Letters From the Front

Dated: May 20, 1916

Dear Mother

It is a beautiful day and quite quiet. I almost thought this morning that peace must have been signed or an armistice called. No shells, no rifle or machine gun fire, no aeroplanes. One is up now though and a few snipers are working. There goes a shell, one of Heinie’s, way over. Another, some place. The birds are singing quite cheerfully. More shells, all Heinie’s. He must be after a battery. I can hear our own guns firing, but they are not coming this way. Two wompers are in sight. I wish you could hear the different birdcalls and I wish too, that I could distinguish them. I hear a garage truck moving. Seems to be over across the line, but I can’t tell, the sound is so faint. Another wompers. I heard a cuckoo this morning early. It’s about 6 o’clock now, but the day breaks about 2:30. At that time I could see the German front line. Daren’t look now, though. In fact we hardly dare move here during the day. Another womper. Two of us are here with gun, ammunition, tripod, belt, filler and other paraphernalia, under two badly battered pieces of corrugated iron and a couple of trench mats, the latter covered with sand bags. Hope it doesn’t rain. It does look a little hazy though and there is a cool breeze blowing. That last womper was close. Shells going over to Fritzie. Sound leisurely, must be fairly large, 4.5’s likely. I can’t hear them burst. I heard that one, though. Sounds like Heinie’s, in our front line. Two whizzbangs for Fritzi’s front line. Two more, one died. Two more. Heinie’s wompers, our whizzbangs. There must be a reason for that, but it’s hard for the infantry to see it. I fully appreciate their attitude too. It isn’t much satisfaction when a big chap is pelting you with firecrackers to know that your big brother is shooting squibs at his little brother.

Some hours later. It’s over, thank God. Only lasted about five minutes. The first was the closest. I didn’t count them, but I think there were about 10 or 15. I’m not sure whether they were wompers or wooly bears, but I think they were the former. You should have seen us crouched under the trench mats. Some protection anyway. There is one advantage about a position like this. If they do smash it up, at least there is less chance of being buried alive. A strong position smashed up would be a death trap. There is one objection to this position though, besides the discomfort. If anything happened to us here no one would know it until night or if they did, they couldn’t reach us. However, I think this is our last day here. Stewart and Buckley relieve us tonight, and I expect the 6^th with take over tomorrow night. Hope so, anyway. We’re supposed to be out resting now, but had to come in here to assist the 5^th.

At it again. I wish they’d leave us alone. They have shaken this place two or three times and shrapnel has been falling on the roof. My pen is shaky. Seven so far. Hope it’s the bunch. I think it is. Fritz is getting his too. Here’s Heinie over to see the result of his shelling. He didn’t get much. Well, I like to see him waste them, but wish he’d waste them farther away.

Thanks for your parcels and thank Aunt Lily for the socks. Don’t understand what you mean about the tin boxes. It’s the only way. Any other way and the stuff comes crushed.

Love to grandma and all. I want to write the Rene.

Your loving son,

ROY

P.S. Front line, both sides being womped.