Tag Archives: R C Sherriff

In a better mood

Sherriff’s two letters home showed him in a good mood, probably for three reasons. First, the weather had grown cold again, which was ‘much better …than the moist, rainy days that we have occasionally – when it freezes you have a good, hard surface to walk on in the trenches – when it thaws you get a sloppy walk all the way.’

Second, he was happy with the stretch of trench they were defending, as he told his mother:

‘We are having quite a good time up here, and we are in a much nicer spot than our previous one – touch wood, because you can never tell from one day to another how things are going to be – but in any case we have better billets and our dugout is very homely – it is a cellar and we have tables and chairs, a big mirror and pictures on the wall, and a chiffonier in which we keep our crockery etc – this is quite unusual for a front line dugout, and at mess in the evening with a party of 6 of us we are quite happy.’

The first page in Sherriff’s short story about a boisterous dinner party in the trenches of Cité Calonne, probably written in 1917-1918. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/3/8/1)

He assured her that he was with ‘very nice men’, although officers were always ‘coming and going.’ In fact, of the 10 officers who had been with his Company when he arrived, only three were left, the others having transferred to other Companies and Regiments. He was still enjoying his role as Mess President, although there was quite a lot of work involved in laying in sufficient provisions for long stays in the line – and also in ‘extracting subscriptions from the members’. But, happily, they had a new Mess Cook who was proving adept at cooking ‘wonderful dishes made of quite plain things’.

The third reason for the lightening of his mood, as he told Pips, was the fact that they were being relieved that very day, and moving into Divisional Reserve in Bully Grenay. He was probably cheered up, too, by his view that the war was going well, although he acknowledged that he had no additional information beyond what he read in the papers. But he was always glad to hear how the men from the Sun Insurance office were getting on: ‘I expect the last remaining “eligibles” are now being combed out and you are getting filled up with old men and girls – the office must look very funny now, as all London must.’

There was still no sign of any impending leave for him, and he told his mother that it seemed like years since he had last been home, but that on nice days, when everything was quiet, he could close his eyes and imagine himself standing in Home Park. But she needn’t worry that he was homesick: ‘I am never really lonely or miserable – I simply long to be home and long for the end of the war’.

[Next letter: 10  March]

I am quite well

‘We have come in for a spell of good mild weather,’ he told Pips, ‘and it is a great change to the biting cold that we have had such a lot of’.

Other than the weather there was very little to write home about, since they were still in the line, and he could not tell Pips where they were, nor really describe his surroundings [although we know from the battalion diary that he was in Cité Calonne]. He could at least say that they were ‘quite comfortable as regards dugouts’, and he promised that, ‘if I ever have the chance (as I greatly hope) after the war, I will have some very interesting things to tell you about the place we are in’.

Sherriff’s father Herbert, on their Battlefield Tour in 1921. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/9/7)

He complained that he had a bit of a cold (‘like nearly every one else has here at various times’), but not enough to get him sent home. He was longing for leave, but knew that it was still some way off. At least when it came, however, they would enjoy it much more because of the long time he had waited for it. Beyond that he had nothing much more to write, since ‘my descriptions of French people and things have rather run out’. He reassured his father that, even when he had nothing to say, he would simply write ‘letting you know I am quite well’.

[It is notable that, although Sherriff’s letters home are brief at this point, they are at least more frequent (three in successive days, six in a week) than they had been throughout February, when he was suffering with his neuralgia. It suggests that, as on previous occasions (and as would happen later), Sherriff was generally more agitated by the prospect of moving into the line (even when the move was far from imminent) than by actually being in the line.]

[Next letters: 8 March]

Thanks for the Veda bread

Still in the line in Calonne, Sherriff wrote to his mother to thank her for the parcel he had just received. He had particularly enjoyed the Veda bread [a soft, sweet, malted bread] that she had sent: ‘We had a dinner party last night and it came as a most pleasant surprise – it is such a change to this unsubstantial French bread and ration bread.’

He told her that he knew how much it cost to send his parcels, and that she should economise, by only sending small parcels with the cheapest things in:

‘I have heard how expensive things now are and I know what a difficulty it must be to get these things – so I will always appreciate anything you send me – the greater pleasure is not in getting a lot from you, dear, it is the idea of it coming from home that makes it nice. That Veda bread is really delicious and if it is not expensive I should love some more – everyone likes it.’

