1 France . 20/7/'16 . My dear Father If this letter does not reach you for
some time you must not put the blame on my
poor head, but pour the vials of your wrath on the
real culprit — the Commander - in - Chief! We have
just come out of the trenches, after our usual sixteen
days 'Hard labour,' to begin a week of comparative
rest, when like a bomb-shell comes the news this
morning that we are to return at once for two
days, they say, but who knows? I pity the poor
men without sleep practically all that time, worn
out, dirty and exhausted, shouldering their packs &
facing off again for all the same dreary round. They
are wonderfully cheery over the whole business, but I
fancy the Kaiser is being consigned (mentally at least)
to a cosy corner somewhere— 'not in France' — by more
than one weary Tommy. I have had a couple of little adventures since last
I wrote, coming through all, as usual, without hurt
or harm, thank God. I had occasion a short time
ago to go to a certain village which our men 2
were holding. The journey by the 'underground',
at lernin trench street, would take a good
couple of hours whereas a quarter of an
hour on a bicycle would cover the same
distance, following the high road. There was
just one little inconvenience in choosing
the latter route, vis the road was in full
view of the German trenches, unpleasantly near
as well, so that in day light no one ever
ventured by that way unless he was anxious
for a nice cross near his head in the peaceful
cemetery. Now, just at present, this child has
not a burning desire to fill a hole in French
soil, but the care was urgent, time was everything
and there was no room for choice — the road
it had to be — Providence and a fast pair of
heels, or rather wheels, would look after the German bullets. The first part of the journey was uneventful.
The road ran up a slight hill which hid me
from any hostile observer, so I pedaled slowly
in preparation for the coming burst down
the other side. I had laid my plans carefully.
I had calculated, and rightly, that since the
road was not used in the daytime for the
reason stated, brother Fritz would not expect a
visitor that way and possibly might not trouble
watching it, all the same I meant to keep my 3 ears well cocked and at the first sound of a
coming shell, the bicycle might go where it liked
but my billet was the bottom of the deep ditch,
where I would be as snug as a bug in a rug!
As a matter of fact I had no fear from shells,
big or little, as the artillery never fine at a single
man, but they might. Rifles and machine
guns were last on the cards; the latter if you lie
flat on the ground I knew were quite harmless, while
as regards the former I felt safe in betting a
franc with my Guardian Angel that it would
take a jolly good shot to hit me as I flew
along at sixty miles an hour, more or less. A few moments brought me to the top of the hill &
then right before me, on the opposite slope, were line
after line of German trenches, about half a mile
away. As I capped the rise, a thousand pairs of
angry eyes, each more ferocious than the other, were
fixed upon, me; from every observation post and broken
window telescopes and glasses were thrust out, while
mingled with the click rattle of the rifle belts and the
sharp click of the gun breech came the deep
roll of guttural German curses. At least those were
my sensations at the moment. You know the
feeling when having dined uneasily on a surfeit
of lobster salad, you fall asleep on your back. For a little distance my road went straight 4 down, every yard nearer & nearer the hidden
enemy, and then turned sharply to the left,
running parallel with the trenches. I was a
bit uneasy about this last bit of the trip, for
each second increased the chance of being seen,
and besides I was closer to the Boches without
cover of any kind. Down that hill I went like a hundred
John Gilpers, but I had forgotten one thing;
the surface of the road was pitted with shell
holes which forced me to slacken speed, dodge
& twist to get round them. Down I went
past the spot where, some weeks before, five of
my poor boys had been blown to bits, thinking
it was dark enough to venture up the road. I
had buried their mangled bodies under cover of
darkness so I felt I had their protection now. It seemed very much like sinking into the
lion's jaws, but all the time I had a strange
feeling of security and rather enjoyed the
adventure. At last the corner was reached;
the ground was level and fairly good and
you may guess I did not waste much time
getting up speed. So far all had gone
well, not a single shot had been fired, when
suddenly I heard a rattle and a bang . . . . . . . .
(To be continued in our next!) 5 Fearing you might not have patience to wait til
next week I resume the thrilling adventures of
'Chaplain Bill on his Bounding Broncho.' I gave a groan for I knew what had happened —
the pump of my bicycle had jerked off (I had
nearly done the same a moment before) and
was lying in the middle of the road twenty yards
behind. There was nothing for it; I jumped off
ran back, picked it up and mounted once more,
deeply grateful that the Huns had missed their
last chance of letting day-light through me.
