Part 2

The 6th Cameronians crossed from Southampton to Havre on Saturday, 20th March, 1915. The story of their arrival there, and of their first experience of the trenches, is told at length in the following letters:--

MARCH 23, 1915.

I am writing this in the train between ---- and ----! This doesn't convey much information about our whereabouts, does it? ... On Saturday afternoon we got our horses and vehicles on to our ship straight from the train. The horses were led up an inclined gangway and were arranged in rows close beside one another on two decks, and the vehicles were hoisted into the holds by cranes.... We cast off from the quay about 7 p.m. and set forth upon our voyage. John and I were the only officers of our Battalion in our ship, and between us we had 50 men and 48 horses. There were other portions of regiments on board too and about 600 horses. The main part of our Battalion went over in a fast ship, and the remainder of our transport vehicles and horses crossed in a third ship, so we were pretty well split up. When we slipped out of Southampton Harbour and reached the open sea, the moon just gave enough light to show us that two of our grand Navy's silent watchers had slipped quietly alongside of us, one on the port beam and the other on the starboard. We watched them late into the night, and sometimes they seemed little more than black shadows on the surface of the water, and sometimes came so near that we could make out their shapes, and saw that they were torpedo boat destroyers. Not a light showed either on our ship or on our escorts. Fortunately the sea was calm and the crossing quiet. We left Southampton at about 7 p.m., and next morning we wakened up to find ourselves in a large bay or estuary whose name I cannot give. There were many other ships round about us, and a big Hospital one lay quite near us. This was Sabbath morning. About 10 o'clock we got the anchor up and steamed inside the harbour, and then tugs got hold of us and got us alongside the quay. We soon got the horses ashore into a big shed, and tied them up there. Then the dock cranes hoisted out our vehicles, and by 4.30 the last vehicle was ashore. Next we got the horses harnessed into them, and started off on a five miles' march through the streets of the town and up a winding hill to a camp where we were to stay the night. Everything was under canvas, and the horses were picketed out in the open, and it was bitterly cold. I slept--or tried to sleep--with two others in a tent with a wooden floor, and except for the cold it was all right. There was to be an inspection of transports next morning at 8 a.m., so we were up before six getting the horses watered and fed and harnessed, and the men given their breakfast. The inspecting officer turned up at 9.30! About 2.30 p.m. everything was packed up, and we moved off again down the hill to one of the goods stations of the town. We got there at 4.30, watered the horses again, and by 7 o'clock had all the horses and vehicles into the train. These days have been very strenuous, but we have got through it all wonderfully well. Some of the mules have been very obstinate in refusing to be led into the railway trucks; where persuasion has failed I got a strong rope, passed it round their hind quarters and put three men on either end of the rope. This was always successful! At 8 p.m. we were under way again. Before starting we got some hot cocoa and tea issued to us, and, after our hard work and fast of about seven hours, there seemed nothing quite so good! This time, instead of splitting up the Battalion into three trains as in our country, and running them at a fast speed, they put everything, that is men, horses and vehicles, on one long train of about fifty coaches, and trundled us along at about 25 miles an hour. It is now about noon-day on Tuesday, and we are still going along in a north-easterly direction to a destination unknown. Two Hospital trains have already passed us going the other way. The men have wrought very well. The French railways use exactly the same sort of trucks for horses as for troops, and each truck is marked on the outside:--Men 40, Horses 8. They do sprinkle a little straw on the trucks where the men are, but that is the only difference. There are, of course, no seats of any kind. The horses are put parallel to the rails in two rows of four facing each other, and all the saddlery and harness goes in the space in the centre; also two men to look after them. Their head-ropes are tied to rings in the roof of the truck (which is covered), and the strong breast-rope is fastened in front of each row and made fast to the sides of the truck. Each horse has his nose-bag hung round his neck. The country is very flat; a good deal of it has been ploughed and is being harrowed. Some of the lines we have passed over are anything but main lines, and a great many of the wayside signals are being wrought by women.

WEDNESDAY MORNING, 24TH INST.

We have passed one night in billets, and go on to-day to join our Brigade.

MARCH 25, 1915.

