Last night’s duty had been very lively – the Germans had sent over some trench mortar shells, caving in the trenches behind Ersatz crater [see the trench map posted on 11 October]. He told Pips that he had to call out 6 men and a corporal to dig out the trench: ‘It is a shame to route them out in the middle of the night…but it has got to be done as we cannot have a trench fallen-in in the day time or the snipers would spot us climbing over.’

This morning things were quiet, and the beautiful clear day encouraged aerial activity. ‘There was a continual fire kept up against each other’s aeroplanes, but damage is rarely done to them as they fly so high and it is fascinating to see the little white puffs of smoke appear all round the machines.’ All the time on duty he had to keep looking up for Minnies, ‘like a thrush…when he is pulling worms out of a lawn – he keeps stopping and looking up to see if all is well’. Anxiety about the Minnies may have been part of the reason that, as he told his mother, ‘we have several cases of men suffering from nerves, and really it is enough to make them suffer – but the rest will do them good.’

Sherriff’s sketch of Vimy Ridge. Memories of Active Service, page 97. By permission of the Surrey History Centre, Ref: 2332/3/9/3/2

He told his father that both sets of trenches were ‘chiefly built up of sandbags, and each holds the opposite crests of a hill, the top being between the two lines. Thousands of men were lost on both sides in driving the Germans over this crest and the way he fought for the ground he lost may be judged by the fearful destruction he left behind.’ [In fact the ‘hill’ was Vimy Ridge, and while he could not say so at the time, he later sketched out what he meant.]

He was still angling for goodies in his parcels – ginger cakes again,  or preserved ginger he told his mother, assuring her that, while all the parcels were shared in the Mess, ‘I think my parcels are best of course.’ He told her that he was very comfortable in the dugout, with lots of books and papers, and good food. The gramophone was still going strong as well, and ‘is a great thing for cheering you up’, although he would like to hear something more classical instead of just ragtime.

There was no chance of leave anytime soon, he told Pips: there were men who had already been out for six months who had not yet been back home. But he was trying to be as philosophical as possible. He might get home wounded or sick, or he might make it through unscathed (‘which has got to fall to the lot of a certain number out here’); but if the worst happened, it would only be, as Marcus Aurelius said, ‘a piece of nature’s work, and all nature’s work is well planned and necessary.’ In the meantime, he would just keep on ticking off the days until the time of peace came. He had decided that he would not, however, be keeping a diary (beyond a list of the names and places to which he was sent): instead, ‘These letters will form my chief diary’.

[Next letter 18 October]