISEZ-VOUS! + MEFIEZ-VOUS! + LES OREILLES ENNEMIES VOUS ECOUTENT! + +All too necessary, they tell me. + +_Later._--It is getting dark. We stop at a large town that I know well. +Two hours to wait. I turn in to a Follies show. There is usually one +going on, run by this or that division, all soldiers, but looking very +odd in their paint and ruffles. But what a curious concert. The first +I've seen out here. The comic Scot vastly popular; but even more so are +hideously sentimental songs all about the last bugle and death and my +dead friends under the earth and eternal sleep. You know? However, they +love it, and the dismal piano beats a tinny accompaniment. + +Staff officers even are here, and I recognize one Somerset; also Grey, +who was in the Gun section with Dennis and me, now a Captain. Delightful +talking over old times. + +_Later._--Into the train again. On the platform beforehand I meet a +gunner subaltern. We talk. He's very well read, and interested in lots +of the things I love so much. We discuss the war. He knows a lot of the +billets I know. Evidently we have nearly met out here often before. What +is that book he is reading? Richard Jefferies? From Jefferies to +Maeterlinck. What has become of him? War so foreign to that mystic mind. +Yet his beautiful abbey in Flanders must be in the hands of Fritz, if it +still exists at all. We talk for about two hours. Then he gets out at +----. I don't know what his name is, and very likely I won't ever meet +him again. But out here one makes friends quickly. There are so many of +us all in the same boat. And one hardly expects ever to meet again. Then +(alone in the carriage) I doze. The electric light in full blaze, and no +curtains are down. Stations rather like bad dreams. Soldiers everywhere. +A great clanking of horse-trucks and gun-carriages. Vast stores of +timber for huts. Bookstalls open all night. These trains seem to hoot +and whistle most horribly. Far more noisy than English trains, surely. +That, combined with all the shouting and clatter of trollies, etc., +rather racking in the small hours. At 5 a.m. we arrive at ----, where we +all change. + +_Later._--No one allowed outside the station except officers and +sergeants. But, dash it all, I can't leave Hale here the whole day. Our +train leaves at 8.36 to-night. The R.T.O. will be here at 7 a.m. Let's +see what we can work. Meanwhile (5.30) the platformless station is full +of men, who have just dumped themselves and their kits down where they +stood. They haven't finished sleeping. It looks like a battle-field. +They lie in every attitude, officers among them. Hale is eating from his +bully-beef tin in silence. A few men stand round a Y.M.C.A. stall +drinking coffee or eating chocolate, cake, and stuff. + +[Sidenote: ABBEVILLE] + +_Later._--I got Hale out, and took him to see the cathedral. He said he +thought it must have cost a lot of money. Not a bad criticism, either. +Then I let him go his own way, and now it's 1.45 p.m. Had a charming +lunch--two oeufs a la coque, the, and croissants. Now I'm sitting by +the side of the river--very peaceful. There's a white goat on the other +bank, and its reflection is dancing gently all the time. + +Several French widows are talking together near the goat, their black +veils hanging funereally; and there's a small boy with socks and a +bowler hat, all black, too. Poor dears! + +Good heavens alive! there's George! He has just flashed by in a car, red +cap and all. If only there had been time to hail him! Now for a sleep +till it's time for tea. + + +_September 5._ + +This is a part of the line I don't know at all, a most exciting area. I +have been up several times into what is by the way of being our front +line, but the whole thing is so chaotic that often the Huns come into +our trenches and we go into theirs quite by mistake. + +I have several times gone right across the open, within full view of +Fritz (whom I could see), at a distance of 600 yards. I think they must +all be very confused, also, as there is very little rifle fire and very +little organized sniping. Nothing but shelling, with the result that for +miles and miles there's just tumbled earth. + +The famous woods you read about are mere scratchy little collections of +a few tree-stumps splintered and wrecked beyond belief. Things lie +scattered everywhere in aimless profusion. Muddy rifles, coats, boots, +and every description of kit, both British and Hun. I have met lots of +men I know, and everyone is very cheery and hopeful. Fritz is +withdrawing his big guns--always a good sign. However, the myriads of +prisoners nearly all look a sound type of man still. They are put to +work a long way behind the line immediately, which is good. + + +_September 7._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME FRONT] + +We have been for some time right up in parts quite destitute of houses +and villages and shops. All the remnants of villages here are ruins. And +messing is consequently more difficult. So may I have a large-sized cake +now and then? + +The war isn't over yet, I fear. We live in the usual touch-and-go +condition. + + +_September 8._ + +Things hum. Troops like ants all over the ground. In tents, in bivvies, +in the open, everywhere. And the eternal chain of motor lorries bringing +up ammunition and supplies. These one sees all over France. But here +they block half the roads. Well, yesterday morning I rode out alone with +the Colonel and two orderlies. We went to some high ground from which +you can see it all, dismounted, and sent the horses back. In front of +us, in the valley, a wrecked town with the strangest thing on the +still-standing tower. I hope to make a picture of it if ever I can get +any time again. + +Later in the day from one of our O.P.'s I began a sketch of the whole +panorama of the battle. Desolate ragged country, torn with shell wounds; +the poor scarecrow trees like arms stretched up to heaven for help. +Fields that once were golden with corn now grey and scarred with white +trenches that look like a network of pale worms lying where they died. + +Now, from another O.P. I'm looking at the arid chaos below. Arid and +lonely-looking, but not silent. A strafe is on. Seems to be getting +louder and more continuous. We passed on our way here a great naval gun +crashing out death to the burrowing Huns. Swallow doesn't like naval +guns. + +From flimsy net shelters flash the expensive guns, and the bombardment +gathers strength, gathers volume, until you'd think something must +burst--the world or the universe: either might split from end to end. +The dust and smoke are gradually making everything invisible. Crumps +come whistling and heaving up great clouds of heavy blackness. We look +at our watches. Zero hour in five minutes. The aeroplanes buzzing aloft, +and the sausages sitting among the low clouds, inert and so +vulnerable-looking. Can there be anything left? Can a single soul live? + + +[Illustration: TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT AND LA BOISELLE +They don't look much like trenches, because they were battered to +pieces. A 'dump' on the near horizon was hit by a Boche shell. It blazed +and crackled and smouldered all night, a drifting column of dull pink +smoke.] + + +_September 9._ + +Surely we shall get through. Even in spite of the rain. The rain has +made the country into a quagmire. + +Reconnoitred the front trenches to-day with the Colonel, in a particular +part where everything is at sixes and sevens, and no one quite +knows what we haven't or have got. Most odd. Shells of all calibres +bursting on every side--corpses, odours unspeakable. + +[Sidenote: DELVILLE WOOD] + +You see, things are expected to happen soon, and so I'm anxious to know +all about it. This part of the line is terrific. + +Where we are, and for miles and miles around, myriads of troops, +cavalry, artillery, everything, all camped in the open--no concealment. +Mud? Why, everyone is mud, up to the eyes, and so are the horses. This +big movement has quite dislocated the ordinary trench warfare, and now +all over the dreary uplands are trenches hurriedly dug by the Hun and +then abandoned. Trenches that often barely shelter you above the knees. +Chaos, chaos. Rifles lying to rust in the mud, duds everywhere, men +sitting in dug-outs, not knowing what they are expected to do next. +Others in mere scratched-out shelters or in actual shell holes. +Sometimes they sing. Often they are asleep. Wreckage indescribable. +Shrapnel cracking into black clouds close by. Enormous and magnificent +H.E.'s hurling up black earth and red earth, and smoke that drifts +slowly and solidly away to limbo. Poor dead men lying about, and dead +horses, too. And in the trenches this limitless porridge of mud. +Cr-r-r-ump! go the crumps searching out a battery. But oh the +woods--the poor scarecrow woods. I was in a famous wood that looked +positively devilish in its sinister nakedness. And it's September, too, +when woods are so often at their loveliest. Not a leaf--not one single +leaf; and, instead of undergrowth, just tossed earth, fuses, a boot, a +coat, some wire, and above-ground dead men. Below-ground (or as far +below as they can get in the time) live men. + +The Boche dug-outs are marvellous. They are really works of art. So +solidly, even beautifully built. I went into one that had wooden pillars +supporting the roof like some baronial hall, with neat little cupboards, +tables, beds, and everything complete. There were two of our M.M.G. +officers sleeping there, and we left them sleeping. But emerge out into +daylight, and ye gods! the confusion makes you feel awed. A village is +usually a heap of rubble, with here and there a bit of a gaudy enamelled +coffee-pot or something; a geranium from a window, still growing; a +china egg, a bit of a chair, a bit of an iron gateway. And as far as the +eye can see in this particular region, just undulating stretches of +tormented earth. All the old game of never showing above the parapet is +quite disregarded, for often there is no parapet. Time after time the +Huns could have seen us, and I saw lots of them running across gaps. You +see, no sniping or anything like that can be organized yet. Huns often +come into our lines by mistake, and we do likewise. And when you are not +actually in close view of them, you go across the open. If you get cut +off by a barrage you just