It is about 5 o'clock on Thursday afternoon, and I am sitting in the little house where some of us are billeted, and I shall try to begin again where I left off in my first letter. I finished my last letter rather hurriedly, so that it could go off at once. I had got to the point where we were just starting off to march to join our Brigade. We left at about 10 a.m. and reached the place where we now are about one o'clock yesterday. That was Wednesday. We are not quite at our destination yet, as we are to move a few miles away to-morrow, and I suppose that will be as nearly the end of our journey as we can judge just now. The travelling has been pretty constant since we left Falkirk last Friday night, and we have just gone on and on, so that I have to stop and think what we did each day and night.... Monday night was spent ... trundling along at about 25 miles an hour, and also the most of Tuesday. We got to the end of it at 5.15 p.m., and by about 6.45 I had my transport off the train, and the horses and mules all harnessed and hooked to their vehicles, ready to go to spend the night in billets, when the rain came down. It poured. The men of the Battalion were all right, but my wretched transport horses had to spend the night in a field that had been used for a similar purpose before and was inches deep in mud. We put the blankets on them and, of course, they lay down in the mud, and everything was such a pleasing sight next morning! I slept that night in the same room as the Adjutant in an empty house. I lay down on my valise and blankets on the floor about 11 o'clock and slept with few wakenings till six in the morning. I got up then and went to my muddy field to see to the watering and feeding of my 72 beasts. Then, as usual, the blankets and cooking utensils had to be collected from the Battalion billets, and everything belonging to the transport picked out of the mud and got on the road ready for the march. Several times my big wagons stuck in the mud, but we got them out again. It was about one o'clock when we reached the little village where we now are, and all along the road troops got more and more numerous, and motor-cars, motor-ambulance wagons, motor-transport wagons came and went in continuous streams, and we knew we were getting nearer the centre of things. To-day has been wet, and mud is even thicker than usual. I had my clothes off for the first time last night since leaving Falkirk. There is some rumour of baths or tubs of some sort being available not far away, but we have not yet sought them out. They say that we are not far from the trenches, but we shall get reliable information soon on that point, as our four Company Commanders,--Captains McKenzie, Brown, Boyd and Murray,--are going into them to-morrow night without any other officers or men of our Battalion with them, just to see what things are like. So far as one can judge from the sound of the guns, this portion of the line appears to be comparatively peaceful. There have been several loud bangs this afternoon that sounded not far away, but there were not very many of them altogether. The roads here are narrow, and the centre portion of them is paved with square-shaped blocks of stone; the sides are of mud, thick, deep mud, churned up by passing traffic.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1915.

I sent off my letter to you to-day, and now it is 7 o'clock and we are ready for our evening meal. We have moved into new quarters since morning, but not far away from yesterday's billets. There are eight officers at Battalion Headquarters. They are the Colonel, Major Shaw, the Adjutant, Dr. London, Lieutenant Hamilton (Quartermaster), Captain Lawrie (Machine Gun Officer), the Interpreter and myself. We sleep on the floors of different rooms of an empty house and take meals at a round table that just holds eight. Thus far we are most fortunate, but I suppose we must look for many changes. We have candle light only, and our candlesticks are usually empty bottles. The water throughout the whole countryside is not considered safe to drink without boiling, and it is best to filter it and then boil it. The troops drink a great deal of tea, and no doubt this accounts for the absence of illness that would otherwise have resulted if the water had been drunk unboiled. The country is painfully flat, and everywhere along both sides of the roads there are ditches with stagnant water in them, but I suppose the open air life of the people counteracts these unwholesome influences ... The weather has stopped raining, and my transport field is beginning to dry up. I had a hot bath to-day--my first bath of any kind since leaving Falkirk. It was down in the basement of a disused brewery, and two big zinc baths had been arranged on a concrete floor, and a hose pipe led into it from a big boiler above. The place is now used as a laundry for washing the clothes of the troops, so I put on a complete change of raiment and felt much refreshed.

P.S.--_Sabbath Forenoon_. We have just had a short voluntary Service in a billet that was a school. The Colonel read some portions of the Prayer Book and a Lesson, and we sang the 100th Psalm to Old Hundred, and 'O God of Bethel' to Salzburg. There was no instrument of any kind available, so I had to raise the tunes myself. We all had our caps off, and the men sang well. To-day is dry but very cold. I have many people to thank for letters, but hope to do it through time. I am very well, and hungry for every meal.

SABBATH, MARCH 28, 1915.

We have now been exactly one week on the other side of the Channel, and the time has passed so quickly that it seems much shorter than that.... We are staying in a little village not many miles to the south-west of a fair-sized town.[1] The village was at one time occupied by the Germans, and there is evidence of them in abundance. Great numbers of the inhabitants have left their homes and gone elsewhere. Some of them have taken their belongings with them and left their houses empty, and others have gone hurriedly and left everything. The troops are allowed to billet in these empty houses, and, in the case of the full ones, notices have been posted up on the doors forbidding any soldier to enter (except by order of an Officer during the course of an action) on pain of being charged with looting.... The Germans dropped a few shells on this village to-day, and some of them exploded near us, and fragments were picked up with considerable interest. Some of our officers have been up to the trenches to see what things are like. The trenches are about a mile away from our billets, and on this portion of the line there happens to be good cover to screen the approach of troops from the enemy's observation, so that one can go from here right to the trenches in the day time. At other portions of the line this is only possible after darkness has fallen.... I shall probably go to-morrow to see what my duties will be when the Battalion takes its tour of duty in them. The Battalion goes on duty in the trenches for six days at a time, but each half Battalion is relieved by the other half after three days' duty. Then at the end of the six days I believe we go a good deal further back and rest for some days. My transport are all in a field about a mile further back than this, and I go there in the early morning before breakfast to see to them, and return here for meals.

