FROM THE LETTERS OF A SUBALTERN.
Thp Ypres Times.
153
who had remained with me. In the street I saw a passing car and hailed it. It was an
I.O.M. who was going back through Ypres to-Poperinghe, so I got a lift and asked if I
might sit alongside the driver, as I knew the best way through Ypres when it was being
shelled. As we were passing along one of the streets of Ypres I heard a shell coming
straight for us, so I told the driver to stop. Sure enough, a 5.9 in. burst in the line of
houses about two hundred yards ahead of us and caused the street to be blocked with
debris. Our car was a Ford, and I asked the driver if he could drive over the debris.
He said "Yes,'' so I replied "Drive like hell, then, before another shell comes,"
and we got through safely. At the Asylum Road junction I met General Gay and told
him that I had retired the 121st Battery to its wagon lines and had heard just before
leaving the Menin Gate billet from Major Owen that the battery had arrived safely with
the loss only of two horses killed by shrapnel on the Hooge-Ypres road just where it
crosses the railway (Hellfire Corner). Ceneral Gay asked me if I could give him definite
news of the Condon 4.7 in. Batteries and I replied Nothing, beyond the fact that the
Canadians had sent up to Owen for two breach blocks which we had supplied."
I then went down to the 71st Battery position on the Dickebusch Spruit and Major
Barne told me of the White Chateau, Friezenberg, afterwards known as the
Belgian Chateau, where Colonel Fitzmaurice gave me a shake-down and where I remained
until, in March, 1916, I took over the Heavy Artillery 14th Corps, when I moved to
Vlamertinghe Chateau.
The British Infantry Brigade under General Geddes filled the gap made by the
French and established our line from Wieltje to Pilckem, but at the expense of poor Geddes'
life.
While at Friezenberg, or the Belgian Chateau, I had the most miraculous immunity
from shelling. We always thought the owner was a spy with the enemy but I believe
that it was really due to the fact that it stood well surrounded by trees, as all the
neighbourhood was badly shelled.
Owen took up a position near my billet on the Dickebusch Spruit, where he remained
for eleven months with no casualties, due, in my opinion, to the fact that I put him on
the enemy's side of the trees and enemy aeroplanes always observed as they returned.
5/7/17-
Our palatial residence measured about 6 ft.
by 4 ft. 6 in. high for four of us! To get in, one
crawled in between some sandbags. Of course it
was impossible to stand up and was all feet and
legs when we lay down, probably with your coat
in the middle of some butter which, in turning
over, you gently deposit on someone's face, or
you might find yourself comfortably embedded in
bully." The other occupants were beetles, mice
and divers insects. Can you imagine spending
beautiful June days in such a place But after
being on duty outside, it seemed a paradise, only
this paradise was always liable to be blown in.
The rats beat any for size I have ever seen, as
large as cats, some of them.
One of our unpleasant duties is to take out
working parties as soon as light fails to do any
repairs along the trenches. Of course Fritz at
that time starts a strafe to try and catch them,
so also do we of course to them. I was gaily
taking along one of these parties, about 30 men,
and so far we had only been treated to a few
crumps and shrapnel. But the old Hun that
night started to put over tear and gas shells. In
all he sent over for five hours on end, a continuous
stream of them. There happened to be a barrage
of them along our route, and after one or two
attempts it was impossible to go on, and so we
turned back and ran the gauntlet. Buckily I had
only one man gassed and he happened to be a
stretcher-bearer.
Tear shells are 'orrible. A peculiar sweet smell,
and then suddenly your eyes feel like nothing on
earth, smarting severely, and tears simply pour
down your face. Of course we have a protection
in the respirator, but then you cannot keep it
on and keep a hold on your men also without
taking it off occasionally.
I shall not forget the coming back from the
trenches on Sunday night. About seven miles
under shell fire, and underneath thick greasy
mud and well over your boots. Thank goodness
I got my lot through, though one or two dropped
with exhaustion, which I should have liked to
have done myself. It is queer urging men
along when you are practically in the same
condition.