He told her that he was now Mess President to the Company, which involved a great deal of work in keeping accounts and laying in provisions, and promised to tell her more in his next letter.

[Next letter: 6 March]

Cité Calonne

Back in the trenches, rather sooner than he had expected, Sherriff apologised to Pips that he could tell him nothing about where they were, ‘but after the war I hope I shall have the opportunity of describing to you this most wonderful place’.

The ruins of Calonne in 1921, from Sherriff’s father’s account of their Battlefield tour. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/9/7)

[Whether he was being sarcastic here or not is difficult to say. He was obviously unhappy to be back in the line, but the place they were stationed – Calonne – had an interesting array of trenches running through the town. In a short story some written probably a year or two later (The Cellars of Cité Calonne) he describes their dugout as being in the basement of a large house, and sketches a merry evening dinner party with officers from many companies attending, suggesting that he did not find it as dreadful as other sectors he had been in.]

He told Pips that ‘We had some good route marching on our way here, and naturally with full pack etc you feel the strain when marching for long periods, but of all soldiering I like the route marching best of all’. [Clearly the happy memories of route marching stayed with him for the rest of his life, because in his Autobiography, published in 1968, he wrote that ‘I loved the route marches along the country lanes, singing the marching songs with the band ahead of us’.]

An account of Calonne, by Sherriff’s father, while touring the battlefields with his son in 1921. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/9/7)

Another part of soldiering he enjoyed, as long as it was quiet, was ‘wandering around trenches making maps’ – but not when there were missiles around. ‘It is a curious thing,’ he wrote, ‘that the more experience you have the more nervous you become – nearly all the men say the same thing, although of course there are exceptions’.

There was still no sign of leave on the horizon: ‘Days go by and weeks go into months [and] it is now getting on towards 6 months and I am afraid the prospect of leave is still fairly distant’. Since there were still several officers to go before him, it might still be a while before he had the chance to go home, but ‘meanwhile, we must be content to look forward’.

[Next letter: 5 March]

Stopped for a night

On the move with his battalion, Sherriff only had time to write two brief letters home. He explained to Pips that:

‘we had a long day’s march today, finishing up this evening in a fairly large town [Fouquieres] for the night, and we go on tomorrow, consequently my letters have been rather irregular and I am sorry, but as soon as possible I will continue my usual flow when I am able.’

He could not say exactly where he was, nor where he was headed, but he told his mother that: ‘We are going to new fields, which is a change from the old ones, which you get used to and gradually grow to dislike.’

A (slightly battered) tintype of Sherriff on a cycling tour with his father and sister Beryl c1907. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 3813/14/1/5)

Despite being fairly tired after his march, he told Pips that he had ridden to a nearby town on a bicycle to do some shopping [the Sherriffs, especially Pips, were very keen cyclists] – ‘the first time I had ridden a bicycle for nearly six months, and I kept getting on the wrong side of the road.’

He reassured Pips that he should not be alarmed if he were not to receive letters irregularly. He told him, as he had his mother the day before, that ‘should anything occur (wounded or even ill fairly seriously), you are quickly warned, so there is no need to worry…when you get letters irregularly it will probably be the faulty mail service.’ He apologised that his letters had been shorter and less interesting of late, but that was because his training in rest had been ‘fairly monotonous’, and he had already described the local French scenes in previous letters.

Captain Gerald Spence Tetley M.C., as drawn by Private Edward Cole of the 9th East Surreys. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: ESR/19/2/7/1-15)

He made no comment about the fact that his lethargy while in the officers’ rest home had slowed his letter writing, but he did comment to his mother that the time away from the line had helped:

‘I have now had a month from the line altogether – when I left it with Neuralgia I thought I could never go back again to the line, I felt so shaky. But I feel better now, calmer, and your letters never fail to cheer me up, dear…I have just read two long letters from you…two of the nicest letters that anyone could get.’

In the letter to his mother he enclosed a card which had been sent to him by Captain Tetley (‘In memory of New Year’s Day’), along with a letter case. Sherriff told his mother that ‘New Year’s day will always be memorable as I was with him all day from 3:00 in the morning till 2:00 in the afternoon, during which time we were shelled almost incessantly – and he gave me [the letter case] as a memento of the day’.