[1] Armentières.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1915.

To-day is specially busy, as the Battalion goes to-night to take its turn in the trenches, but there has not been much firing in our portion of the line recently.... I have been riding a good deal, and shall ride more this coming week probably, because my transport is in a field about three miles from the trenches, and I have got to get backwards and forwards all the time.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1915.

Did I tell you?--I don't think I did--that I had my first experience of the trenches on Wednesday night, which was the first night the Regiment took over its section of the line[2] from an English Regiment of Territorials who are out beside us. It was full moon and a splendid night for seeing,--and being seen! I went round the section of the line allotted to our Battalion with the Colonel and Major Shaw, but I don't think I was in the trenches for more than perhaps an hour and a half altogether. It was a weird sight under the moonlight. The line is very zig-zag and irregular--more so than I had expected to find. It is pretty narrow, and not always easy to pass along behind the men, but every here and there to the rear are what are called 'dug-outs'--simply big holes in the clay, with wooden frames supporting some sort of roof which gives head cover. Some of these have a little straw in them, and everyone has a little brazier for cooking--it is usually just a pail with holes in the sides of it---and cooking goes on nearly all the time. The men use their mess tins to make their tea and fry their bacon and cook their eggs (when they get them), and make their stew at all times of day and night when they are not actually standing to arms. We have loopholes and periscopes and trench-pumps (for the water). They are a good deal drier now than they have been all winter, but even yet there are places in our section that I measured with a stick to be eighteen inches deep in water on either side of the board that forms the platform. Out in front of our line, between us and the Germans, are our barbed wire entanglements and what are called our 'listening posts.' You get out to these by going flat along a ditch with the clay thrown up on one side to give some head cover.

[2] This was at 'La Bouttelerie,' near Fleurbaix.

Just now there are three of us living in one room of this farm--the Quartermaster, the Interpreter, and myself. We sleep in it, cook in it, and take our meals in it, and through it the farmer himself has to pass on his way to and from his bedroom which opens off it. Fortunately there is a window which can open. Needless to say, many a thing wants washing, and your store of soap would be well-nigh exhausted before things were made right, but we don't mind that much. We wash at the pump in the farm-yard which is just outside the door. The pump again is just six feet away from a large square manure and straw heap which forms the centre of the farm-yard, and round this square the farm buildings are placed; and these contain the farmer and his family, the pigs, the hens, the horses, the calves, the rabbits and the dogs and the rats! In a field at one side are my horses, mules and wagons--there they sleep, and from there they go forth daily to do their work.

There are characteristic touches in some shorter letters a little later--characteristic of James's mechanical ingenuity on the one hand, and of his love of music on the other:--

SABBATH NIGHT, APRIL 4, 1915.

Things have been very quiet to-day, possibly because it is Easter Sunday. While you were at Church this morning, I was mending a little bridge over a ditch that forms the entrance to my transport field, and, later in the day, I had to ride several miles to see the new billets.

FRIDAY EVENING, APRIL 23, 1915.

There isn't much news this evening to tell you about. The day has been filled up so far as it has gone by various duties, none of them of special importance. I have been working a good deal of late at deadening the noise made by my wagons on the road. A good deal of improvement has already been effected, both on the wagons themselves and on the harness, so that they are less likely to be heard at a distance on quiet nights, as they go up to the trenches.

MONDAY, MAY 3, 1915.

I had a treat this afternoon. I went to the Church of this town, which is quite a large building with coloured glass windows. Many candles were burning at the Altars and Shrines, the sun was shining on the coloured lights, and the organ was being played. Oh, what a sound it is to hear in the midst of such surroundings after six weeks of silence! The louder it swells, the higher it lifts you through heights that are limitless in the grandeur of their feeling.... To-night I can hear the Church chimes striking 9.30, and what a strange sound it is to the accompaniment of the crack, crack of the rifles as they go off, not many miles away, but quite distinct in the stillness.

It was some weeks before they had their real Baptism of Fire. The story of that also must be told in Captain Lusk's own words:--

10.45 p.m., MONDAY NIGHT,

MAY 10, 1915.

