Raymond; or, Life and Death. Sir Oliver Lodge
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Last time we were in for three days, and on the night we left we had a very blood-curdling experience digging a trench which was to bring us closer to our friends the enemy. But they were inclined to resent our advances, and they welcomed us, not with open arms, but with lighted bombs. However, having completed our work to the great satisfaction of those in authority over us (namely, the Colonel and the General [Brigadier]), we made good our escape.
"Then for three blissful days we lived (with our valises) in some magnificent dug-outs in one of the safest spots in this accursed though much improved neighbourhood. These days we spent competing who could sleep furthest round the clock (if that is a permissible expression). I think I won, and on my record day I got up and dressed for dinner at about 7.30 p.m., made my bed afterwards, and got back into it again. This halcyon period was only interrupted once, when we all had to go out and dig a trench one night long. However, the worst feature of this expedition was the rain, which made 'going' very difficult, and things in general rather uncomfortable (especially for the men), so we hadn't much to grumble about.
"Then we came back here and the first night we slept in peace, getting up at about 3 a.m. ostensibly for the purpose of 'stand-to,' but really to brew ourselves some cocoa. Then sleep till 9, 10, or 11, I forget which. I crawl to the door of my dug-out and shout for Gray, who lives just opposite. 'Breakfast!' I say, and he invariably asks, 'What will you have, sir?' just as if he could command the larders of the Carlton or the Linga.
"Knowing my rations, and that an attempt at humour would only put me off my plat du jour or daily round, I usually think for a few moments and then order eggs and bacon, and face the common task. The only variation I permit myself is that on one or two days in the week I funk the bacon and have boiled eggs. Where do the eggs come from? They are purchased out of the Mess fund by our Mess cook who lives with the Transport when we are in the trenches, and brings them up personally when the rations arrive at night. Yes, he has a 'cushy' time of it, does our Mess cook; and how can he avoid being happy, living as he does in a perpetual transport?
"What of the days when no eggs are available? Why, then, horrible dictu, I have fried cheese and bacon!
"It occurs to me here, although all this was not written with intention, that this could be a good place to ask whether sausages are yet in season. If they are, a few cooked ones (or half cooked) sent out now and again would make a splendid variant for our menu.
"The meat season is hard to follow out here. Bully beef is such a hardy perennial. (This does not mean that we live on it—I never eat it, there is always a good supply of fresh beef.)
"Blackberries are coming on, I notice with pleasure, and I can usually tell what shells are in season (the season for sausages in this department is, let us hope, mercifully short. I believe we are now in the middle of the close-time for this sturdy little fellow, I trust he is not utilising it to increase and multiply).
"I am sorry I have had rather a sharp attack of parentheses lately, the touch of winter in the air cramps my style. And I really did think this was going to be quite a short letter. I cannot divine my moods, I find, I did not feel like writing until I got going.
"Please thank father very much indeed for the sniperscopes. I have given one to the Captain of D Company, who is keen on everything. He is an engineer (civil), and is a most useful man out here. I have not tried mine yet, as I haven't been in a fire trench, and it would hardly be fair to use it in a support trench, the backs of our infantry in the trench in front being too easy a target to give the thing a fair trial.
"Oh! I was telling you about my work in this trench but got switched off on to food. Last time I was here I (and my platoon) worked for two nights from 7.30 till 3 improving the parapets. Well, the second night of this period (last night) I had got all sorts of plans ready and was going to have a thoroughly good night building dug-outs, draining the trench, and building a second machine-gun emplacement (not my job really at the moment). However, word came along that the platoon was wanted to dig another trench right in front again and near the other one. They said, 'A covering party with bombs will be provided, and send in your casualty report in the morning!' So I asked if they were supplying stretchers and all complete! But they were not. It is a most cheering way of sending you off, is it not? It is a wonder they did not make us take up our own grave crosses, just in case.
"(By the way, it is most impressive to meet two men walking along at night and one carrying a large white cross. The burying and decking of the graves is done very well here, and conscientiously. There is a special organisation for making the crosses, lettering them and putting them up. The position of the grave is reported to them, with the particulars, and they do the rest.)
"The great difference in last night's job was that I only had a platoon to deal with, while before the Captain had a whole company. Also I was not quite so close to the enemy (we were 30 yards off, and less, before), and the moon was mostly obscured. I determined not to let them know we were working, so I crept out and explored the ground with the Corporal of the covering party (this was the worst part of the job, because you did not know when you might not come across a party of the enemy in the many shell holes and old trenches with which the ground was covered). I had my large revolver in my pocket, but I did not want to use it, as it would have given our game away.
"All went well, and I got the men placed out in absolute silence, with the covering party pushed out in front to listen and watch. The men worked very quietly, and when a light went up they got down and kept still. Lights were very few, because the enemy had got a working party out too—at one side, and we could occasionally hear them driving in stakes for wire.
"We had to use picks in some places where the ground was stony, and these are the hardest to keep quiet. We got through it all right, and only one shot, I think, was fired all the time. It came fairly close, too. I am sure they guessed we were out, because when one light went up I hadn't time to get down, so I kept still and I plainly saw a Hun standing upright on his own parapet. He straightened up as the light grew bright, and I just caught sight of the movement and saw him then distinctly.
"The ground out there has been fought over a good deal, and there are plenty of souvenirs about. I have got one myself—a Hun rifle. The original owner, who was buried with it—probably by a shell—happened to lie exactly where we dug our trench, and we were obliged to move him elsewhere. I brought his rifle home and put it over the door of my dug-out. That was early this morning. But the enemy have been putting shrapnel over us (in reply to a good 'strafing' by our guns), and one piece has gone clean through the stock.
"Our artillery are going great guns nowadays. It certainly feels as if the shell supply was all right—or nearly so.
"I don't know whether we shall be wanted for any job to-night, or whether we shall rest, or whether I can get on with my projects. I must go round and see Captain T. in the other trench. By the way, he came to see how I was getting on last night about midnight, and was very pleased with the work and with the fact that we were having no casualties.
"That cake was fine, and much appreciated in the Mess. The little knife you gave me when home on leave is proving most useful.
"Please thank Lionel for chocolate received and Alec for gourdoulis.
"I have sent another box of Surplus Kit home addressed to No�l. Rather late to do it, I know, and I shall want one or two of the things sent back later, but not for a long time, and it is a relief to get rid of some of my impedimenta. The socks returned want mending. That reminds me, thank you and please thank Miss Leith very much for the socks. They are quite all right for size. Perhaps not so long and narrow in the foot might be better, but it doesn't seem to affect the wear; they are most comfortable.
"I am still attached to the Company and not to the machine guns—much to my annoyance."
"Monday, 6 September 1915, 9.30 p.m.
"Thank you so much for your inspiring and encouraging letter. I hope I am being useful out here. I sometimes doubt if I am very much use—not as much as I should like to be. Possibly I help to keep C Company officers more cheerful! I am very sorry they have