To Fight Alongside Friends: The First World War Diaries of Charlie May. David Crane

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СКАЧАТЬ as Earles^xxii used to say. Months ago I tried to get him to take a commission but he had views of his own and I doubt not but that he is happy where he is. He talks French fluently and is already great friends with the villagers. In his letter he told how sad the women are here. All their men are gone, they are within sound of the guns and all they can do is work on and wait. It is dreadfully sad for the women, this war and I think it is our realisation of this and of your quiet heroism that makes us love you as we do. At least I know I feel like that about you, my own.

      For us the work and the excitement. For you the waiting and suspense. I know well which must be the easier to bear.

      The guns are quiet tonight. It is the first time for days. There has been some little festival in the village and two weddings and the people have been indulging in a minor Morris Dance. They are simple and they are kind – when they know you, and I hope with all my heart the guns may never come nearer Raineville than they are now. Rather I trust in heaven that their war may go forward to the German border and over, that their thundering may reverberate through the streets of Rhineland towns and villages and cause the startled light of fear to leap up in the eyes of fatuous burghers that these may be repaid in kind for all the suffering their horrid country has brought to this ‘fair’ France and her fairer sister, our England.

      26th November ’15

      It has been a day of preparation, of issuing the last few items to complete the company, of getting out the leather waistcoats and the skin coats and seeing all the final equipment is in order.^xxiii

      And was ever an Army equipped like this one? My God. What we must cost the country. What taxation we must mean. How I hope we are worth it. It seems terrible, the cost. Yet, I suppose, it is really quite cheap if only it means a nail in Germany’s coffin. And anything which will help our men to stick the winter well means that. The Germans don’t like the snow, I believe.

      We have just said good-bye to Grimwood, D. S. Murray and Wood.^xxiv The battalion splits up tomorrow and will not meet again for a week – and that is rather a long time these days. We have all promised to meet in our rest billets and compare experiences. We should know a great deal more than we do now by then and our meeting should be an instructive one.

      Townsend’s poor brother in the 18th was killed today.^xxv He was bombing officer and was put out by a hand grenade, whilst instructing a class. It is damned hard luck, I knew him well, a keen, young chap, rather delicate but a promising officer. It has rather knocked the guts out of Towny and he looks very ill on it. Poor old boy, his ‘young brother’ was a great chap with him.^xxvi

      However, Kismet. I wish he had had a chance though.

      27th November ’15

      It made us quite homesick this morning. The motor-bus was waiting at 9.30 to take us to ‘business’.^xxvii It felt most strange bumping along through the frosty air with all around looking peaceful and comfortable and with nothing at all but joy in the morning and no sign of war at all. But it was cold. We lost all feeling on top of our bus and when at last we were compelled to get down had momentarily lost control of our legs.

      They had intended taking us to Varennes but we were stopped three miles short of it because of artillery in action down the road. I think, however, the government were only tired of carrying us for nothing because, though we marched for nine miles after that, we did not see a gun nor hear a shell till we arrived here, Mesnil, about 5.30 p.m.^xxviii B and D Coys only came on to this fair though unpeaceful spot [where they were attached to the 1st Hampshire Regt], A and C, [attached to the 1st Royal Irish Fusiliers] with battalion HQ remaining at Englebelmer,^xxix some three miles behind. Our billet is a château on the skyline. It has been a glorious place but at present looks somewhat shop-soiled since its back has been blown out, its walls and gardens are loopholed and trenched and the flower beds are interspersed with large shell-craters filled with frozen water. The officers’ quarters were once a stable. They are much better than we anticipated and are warm where you miss the draught between the dug-out and the door.

      We are quite comfortable and happy and have only had two shrapnel in the garden up to now. But we have, of course, lain doggo as one does after being warned that sight of a man by day or glint of a light by night will bring 9 inch h.e.s [high explosive shells] hurtling in at the back door.

      We go into the fire trenches tomorrow and are keen to do so. It is remarkable how everyday and usual it all seems here. I must never breathe a word of it else will not be looked upon as heroes any more by the good people who stay at home and especially by you, my Maudie. Our only trouble are the rats. They swarm and are bold beyond description. They run over you, pinch candles, eat our iron rations and disturb one’s attempts at slumber. It is, you will say, but a minor trouble yet it is our greatest up to now.

      We are all jolly tired tonight though and I’ll bet when we do get down it will take more than rats to disturb us.

       Chapter 2

       ‘Mud caked to his eyebrows’

      28 November–19 December 1915

      28th November ’15

      I see that last evening I boasted that it would take more than rats to disturb us. I was badly mistaken. They beat us – easily. The trouble was that Buntingⁱ had laid my bed across a favourite run of theirs and they did not intend being put off it by a mere intruder like myself.

      They ran over my legs, body, chest and feet, and I was adamant. But when they started on my face I must own that I slavishly surrendered, fell to cursing horribly and finally changed my lying place. Thereafter I fared better but Murray dropped in for it. They ate his iron ration and, evidently liking some, which incidentally proves that they are but lowly people, knawed [sic] through Prince’s pack and ate his also. I can tell you they are some rats, these.

      Well we are here at last, in the fire trenches and are learning our job under the hospitable care of the East Lancs.ⁱⁱ We are in the fire trenches and I can hardly express how strange it felt to stand on the fire slip for the first time, look out over the plain and see the Bosche trenches just ahead. And it has all struck one as so apparently safe. There is nothing to be seen bar sinuous lines of chalk mounds on the hill-sides. Nothing at all. One hears bangs, or the occasional popping of a Maxim, but one sees absolutely nothing and it is hard indeed to realise the danger, the more especially that our kind friends the East Lancs treat it all so jovially and in such casual fashion. I would not at first believe that the wily Germany lay tucked up just across there. It is only the fact that five men have been hit this afternoon has made me realise it at all.

      The last three were out on a reconnoitring patrol when suddenly some bullets pinged past our listening post, the men heard a shriek and in a minute or two the patrol came staggering back. Quite cheerful they were, but a sergeant with a bullet through his foot made their going bad. The Bosche keeps pretty wide awake, evidently.

      We are attached to B Coy [of the East Lancs] and the OC of it is a Lieutenant Salt.ⁱⁱⁱ And well worthy of his [MC] he is. He is really quite a boy and his officers more so but he is older than many in soldiering. He is anyway a great deal older than myself. He has been at it since Mons,^iv has been three times wounded and now wears the Military Cross. Yet he is most unassuming and diffident of imparting advice. СКАЧАТЬ