Still waiting to hear…

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Two letters to Pips today – but the first was brief – just a quick line to let him know that he’d been busy, and that a trip to the Adjutant of the Royal Engineers would take at least a couple of hours, because he was a long walk away. He speculated that perhaps it might have something to do with his application for a transfer. But when he wrote again upon his return to his dugout he seemed rather disappointed that it had only been about a problem with the men’s pay.

Another dugout - this time from the Broadway production of Journey's End, 1929. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/6/3/1/1)

Another dugout – this time from the Broadway production of Journey’s End, 1929. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/6/3/1/1)

He apologised to Pips for not having written for the past 4 days, but he had been much busier, fitting out the men with new clothes, and visiting more places during his nighttime tours of duty, so that he felt drowsier during the day, and was inclined to sleep rather than write his letters: ‘But I must in future see that the proper supply of correspondence is kept up’.

The work was still going well, and he was still quite enjoying it. He had heard that, the next time the Battalion came out of the line [they had gone back in the previous day, relieving the Queens Regiment in Hulluch] the men in his party were to be relieved, but he was not yet sure whether that would apply to him as well, although he hoped not. He also had not heard about his possible transfer to the RE, but he was occupying his time in studying his mining books, so that if he were sent to them on probation he would ‘know something of the job’. One of the other advantages of the RE, he thought, was that they gave better leave than the Infantry, so that if he transferred he might be able to get home sooner.

He thanked Pips for the contents of yet another parcel: ‘You struck exactly the right things…ginger, almonds and raisins, and chocolate and ye olde Turner Peppermints are appreciated more than  anything else…’. He noted that Christmas was just a month away, and commented that: ‘although lonely, I should like to look forward to spending Christmas here rather than with the Battalion. I am sure we should make ourselves pretty comfortable.’

[Next letter: 27 November]

Too busy to write

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The letter home to his mother today was:

‘Just a very short scribble to tell you I have been very busy all today inspecting men etc and have only just come in and had tea and the Corporal is waiting for the letters. I will write to you properly if possible tomorrow – this is just to show you I have not forgotten my promise to write every day in turn to you, then Pips, and so on. Please tell Bundy I am writing him some poetry etc which will follow shortly.’

[Unfortunately almost none of Sherriff’s scribblings to Bundy survive – nor does any of his poetry.]

[Next letter: 25 November]

A reluctant C.O.

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After seeing the Engineers officer on the Sunday, and Nobby Clark on the Monday, today it was time for him to see his Commanding Officer:

‘He did not seem exactly pleased about it. He is a new C.O. since I left the Battalion and he seemed to think I was trying to get a soft job – as a matter of fact it certainly is not always a soft job…after some palaver he initialled my application which I immediately took up to the Major of the R.E.s who said that the C.O.’s initials were hardly enough and he would write to our C.O. about it…The C.O. seemed very reluctant about it – he said he did not know me well enough to give me a “character” and I had not had enough experience of trench warfare etc.’

If the transfer did go through, he told Pips, he expected that he’d be posted to the Engineers on a month’s probation to the mining company: if he proved efficient he would stay with them, and if not he’d be sent back to the Battalion.

A ‘letter card’ from Pips, with pictures of Burnham Beeches [about 20 miles to the north-west of Hampton Wick] was a ‘pleasant reminder of the good old days of peace’, and prompted some reminiscences: ‘I well remember calling at the Bells of Ouseley [in Windsor, a few miles away] for a drink, and filling the old stone bottles with beer and water (not mixed, of course)…and the village cricket match too – it is curious how well these things stand out in one’s memory.’

[Next letter: 22 November]

A year to the day

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‘A year ago today I joined the Artists Rifles’, he told Pips, in the second half of the letter begun yesterday: ‘It hardly seems a year but in some ways it seems 3 or 4’.

He told both parents that he had been round to see the Battalion Adjutant [Lt C.A. (Nobby) Clark, whom Sherriff respected very much, and who would become a firm friend after the war] to ask about the chances of a transfer to the Engineers, but he ‘did not seem very hopeful about getting the Commanding Officer’s permission to transfer’. Sherriff was a little doubtful himself, concerned that the new CO [Lt Col T H S Swanton, who, while Sherriff had been away from the Battalion, had taken over from Lt Col H S Tew, who had been injured in a riding accident] might be annoyed by his request, and it ‘might make him say: “Who is this officer? What is he doing?” and change us round…’ But he was still hoping, and he told his mother, as he had Pips the day before, that he was now reading mining books in his spare time.

