The Ypres Times.
105
might as well all go on together. Then, having thanked and dismissed the servant who
had helped me, I climbed up into the car and sat perched on top of one of its heavily-
armoured sides. The driver (who was in a sort of well at my feetI remember that I
stood on him once) brought the car round with some difficulty, and off we went.
It was rather eerie work going along in this strange and deadly contraption in the
black darkness. At every few paces a sentry would step out from the side of the road
and challenge us. And we had to pull up, too, at every challenge, or be quite certainly
fired on at close quarters. Several unfortunate officers and motor-cycle dispatch riders
were killed in this way by their own sidemen who could ill be spared.
We had to cruise up and down the road several times before we could find the place.
All these chateaux stood well back from the road, and were hidden by trees. But at
last we saw the red and green lamp that marked Divisional Headquarters, and we en
tered. The chateau turned out to be a large square modern house, in which everything
was very new and on a generous scale. It had been left by its owners "all standing,"
and the Germans, who had been there quite recently and at the time of their advance on
Paris, had drunk the cellars dry and scattered the broken bottles all over the entrance
steps and hall.
I shared a room at the top of the house with our Veterinary Officer, and, except for
a few nights when we changed our Headquarters to a chateau nearer still to the enemy,
or which I spent out, I slept there every night that circumstances permitted.
There must have been some thirty officers and as many clerks quartered in that
house, while downstairs in the basement were many servants, cooks, men on guard, etc.
The house, as I have said, was very new. It was heated by hot-water pipes, the secret of
the manipulation of which we soon discovered, and it was lit by incandescent gas which
was worked by a small motor underneath the stables and garage. These were about
forty yards from the house. Another small gas-engine pumped up water, until the
Belgian caretaker (who had stuck to his post when the family had left) fled, terrified
by the shells that kept exploding all around us. In every bedroom were a holy-water
font and statue of Our Lady, and all up the main staircase were photographs of the various
stages in the building and completion of the house, down to a pathetic group of the house-
warming party, which included a stately ecclesiastic, who, presumably, had given it his
blessing.
In the morning, when I was able to take note of the exterior, I saw that the chiteau
must have replaced an older building, for there were two fine rows of old trees leading
away from it in the rear, whereas only quite young saplings were planted in its front.
The big forest that lies about five kilometres to the east of Ypres (the chateau was at
the fifth kilometre stone) enclosed it on two sides. It faced north, and in front of it
were a small rose-garden and paddock, while behind it there were pleasure grounds, ter
minating in a well-stocked flower and vegetable garden. In the latter I found some
lovely violets, a few of which I picked and enclosed in a letter home. The chateau was
called the Huize Beukenhorst," and was just to the east of the little black-and-white
village of Hooge. It was said that the wife of the owner was a daughter of the German
Chancellor, and that for that reason the German artillery would not fire on it. Whether
it was owing to this, or because it was not marked on the Ordnance maps (even the spy
one which I had captured), I do not know, but the fact remains that up to the very end
of October, although many shells fell in the grounds, not one struck the house. A poor
fellow was cut in two almost outside the door one day soon after our arrival, and splinters
of the shell fell amongst a crowd of us who were on the steps, but up to the day I left
only about three shells had struck the walls, doing little damage. By now, I suppose, it
is a heap of ruins.*
It must be remembered that this was written in January, 1915. Few will recognise Stirling
Castle under the name given to it in these pages, which was taken from a picture-postcard
of the house found in situ.-Author.