I am pretty tired to-night, but I must write a line to let you know that I am well and safe, and so are John and Erskine and all our other Officers. We have all been through a big fight--the others have been more in the centre of it than I have. Regiments near us have suffered heavily, but we have been particularly fortunate. But I must tell you about it to-morrow. I had an experience last night between 9 and 11 p.m. that you can have no conception of. Our side started an attack by the usual Artillery bombardment of the German lines, followed by an Infantry advance.[3] This advance was not made by our Battalion, who remained in the same line of trenches throughout the fight.

[3] This was near La Cordonnierie.

Fighting continued all day, and got worse when night fell. It was my duty as Brigade Transport Officer to get into touch with Brigade Headquarters and make arrangements regarding the bringing up of rations or whatever else was required.

I went along a road running parallel to the trench line, and I got along it and back again alive because God was keeping me. There is no other explanation possible, for cover there was none. Your prayers had done it. It was dark, but a farm with its hay-stacks was blazing on the left of this road, on the right were our own guns shooting shell after shell over my head. The German guns were answering, and round about me right, left, in front, behind their shells were bursting with terrific noise, and rifle bullets were coming across, now in front, now behind, now overhead, with that whistle that we know so well.

Through it all I came untouched, and as I went and came again there was given me a wonderful feeling of confidence that took away all fear, and I knew that hands were being held up for me by my own.

It quietened down towards morning, and to-day it has been almost calm and quiet. No ground has been gained by us and nothing lost, and we are back to normal conditions, and very thankful it is over. I am perfectly well, and so are the others.

TUESDAY, MAY 11, 1915.

I wrote to you hurriedly last night, and am trying to take more time to-day to tell you more about things that have been taking place these last days. Now that things are over, there does not appear to be any objection to telling what took place. We knew more than a week ago that we were to make an attack on a certain date which would be given us later, and great preparations were made for it, and had indeed been going on for many weeks. Engineers spent weeks and weeks in widening main roads leading towards the trench line, and nearer the time more batteries of artillery were brought up, more infantry, more engineers, more signallers, some cavalry and more field ambulances.

At last we were told that the attack would commence at an early hour on Saturday morning, May 8th. Our Battalion was given its position in the assembly trenches (in rear of main trench), and given its orders as to direction of advance and its objective on the other side of the German trenches. Every man carried two days' rations on him and 250 rounds of ammunition, and, besides this, great stores of both rations and ammunition were heaped behind our main trenches. One night some weeks ago my transport took up to one of these stores 500,000 rounds for the use of a certain section of the trench line.

Great-coats and blankets were left behind; and men, and Officers too, carried a Cardigan jacket and waterproof sheet in addition to other necessaries such as mess tin, water bottle, entrenching tools and haversack, till everyone felt just like a Christmas tree.

On Friday evening it was raining, but we were all quite cheerful, and the feeling I had reminded me very much of the feeling one always has as one sits in an Eight in the middle of the river, stripped, and waiting for the starting gun to go!

The Battalion was all ready to march off to its assembly trenches in rear of the main trench, when an order came from the Brigade that operations were postponed for 24 hours and that all orders held good for the following day.

I happened to be senior of all the six Transport Officers in the Brigade, and so I was told that I would perform the duties of Brigade Transport Officer, and that all orders for movement of the transport of all six Battalions would be sent to me direct from the 8th Divisional Headquarters. There are four Regular Battalions and two Territorial Battalions in our Brigade.

At two minutes to five o'clock on Sunday morning our Artillery bombardment started, and continued for two hours, tapering off after the first hour and a half. It was my duty to stay back with the Brigade transports about three miles from the trenches. Everything was ready to move at a moment's notice, and I could do nothing but await orders.

About 7.30 the first motor-ambulance came down the road leading from the trenches with wounded on it, then they became more frequent, then groups of men and single men came walking back with slight wounds to arms and hands, then more ambulances with lying-down cases in them, and men sitting beside the drivers with bandaged heads.

Then the stream seemed to stop for several hours and only a few came back at intervals.

You can imagine how we who were kept back watched all this.

Despatch-riders on motor-cycles came tearing along the road in both directions. There was no speed limit; they passed like streaks. Mounted orderlies came back from our Artillery positions at full gallop, and we knew that it was ammunition that they had been sent for. Later on up the road came the teams with their loads, team after team of six horses, some at the trot but most at the gallop, with their riders sitting tight with their right arms over the shoulders of their off horses. The limbered wagons with their load of shells rattled behind the horses' hoofs. Towards the afternoon things seemed to be a little quieter, and rumours came back about all sorts of things. Then, after all that waiting, my turn came at last. Just before eight o'clock p.m., a Despatch rider on a motor-cycle brought me a message from the Headquarters of the Division.