My Dear Mother,
I received Edgar’s valuable information, it seems that we shall get that extra 9 bob which we can’t afford to turn our noses up at. At any rate, should Laycock’s coffers run dry, ‘twill be something to fall back on. And Mother, don’t you ever get downhearted, for you will yet live to be proud of your soldier lads. We may have been failures in civilian life, but from you we have learned in the direst of circumstances, to endure. You have taught, transmitted to me, surely also to Wilfred, something of your noble optimism, which as soldiers should stand us in good stead. If we should be honoured to fight for our country, I know nothing will shake the faith of my Mother, I know my Mother will look up into God’s sky of immeasurable blue, and see some beautiful sunset. The Hand of God who shall draw us all to some quiet corner, where we shall meet again that father whom we have here but transitorily known. My Mother, I know how well you love me and how ill I repay that love. Tonight we have been told that we shall surely fight, but well I know with what sublime optimism and courage you will bid me God-speed. No tears, for I am not a soldier Mother’s son? No, I shall see my Mother’s face made a little more beautiful by a little more sorrow, for was not the beautiful face of Jesus the face of “a man of many sorrows”? So, I present unto you what some would call the darker side of life – I am a funny lad – is not the darker side inexpressibly beautiful?
Bob
[Related Poem: Petworth, Training Winter 1914-15]
Dear Mother,
We came here last Monday, that is a section of us, to learn about the Machine Gun. Each battalion has two machine gun sections. I expect I was chosen because I am in the engineering trade. Cranleigh is a little larger than Petworth, at present the Oxford and Bucks regiment is billeted here, they form part of our Brigade. The work is very interesting, each of us must be able to read semaphore and be an efficient scout, which includes the reading of an Army Ordnance Map, the boxing of a compass, some knowledge of the stars, and also being an efficient rangefinder. Added to this we must, of course, thoroughly understand the machine gun, so we have lots to do in a short time. After this we rejoin our regiment at Aldershot, to fire another course, with a new rifle, on Ash Ranges. My leaving Petworth was most unfortunate, for I had arranged for Wilfred to come over. I think I shall have to borrow Mr Russell’s bike and run down to Portsmouth next weekend. We are having much better weather here. I have just returned from church. I heard from Badger yesterday, he has now another stripe and is full Corporal. I have good hopes of getting one now I’m in the M/G section. Did you receive the rabbits alright? Mr Russell is a gardener and he was able to get them for nothing, so I’d only 6d carriage to pay. Goodbye Mother! I’m in perfect health and living like a fighting cock here, it even runs to ham and eggs for breakfast. Love to all,
Your loving Son,
Bob
Dear Mother,
I don’t want to overwhelm you with letters, but I think that by now you will have had ample time to digest the one I sent with Walker yesterday. You will be thinking I only write when I want money, certainly I am very selfish, but I received such a fine new suit last week that I think it would be nothing short of treason did I neglect to have it’s photo taken. There being no “Nan Ralty’s” here, I must needs go to the only artist in the village, who, for a little extra charge, cannot fail to make me look beautiful. The chief feature of Cranleigh, like Crawford, is the abundance of old maids. Now, old maids were ever vain, and the Cranleigh photograph, being a man of some insight and having constantly through the medium of his photographs to appeal to the vanity of the old maids, has become quite adept in all those subtle touches which constitute the art of photography. So, it is with good reason I go to him. Surrey is a beautiful county; last Friday we went on a route march, and I was surprised at the very big hills we encountered. On one particularly large one we marched up, with a notice at the bottom “too steep for motors”, we were continuously ascending for at least three miles, the last mile being much steeper than Derbyshire Lane. On the top was a pine forest, in which we sat down for a time. A pine forest here is different from the ones met with in Derbyshire. The trees are gigantic and to be among them is very impressive; the forests are also very extensive, one can walk for miles with nothing on either side but these monster trees. No intervening hedge marks the difference twixt forest and road, so it is not surprising to find lots of Gypsies taking advantage of the fact. The Surrey lanes too are charming, most of the old cottages are white washed outside, in various patterns, and look very picturesque. My landlady is the veriest of Cockneys, she always addresses her husband as “Myte”, and is continuously saying “Gawd luv a duck”! Yet she makes a lovely pastry, and her chief thought seems to be the replenishment of our tummies. We have ham and eggs often, or a couple of boiled eggs each, for breakfast; seeing as she could get at least 2d each for the eggs I think she is a sport. One day last week we had hare for dinner, also she makes Yorkshire puddings, so I’m alright, “not arf”! Mr Russell has a bike which I can always borrow. Last week I ran into Guildford on it. I expect we shall be going back to Aldershot Feb 15th, whether we, the M/G section will rejoin the regiment or not, I cannot say. We may be sent to Gunnery school. I will write to Badger and see if he has heard any more from Laycock’s. Did Muncaster say what kind of Government work Laycock’s had got? Have had a card from Wilf this morning, he has gone to the Isle of Wight this weekend, “not on pleasure” he says. Well, I’ll try and write to you oftener, and don’t worry. Love to all,
Your loving son,
Bob
Dear Margaret,
I have just returned from All Saints Church, where we have had a short service. The service was very enjoyable, there was something fine about listening to 2,000 deep untrained soldier’s voices, singing “Onward Christian Soldiers”. Whatever else a soldier may be, he never scoffs at religion, he is always whole hearted in church. Hanging over the centre aisle of the church are the “colours” of different regiments brought safely through various campaigns. Most of them are in tatters, held together by a canvas background; the walls of the church are just covered with marbled tablets, each in memory of some brave man who died for his country. Confronted with these things, these actualities, “Tommy Atkins” begins to think; he sees in those “colours” kept flying by great daring and bravery, the divine working of God. Tomorrow he may be playing 1/2d nap, but today he is with what soul he possesses asking God for protection and strength. As regards Missionary Work, now my conception of God may be wrong but it shall be generous! God will not punish the heathen, and not by word of mouth but by example will they be taught, the example of the Christian races has already borne fruit.