wait till it's over. + +I have been round all our M.G. positions and other Detachments. + + +_September 10._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS FLERS] + +About 5 p.m. the mess cook came and said he had been unable to get +enough food in for the morrow, as the expected hampers from England had +not arrived, and the district was so packed with other troops. So we +decided to get some hares or partridges. But it's forbidden to shoot +game. Very well, we wouldn't shoot them. We'd ride them down. The +country behind is entirely open. No hedges. Just gently undulating +uplands. The crops are all cut. So three of us set out. The orderly-room +work had almost been finished, and the remainder could wait. Jezebel was +brought round for me, Chloe for Roger, and Minotaur for the Colonel. The +Colonel's orderly, Corporal Orchard, following on Shotover. We rode back +to the more open country where there are few troops, and then started +the drive. Jezebel on the right, Chloe next, Shotover next, and Minotaur +on the left, at intervals of 20 yards or so. + +It had been decided that, if a hare got up, even while we were after +partridges, we must chase the hare. + +Well, presently a covey got up, and away we galloped up a long slope. +Suddenly a wild tally-ho from Roger. A hare had got up and was lepping +across Jezebel's line. So Jezebel fairly flattened herself out to keep +the hare in. But the hare was across before she could get wide enough. + +Then the hare doubled back and we swung round, so that now Minotaur was +on the right. Hooroosh down the hill. The hare was gaining. There was a +minute brick enclosure a quarter of a mile ahead. The hare was making +for that. And gained it. Check. We surrounded the enclosure and Corporal +Orchard dismounted and went in. After about ten minutes out popped the +hare on t'other side. Loud yells, and after her again. She made for some +high ground where there was a small wood. "Cut her off," signalled the +Colonel wildly. + +Impossible to cut off the hare. She gained the wood, which we +surrounded. But, oh silly hare! she came out the other side. Minotaur +after her like an arrow. + +Then she tried to get away across Jezebel's front. But Jezebel was too +quick, and Chloe came up in support. + +Then the hare doubled again through Shotover and Minotaur, and we swung +about. The hare was getting tired. She had run about three miles. She +then doubled back again through Chloe and Jezebel. + +[Sidenote: CHASING THE HARE] + +But meanwhile the horses were all getting dark with sweat, and although +a low line of upland hid us, we knew we were approaching some reserve +wire. The hare must not gain that wire. + +She was dead beat and going very slow, flopping along, and looked as if +she would tumble head over heels any second. We were close behind her. + +She got into some long grass 20 yards away from the wire, and +disappeared from view. We had got her. Corporal Orchard dismounted and +began beating the grass for her. There! Just missed her. She flopped on +a few yards, and Corporal Orchard dashed after. Then he tripped and +fell. The hare came out of cover and lolloped towards the wire. Yells +from Roger and the Colonel. + +_And the hare got there first!_ + +Inwardly I laughed with joy and relief. Thank goodness that little hare +got away. Corporal Orchard took over the horses, and we went in amongst +the wire, but we never found her. The weeds had grown tall, and were +perfect cover for the poor wee beastie. I sometimes say what I think, +but such views are naturally neither understood nor taken seriously. +And the Major, bless him! likes me to do this type of thing because he +thinks it is good for me. "We must really try and teach you to be more +of a sportsman, you know. Sporting instinct. What? Every Englishman +should have it!" This all very good-humouredly, and I answer, laughing: +"Aha, sir. You see I know better." Which merely stirs some jovial spirit +to stand up and propose: "Gentlemen, fox-hunting!" You see? + + +_September 12._ + +The next act will shortly begin. We are all very hopeful. Certain +signs.... Fritz very nervous. Of that there can be no doubt at all. +Prisoners betray it quite unwillingly. Poor Fritz! He comes to attention +when we go up to him and ask him if he is fairly happy, which he is +(with a smile) invariably. He talks good English, and wishes the war +would end. + +Some of our machine gunners, including Clare, were done in the other +day, and they put up a biscuit tin, with their names pierced in with +nail holes, to mark the spot. This war is the quaintest, most +incongruous show. + + +[Illustration: GIRD TRENCH +Gird Trench was only won after repeated attacks. It was the main German +defence of GEUDECOURT. While this sketch was being made things +were comparatively quiet. And the innumerable people living underground +could get a little sleep.] + + +_September 15._ + +Zero hour has come and gone. The show is a peach. Fritz is scuttling +back with us on his tail. We are to creep up, and as soon as Fritz +is beyond his last line of trenches (which he jolly nearly is now) up +and through we hope to go. + + +_September 20._ + +[Sidenote: TOWARDS GEUDECOURT] + +We are long past Fritz's first line; past his second line; at his third +line; and his fourth line he is wildly digging now--places for his +M.G.'s wire, etc. But he's very, very hard put to it. We have almost all +the high ground. Our guns are at it day and night. Trench warfare no +longer exists. A few hastily dug holes, a few short lines of trench, +mostly battered to pieces, and that's all. It's almost open fighting. +Even the infantry come up across the open. No communication trenches, +nothing of that sort. The crump holes are continuous. There's scarcely +an inch of ground that isn't a crump hole. + +I was up in an interesting wood this morning with the Colonel. Now, this +will give you some idea of how dislocated and above-ground everything +is: + +We wanted to go to a place the other side of the wood. When we reached +the middle of the wood, where a new O.P. of ours has been established, +Fritz put up a barrage on the edge of the wood. Very well, then. We just +waited at the O.P. till the barrage was over, and then calmly walked +out. The wood is only a few shattered stumps of trees, and the place +where undergrowth once was is one continuous sea of earth thrown about +in every conceivable shape, with dead Tommies and dead Fritzes lying +side by side. So the wood isn't much cover, you can imagine. + +On the far side of the wood is beautiful rolling country, but not green. +It's all brown, just a mess of earth. It's pitted with holes just like +sand after a hailstorm. In the distance you can see real lovely trees, +but nothing grows where the strafing is. Overhead the martins flicker +and swoop, and starlings sail by in circling clouds, while the colossal +noises crash and boom away merrily. + +Ought I, perhaps, not to talk of these things? Does it worry you to +think of crumps bursting and so on? But, really, it seems quite ordinary +and in the day's work here. Men talk of crumps as you would talk of +bread and butter. That is, perhaps, why letters from home that talk +about homely things--cows and lavender and the new chintz--are so +welcome. + +Besides, good heavens! don't you know that there's not a man in France +but knows that the best-beloved ones at home are having a far worse time +than we are having here? Wet clothes? Mud? Shells a-bursting, guns +a-popping? Even a wound, perhaps? Pish! No one _thinks_ at all out +here. There isn't time. Most of the people out here are perfectly happy +and merry, really. The sort of "long-drawn-out-agony" touch is, I think, +rare. + +I'm writing this in a jolly Boche dug-out, all panelled and cosy. +Jezebel and Swallow and a new pack mare I've got are in a valley that's +hardly ever touched, and in fine, all's well. + + +_September 24._ + +[Sidenote: TEAR SHELLS] + +Tear shells or "lachrymatory shells." They haven't been putting many +over lately, apparently. But they put some over the other day, and they +are so amusing that I must describe them to you. + +The Colonel and I were up trying to find a "working-party" from the +regiment. The regiment is sadly split up at present into various parties +doing various jobs in various places, all unpleasant. Better than +infantry work, but still unpleasant. + +We rode up much closer than we have ridden before, and left the +Colonel's orderly and Hale in a bit of a valley with Minotaur, Jezebel, +Hob, and Tank. Tank is a new mare I've got. Hale was riding her, as I +never take Swallow closer than I can help. + +We dismounted in this small valley, and the Colonel's orderly and Hale +were given orders to move if any shells were put over too near them. + +Then the Colonel and I went up through a wood that is just a few +splintered stumps now. + +We passed behind several batteries, and I thought to myself: "Dash it +all! I know my eyes can't be watering because of the noise. What the +deuce is the matter? I hope the Colonel won't notice." + +However, on we waded and plodded. Suddenly the Colonel stopped, and +exclaimed: "Oh damnation! This is perfect nonsense." His eyes were like +tomatoes, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks! + +By this time we could hardly see at all, and it dawned on us that we +must hastily put on our tear goggles, which we had never used before, +but always, of course, carry. They go in the satchel along with the two +gas helmets. + +Presently we met some infantry coming back, all safely begoggled. The +Huns, they told us, were dropping tear shells just into that valley in +front, where our working-party was supposed to be. You can tell them +(the tear shells), they said, by the fluttering sound, and they knock up +no earth and make very little smoke. + +Sure enough, as soon as we got over the brow there they were. They make +a foolish wobbly, wavy sound as they come over, and look most innocent. +So they are really if you get your goggles on in time. But if one bursts +close to you, and you haven't got goggles on, why, then you'll be as +blind as an owl, and you'll weep like a shower bath. + +[Sidenote: BETWEEN HIGH WOOD AND FLERS] + +Then the absurd thing was that we couldn't find the working-party. +Plenty of dead Huns, but nobody alive. Not a sign. Only crumps dropping +here and there and everywhere. So