Private L Shaw
When you parcel arrived I had been out all day digging, and incidentally got caught in about seven beautiful storms, which resulted in my getting “some” wet through. I wrung my clothes out and my pants and shirts are now drying. I hope it has drowned some of the inhabitants, and then I shan’t begrudge the drenching. We are still a ……, and I don’t move up for about 2 days, so I suppose I shall just be going up when you receive this. We are anticipating a very lively time as this front is very hot just now, although the face of the line has been altered considerably owing to the great mining activity, which mines when blown up of course generally make a mess of the part of the line overhead, and of course send the occupants to some sort of ….. glory. When I tell you that a mine sprung recently, and which I saw go up from a half mile distance, measures about 100ft by a width of between 40 and 70 feet, you will understand that the bombers fight hard for the possession of the same as a place of no small importance. It is a sight to see a mine sprung from anywhere close by. The column of fire as it were shoots up into the air over 70 feet, and the earth literally belches forth huge stones, earth, parts of the trench, revetting, etc. The rival bombers then scrap of course for possession and you can hear the good old Mill’s (our grenades) cracking away. Perhaps the artillery will then go mad and the bursting shells mingled with the red, green and luminous star shells makes a grand, if awful, spectacle. I have had several exciting incidents on this stunt, and hope I’m never nearer to copping out than I was one night. We were laying a cable from the Signal Service. We were working in the open digging a trench for the cable when the Boches started flinging over a hail of rifle grenades , trench mortars and catapult bombs. We were all flat in a moment and soon under some sort of cover. They slowed down a bit and we returned. Suddenly I heard a “plonk” as a bit of bursting grenade or “summat” hit the ground near me and the chap next to me, less than two yards off, goes down like a log and rolls over. He hadn’t caught it as hard as he might I suppose, as his shrapnel helmet saved his head, where he had a slight wound. He had a nasty piece in his back however. We had all got into a bunch near him, like fools, and but for the sheer out and out good luck we should all have all been blown to bits, for a trench mortar fell right amongst us; but by some stroke of Providence it was a dud. Soon afterward we marched back as it became a bit too hot to work. The next time we had to do a short shift, as we had a lot of souvenirs chucked over, and as we were carrying sacks of …… for blowing up mines it was deemed dangerous. Three nights ago I had another good (?) time. We had been up near the support line working on a cable trench, and the Battalion was just returning when two men were asked for. It turned out we had to go to the dump and fetch more cable for nearer the front line. It was then about 2 o’clock. Well we got to this dump all right with a Signals officer as a guide, through about 2 ½ miles of trench, and along half a mile of machine gun swept road. If you know what a coil of cable weighs, when one is wearing full equipment less pack only, you will guess what a lively time we had. The officer left us to find our way, which we thought we could do. Well, we got along the road and down on the communication trench all right, except that it was absolutely necessary to dump the cable every 40 or 50 yards, as it wasn’t a light weight. We carried on to wear the trenches divided several times, took the wrong turning, and after going along 400 yards or so, one met by a lovely little HUN M.G., which made us lay quiet for a quarter of an hour. Then we concluded we were wrong, retraced our steps, and finally reached the point all right, but absolutely done. It was broad daylight now, and we hobbled back here just as the others were up for breakfast. Next night we carried barbed wire and chevaux de frise up to the front line, and lost three men, sniped. The boys out here seem very mild about the Irish Rebellion, and everywhere the soger says: “ If they want scrapping let’em come out here to get it.” By the way, if you happen to meet Mr Harvey ( re-elected I see) of the UDC, tell him I saw his son is here and spent a jolly enjoyable evening with him at an entertainment, Chatting about our experiences. He’s in the Yeomanry. I have also met chat named Riddeford I knew at Brampton, who worked at Hinchinbrooke.
