Letter Home - 17th December, 1915

17th December, 1915

15th battery,

48th Brigade,

2nd Division

Dear Mother,

There is not really much news. The weather has been keeping up its reputation, but I must say we had some days this week.

The General came round last week to have a look at the guns, as it was suddenly discovered by the Brigade that, if the Bosch advanced and took our trenches, we would not be able to fire on him, on account of the crest in front of us. There was a lot of talk about changing our position, but Kellagher reckoned he could raise the guns so that we would be able to shoot 100 yards short of our first line trench. Saunders, after making rapid calculations, pooh-poohed the idea, but said we could try it. This scheme proved successful, and the old man had to acknowledge that he must have been badly out in his working on Sunday.

I was at the O.B. and had an interesting day, as Suttie did some shooting on a Bosch O.B. and a dugout, with high explosive, which made the sandbags fly and left a nice ventilator in it, but we were not very successful with the house, as it was amongst a lot of other houses in the town and a very hard target. One could not observe the shots at all well. I also had some rabbit shooting, as they call it, (that means Bosch in the open), but was not successful, as I'm not good enough at judging the range. However, I laid them to ground.

Tuesday being my day off, I went into Béthune on the nag, calling at the wagon line on the way, to give the Captain some messages. It was rather funny. I was hunting for the field cashier's office in the town and finally I ran across a man called Kingston from Ipswich, just at the door of the place I wanted. Kingston was a man who I do not suppose I said twenty words to at Ipswich, but I was so glad to see a face I knew that we had a long talk and I finally had lunch with him. He was supposed to come out with us but never left at all until three days after us, as he wanted to be married, so was given three days grace. He is attached to the 44th Brigade, Ammunition Column, and they are billeted in the town. He lives like a duke and has a beautifully furnished sitting room and bedroom with polished floors. It is really a private house and must be very comfortable. After a good lunch, I tried to hunt Bee up but could not find his Mess, so I gave it up and came home.

We had a dinner on Tuesday night. It was to have been the next day, Suttie's birthday, but, owing to work that had to be done on Wednesday, we had it on Tuesday instead. It was a great success, and the party did not break up until twelve-forty-five am. I was very sleepy the next morning when called at six fifteen am and had some work to rouse myself. Suttie had to cut wire, and so I just looked on from the O.B. until he had finished. He began at eleven thirty. He was observing from the spot called Boyang in the trenches and polished off his 350 rounds by one thirty. At a quarter to twelve, the Bosch was roused to anger at the continual hammering at his front line trench and began to drop five point nine inch and pipsqueaks very close to Boyang. I could see them shooting clouds of mud into the air very close to Suttie but knew he was all right, as our guns were spitting away every 10 seconds very regularly. He finished up with a lovely salvo of H.E., which made the wire fairly fly. This was all preparation made for an experimental attack with gas at twelve midnight but, luckily for the Infantry I think, the wind was blowing the wrong way and the whole show had to be abandoned.

That same afternoon I had a rabbit shoot and I really think I killed two birds, my first in this war. Sight was too bad to say for certain, but anyway I tickled them properly. There is a trench that runs out from behind some houses for about 200 yards and then joins with some other trenches. Well, this trench must be bad, as the Bosch prefers to walk in the open when he thinks the light too bad for us to see him. I fired one round at two but only frightened them. The next one that came I let go, to entice more. After waiting patiently for about three minutes, out they came – three of them. Well, I just waited until they got to a marked spot and shouted down to the telephonist, "Fire No. 2." It seemed ages until the gun was reported fired, but they let it go just at the right time, and I saw two of them drop and the other jump into the trench. It is jolly exciting work. You lay your guns on where you think the Bosch will appear and glue your eyes on the glasses. After a time, you imagine you see any number of them. It gets so dark that you can imagine anything with tired eyes. Tell old Mr Gray: it is better than waiting on the bank of the dam for duck or geese late in the evening – much more exciting.

Yesterday afternoon, I was at the guns and Kellagher at the O.B. At one thirty, he reported that they were shelling him and he had to retire to the cellar, but after they had dropped a few very near, he gave us gunfire, and we fairly rattled them in. When he came back in the evening, he seemed rather quiet, and I asked him if they'd done any damage, expecting a negative answer. He said they had had four direct hits with a 35 lb shell and had dropped about 70 all round in the vicinity of the house. He was just leaving one room when one came through the wall and a fragment of brick hit him on the head but did not break the skin.

The old Allemand must be trying to get his own back. Luckily no one was hit, but there were some very narrow squeaks, such as sentry boxes being carried away when the man was on his beat.

Well, there is no more news.

Walford