we found a bit of a trench that led +back round the side of the wood. The front line trenches were only very +lightly held, partly because they are almost completely blown in. And we +could get no information as to the working-party at all. + +Presently we saw why. The Huns had put up a barrage across the valley +they were coming up. We knew they would come up this other valley, as +they had to report on their way to H.Q., ---- Division. So we got into a +hole and waited. + +After about half an hour the barrage lifted and up came our +working-party none the worse. It is a most amazing war. People literally +dodge shells and things as you might dodge snow-balls. + +When we arrived back at the place where we left our two men, they also +were not to be seen. + +After some time and anxious inquiries for two men with four horses, we +at last discovered them nearly half a mile away. Fritz had put some +heavy stuff over fairly near, and they had moved. + +"A very interesting bit of the line isn't it, Hale?" I said as we moved +off. "Yes, sir," he said, adding with a fierce frown, "but not very +_safe_, sir." + +And then we all laughed. Hale does frown so when he makes one of his +oracular utterances. + + +[Illustration: A HOUSE IN GEUDECOURT +Here, as in many of these sketches, there are no people to be seen, for +the simple reason that they are all underground in dug-outs.] + + +_September 29._ + +It's up to us to reconnoitre carefully every time there is a move +forward, so as to see the new ground. + +One of the most curious and interesting things is this: the Boche rarely +wastes. He only puts his crumps and pip-squeaks just where he thinks (or +knows) our batteries are, and our infantry want to be, and our horses +would be likely to be (if they weren't somewhere else). So that +gradually you begin to track out safe routes. Don't go near the edge of +---- Wood, but 200 yards inside the wood, on the north side, you're +pretty comfy. Don't go near the mangled remains of ---- village, but +keep to the right of it until you get to the wrecked aeroplane, and then +turn down the remains of ---- trench, and you probably won't be touched. +That sort of thing. + +[Sidenote: BOCHE DUG-OUTS] + +I've been sleeping in the most superb Boche dug-out. Very deep; I +should think 30 feet down. The inside is pillared rather like the +studio, and cretonned all over with maroon-coloured stuff instead of +wall-paper. There are lovely little cupboards everywhere, and doors and +window-frames just like a real house. The windows, of course, only look +out on to an air-shaft, so it's very dark, and you have to have candles +all the time. The windows have no glass, of course, as that would be +shattered to smithereens by the vibrations. Then there's an arch and +more steps down lower still, into the bedroom for two. + +Yesterday, being rather misty, I thought as follows: + +"It is too foggy to see what Fritz is doing. No attack is intended or +expected. The Colonel is at corps H.Q. Swallow and Jezebel and Tank are +safe in ---- valley. Roger is still here as Adjutant. Why not an +afternoon off?" + +So picture a holiday-maker armed with a revolver, two gas helmets, tear +goggles, some sandwiches, and a large empty haversack. Now where to go? +What about ---- trench and all round ---- village, even, perhaps, a +lightning five minutes in the village itself? We have just taken the +village, but it's rather an unhealthy spot at present. + +---- trench is a new trench that poor Fritz dug just before he was +driven out of it. I had seen lots of dead Fritzes there the day before. +Also there were reports of curious things flung out into the mud in and +round the village. + +[Sidenote: TROPHIES] + +So I set forth. And at ---- met another fellow I knew, and the affair +became neither more nor less than a search for souvenirs. Here is a +list: + + 1. A few buttons with double-tailed lions. + + 2. Four shoulder-straps with the figure 6 in red. This indicated a + division which has been opposite us for some time and is quite + exhausted, I think. + + 3. One haversack and one respirator haversack. + + 4. One rosary. + + 5. Five different sorts of bayonets from different regiments. These + I thought we might hang up. + + 6. Four tassels. They are worn by Fritz rather in the same sort of + way as lanyards are worn. Quite pretty, though rather soiled and + worn. + + 7. A bit of a wing of a crushed aeroplane that is lying on the + brown, feverish earth like a dead sea-gull. + + 8. A brass spring very beautifully made, that I am going to have + made into a bracelet for you. Also from the aeroplane. + + 9. A cardboard box for signal flares. _Signal Patronen_ they are + labelled. I threw the flares away, as they might go pop _en route_. + + 10. A jolly bit of gilded carving from a house in ---- + + 11. Now then for No. 11! A bit of embroidery. I think it is a + vestment of sorts. It's white, and there's heavy gold embroidery at + the sides. It is a cloak of some description, but the top part, + where there should be a collar or something, is gone. Then + 11A is a piece of black and silver embroidery. It was all + very muddy and riddled with shrapnel or bits of crump, so I just + cut off the only sound bit. Both these things are exceedingly + beautiful. They are probably vestments, because they were quite + near what must have been the church. I am sure it must have been + the church, although I hadn't a map--first, because I saw the + village in the distance some time ago, while the church was still + standing, and therefore I know the church's situation; and, + secondly, because I saw remains of large pillars, and a few bits of + what was once a font amongst the debris. + +There now. Isn't that a good haul! It's not easy to get anything worth +sending home, because everything is so utterly smashed up. + + +_October 2._ + +Jezebel and Swallow and Tank have all been clipped trace high. I am +getting rather attached to Tank. She is so modest and unselfish--a +contrast to Jezebel. She never expects little treats, and seems quite +surprised when I give her anything. Swallow and Jezebel always neigh +when they see my electric torch coming towards them after dinner (while +we are back in these safe places). But Tank is very shy of the light, +and thinks it will bite her. + +Swallow is getting much better, and really seems to understand that the +shells and guns and things probably won't hurt him. We have been most +extraordinarily lucky. The troop that got through nearly to ---- the +other day, hadn't a single casualty, although Dick's own mare was shot +under him and a great many other horses were wounded. The squadron of +---- were very badly scuppered, I fear. But, anyhow, we all feel that +Lloyd George is right. We are just beginning to win. + + +_October 5._ + +It is a glorious day. Such clouds. Swallow kicked up his heels and +played about like a kitten when Hunt took him to water this morning. +It's extraordinary how used the horses are getting to trenches and +wire, etc. At first they were rather afraid to jump these sudden deep +ditches, but now they pop across like rabbits. + + +_October 17._ + +[Sidenote: ARCHIE] + +Yesterday some Hun aeroplanes got across and came right above this camp, +a comfortable way behind the front line. Heavily strafed by our Archies. +The blue sky was dotted all over with the pretty little white clouds of +shrapnel. + +Sergeant Pritchard and I were standing close to Flannagan (one of the +men's horses), and the men were at stables. We were all looking up and +longing to see a Hun aeroplane hit, when suddenly "s-s-s-swish, plop!" +just behind me. It was one of the Archie shrapnel cases. It buried +itself deep in the ground 3 yards from where we were standing. We dug it +up, and I'll bring it home for you. If it isn't too tediously heavy. + +Of course, Archie shrapnel cases all come down, and you see hundreds of +them lying about; but I've never had one so close before. They sometimes +fall broadside on, and sometimes end on, in which case they bury +themselves fairly deep. All the Hun aeroplanes got away, alas! + + +_October 26._ + +Once more I'm going up to the strange dead village of ----. In many ways +I shall be sorry to go back to comfort and billets, because the +material for pictures here is very wonderful. You shall see several +small things (the powers that be call it waste of time!), and it's +infuriating to think that more can't be done. + +I tell you, if you were here, and if I could paint a bit every day, I +should be quite happy. The "subjects" are endless, and in particular I +long to do great big stretches of this bleak brown land. Well, it can't +be helped, so it's no good thinking about it. + + +_October 29._ + +We are moving to a "back area" to-morrow. + + +[Illustration: A WOUNDED TANK +This Tank got hit as it was walking over a house in FLERS. They +covered it up with tarpaulins to prevent the Hun aeroplanes from +obtaining too much information about it. The black stuff is shrapnel. +The pink clouds are sent up by crumps as they explode amongst the +remains of the brick houses.] + + +_November 1._ + +It's a superb day, and we are back at ----, one of our old billets, +right away from the beastliness. And although leave won't be for another +week or two, still, it will come soon. And Swallow is in tremendous +spirits. + +Here is a drawing done surreptitiously of a tank in full view of Fritz. +You see those little stumps of trees? Well, I'll tell you what those are +called when we meet, and also what village is just on their left. You +may say it was stupid to sit in full view of Fritz, but it was the day +after an advance, and there's hardly ever anything doing then in +the way of sniping. The guns, of course, are all pooping off, but they +weren't shelling just there, so it was quite safe. This drawing gives +you some idea of the desolation, but none of the unevenness of the +ground. You can't walk in a bee-line for three yards without getting +into a hole. The last time I was in those parts, by the way, I came on a +rather jolly cottage wineglass that had been thrown out into some soft +mud, and was not even cracked. + + +_November 6._ + +[Sidenote: COCQUEREL] + +An extraordinary change. Let me now give you an idea. + +We are in a pretty little country village miles and miles away, and +(although one of Fritz's aeroplanes flew over the church as bold