Sheriff told Pips that he had set out for his sniping course the previous day:
‘I mounted into a cart (something like a baker’s, only driven by a soldier and drawn by a mule) and we dawdled off along the dusty, cobbled road away from the rumble of the guns in the direction of the hills away to the west.’
The journey was not without incident, some of which he described in detail:
‘It was hot – and the mule was not inclined to hurry – and if a mule decides that it can’t hurry no thrashing in the world will alter its decision. We passed wagons and guns and soldiers and generals in motor cars – motor cyclists and push cyclists – men in fighting kit with rifles marching towards the front – men in loose tunics, marching with towels towards the baths, and occasional old French and Belgians in odd assortments of clothes ambling along in farm wagons…I asked a policeman the way – he pointed to a big building with towers in the distance – “It is up there” he said – and I looked forward to the view. We rumbled along past little villages and down dusty lanes till we began to climb a long hill. Soon the old mule stopped dead; we got out and he went on – that’s what he stopped for; up and up we went and the view gradually unfolded itself – still upwards to a great old monastery – the building with the towers.’
The building had previously been a hotel, and, after reporting his arrival to the school he was shown to his bedroom, where he tucked away his valise and had a wash. Thereafter he went down to chat to the other officers who had just arrived, and then went for a walk along the ridge:
‘The view from here is magnificent and unique – and as the sun set – gloriously over the great flat plain to the west – the east side darkened and showed up the flash of guns and the rumble of the incessant artillery.’
Were it not for the fact that he was anticipating leave once he returned to his Battalion, he could happily have stayed there for the remainder of the war.
In a separate (and much briefer) letter to his mother he said little about his surroundings, instead thanking her for the parcel she had sent – containing cake and Veda bread, and also a match box which he was very pleased with:
‘It is a thing I will treasure as a present from you on my 21st birthday – there is nothing “gaudy” about it, dear, it is just what I knew you would choose, and just what I wanted – that and my ring are two little things I shall always be happy with.’
Unfortunately, he told her, the parcel had arrived just as he was leaving camp, so he had not been able to sample the cake – but he was sure he would hear all about it from the other officers when he returned to the Battalion – which (as he mentioned to Pips) was likely to be around the 21st. He hoped that, very soon afterwards, he would finally be allowed home on leave.
[Next letter: 16 June]