[Next letter: 4 March]

Packing to leave

Sherriff explained to his mother why today’s letter had to be brief:

‘I have been very busy all today getting ready to leave tomorrow, there is a great deal to do – inspections of men as well as our own kit to be seen to…I am going to my billet now to get my kit together, as we march off early tomorrow.’

He supposed that his mother felt all his letters were brief, but he explained that he had been ‘pretty busy’ over the last couple of weeks, although he had enjoyed ‘a fair amount of time for walks and going into nearby towns.’ In fact they had been to a nearby town the day before to see a Regimental Boxing match, but boxing did not interest him much.

He hoped he would have time to write her another, longer letter before they moved off, and he told her not to worry if she did not receive letters for several days: it was usually the fault of the mail, and in any case, ‘if anything happened you would very quickly be told, dear’.

[Next letter: 1 March]

A beautiful day

Sherriff wrote home to his mother, sounding more cheerful than he had in recent days:

‘Today is Sunday and one of the most beautiful days we have had this year, fine, sunny and crisp. I am going for a walk this afternoon into a large town nearby – quite a nice town, but not quite so big as one which we were near in the line.’ [As they were billeted in Bas Rieux, the town to which he was referring was most likely Lillers.]

Although it was Sunday, there had been no church parade, since there were few places big enough to accommodate it. They had used a YMCA hut the previous week, but another regiment was using it on this occasion, so they had to do without. He went on to describe his surroundings:

‘I am sitting in a big open room that looks out onto a farm yard where there are chickens, accompanied with the usual crowing and cackling that reminds me of home [the Sherriffs kept chickens in their garden in Hampton Wick]. There is an old dog chained in a corner and an old horse who patiently works on a machine for cutting chaff.’

Sherriff’s mother, in nurses uniform. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/6/6/3)

He reminisced about their walks together in Bushy Park, observing that ‘it must [be] getting that fresh green look again’. Thinking about it made him hope that it would not be long before he was given leave and could see it again. He was pleased that he had not known, when he first arrived in France, how long it would be before he would be given leave – he had thought it might be in three months, but here he was, five months later, still waiting, but hoping that he would not have to wait much longer.

His mother had obviously been working the night shift at the hospital, and he sympathised with her: ‘Night work is an awful strain, I know – and don’t you feel so tired after a full night awake. I expect you think it almost worthwhile to do it to appreciate the rest afterwards.’ As lunch was just about to arrive he had to bring his letter to a close, but not before reassuring her that he would try to write at least every other  day, ‘unless it is quite impossible’

[Next letter: 28 February]

A colleague arrives

He began his latest letter to Pips by apologising that his correspondence had been somewhat ‘irregular’ of late – partly because he had been busy, but also because ‘not sometimes feeling well, I have spent the time resting when  I should write letters’. However, since today was Saturday, and they had the afternoon free, he had at least time to write something now.

He expected that the Battalion would only have a few more days of rest before moving back to the line – in total it would have been out for a fortnight or so – a little less than he had hoped, ‘but that cannot be helped, I suppose’. There was still not much to write about: the village they were staying in was very small, not much more than three farms and a similar number of Estaminets. Their Mess was in a farmhouse, and the men lived in barns round about, ‘with plenty of straw to sleep on’. His daily routine was straightforward:

‘In the morning I walk down to Mess from my billet, about ten minutes walk, and after breakfast the men parade about 8 o’clock, and after inspecting them we carry on with Physical Drill, Bayonet fighting, Platoon Drill etc…much time is of course spent in cleaning up…and having losses replaced. This takes a lot of time and we are pretty well on the go from 7:00am until 4:00 in the afternoon, and, as I sometimes have bad headaches, I simply come in and lie down and forget to write letters to you.’

Letter to Pips, 24 February 1917 [misdated as 1916]. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/1/1/3/17)

He told Pips that a new officer, named Reynolds, had arrived in the Battalion, who had previously been in the Foreign Department of the Sun Fire Office: ‘I did not know for some time that he was in the office and it was only quite by accident that I found out – he asked me if I knew Barkus in the Artists and I told him he was in  my office and he said he was in his office too. Do you remember Reynolds?’ He hoped that Pips would gather together information about how the men in the office were doing, as he was always interested to hear it.