as +brass just before we got in) the quiet and peace of the place is very +refreshing. And, droll to relate, I'm writing this in bed, with a touch +of flu--such a bed, too, all soft and billowy. In ordinary life it would +be condemned as a "feather" bed, but now it is a bed for princes. + +And the room. A rather dark old-fashioned paper, an old clock ticking, +an old shining chest of drawers with a marble top, and clothes hanging +on pegs. Hale has arranged the pistol, and ammunition, and maps, and +gas helmets, and steel helmet, and spare kit, with great elaboration, +all over the room. At the present moment he is "sweeping out" with the +appropriate hissing noises. The dust will, I hope, subside during the +course of the day. + +Hunt has got Jezebel, Swallow, and Tank into a disused barn, where they +will be warm and happy. + +Out of the window I can see hens pecking in an orchard, and an old grey +pony browsing. The leaves are yellow, and there's no wind. + +The old man and the old lady to whom the cottage belong have brought me +in some little "remedes," which Tim refuses to let me have. One is what +the old man (an ex-chemist) calls "salicite de metal," and the other is +what the old lady calls a "remede de bonne femme." You rub yourself with +it all over every two hours! + +Tick, tick, tick, tick. Lovely! The old clock is rumbling. It is about +to strike twelve. + +It has struck twelve--no, not struck twelve, rather it has buzzed +twelve, like some old happy bee. + +The hens are still pecking about in the orchard, and the grey pony is +rubbing himself against a tree. + +All so cosy and delicious. Now for a doze. + + +_November 7._ + +[Sidenote: DOZING] + +Here's a poem. It's called + +HENS. + + At the end of the war + (Ring, bells, merry bells!) + We intend + To keep hens, + Me and Helen. + (Ring, bells!) + Such hens! + (Merry bells!) + And though all our hens' eggs be surrounded by shells, + We shall laugh and not care; + For there won't be no war, + And no hell any more, + While Helen is there + With the hens. + +I've just made that up, and the inspiration of so profound an epic has +made me want to doze again. Such a lot of dozing! + + +_November 12._ + +In to-day's letter I enclose a couple of field post-cards which I found +on a Boche dug-out bed-hole. + +I've been so busy these last days, up till late hours, and writing has +been "na-poo." Leave? Yes, leave will come in time. Probably the first +half of December. + +How maddening it is for poor old Tom! It's most damnable hard luck being +kept there without leave such a long time. And I expect that he also +has rather lost interest. At first the men were a great source of +interest, and the horses and everything. Then France and the front were +very interesting. Lastly, being under fire was very interesting. But now +that we are back in Rest, I begin to feel I shall be rather sorry to go +through it again. And Tom has had so much of it. Yes, he ought to come +home. + +The cottage people here have those lovely pale salmon winter +chrysanthemums in their gardens. Don't you like them? + +Since we arrived in this wee village a week ago, I haven't been on a +horse once, and have never seen anything outside the village itself, +which consists of one street and a side-lane. + + +_November 14._ + +I wasn't able to write yesterday, and there may be several blank days to +come. + +Roger is temporarily away, and I am in charge. The thing that's +happening is this: A and B are coming down to us, and others are going +to relieve them. So the arrangements and correspondence are vast. All +the billeting of this town is pushed on to my hands, too; and though +it's only a small village, there's a good lot to do. I can't collect any +thoughts to write to you. You understand, I know, and so I needn't say +more. I'll write again at length when things settle down. This sounds +muddled. But I count on your understanding that I've got more work to do +than I can manage. + + +_November 16._ + +[Sidenote: THE OTHER SQUADRONS ARRIVE] + +To-day, by some amazing fluke, there's a lull. One squadron has gone. +Sir John is on his way down. Julian starts early next week, and Gerald a +few days later. So within a fortnight we shall all be together. Which +will be good. + +Some infantry came in from the line to-day. Oh ye gods! the British +infantry! No rewards, honours, no fame, can ever be enough for them. We +have not yet gone through what they have to go through, but we have been +in and out amongst them all the time, and we know. Thank goodness this +spell of dry weather seems to have come for a few days at least. Cold at +night is nothing. It's wet at night that just kills men right and left. +Alan died yesterday morning. Died of exposure. He caught a chill while +we were up in front, and then got much worse, and it finally developed +into peritonitis and pneumonia. And now he, too, is dead. We were all +very fond of Alan. + +Death is such a little thing. A change of air--no more. Death is the +last day of Term, the last day of the Year. Regret? That's because we +don't understand, quite. + + +_November 17._ + +I sent you off another beastly little scrap of paper to-day, because it +was impossible to write more. Here (7 p.m.) is another moment, so I +snatch it. + +Listen. Of course it is true that leave has been cancelled, but we hear +(Rumour) that this is only for a few days owing to submarines. _If_ +leave reopens again, as seems likely therefore, I go next. I shall have +to hand over Orderly Room and all current correspondence, etc. That +means, with luck, I leave here on the 2nd. Don't, of course, count on +this; but let's toy with the idea. + + +_November 23._ + +I am sitting in the sun, having read your letter. The valley of the ---- +is below me, a mile wide, all reed-beds and half submerged willows, with +the main stream lying like a blue snake amongst pale acres of sedge. + +Damn! I was going to write a long and cosy letter, but was called back. +I had escaped for an hour from Orderly Room with your letter and a +sketchbook, and was caught in the act. No time now. + + +_November 25._ + +[Sidenote: THE SOMME VALLEY] + +A few more moments with you before you go to bed. + +Yes, isn't it funny how we seem to be talking face to face! And to every +question of mine you reply in three days' time and _vice versa_. It +always sounds to me like this, rather: + + QUESTION. ANSWER. + + _Mon._ Isn't it cold? None. + _Tues._ Have you seen mother? None. + _Wed._ Are you happy? None. + _Thurs._ How are you all? Freezing. + _Fri._ When did I see you last? Only yesterday. + _Sat._ May I have a cake! Yes, very. + _Sun._ How is Queen Anne? Much better. + _Mon._ None. Last April. + _Tues._ None. I'll send one. + _Wed._ None. Dead. + +Don't you find it's a bit like that? What question can I have asked a +week ago to which the answer is a rabbit? So tiresome when we want to +talk at very close range. + +As to leave--well let's not talk about that. Every dog has his day. + +You know the dog who has been shut up in a kennel for a long time? Or +the dog who has been locked up in an empty house for a long time? It'll +be a mixture of these. + +Well, the day will come. + + +_November 27._ + +Can't write properly because it's very cold and I've been riding, and +that makes one's fingers like pink bananas. They don't seem to answer to +the bridle. There's an awful noise of hissing going on. Hale and Hunt +are busy on the horses. + + +_November 28._ + +A box will arrive containing another Bristol ball, which I discovered in +a cottage here, and bought for 1fr. 50c. Rather a jolly green one, +biggish. Also I am enclosing the wineglass from Geudecourt, which I +mentioned some time ago. There can't be any harm in mentioning this +name, as we have left that area some time now. I have got several +sketches of other places round about there, which I hope you will like. +Won't it be fun, when the time comes, looking at them. To-day Hunt came +round in a great state about the horses. Jezebel had pulled up her +shackle, and was in "one of her moods," as Hunt always describes it. She +had been kicking both Tank and Swallow with great violence. He had left +Hale trying to get her quiet, and rushed up to report. + +She was quiet again when I got down, and Hale had tied her up +successfully. + +[Sidenote: THE PRUDENT SERGEANT] + +But the point of telling you of this episode is that meanwhile it was +getting time for the post to go. Prudent Sergeant Marsden (Orderly Room +sergeant) observed that I hadn't addressed the letter yet or signed it +outside. So he did it himself! "You very seldom write any letters to +other addresses, you see, sir, so I thought I'd better address it +myself. I thought it would be _inadvisable_ to miss a post, and I +thought the young lady would forward it on if it was not for her!" + +It made me laugh as I haven't laughed for a long time. Wasn't it nice +and thoughtful. He tells me he duly forged my signature in the left-hand +bottom corner. + +Jorrocks sends his love. "Your little filly" he always calls you. + + +_November 29._ + +About leave. There's no more chance of it at present, I think, as we are +going up to the line again in a week or two, and we want to work off all +the men, who haven't had any leave at all, before moving up mudwards, +when all leave will be stopped. We are engaged at present in +practically rebuilding and making sanitary an entire French village, and +in "training," which means all the old dismal tedium of manoeuvres +plus spit and polish. + +These villages are most amazingly ill-built. Swallow this morning lashed +out on being bitten by Jezebel, and (dear silly Swallow!) instead of +hitting Jezebel, she brought down half the wall of the shed in which +they live, which frightened her to such an extent, Hunt tells me, that +she allowed Jezebel to eat all her food at midday stables. + + +_November 30._ + +We move next week, I think, or possibly the week after. + +We are not going back to quite the same part of the line, but near it. +It will be new country to me altogether, and to everyone else concerned. + +Poor Swallow, poor Jezebel, poor Tank, I'd give anything to shelter you +three; but, alas! I fear you are going to have a nasty time of it now. +All clipped, too. It's Swallow particularly that I tremble for. He does +so throw up the sponge. Tank copies Bird in everything, so she ought to +pull