He had been thinking of Christmas again, because Bundy had sent him the Xmas number of Punch. The pictures of the snow reminded him of walking back home from school as it was growing dark on Xmas Eve [!], and buying decorations for the dining room and drawing room: ‘If only the war is over by next Christmas I should like to go through all this again, however silly it may seem.’

He had just sent a party of his men off to the baths, where they ‘get a good hot wash and a change of underclothes.’ He, on the other hand, had just discovered some lice (having felt itchy the night before): ‘it was my own fault for not applying that Vermin Powder before – as I did not think I was troubled by them I neglected it’, but remedying his mistake, he had applied it thoroughly  and hoped it would ‘put a stop to their little games.’

[Next letter: 21 November]

Hoping for a Transfer

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He told Pips that he had been to see the officer in charge of the Engineering Company to which he had been attached, to see if there was a chance of him being permitted to transfer – he was enjoying the work, and finding it interesting (especially the surveying). The officer had told him that he would do his best for him, if he could get the permission of his CO – but Sherriff feared that might prove something of a stumbling block. Nevertheless, he would go to the Battalion Adjutant the next day to see what might be done. In the meantime, one of the Engineers Officers had lent him some books on their work which he was beginning to read, since it would help him if he succeeded in his application.

He took the opportunity to thank Pips for the postcards he had sent him: ‘They served as a reminder that there are places where there are not shell holes everywhere – I am glad that you are able to get [bike] rides fairly frequently: they are a great tonic after incessant indoor work.’

[Next letters: 20 November]

Home Thoughts…

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It had been a glorious day, he told his mother – cold and frosty, but fine for walking – and he and Morris [his servant] had been out for four hours getting some exercise. As they came back, and it started to get dark, and with the sun setting and the ‘cold, sharp air’, he was reminded of ‘the walks I have had at home through the dear old parks with you and Pips…there are little scenes and incidents that you see and experience here that remind you so much of home that you can almost imagine you are there: I went along a road today that was very much like the Cromwell Road [in Hampton Wick, near his home]’.

He always took time to get used to things, and after being in his dugout for over three weeks now, he had come to regard it as home: ‘I am sure I shall have a sort of lump in my throat when I have to leave it’. He would stay in it all winter, if he could:

‘It is hard to describe exactly the pleasure one gets from being alone a certain part of the time – when I can think without interruption and draw pictures for Bundy without imagining someone catches sight of them and wonders what you are doing, where you have your servant near at hand and you can call him and have a talk with him without any other officers in the room and where you manage everything yourself and gain experience of responsibility – I feel it is a pleasure I shall miss very much when I get back to my Battalion.’

He was still wishing he had more mining or engineering experience, to give himself a chance of transferring to the RE. The RE officers seemed so interested in their work, he thought, and they had other advantages – like permanent billets and good leave. He wished that he had put in for something more useful, but instead his ‘occupation only made me fit to be an infantry officer, and I should not grumble at my lot’. Nevertheless, he was resolved to try to become more proficient at the RE work. It was almost inevitable he felt, that, working on the surface of the earth, he should prefer working above it (flying) or below it (mining) – ‘it is natural that people prefer something they have not got’. But he also envied his mother the work that she was doing: ‘I do wish I had been trained as a doctor, so that I could help in the same work as you do – it is so much better than helping to make wounds.’

It wasn't just his mother who sent him parcels - Auntie Beattie [Beatrice, his mother's sister] did so as well. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/1/1/5/32]

It wasn’t just his mother who sent him parcels – Auntie Beattie [Beatrice, his mother’s sister] did so as well. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/1/1/5/32]

He apologised for sending her letters that often sounded so miserable – it seemed poor repayment for her lovely parcels, with peaches, and cream, and mittens and socks, ‘and, well, everything you have sent me.’ Perhaps the parcel had made him homesick, for he allowed himself a brief reverie:

‘It is now half-past nine – I imagine Pips has just settled down in front of the fire; you have gone up to your bedroom I expect and Bundy is sitting reading, and Puss curled up against the fender. I hope I shall be back to all this by next year.’