He had little time to write much more, since he owed letters to Bundy, Beryl and his mother. But  before finishing he wrote briefly about the prospect of leave: ‘Fancy – it is now nearly 5 months since I left home, but as yet no sign of leave’. Nor would there be soon, he feared, because there were about 15 officers ahead of him in the list, and even if one left every week (‘ which they don’t’), it would still be another 4 months before he got home: ‘Still, it is no good worrying about it – we must just wait and see.’

[Next letter: 25 February]

Same old training

Sherriff’s general depression and listlessness continued to restrict the number and length of the letters he sent home. Having written nothing for three days he now dashed off a quick one-page to his mother, telling her that he had been innoculated, which reminded him of the same thing happening while he was in the Artists Rifles – although this time it had only given him a ‘bad arm’, and he did not feel bad ‘personally’: nevertheless the arm itself was enough to earn him a day off.

Sherriff’s younger brother Bundy, in uniform, c1918. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/6/6/5)

Training was continuing much as usual:

‘We still go on with the same old training each day with nothing exciting to tell you about – we train just as we did in England, starting at 8 o’clock with physical drill and finish about 3 o’clock after which your time is your own, to either walk into the nearest town or read or do anything. I think I told you I had a little room at a farm as my billet with quite a nice bed.’

Although his letter writing had slowed down, he was continuing to receive letters from home: ‘I got a letter from you today, dear, also one form Beryl and one from Bundy’. He told her (as he had Pips, a few days earlier), that the parcels which had come for him while he was in the rest home had been consumed by the Mess (‘I told them to if any parcels came in while I was away, otherwise they would have gone bad or any pastry etc, stale’.)

And that was where he signed off, apologising that he had to go on parade.

[Next letter: 24 February]

A mood of depression

Sherriff wrote two letters to Pips today, and the variance in tone between the two is quite marked.

He begins his first letter rather brightly, commenting on the haul of letters he has received since being back at the Battalion: ‘About 7 from you, 6 from Mother, one from Beryl [his older sister], one from Bundy [his younger brother], one from Mr Freeth [his manager at the Oxford Street branch of Sun Insurance], and a New Year present from my old Company Commander [Captain Tetley] in the form of a letter case commemorating our New Year’s day, when we had a pretty hot time for 12 hours in the line [described here].’

He had been back with the Battalion for three days, he told Pips, and they were ‘resting’ a good way behind the line. Owing to censorship restrictions he could not tell his father his whereabouts, but we know from the Battalion Diary that A & B Companies were billeted at Bas Rieux; while C (Sherriff’s Company) and D Companies were at Can Trainne. He could, however, tell him something of what they were doing:

‘…although the word ‘rest’ is used we are on the go pretty well all day – from 8:30am to 4:00pm, the last hour being devoted to compulsory games, football chiefly, and some cross-country running is being arranged.’

He told Pips that he had gone for a 2-mile run the day before with another officer, and had found it ‘quite invigorating’. The training they were doing was much the same as they would do in England – ‘Physical drill, bayonet fighting, musketry etc. etc.’ They were billeted in small villages, with their Mess in a farm house. He was billeted in a farm house as well, while his platoon lived in a barn ‘with straw beds – very comfortable too’.

He ended his first letter of the day promising a longer letter later on, but, when the time came, a mood of depression appeared to have settled on him: ‘I cannot pull myself together properly to write a good letter… I feel all I want to do is to sit and do absolutely nothing…’.

He told Pips that, during the day, the men had been at the firing range, which had taken up most of their time, since ‘there was a march of some miles there and back’. Unfortunately there had been a thaw during the previous couple of days, so now there was little ice to be seen, and ‘the old programme of Mud, Mud, Mud, has started again.’

Perhaps it was the mud depressing him, or perhaps it was just the continuation of the ‘nervy feeling’ that had persisted for some weeks. Even at the officers’ rest station he had struggled to concentrate, and his letter writing had slowed to a crawl. Nor can it have helped that the Battalion’s time in rest looked likely to be shorter than he had anticipated: ‘We have now had just a week of [rest] and we have one more before we move back to the line again – I am afraid I don’t feel very much effect of the rest yet – I cannot get away from worrying’.

[He seems to have struggled to shake off the feeling of lethargy and depression, since his letters writing remained patchy during the following couple of weeks.]

[Next letter: 22 February]