through all right. + + +_December 1._ + +[Sidenote: AMIENS CATHEDRAL] + +All leave is cancelled again, at any rate in this army--possibly on +account of the move, possibly on account of nasty fish in the sea. +However, the telegram says "until further notice," which usually means +for a short time only. Not that it affects me, but it's bad luck on some +of the men who were just off. + +Now about Xmas. I have got a new crop, thank you ever so much, that I +bought at a town near here. + +A beautiful cathedral town. + +With doors all padded up with sand-bags, the great cathedral towers +above the town, and is seen for miles and miles. A good effort. What fun +they must have had building it. What they believed then they expressed +in outward and visible form. What we think now is (or ought to be) very +different indeed from what they thought then. But I can't remember +having ever seen anything that _begins_ to express what we think (or +ought to think) now. + +Everyone in the Church of England now seems to me to think _almost +exactly_ what was thought when this cathedral was built! If this war +achieves nothing else, I pray with all my mind, and all my soul, and all +my strength, that all the sects and all the churches may suddenly feel +tired of all the 1001 little methods of procedure, and say: "Damn it +all! what does all this ancient paraphernalia mean to us? Is God quite +so complicated and involved as we have supposed? Everything else in the +world progresses. Thought progresses. Let us take a deep breath, and +realize that religion ought to be more 'into the future' than even +Zeppelins or Tanks, please." + + +[Illustration: EXPLOSION OF AN AMUNITION DUMP +The smoke from a large explosion usually assumes a queer tree-like form +and disperses slowly.] + + +_December 2._ + +Just been superintending the burying of some horses. A curious job. You +have to disembowel them first. Quite ghoulish. And then head and legs +are cut off, and the whole is buried in a hole 12 feet deep. Up there +they often lie about for some time, and get as smelly as dead human +beings. Back here it all has to be done prestissimo. + +The strange thing is that, whereas before the war I should have felt +sick and possibly dreamt about it, now it seems merely more boring than +most other things of the kind. + +Up there Tommies and Honourables eat their lunch of sandwiches with lots +and lots of dead people in varying stages of decomposition all round. An +odour more hideous than anything you have ever imagined. But you get +used to it. + +[Sidenote: TALKING ABOUT HOME] + +"How unpleasant they are to-day," you say to anyone you are with. +And the answer is probably just a laugh. Then you go on (if things are +quiet) to discuss an imaginary day at home. You would smile. + +We actually discuss everybody's clothes, the things in the room, the +shape of the fireplace, the look of the tea-things and the comfiness of +the chairs. + +And we always end up by saying: "And then after that I shall do +absolutely _Nothing_ for a fortnight!" + + +_December 3._ + +December. Frost on the trees, all fairy-like in this dense mist. Not a +sound. The sun quite small and white and far away. And if we were on the +Cotswolds, I expect we should go out for a bit of a walk, just to warm +up, after breakfast. + + +_December 4._ + +A staff job has been in the air several days. It may or may not come +off. I'm not very keen about it in many ways. But I've a feeling that I +could do it rather well, and so I'm not sure that I oughtn't to accept. + +Jezebel and Swallow have quarrelled. Isn't it awful. Hunt has had to +put Tank in between them. + +Jezebel kicked Swallow, and the blood fairly spouted out--got her in the +leg, and she lost her temper, and began lashing out. Hunt, with great +presence of mind, threw a bucket of water over them both. And as soon as +they were quiet, dear, good, demure little Tank was put in between them +as buffer. + +It's a most dreadful nuisance. They used to get on so well together. I +hope they will leave that curious little Tank alone. Swallow is as lame +as a cat now. The accursed female is very exasperating, I fear. Hunt +quite irritated me for a moment when he remarked, after the incident: +"Oh, it's all right, sir. She was in one of her moods." I pointed out to +him that it was not all right. Whereupon he took it into his head that I +was strafing him, and muttered sulkily: "Well, sir, I must say I never +did like Abroad." + +Which made me laugh to such an extent that I got a sort of fit of +laughing (don't you know?) and couldn't stop. Eventually I had to go +away. He looked so comic and so dejected, and his use of the word Abroad +(as if it were a country in itself) always makes me laugh idiotically. I +haven't seen him since, and it will be difficult to explain the apparent +frivolity. + +Things have been very complicated just lately owing to our having to +make arrangements about taking over this new bit of line. + + +_December 5._ + +[Sidenote: CONCERNING WORK] + +One of the many things the war has taught us, I think, is the +comparative equality of all work. Work depends almost entirely on the +actual number of hours per diem, don't you think? + +Certainly brain work is more tiring than spade work. But I'll guarantee +that the man who does eight hours' brain work is not _much_ more tired +than the man who does eight hours' spade work. + +The only difference is that open-air work means better health, and +consequently more power to work long hours. + +But I really do believe that, for example, a nurse's day's work (either +for wounded or babies) is _just_ as hard as a bricklayer's day, or a +bank clerk's day, or an engine driver's day. And I believe that the +various degrees of skill, necessary for doing any job really well, are +not very different on the whole. Different, yes, but not very different. +A General's job is difficult, but not _much_ more difficult than a +nurse's job. + +And so I believe all jobs ought to be paid on a rather more equal +footing. Not on an equal footing, but a _rather more equal_ footing +than now. + +Do you agree? + + +_December 6._ + +Cathedrals, the earth, the sky, and all that in them is--those are the +things that rest and soothe one out here. Thank God for cathedrals! How +splendid of Litlin, to be getting Bunny taught reels. I do trust she +will give lots of attention to it. + +After seeing a certain amount of human misery and so forth, I believe +more than ever that the whole aim of the world is in the direction of +Joy. And as dancing is one of the most primitive expressions of joy, +give me dancing, says I. + +This is all said in the middle of dictation of orders, and so I expect +it's ungrammatical, but you know what I mean. + + +_December 7._ + +What do you think? I lunched to-day with George. We lunched in a most +superb officers' club, formerly the house of some Count or other: all +white and gold, and chandeliers and mirrors--a dream. + + +_December 8._ + +[Sidenote: JEZEBEL ACCEPTS AN APOLOGY] + +Our move has been postponed twice now, and we don't go till Monday. + +But meanwhile I heard from Mark to-day. He is A.D.C. to the G.O.C., and +apparently caught sight of Roger and me the other day, while flashing +past in the G.O.C.'s car. So we are going to have a great meeting. It +will be immense fun. Mark, Dennis and I were all tremendous +friends--just the same type. + +Swallow is much better, and Jezebel says that, if she had known Swallow +would bleed so much, she would have kicked him in a different place, +where he wouldn't have bled so profusely. This, for Jezebel, is +extremely gracious. + +Tank's only remark about being put between the two was: "Well, I'm +always very glad to do what I'm told." + +Swallow is desperately sorry about the whole affair, and is on +tenter-hooks lest Jezebel should never speak to him again. He says she +really didn't mean to kick, and she can't understand how it is that he +has so little control over himself. So all's well. + + +_December 9._ + +Hunt and Hale have made their very tumble-down barn a perfect model of +neatness. They sleep within about 3 yards of the horses' heels. Hunt in +particular never likes to be far away from "my 'osses," as he calls +them. I have less and less say in the matter of the 'osses as time goes +on! I merely say: "Hunt, I want a horse and an orderly at 8 a.m. +to-morrow." + +It's useless for me to say I'd like Swallow or Tank or Jezebel, because, +if I name one in particular, there's always some reason why it would be +better not to ride that one that day. Oh, "she wants shoeing behind," +or, "she had one of her moods this morning, and so I exercised her very +early," or "he didn't eat his corn, and had better stay in." So I just +meekly ask for a horse. And a horse arrives. + +Swallow is still rather lame, but seems better now. And the gentle +influence of Tank is, I really believe, soothing Jezebel. Tank is a very +charming creature, and her perfect manners are a good example to the +other two. But--what an awful admission!