I am just writing in a few spare moments a letter to you from the trenches on behalf of the old boys. We have just been out here three weeks yesterday, and during our time here we have had some experiences of what war is like. Well our first was on the Friday after we landed, we were digging trenches under heavy shell and bullet fire, when one of the boys got wounded by shrapnel: it was Albert Markham. We, the boys, happened very lucky on Sunday 15th August, as we were on guard in the trenches when or battalion went into action and made a fine bayonet charge, when they captured a hill and drove the Turks a good distance back. We afterwards re-joined the battalion and helped them to hold the hill until the next Sunday, when we were relieved. The next week passed off rather quietly when we were on fatigue work at the base when we came across Sidney Sawyer and P C King late of St Neots. After this we moved back to the trenches again to a different position, where we still remain, and getting on comfortable, except the heat and the flies, they are enough to eat us: also it is very cold at night. All the boys are pretty fair excepting one or two of them who are a bit queer, being overtaken by the heat. W. Pope is with me while writing this letter. He had a narrow escape the other day whilst fetching water, as a shrapnel bullet entered his rifle and smashed all the wood where it hit.

Considering it’s a month ago since you wrote to me I think its about time I answered your kind, and interesting letter, and trust that when this reaches you the Company, that’s boys out here from Eynesbury as you term us in your letter, hope that you and all yours are quite well, as I am pleased to say all are here bar myself. I am in Hospital sick, but am getting on fine and hope to be out soon with the boys. It must indeed make you feel proud to get so many letters from your Old Boys, it shows how very much they all appreciate your kindness and
trouble to them in days gone by, and your sincere friendship now, I know of us do in the Beds Yeomanry, and the utmost singular thing is that the Eynesbury boys always stick together. I had a letter from Jim Chamberlain, he is quite well and cheerful and sends his best wishes on behalf of us all, I shall write to him as soon as I get back. I heard St. Neots was very busy with holiday makers; also that you had a Sung Eucharist on the Sunday. I should love to get into a cassock and surplice again. I hope it went off all right, guess it did though. We went to the sea-side for our Bank Holiday this year Brigade training. Was up at 4 o’clock Monday morning and had breakfast at 5. 30. Had a scheme on the way to our destination, so took us until about 1.30 p.m. to do about eighteen miles. It was a large stretch of land against the the sea, all the Brigade was there, so there was a large number of us altogether. We went on the sands until stables at 4 o’clock then after tea Geo. Baker, C. Twigden, and I went bathing, it was treat the sea, but jolly cold out, so we had a run up the sands to keep ourselves warm, and to top it up it rained like blazes when we were getting dressed ; there were no houses to run to, only a large French Searchlight and one Estaminet (pub), so went in and had a drink. and then back to the lines to make our bed, that is a couple of saddles and a sword stuck in the ground and a sheet over the top, but that was no good, it rained and blowed, it’s about the roughest night I’ve had since I’ve been in France Gig fell out of “bed” I think any way he was up at 3 o’clock and grooming his horse and trying to get warm again.
Stables were at 4 a.m. again and drilling on the saddles from 5.30 to 8.0, when I think I was just getting hungry. After breakfast time was our own until 12.0, as our Regiment had a swimming race. Gig came fourth, he would have been first only he couldn’t run fast enough when he got out owing to have taken too much salt water in: also the officers of the Brigade had a horse race, all right it was too. We met a chap from Eaton there named Ernest Partridge, about the only one I’ve met from our way I think
Things went on as usual until a week last Thursday when we had to go and dig trenches again, only we went in motor buses this time. It’s a large park about 11/2 miles from the firing line, a fine place it is too, a big chateau stands right in the centre, belonged to an Austrian count, that accounts probably for the reason its not being shelled, because just to our left the village is absolutely done for. Furniture and clothing lay about everywhere in the houses, people must have left in a great hurry, and all the Church is absolutely ruined, a hole in it large enough for a donkey and cart to go through easily, but the majority of it is down, bricks and mortar and great holes in the churchyard, with bits of coffins and bones lying about.
On Monday night I was up all the time sick, so on Tuesday morning the Doctor sent me here, and now I am pleased to say nearly better.
Please excuse the writing this time, am sitting up in bed to write this, and have only got a stump of a pencil, and as its getting dark will have to close with my kindest regards to all

We are all pleased to hear from anyone at home. Personally, I get the St Neots paper sent to me every week out here, in which I find a local war news very good indeed. I was sorry to hear that three of my old school chums have been called on to lay down their lives- and also Sam Irons- in this terrible war. I should think that you feel it’s great honour to turn out 87 of your older boys to do their best for the good old England which are no doubt we shall all try to do. We are billeted a few miles from the firing line in a paddock belonging to a French Farmer. The Division Ammunition Column consists of all sorts of arms, from high explosives to small arms, so you say it would not be safe if the Germans got to know, as they would put a straight shot on us. While I am writing one of our airmen is being shelled by the enemy. It is a grand site to see him dodging the shrapnel is they best they leave a cloud of smoke. I must say they are plucky lot of fellows: they seem to take no notice of them. One are the last Monday have no fewer than 27 shells fired at him, but I’m glad to say not one of them find that their mark. They pass over us on their return journey to the base to report. We can hear the guns going at a great distance; the noise is sometimes awful. We have seen some queer sites out here. One church in particular has the spire and the lower tower gone and the roof blown in. Not a pain of glass left, I’m even the clock shelled right through the centre. Houses are raised to the ground, Sam with their sides in: one whitewashed house simply riddled with bullets. We have some very nice officers and also plenty of good food, which consists of fried bacon and bread and tea for breakfast; stew or fried steak peas and potato for dinner; bread butter and jam the tea, so you can guess we do not take any harm. You must excuse such scribble for I am using a box containing 18lb shells for a table, I’m going to shell case for a seat. I hope you are all in the best of health as I am glad to say I am at present.