He left off writing at that point, and although he resumed a little more clear-eyed next morning (‘It is very sharp and frosty this morning – but very fine – true winter has started now’), he soon lapsed into longing and reminiscence once more, as he so often did in letters to his mother:

‘Keep cheerful always, and I will try to, and let’s both look forward to the day when I shall get home again with you and Pips, Bundy, Beryl [his sister] and the parks and Oxshott and the chickens, and everything else so dearly looked forward to.’

[Next letter: 20 November]

A burberry topcoat

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It had begun to get chilly, and Sherriff told his mother that he and Gibson were thinking about buying a stove – but they were concerned that, if they were transferred away in the near future, it could turn out to be a waste of money. He hoped, though, that they would stay a while longer,  notwithstanding ‘the inconvenience of being occasionally shelled’. He told her, as he had Pips the day before, that he found the Engineers’ work fascinating, and he was going to try to learn more about it by following the RE officers: ‘I am always on the lookout for some branch of the service that would not be such a strain as the Infantry work is’. He was perfectly willing to work hard, for anything would be better than the ‘waiting and waiting that characterises the Infantryman’s work – nothing can be more arduous than that.’

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He was still suffering a bit from the cold he had contracted, but his spirits had been buoyed a little by a parcel from his mother, the main item in which was his burberry coat. He was sorry to ask for it, because he knew his mother had been wearing it, but it was much more suitable than his trench coat, which had proved ‘quite useless’. He was going to send the trench coat back to the shop, and see if he could have them replace it with a mackintosh for his mother.

He told her that the crispness of the air, and the ‘yellowness of the sun’ had brought back memories of the previous year, when he had just started training with the Artists Rifles [he had joined up on 20 November 1915]:

‘It reminded me of those mornings when I used to travel up by train every morning to train in Regents Park – how I would like to start and [have] all that lovely time over again. Do you remember how little things – like a drunk man, or having my name taken – used to worry me? If I could only have those ten months with the Artists over again how glad I should be.’

[Next letter: 17 November]

My nerves have suffered

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Writing to Pips late in the evening, he recounted his day spent journeying into Bethune: ‘I find sitting in a shelter all day does one no good and you can’t feel well when you don’t do any exercise to keep you fit’. He had been given a lift part way by a ‘motor lorry’, but had then walked the remaining 5 miles. It had been a long time since he had seen such ‘out of the way articles’ as woollen socks, or gloves, or since he had seen a chemists or a greengrocer. He was not there for long before he started home, but first he called in to an Estaminet (which had a ‘special room for officers’), and enjoyed a 3-franc lunch in the company of a Major who ‘told me of our latest successes’.

He savoured the delights of walking through an untouched countryside:

‘It was a lovely day and the country, which is not naturally pretty, looked remarkably fresh for the time of the year; to see old French peasants pottering about in their gardens and fields gives a pleasant relief from the usual sights here – it is even a relief to see houses that have not been battered out of recognition, and gardens that have not been knocked in – yet however far one goes from the line there is always that inevitable shell hole in the garden wall, or in the road, or somewhere.’

Letter to Pips, 15 November 1916. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/1/1/3/110)

Letter to Pips, 15 November 1916. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/1/1/3/110)

His evident relief at being out in the countryside was the counterpart to the increased anxiety that had arisen from the shelling that had occurred in his area over the previous two days:

‘I am afraid that my nerves have suffered since I have been out here – I sometimes (especially when going through trenches alone at night) get very jumpy, and a missile going off near me has much more effect than when I first came out here – I suppose this will wear off in time, or at least I hope it will, or it may help me get home with “Shell-shock”.’

In the meantime he was thinking of trying to become a specialist in something – anything where there is a ‘real interest, instead of a monotonous waiting in filthy trenches, which is the work in quiet parts of the line’. He had always loved to specialise in something, so his main interest in his off-duty hours now was in trying to puzzle out which was the best specialist course to take. In the meantime, he would try to learn a bit about mining work by following the RE officers around, if they’d let him. ‘I don’t suppose I should ever be able to learn enough about the work to be transferred to the RE, but what does it matter trying – it can do no harm.’