--she is so good that I own I +find her rather dull. Poor little Tank! + +Jorrocks has gone off to a nasty place, I fear, with his troop. But all +seems fairly quiet at present. + + +_December 12._ + +The trek is at an end. + +We have arrived at a place well behind the line, and not at all +wrecked, except for holes here and there. But the river! Oh my aunt! +It's marvellous. It winds in and out of low hills, and as I saw it this +evening, from an eminence, it looked more snaky than ever. Huge great +loops with the lovely pale sedges on either side. The almost yellow +hills are dotted with junipers. I long to see it to-morrow morning. +There's no doubt it's one of the most fascinating rivers I've seen. +Hooded crows sailing over the uplands, and I met a flock of bright sweet +goldfinches near some guns, and a tree-creeper in a copse. + +[Sidenote: SAILLY-LE-SEC] + +What a wonderful day! It was snowing all the time, with quite warm, +sunny intervals. Swallow and Tank and Jezebel are all under cover, and +I've actually got a bed! You might not call it a bed, but it is a bed, +because it has four legs (one of them a biscuit tin). The place where we +were going to has been rather too heavily strafed lately, so they are +keeping us back here. + +Things are wonderfully quiet, and there are no batteries near us, which +is pleasant. I did want to show you the beautiful river winding in and +out of the little hills. The great river-bed is quite untouched by +shells here, and the very sight of it would soothe the most jangled +nerves. Oh, it did look so heavenly this evening. Thank God for this +glorious river. The snow melted as it fell. The snow flakes as they +touched the river were like fairies taking headers. + + +_December 15._ + +Isn't this fine about Peace? + +So Fritz would like Peace, would he? No amount of flamboyant talk can +possibly hide the fact that he wants peace. And it isn't the victor who +asks for peace first. Carry on, say we. + + +_December 20._ + +Have you had any of the letters in which I told you how the place we +were to have been sent to was too continuously strafed? And how we were +sent to this very quiet and unwrecked place? And how I've got a bed, and +how happy the horses are? + +About the intelligence job. Things are hanging fire rather, as the Staff +Major, who may ask for me to come away with him to another corps, is now +attached to this corps. So what will be the end of it I don't know. + +Frankly, I am sore tempted for this reason, that I think I could do it +rather well. Of course, each corps does things differently, but, judging +from the way in which this corps likes the job done, I feel certain I +could tackle it in another corps. That's boasting. But you understand +so perfectly. It would be glorious to be doing something really well. + +[Sidenote: A STAFF JOB] + +I _can't_ be an ordinary soldier. Too absent-minded--hopelessly vague +and careless. I live on tenter-hooks always. What detail have I +forgotten? What order did I give that could be taken two ways? + +It's sad for Pat that his friends are gone. I feel so murky when mine +go, that I understand what it must be for him. But friends or no +friends, broken-hearted or whole, we must damned well carry on! And +that's all about it. + +A perfect letter from old Norman to-day. He must be quite useless as a +soldier, whereas at his own job he stands alone, with a wonderful future +before him. Well, well! I meant not to grouse to you again. And here's a +letter nearly full of it. But there, I made a stupid mistake to-day, and +it's all so boring and beastly. + +Anyhow, we are fighting for civilization, and the Huns are, too, in a +way. But our idea of civilization is better than the Huns' idea. So we +gradually win. + + +_December 21._ + +I have at last made up my mind. I'm going to take on this job. How +unwillingly I can hardly tell you. I wanted to be in the great Push +next year so badly. Everyone, everything, is preparing for it. The +cavalry will get through, and I shall be driving about behind in some +gilded car, or watching from some very distant hill with Jezebel (who +won't care a damn whether the cavalry get through or not). + +But I had two interviews with the Major and the General to-day. Coves +like painters seem to be rather wanted, and--well, it's clear now. I +must go. + +To-morrow or next week, perhaps, the extreme fascination of the job will +obliterate a certain feeling of flatness, of disappointment, of ... of +... of shirking. Yes, that's it: I feel as if I were shirking all the +horrors. You see, I shall enjoy this job immensely. All the hateful +"arrangering things" for large numbers of men, all the tiresome +formalities, all the discomfort, all the future dangers, finished +with--over. I don't say that we've had _long_ periods of danger or +_much_ discomfort; but we've had quite enough to make a very ordinary +mortal hope never to go through it again. + +But to think that I've deliberately chosen the easy path. Well, I don't +care! I've chosen it. I meant to choose it. I'm glad I've chosen it. +That is the one job in the whole war that I could do really well. How +best to serve the country--that's the only question. So there you are. +I've been and took the plunge, and I believe I'm right. + +First of all a week or two getting to know the ropes in _this_ corps, +and then off with the Major and the General to another corps. + +My aunt! what an egoistical letter this is. However, to you no +apologies. + + +_December 22._ + +[Sidenote: A DECISION] + +Letters have been lurching in, in threes and fours. But what matters it +how they come? I always know that they are coming. And the future's +where _my_ heart is always. So here's to the letters to come, and here's +to our meeting again, and here's to Life--long, sweet, glorious Life. + +We shall see the Christmas roses of the Cotswolds together one day, and +I think the war will have given them a mysterious loveliness that we +never understood before. Every year they'll come up out of the ground +again and surprise us. I shall be getting older and older--and so will +you, too. And all our little plans will have a quiet, peaceful joy for +us that wouldn't have been possible but for the war. Art will be like +angels coming and going. Effort will be intensified. The lives of the +poor must be happier, because everyone will be more ready to give and +take. + +It won't come all at once. But there'll be a difference. The war will +have made a difference. Thank God for the war! + + +_December 25._ + +[Sidenote: CHRISTMAS 1916] + +Never talk about the "idle" staff. Yesterday we were working absolutely +solid without any break at all except an hour for lunch and an hour for +dinner (tea? away frivolous thought!) from 9 a.m. till 11.30 p.m. Most +interesting; but let's hope this first day's experience won't be a fair +sample, or I shall simply melt down like a guttered candle. None of the +Generals and people seemed to think it unusual. At least they never said +so. Personally I found it quite kolossal. + + +_12.30 a.m._ + +Such a funny Christmas Day! I've been fixing on a large map all the gun +positions on the corps front. There are a very great many, and the +positions must be marked very exactly. I was quite nervous lest there +should be a mistake. It has taken since about two o'clock till now. And +I think it is accurate at last. + +At about 10 p.m. I found out an awful mistake. One of the heavies quite +100 yards wrong, which might have meant that it would be ranging on the +wrong place, and probably do no damage whatever. Desperate thought! + +Well, the staff is the most hard-working body of men I've ever seen. +They don't appear ever to get any exercise. And, really, the work is all +so vital that I don't see how they ever can expect to get any exercise. + +About leave. Possibly on the way up to the other corps a side-slip to +Blighty will be allowed. + +Don't depend on anything. There seems to be a dearth of people who can +do this work, and so it would be unwise to count on getting away. The +thing is, however, conceivable--that is all. + + +_December 27._ + +First of all about current affairs here. + +Captain G---- is probably going to Army, so it is suggested that I shall +take his place here. He runs all the plotting of the aeroplane +photographs, etc., for the corps. It's a most awful and alarming +responsibility, and I don't feel that I can do it yet. May he not get +taken away just for a little while, or I'm lost. + +The corps commander sends for him (he has been doing the job for nine +months), and says: "Now, where is our line at the present moment? Has +so-and-so trench been repaired, and where is so-and-so German battery +that was shelling the ---- Brigade yesterday?" Well, of course I simply +couldn't answer these questions yet. + +The prospect is murky. Given a little time, I think I could do it; but +... well, one can but try. + +I asked the Captain if he thought leave at all possible. He most +strongly advised me not to dream of asking. The corps is certain to +refuse in any case, as they will want me to sweat up the show and get to +know all about it as rapidly as possible. + + +_January 2, 1917._ + +I think I shall be going to live with the R.F.C., so as to be able to +snatch their photographs the instant they come in--puzzle them out--put +them quickly on to a map--and send them off. Everyone then will know far +more quickly what Fritz is up to. + +So don't be surprised if letters are addressed from R.F.C. shortly. I +shall take a couple of draughtsmen and a clerk and an orderly, and Hale. + + +[Illustration: THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT +This small chalk mound was one of the most difficult obstacles on the +way to BAPAUME. In the foreground a large 'crump-hole' and the +remains of a little copse.] + + +_January 11._ + +[Sidenote: AEROPLANE PHOTOGRAPHS] + +I don't know when leave will be possible. This job is rather in the +making, and is really very important stuff. A great responsibility, +says the corps commander. In fact, I am just a bit nervous about +things generally. That battery that was reported in so-and-so wood. Is +it there still? Well, where has it moved to, then? You are not sure? Why +not? No recent photographs of it? But why not? Can it be in so-and-so +quarry, perhaps? That light railway has been repeatedly smashed up by +our heavies. Repaired? What? What evidence have you? Let me have a map +as soon as possible, showing exactly where you believe that line has +been repaired, and the exact position of that battery in the quarry--if +it really is there. But don't tell me it's in the quarry unless you are +quite sure. Yes, sir. And you'd better have the map duplicated. How many +can the draughtsmen print before to-morrow? About 300. Well, send out +copies. I must have that battery silenced at once. Do you see? Can I +rely on it being sent out in time? Yes, sir. + +That's the sort of thing. Things that _must_ be done and quickly. +Perhaps it sounds nothing much--a mere bit of a map. But maps are like +lamps to men in the dark. And they must be accurate. To me, therefore, +the most inaccurate, absent-minded mortal before the war that ever +breathed, it is all a source of great anxiety. + + +_January 12._ + +I've got a bedroom with a brick floor in a cottage. I really hardly know +what it's like, as I arrive there about twelve o'clock every night and +fall into bed, and then up again at 7.30 next morning as a rule, and +frowsy at that. The roads here are just as muddy as ever, and if you go +off the roads you go too deep. We are camouflaging the whole place, and +I think it will soon be very difficult for the Huns to see it. At least, +when I say "we" are camouflaging, I mean that I run