I don't know how Daniel felt in the lion's den but
I was mighty uncomfortable. In a few minutes more I dashed into the village
to cover and safety, having ridden the whole way
without one bullet being fired, probably because the
Boche did not think it worth his while wasting
ammunition on a wretched chaplain. Judging by
some remarks which have reached me since, people
cannot make up their minds whether I am a liar
or a fool (I vote for the second), but then they
cannot understand what the salvation of even one
soul means to a priest, so I just laugh and
go my way, happy in the thought that I was
in time. My second adventure, if I may so style it, was of a 6 different kind. Preparations had been made for
the blowing up of a gigantic mine sunk under
the German trenches, while at the same time
our men were to make a raid or night attack
on the enemy. The hour fixed was eleven o'clock,
so shortly after ten I made my way up to
the firing line where the attacking party were
waiting. They were grouped in two bodies, one
on either side of the mine waiting for the
explosion to rush over the parapet and seize the
newly formed mine-crater. As I came along
the trench I could hear the men whisper: 'Here's the
priest,' while the faces which a moment before had
been marked with the awful strain of the waiting,
lit up with pleasure. As I gave them absolution
and the blessing of God on their work I could
not help thinking how many a poor fellow
would soon be stretched lifeless a few paces
from where he stood, and though I ought to be
hardened by this time I found it hard to choke
down the sadness which filled my heart. 'God bless
you, Father, we're ready now,' was reward enough
for facing the danger, since every man realized
that each moment was full of dreadful
possibilities. It was well known that the Germans were
counter-mining, and if they got wind of our
intention would certainly try and explode their
mine before ours. It was unnerving walking
along knowing that at any moment you might
find yourself sailing skywards wafted by the
gentle heath of four of five tons of explosive. 7 Fortunately nothing happened, but the moments
were running out, so I hurried down the
communication trench to the dressing station in a
dug-out, about 100 yards away, where I intended
waiting for the wounded to be brought in. On the stroke of eleven I climbed up the parapet
out of the trench and as I did there was a
mighty roar in the bowls of the earth, the
ground trembled and rocked and quivered,
and then a huge column of clay and stones
was shot hundreds of feet in the air. As the
earth opened, dense clouds of smoke and
flames burst out, an awful & never to be
forgotten sight. God help the poor fellows, even
though they be our enemies, who were caught
in that inferno and buried alive or blown to bits. For a second there was a lull, and then it
seemed as if hell were let loose. Our artillery
in the rear was standing ready, waiting for
the signal; the moment the roar of the explosion
was heard every gun opened fire with a
deafening crash. Already our men were over
the parapet, with a yell which must have
startled the Boches, up the side of the crater
and now digging themselves in for their lives.
Under cover of our guns the raiding
party had raced for the enemy's trench,
fought their way in and out again as our 8 object was not to gain ground. By this time the enemy's guns had got
into action and shells were coming
over like hail-stones, so on the principle
that 'discretion is the better part of valour'
I retired gracefully down my dug-out,
twenty feet or more underground and was
soon busy with the wounded and dying. One German prisoner, slightly wounded in
a couple of places was carried in. Poor beggar
he was certain his hour had come for
he had been told the English kill all their prisoners.
He was only a young lad and his teeth
chattered with fear. I tried to get him to
take a drink but he pushed it away thinking
I suppose, it was poison. How I wished that
our Charles with his Apostolic gift of tongues
had been near to tell him we meant no
ill, for my knowledge of German is limited to
' der Hund', but a repetition of this word only
increased his tremor and convinced him we had
sent for the dogs of war to tear him in pieces!
By degrees I calmed him down, and with the
help of a few French, Flemish and Latin words
found out that he was a Bavarian and a
Catholic. I gave him a rosary which he
devoutly kissed and then hung round his
neck, and then, evidently reassured that no
harm would come to him with a priest by his 9 side he fell asleep. Next morning
he asked to see the 'Pastor' and
seemed anxious to thank me
for the little I had been able
to do for him. It was nearly four when I got
back to my cellar, tired enough
I must confess and sad at heart
after the scenes I had just
witnessed, but happy and
thankful to God that I had the
chance of speeding many a
brave fellow on his way to eternity. If the limit of you patience
is not reached by this my time
is, and hence I must make
my bow and retire. The
weather at present is very fine
though much on the warm 10 side, to which few, I think,
object. Where the days go to
I cannot tell, but there is big
consolation in the thought that
every day that passes brings one
nearer home and all the
loved ones there. As ever, dearest Father
Your loving son Willie