11/5/17 I had a fairly “bonne” night, was clear of work at about 1 am, so lay my weary limbs down upon the floor where I stayed until nearly 6 am, with the exception of a call shortly after 2 am, when a telegram as handed in over the counter. After breakfast, shave and clean up I spent the rest of the morning until dinnertime writing and studying. On duty at 2 pm until 8 pm. I have heard from the orderly Corporal that all my packets had been sent off by the post, which I hope proves to be true in spite of our officers threat to stop them. They contain a good deal of miscellaneous rubbish it is true, but after making a careful choice from this collection of odds and ends, which I have picked up I imagine that they will add richness to my scrap album, if not in wealth, then surely in pure valuelessness. I wonder if that is a good express. As I have nothing to talk about today I will endeavour to describe “OUR BILLET”. In the first place it is a house in the main street. Its proper name is Doignt Road I believe, three or four houses to the right of the road which goes to Mt. Saint-Quentin. It has been expressly chosen on account of the fact that it has still four walls standing and a roof except where there is none. It is a good solidly built type of structure and its former tenants were obviously raised somewhat above the ordinary everyday sort of people. We enter the house by a hall with rooms situated at each side, our signals office is upon the right hand side, a blue and white flag flies proudly in the air from one of the little balconies above. This is of course the emblem of the signal service. The front rooms on the 2nd floor are used as bedrooms. The rear of the house is entirely destroyed and could only be described by seeing it oneself. The whole of the buildings behind and the garden present a spectacle beyond the talent of me or my pen to describe. The room in which I live is high and spacious. There are two portrait paintings hanging upon the walls in oval frames, both unfortunately have been pierced by bullets or stabbed with some sharp instrument. Our cookhouse has been fixed up at the rear; tables and chairs have been scrounged for its enganishment. We have even flowers in neat little glasses upon the table, which little feature is most pleasing and pleasant and probably encourages a poor appetite and increases a good one. We eat our food upon china plates, just like officers. Our cookhouse would certainly not be completed if I failed to mention that a pair of swallows are at this moment busily engaged building their home behind one of the beams. They have a good deal to say too, at times I sincerely hope that they are a happy couple and that when they give vent to their exceptionally high notes that they are not really quarrelling, but are quite agreed upon the best method of erecting their abode. We are fortunate in having an extremely gentlemanly and obliging cook, whose name is “Tate” nothing seems to irksome for him and he cooks really splendid meals. Now about fires, I have heard the French people remark often that the British Tommy is as destructive as Fritz, which perhaps is not fair comparison. I know however of several buildings at Querrieu which fell down and for which, our fellows were responsible, through having withdrawn timber for making fires, here our Tommies exercise no distinction whatsoever and in consequence all manner of expensive woods, such as solid mahogany etc. are all burnt indiscriminately. I grant of course that every article of furniture, whether large or small, all bear more or less the marks of mutilation, nevertheless the wood of which they are composed, could be easily and well utilised by the French its rightful owners upon their return. Getting into my blankets at about 8.45 pm I read my novel for an hour or more before turning over to sleep, by the way I must not omit to mention that one of our orderlies is an orchestralist, in fact he is a “band master” therefore he has obtained a violin and regales us often during the sultry day, with all sorts of music including classical pieces, which he renders exceptionally well. I will finish off with a short reference to our friends the rats. There lives about these parts an ever increasing community of the above named tribe, in the trenches their runs may be distinctly seen, running from dug outs to some other place of frequency. Here these “camp followers” abound in vast numbers. As soon as the evening begins to set in, they come slinking out and as the dusk advances, their numbers gradually increase. One almost treads upon them in the yard and garden of our billet, as they go skidding about upon their several ways much the same as a populace in a large town goes shopping.
Posted on: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 22:00:08 +0000
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