I had a nice letter from Edgar yesterday, he says he’ll have the tennis court ready for when I come home, which will be champion. I think I shall be coming home in my full rig-out a fortnight or three weeks hence, for six days. Thistle sent me a card from Salisbury, where she has been staying a short time. Edgar says Wilfred looks well but smokes too many cigarettes! He asks me to persuade him to smoke less, but I’ll have to give it up myself first. We have been firing another course for our efficiency pay this week; without doing anything wonderful I have just managed to obtain the required number of points. We were drilled by the Battalion Sergeant Major the other day, and a rough time we had of it too. The boys call him “Lightning”. I will try to give you an impression of what he is like. He strode on to the parade ground with his little stick under his arm and walked along the front of the first company, glancing sharply at us as he passed. Then he strode away, quite 50 yards from us, and before we knew what had happened he had got us. One word sounding like a pistol shot brought us to attention; four more, three of them short and the last one like the blast of a trumpet, and we were on the march. Every man gripped his rifle, squared his shoulders, shut his teeth, and opened his eyes and ears, for we all knew “Lightning” well enough to know that not a fraction of a second’s inattention would be possible. “Look to your front men, left, right, left, right, by the left, steady, steady, steady, by the left, don’t wag your heads like a team of horses on a May morning! Rifleman Oates, get into step. Now mind this deploying on the march! There’s a man in the rear rank of C Corps with his eyes glued to the ground. Look up man, you’ve dropped no money there, you spent your last pay in the canteen last night. You’re dancing like a troupe of ballet girls in a pantomime! March men, march for the love of heaven! By the left. Oh, march men. Will you march, God bless you. You can’t deploy until you can march. That’s better, keep the time. Forward by the left, oh, close up men, close up – this isn’t the Lord Mayor’s Show! Front turn, smartly, smartly!!” I think that will be sufficient to give you an idea of what B.S. Major is like, “Lightning” is going to France tomorrow, he is a good soldier and we are sorry to lose him. What beats me is that he drinks like a fish and yet can the following day, after a carousal, obtain possibles on the range. Will you ask Mother if she will let me have another 5/- please? Well goodbye Skinny, tell Mother and Maud I’ll write to them soon.
Love to all.
Bob
Dear Mother,
I have just returned from a rough day’s work, wet through but happy. The manoeuvres I told you of have not yet come off fortunately; I should not like to sleep out tonight, for here real April weather prevails. Strong winds, with, at intervals, heavy rains. Tomorrow we are to have another big day. We shall breakfast at 5am and leave here at 6am, returning in the evening; I love these long days, especially when contending with the elements. Badger and I had quite a comfortable journey down on Sunday night. We travelled first class down to London, with only five in the compartment, then, after a rush across London in the tube, we managed to catch the 11:20pm to Aldershot. We were again fortunate in our choice of a compartment, there were only four of us so we managed to sprawl on the seat and snatch a brief sleep. Arriving at the barracks about 12:30am, I found my bed prepared, so had nothing to do but to drop into it. I was very glad I caught the 7pm train from Sheffield, for the sleep I was able to get came to my aid during the stiff day we had on Easter Monday. I had no wish to oppose the family traditions, so left my belt at Edgar’s; also I did not leave those nice white handkerchiefs, however, I will not use them and will post them home. Alice and I, after leaving Edgar’s on Sunday night, met Willie Muxlow and his wife in the fields. They detained us and Mrs Muxlow asked lots of ?’s, “Do you want to go?” etc. I felt in a curious position, I’ll never forget the sorrowful expression on her face, I knew it to be genuine too. Mother, surely we are all God’s children, why do we forget this? Why will learned men, kings etc., with all their pomp and scientific investigation, lose sight of this simple fact, when a true acceptance of it would have saved us the hideousness of this war?
Goodbye and love to Skinny.
Your loving son,
Bob
NOTE: Mrs Muxlow is German.