Letters From the Front

Dated: November 25, 1915

Since last writing we have had rotten weather and the trenches have been in an awful condition. The communication trenches have been so bad up until recently that we have had to go and come from the front line overland, quite a ticklish trip I can assure you. The Company Major and I both lost our batmen about eight days ago behind the lines on the very grounds over which we go and come when relieved.
There are exciting times almost every day in the trenches of course, and when we have to get out in front at night to do a bit of diggin' or a bit of wire fixin', the star lights, and zing and swish of stray bullets, keep us very much on the alert. The last time we came out everything was lovely until we reached a village the Gerboys frequently shell with high explosives, i.e. 'Jack Johnsons', 'Coal Boxes' or 'Black Marias.' Just as about two-thirds of my Company were leaving the outskirts I heard the unmistakable express-train like sound of a high explosive shell coming our way. I was at the end of our line which was in single file, and just had time to shout 'flat,' and I verily believe we all went down together. The shell dropped about a hundred and fifty yards behind us — right on the road we had followed and only a very few yards in front of the head of one of our companies in the rear. Four more high explosive shells came over in quick succession and we dropped on three occasions altogether, the last two shells not sounding close enough to make men with, mighty heavy packs on think it worth while to wallow in mud for a bit only to have to struggle to their feet again. I had to visit guards over a huge area, necessitating a walk of about six miles, and next day as I passed the village church around which dozens and dozens of British soldiers are buried, I saw that three of the high explosive shells we had heard the night before had fallen in the pretty churchyard and ripped open probably eight to ten graves.