[Next letter: 16 November]

I expect they think we are cowards

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Sherriff was feeling unwell – a touch of influenza which made him want to lie down and sleep all the time – a practice which he did not consider to be very healthy. But his mother was not to worry, because he would take his compressed medicine, and, if he really felt bad, would visit the doctor straight away. The worst thing about the illness was that it seemed to affect his nerves:

‘They shelled this district again this morning and really I am quite ashamed of the way it makes me tremble. When I hear a shell whistle overhead I immediately get that sort of cold feeling all up my spine if you know what I mean, and my tongue feels all dry. Yesterday, they shelled the district just as I was sitting down to lunch and it immediately made me feel quite sick – with no appetite at all for dinner…I hope my nerves will improve, though, [as] it is not at all a pleasant feeling to get nervous so quickly and easily.’

A 'Minney' bursting. From Memories of Active Service, Vol 1, facing page 200. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/3/9/3/2)

A ‘Minney’ bursting. From Memories of Active Service, Vol 1, facing page 200. By permission of the Surrey History Centre (Ref: 2332/3/9/3/2)

After asking about her work at the hospital, and remarking on how much more he would rather be doing her job than his own, his thoughts quickly turned to his own nervousness once more:

I don’t know why it is, but some men seem to stroll about the trenches when they are shelling just as though nothing were happening – they must be made very differently to me, for it makes me tremble and breathe hard even if I just go round to the lavatories. Once, coming back, they sent a shrapnel shell whizzing over and [it] burst a bit behind us; I felt very much like running for my shelter when I saw a man climb up onto the parapet and look over as unconcerned as possible and say: “that was a near one”….This morning a flight of wild duck flew overhead and both armies began firing at them – unfortunately a lot of the bullets came down on our roof and round about which frightened me as much as anything.’

He noted that, while he had been bragging about how quiet his current job was, the recent shelling had changed his mind, and he and Gibson were now asking their servants to fill some sandbags with earth and put them on the roof of the dugout – ‘I expect they think we are cowards,’ he wrote.

[Next letter: 15 November]

Say a little prayer…

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The much anticipated parcel had arrived: socks, chocolate biscuits, ginger and peppermints were all very welcome, he told his mother, but: ‘The cream! Well – it is almost too good to be true!’ The other thing he enjoyed about a parcel was that it was ‘a little mirror in which I can see home…I can see you getting that Peter Robinson box from your cupboard and getting all the articles together and wrapping them up – it’s as good as a Xmas stocking.’

The East Surreys had gone into the line again, so it seemed likely he would stay at the mine a little longer. The Germans had dropped some shells near him earlier in the day – ‘they went whistling over our dugout and falling crash! about 200 yards behind it.’ He told her that he had just sat down to dinner and it quite took away his appetite, because ‘I am afraid I am more nervous than the average.’ In part the problem came because he had enjoyed a quieter time in his present dugout, and ‘the sudden realisation that we were being shelled came as a sort of shock – it never having happened since I have been here I had begun to think we were absolutely out of harm’s way.’

The worst time was when he would go on duty, and have to walk in the direction of the front line, and ‘sometimes you hear a shell wizz overhead and come down behind you – it makes you feel sick sometimes and your breathing comes hard from fear or excitement.’ But sometimes, when faced with his fears of shelling, a little prayer would help:

I was walking up to the mine yesterday when an extra big Minnenwerfer shell fell somewhere in front of us where I had got to go – the crash was terrific and little pieces of earth and stone came whizzing all round, although the shell fell quite 200 yards away. For the moment I felt that I absolutely could not go on then I felt how absurd I was if any men saw me stand still and hesitate, so I said a little prayer asking that I might get through everything safely – and somehow this puts new courage in you…’

He was looking forward to the end of the war – to being able to walk without looking up at the sky for missiles all the time. He was convinced that, if peace could be made on equal terms, everyone would jump for joy. It was all very well for those in England to insist on ‘ a fight to the finish’ – but what exactly was that supposed to mean? ‘If peace was declared tomorrow,’ he wrote, ‘no matter whose favour it was in, I think Germans and English would come across to one another and weep tears of joy.’

[Next letter: 14 November]