out for two minutes +about every three hours, and give hurried directions to a few bewildered +men, and rush in again. I'm sure they think the extraordinary patterns +that I order them to paint all over the huts, etc., are quite mad. The +R.F.C. show isn't ready yet, but it's likely to be so shortly. + + +_January 17._ + +To-day's letter got me into an absurd fit of internal laughter. Hale +brought it in while I was poring over some new photographs of Boche +emplacements, or dug-outs, or something--poring with a magnifying +glass.... And then came your drawings of the rooms at the cottage. + +That'll be admirable. I tried to hold my head and think of exactly how +the cottage looked, and where the new rooms were to be; but somehow I've +got no brains left. And I leave it all to you. One day we shall be able +to discuss it peaceably, but at present this brain is like some limp +jellyfish floating in the sea. + +To-day I'm doing a map, and the draughtsmen are copying it, of some +Boche dug-outs. Ye gods! what do I care about dug-outs! As well make +maps of all the rabbit-holes in Glamorganshire. But there, what's the +good of talking like that. It's got to be done. + + +_January 24._ + +[Sidenote: BUSY DAYS] + +The aeroplanes have brought in the most marvellous photographs, and I am +very busy deciphering them and mapping the information on to a map. + + +_February 8._ + +After many, many days of incessant work comes a brief interval of +repose--till to-morrow morning. + +We moved up here yesterday afternoon late. + +Well, imagine a lovely large hut. + +The room on the left is where all the maps, etc., are made, and the +room on the right is my office. + +But outsiders can't just barge into my office. Oh no! They must ask one +of the orderlies if they can see me. Isn't it ridiculous! + +Then there is a tiny bedroom. + +The office walls are entirely covered now with aeroplane photos and +maps. It is all rather fun, and I think it won't be quite such a strain. +The cold is intense. Hale is functioning with the stove in my room at +the moment. I have said once that I don't really need a fire in my +bedroom; but he evidently has different views, and is firmly lighting +it. He is quite happy here. + +I'm having the hut papered, to make it warmer. And canvas curtains, if +you please! + +The R.F.C. people are most hospitable and nice. I like them very much. +It's all quite interesting, and the aeroplanes are delicious as they +move, buzzing like vast mosquitoes. + +I go down in a side-car every day (that's the programme) to corps H.Q. +to report and get instructions. + + +_February 12._ + +Something may happen to prevent leave before leave comes. You will +understand. I should have to "remain at my post," as novels say. + + +_February 15._ + +[Sidenote: WITH THE R.F.C.] + +A very difficult map has just been finished, and is being printed, and +here we sit down for a little talk together. The war is for the moment +far away. Away anxiety, away nervous apprehension, away fatigue, away +responsibility, away Wilhelm! Let the doors be shut, the curtains drawn. +Listen. An adventure, amusing, and rather exciting. Would you like to +hear about it? Well, I was making a raised map of a particular part of +the line for the corps commander. And I go up from time to time to scan +the ground, so that it may be very accurate and therefore rather useful. +At least that is what I hope. Yesterday, then, up into the blue, piloted +by Eric. + +It was not a good day. In fact, too dud for good observation. But the +relief map must be ready quickly. + +Imagine us, please, robed in leather coats and leather helmets and +gauntlets, and with goggles, waiting at the entrance of a hangar while +the mechanics bring out the gadfly. They have already looked the +creature over with great care. The pale yellow wings glitter against the +violet horizon. The sun is shining, but it's freezing hard. Eric climbs +in, and then I do. I sit behind with the machine gun. + +I clasp a sketchbook, to sketch the lie of the land. O my aunt in +Jericho! isn't it Arctic! Fingers that feel like ammoniated quinine. You +know, a faint unpleasant tingle. + +They are starting the engines. Difficult this cold weather. The +following strange colloquy ensues: + + _Mechanic:_ "Contact." + _Pilot:_ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Switch off." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + _M._ "Switch off." + _P._ "Suck in." + _M._ "Contact." + _P._ "Contact." + +And with a terrific whir the propeller flashes round. The sound +increases, and then decreases slightly, and increases again. The gadfly +moves. Moves more rapidly. Skims along the ground. Rises, rises, rises. +Ah, the beautiful river! Every time I have flown the beauty of that +river catches me in the throat. But this featureless waste. Bereft of +everything but earth, and a few low shelters and gun-pits, and seamed +with trenches. Hideously lonely. + +Well, anyhow, here we are sailing high above it all, the wind +occasionally lifting one of the wings, and then the other, like a +sea-gull's. There is a haze, and it's not easy to see. You peer over the +edge, and behold at last the desired wood. + +[Sidenote: A SCRAP IN THE AIR] + +A wood? That? Good heavens! That poor miserable mess of splinters and +gashed soil? Each time I see one of the woods destroyed by this war I +thank God that our glorious Cotswold woods are still untouched. +Primroses, wood-anemones, squirrels. To think of squirrels!... Not +another aeroplane in sight. Neither our own nor Hun machines. Eric +circles smoothly round above the wood, and then crosses back over +no-man's-land to fly low, so that I can see the wood obliquely. Archie +quite wide of his mark. This doubling and circling perplexes him. The +sketch progresses. I look round from time to time to see that there are +still no Huns about. Eric also looks about. No: nothing in sight. The +guns are pooping off, but the noise of the engines makes the guns sound +like tiny little "pops." There, now I've nearly done. Lucky I came, +because the wood isn't quite what we thought. Yes, that'll do.... We are +up at a considerable height.... + +Suddenly Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! above our heads. Three +Hun aeroplanes right on top of us; Eric drives headlong in a spiral +curve at full speed, smoke trailing out behind. The gun! I fumble. +Can't get round to it. Damn! + +Rat-tat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat! go the Huns. But Eric is faster. Are +they all Huns, though? Shall I fire? Yes. No. They daren't come down low +over our lines. We are safe. Yes, look, they were all Huns. They hang +about far up aloft. The Hun usually hunts in threes. Why, oh why, didn't +I fire? Well, it can't be helped now. Eric looks round. We both laugh. +"Why didn't you fire?" he shouts. I can't hear what he says, but I know +from the shape of his mouth that's what he is saying. I just smile and +shake my head. Can't explain now. + +Where on earth did they come from? Coasting about very high up, I +suppose, and suddenly swooped down at us. + +However, the drawing is done. So that's that. Home, John! + +One little bullet-hole through one of the wings, no more. Indifferent +shooting, my friend Fritz. However, I can't talk, because I never fired +at all! + + +_February 16._ + +I've never thanked you for the chocolates which arrived two days ago. +But they arrived during one of the avalanches of work, and were all +eaten within half an hour or so; not by me, but by various R.F.C. men +who are always coming in and out of my office for "the latest." + +[Sidenote: TOLL OF WAR] + +To-day all frosty and sunny. Think of going on to the terrace at home +before breakfast and seeing some jolly little new flower out, with the +Golden Valley behind, all grey-blue and woody. + +It's all working well here, and, being the representative of the corps, +I have a certain status which is pleasant. They think that I may or may +not give them a good character to the Powers that be. Quite fun. + +They are awfully nice fellows. The only two I knew before were Eric and +Bill Vivian. Bill I have known for a very long time, and during the war +I've seen a great deal of him, and was very fond of him. He was brought +down by Archie yesterday in our lines. Burnt to death. Dead when they +reached him. Yesterday night at mess we were all quite gay. Only one man +showed that his heart was as heavy as lead. And it seemed bad form. +Heaviness of heart is bad form. No gentleman should have a heavy heart. +A sign of weakness, of ill breeding. + + +_February 17._ + +To-day has been one of the jumpy, anxious days again, because something +is to happen shortly, and those concerned are ringing up all the time +asking me this and that about the Boche trenches, etc. And they want +maps of this and plans of that and t'other. It's these times before some +event that are so wearing. The smaller the event, the more wearing very +often, because it's just some one or two officers, perhaps, who are +doing the show, and, of course, half their success or failure depends on +whether an unhappy intelligence officer can tell them exactly what they +are up against, and exactly where it is and so on. I always go on the +principle of assuming the worst. If I think there _may_ be a minny to +meet them, I tell them there _is_ a minny, and probably two. It may not +be very cheering to them. But if the minny is there, well, then I've put +them on their guard; and if it isn't there, well, they can laugh at the +work of the staff, and there's no harm done. People don't realize the +awful strain and responsibility and hard work of staffs. It's sometimes +a nightmare. Think of it in this way: I make a slip. A dozen men get +killed. When the Push comes, I make another slip, and a hundred men get +killed. Perhaps more. All the work of the lazy and incompetent staff! +But if the staffs are lazy and incompetent, then, for goodness' sake, +let's put more energetic and more competent people in their places. But +where are these more competent people? In the divisions? in the +battalions? But that is exactly where the present staffs came from! And +they are the very people who originally jibed at the staffs! Well, +anyhow, the war will end some day. + + +_February 21._ + +[Sidenote: THE WILD DUCK] + +_Re_ America. It doesn't look much as if they were coming in now, does +it? However, one of the Scots Guards gave me June as the end of the war. +He offered me 10 to 1 in francs; but, as I am always rather muddled as +to whether that means that he gives me 10 francs if I win, or I give him +1 franc if I lose, or what, I declined to bet. I expect he thinks I +don't bet on principle. But, anyway, let's hope he wins. + +Leave is off at present. + +The worst of this game is that now I feel I want to do it all myself. I +really do know a fair amount about the Boche lines, and I long to spend +a day wandering about there taking notes! + +I was up yesterday afternoon trying to find out a certain T.M. battery, +and what should fly by quite close and quite unconcerned but a duck! We +were not very high, and it was very misty. The duck just appeared, with +his neck stretched out, eager and oblivious. And then vanished into the +mist again. I was thinking about that duck too much to find out what I +wanted. Anyway, it was a fruitless journey. But flying amongst clouds is +very beautiful. Sometimes we got above the clouds, to where the sun was +functioning away as efficiently as ever. The clouds looked like millions +of feather beds. + + +_March 2._ + +I have been doing some drawings of R.F.C. officers. They love being +"took" out here, and my office is rapidly degenerating into a club, +which makes work no easier. + +Well, you see from the papers what is happening. The Boche retires to +the Hindenburg Line, and we follow. + +I should so love to tell you all about it, but Mum's the word. A great +moral defeat for poor Fritz, anyway. + +The cavalry are sharpening their swords. + +The aeroplanes sail high up in the blue, like hungry hawks. + + +_March 5._ + +I am probably going off to-morrow. Now, where do you think? Paris? +Madrid? Anything of that sort? + +Wrong again. Shall I tell you? + +VICTORIA. + +I'll send you a telegram directly I get across the briny. + +And I plead for no "back from the war tea-parties," please! + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: PERONNE +From BIACHES +A few days after the evacuation. From a distance the place looked almost +intact, as some of the outside walls had been left standing. That white +building in the centre of the town was once the cathedral. MONT ST. +QUENTIN on the left. The thin white lines on the slopes beyond are +trenches.] + + +_March 22._ + +[Sidenote: THE HUN RETREAT] + +The Hun rearguards are now well beyond ----. I knew the place so +intimately from photographs, and from high up in the air, that a view of +it from terra-firma promised to be quite interesting. + +So with great eagerness, some sandwiches, and the faithful sketchbook, I +sallied forth. Harry came, too. A glorious day of brilliant sun and +brief snowstorms. + +From the aerodrome through all this devastated country, past wrecked +villages, orchards laid waste, dug-out camps, bivouac camps, R.E. dumps, +light railways, battered trollies lying on their sides, and all the ugly +confusion of old wire rusted a red-hot colour, bits of corrugated iron, +bits of netting screens, more wire, dead horses, dead men in all stages +of decomposition, legs, hands, heads scattered anywhere, dead trees, +mud, broken rifles, gas-bags, tin helmets, bully-beef tins, derelict +trenches, derelict telephone wires, grenades, aerial torpedoes, all the +toys of war, broken and useless. Tommy, the dear hairies, and the R.E. +dumps, to remind you what vast stores of everything are still being +accumulated. + +The ground becomes more and more like boiling porridge as you approach +no-man's-land. Of no-man's-land itself, perhaps, the less said the +better. No-beast's-land--call it that rather. And yet men have been very +brave, very tender, in no-man's-land. Next we come to those Hun trenches +that I have peered at from a distance so long and mapped so often. It +all seems rather futile now. + +Past the support trenches. Past the second line. Damn it! how much +larger and deeper that old emplacement is than I thought! The country is +less pitted, too. Of course, it hasn't been fought over like our back +areas. Why; here are trees scarcely knocked about at all. A recognizable +field there. How real that stream looks! And, oh Jemima! a blue tit. + +A little distance farther. Over that gentle rise, and there behold ----. +Surely one of the loveliest towns in France, on its low hill surrounded +by the quiet waters of the Somme. From a distance it looks all right; +though somehow, the smoke still ascending from it doesn't look natural. + +As you approach you realize that what looks so charming is just +empty, shelled, charred, and broken. The Huns have destroyed every +single house, all the bridges, and the cathedral, too. The cathedral +that once crowned the town now stands a pale crushed ghost in the +deserted market-place. + +[Sidenote: PERONNE] + +Some of the streets are almost amusing. Imagine Rye with the pretty +alleys so encumbered and piled up with roofs, sofas, the contents of +wardrobes, dormer-windows, smashed mirrors, rubble, and dust, that it's +quite impossible to proceed. Very well, that's ----. + +Go into the houses, and there it's just as it is in the streets. +Everything crushed to atoms. Images of saints have been hurled out on to +garbage-heaps, and in the cathedral huge pillars are lying about in +clumsy confusion amongst chairs, organ pipes, and gilded flowers. + +On a huge notice board in the Grande Place the Hun has written: + + NICHT ARGERN: NUR WUNDERN! + +(Don't argue: only wonder! We the Huns did this. Why discuss what we +have done? We have destroyed your city. Gape and stare, stupid fools! +What does it matter to us? We took your precious town from you, because +we wanted it. Now we don't want it any more. Here it is back again. +With our love.) Some merry soldier wrote that up, I suppose. It was a +pity. + +There were French officers in ---- to-day. I spoke to one. He answered +with a quiet, simple bitterness and determination that would have turned +even a Hohenzollern pale, I think. Unhappy Emperor! he must be feeling +decidedly uneasy nowadays. + +Another odd sight was a tub full of water, with a little dog trying to +get out. But the little dog was dead. A crump evidently landed somewhere +near, and just petrified him, as it were. You often see men like that, +struck dead in the middle of some act. Men are usually turned a dull +purplish or greenish black. So was this little dog. We ate a delicious +lunch on the battlements, our legs dangling 50 feet above the reedy +water. Lots of moorhen and coot swimming about. + +The sun was warm. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. What a heavenly world +it is! + + +_April 6._ + +After a hectic day comes this chance of writing to you. Eleven-thirty +p.m. + +Would you like to hear about night flying? I didn't go, but I sketched +the others going. And these are some notes. A bombing raid. It had been +ordered in the morning. A raid on ----. After a cheery dinner we trooped +out, singing foolish songs. The hangars a few hundred yards away across +the mud. They looked huge and eerie, looming up from the dark ground, +all stately in the moonlight. The moon had a halo, but was very bright, +bright enough to sketch by. + +[Sidenote: NIGHT FLYING] + +Six flares were flickering at intervals round the aerodrome. A vivid +orange colour against the dim blue sky. The horizon was greyer, and +little flames flashed intermittently from it. There were the aeroplanes +waiting. + +It was very cold. Soon the mechanics were starting the machines. The +usual loud spurting and fizzing till presently the first machine begins +to move. A big semi-luminous beetle lurching forward; then faster and +faster and away, lifting up, up, up into the night. Only the lights +visible now, but you can hear the hum of the engines a long way off. +Other machines follow. The sky is full of twinkling fairies. They circle +about for a bit, and then all head towards the east. Gradually the +humming dies away in the distance. Look out for yourselves, you sleeping +Huns! + +A long while afterwards the humming again. + +The first aeroplane is coming home. There he is. Gradually lower and +nearer. The machine descends smoothly on to the ground, turns and +"taxis," spitting angrily towards the hangar where it lives. Muffled +figures get out, and the mechanics take in the machine tail first to its +home. What? oh yes, quite successful. Smashed the place to blazes. +Anyone got a cigarette? Other machines begin coming in. It's such a +clear night that we still stand about in groups waiting for the last one +to arrive. Damn it all! where can old Rupert have got to? We'll just +wait till he comes back, and then bundle off to bed. Anxious? Good Lord, +no! What about? + +Suddenly a small sharp flash high up in the night. Another and another. +The Huns! They are coming. Archie is shelling them. Now another Archie +poops off nearer here. Quick! Where's the orderly officer? + +In a couple of minutes all is dark. Gradually the drone of the Huns, +high up in the air, becomes audible. No. They seem to be steering more +towards ----. Searchlights from three different directions grope slowly +to and fro. Where the devil are the Huns? The searchlights cannot find +them. They must be cruising somewhere up above those thin cirrus clouds. +Are they going to drop bombs on us? No, their direction is too far +south. The searchlights cannot find them. + +[Sidenote: THE END] + +No sign of Rupert yet. Probably he has landed at another aerodrome. Dear +old Rupert. One of the very best in this world. He'll be all right. Come +on. It's too cold. Let's turn in. + + + + +PRINTED BY +BILLING AND SONS, LIMITED +GUILDFORD, ENGLAND + + + + +Select Announcements of some new and recent volumes +published by Chatto & Windus. + +NEW BOOKS +Published by Chatto & Windus + + +A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLAND +By G.K. CHESTERTON +Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +BOOKS AND PERSONS +By ARNOLD BENNETT +Second Impression. Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +GERMAN PROBLEMS AND PERSONALITIES +By CHARLES SAROLEA +Crown 8vo., cloth, 5s. net + +FORTY YEARS OF "SPY" +By LESLIE WARD +New and Cheaper Edition, with all the original colour plates. +Demy 8vo., cloth, 7s. 6d. net + +THE INDUSTRIAL OUTLOOK +By Various Authors. Edited by H. 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