The 4th Battalion are moved behind the lines
Well, we have had a busy time. Landing so far behind the lines, gave us the opportunity to create our camp on virgin land, However the weather is bitterly cold and wet, with snow thick on the ground. We have been inspected by both General Harper and our Brigadier, General Stewart. They seemed to be well satisfied, even though we shivered in our sodden uniforms. The mobile kitchen has worked wonders, and we eat like kings at the moment. despite the harshness of the season, we could almost be enjoying our holidays except that we are nowhere near the sea.
We spend our time in training. Back to digging trenches, charging with full packs and with our bayonets fixed, from one end of a field to the next. How quickly 600 hundred man can turn a grassy field into a sea of mud! After only a few days, our camp looks like the front in miniature.
From home, the news is that the government is calling for conscription. The Military Service Act will force all men of military age to join up and fight. How times have changed! Only last year, conscription was regarded as the preserve of tyrants. Now we must employ it to fight them.
I have written to Mother, telling her that I am away from the front. At least now she has only George to worry about. Captain Cunningham has insisted on reading all letters out, saying that we can not give away any information that may be useful to the enemy. Even knowing that we are not near the front could be of value to them. Does that mean that we are to be sent elsewhere?
After a week or so, I began to feel rather home sick. We were still in our new camp, so far behind the lines, and whilst we were very busy bringing the new lads up to scratch, the repetition and relative safety of our position has proved difficult for some of us more experienced soldiers to get used to. After only a few days, I found myself barking at a small group who were failing to grasp the simple concept of digging a trench. It is not boredom that I feel, more a lack of any excitement. I dare say the weather hasn’t helped – it has snowed, rained and hailed in equal amount. My fellow NCOs feel a similar lack of enthusiasm. On the one hand, I should be grateful that I have escaped the daily risks of trench rotation for a short time, but on the other I want to be doing something other than digging, charging and cleaning kit.
I saw this picture in the Sunday Post this week. All four leaders of the foreign powers together. Only when I read the description did I realise that this photograph has been fabricated – they have never been in the same room together. And the say that the camera cannot lie!
Everyone was hoping for some sort of celebration the week of Burns night. Of course we had plenty of tatties and neeps, but we had to make do with salt beef instead of a haggis. A piece in the Sunday Post this week told what Rabbie Burn’s patriotism would have meant today. famed for his call for universal brotherhood, he was passionately against ‘ the mighty villains who desolate provinces and lay nations waste’ and was, of course a member of the local militia. I prefer his lines from ‘Scots Wha Hae’: Lay the proud usurpers low, Tyrants fall in every foe, Liberty’s in every blow, Let us do or die’ .
More drill and training the following week and the weather just as cold and wet. We spent our time getting clean and dry only so that we could get ourselves filthy and soaked again. There is a mix of men who have joined us. Some older family men, who try to get by exerting themselves as little as possible, and some younger ones for whom this is a great adventure. I remember that feeling well. The men have been split into sections – bombing sections, machine gun sections, and Danny and I are in the rifles section, which is the best one, of course. Each day, we go off and do our own practice. It takes my mind back to Barry Buddon, when I was training. Only this time, I am showing these men what to do. They know the basic drills, but they haven’t been tested much under live fire. There are certain tricks – how to speed up changing magazines and how to keep your barrel oiled and continue firing, for example that they don’t show you at home. These things can make all the difference. Each day we hold a competition amongst the men and make a note of the winners. There are some here who are naturals and they will be trained as snipers. We didn’t really have any before the war. The Hun have shown us how effective they can be, so now we shall have our own crack shots, picking off their officers and keeping every body’s heads down.
There has been more action than usual in the front lines. Even back here we can hear the guns. We instantly know if they are British or German and this week it has been our turn to take it. According to the papers we seem to be holding our own, though the French have given ground. Many of us are frustrated to be back here, when we could be helping, but we console ourselves in the belief that our turn will come.