Project Gutenberg's Raymond, or Life and Death, by Sir Oliver J. Lodge This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Raymond, or Life and Death With examples of the evidence for survival of memory and affection after death. Author: Sir Oliver J. Lodge Release Date: January 30, 2016 [EBook #51086] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAYMOND, OR LIFE AND DEATH *** Produced by Brian Wilsden and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) The cover has been repaired by the transcriber. Transcriber's Notes: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible. Minor typographical errors have been corrected. The original text contains many unclosed quotes that are obviously the author's intention. These have been left as written in the original. Page 93: "prope funeratus / arboris ictu" changed to "prope funeratus arboris ictu" to avoid unwanted '/'. Page 139: Unclosed bracket "(" left unchanged. Page 221: Unnecessary ")" removed. Typographical error. RAYMOND OR LIFE AND DEATH BY SIR OLIVER J. LODGE [Pg i] Raymond, or Life and Death Modern Problems The Substance of Faith, Allied with Science Man and the Universe The Survival of Man Reason and Belief The War and After RAYMOND R AY M O N D OR LIFE AND DEATH WITH EXAMPLES OF THE EVIDENCE FOR SURVIVAL OF MEMORY AND AFFECTION AFTER DEATH BY Sir OLIVER J. LODGE WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO HIS MOTHER AND FAMILY WITH GRATITUDE FOR PERMISSION TO USE PRIVATE MATERIAL FOR PUBLIC ENDS [Pg ii] [Pg iii] [Pg iv] [Pg v] T "Divine must be That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, And even the prospect of our brethren slain, Hath something in it which the heart enjoys." Wordsworth, Sonnet XXVI. PREFACE HIS book is named after my son who was killed in the War. It is divided into three parts. In the first part some idea of the kind of life lived and the spirit shown by any number of youths, fully engaged in civil occupations, who joined for service when war broke out and went to the Front, is illustrated by extracts from his letters. The object of this portion is to engender a friendly feeling towards the writer of the letters, so that whatever more has to be said in the sequel may not have the inevitable dulness of details concerning an entire stranger. This is the sole object of this portion. The letters are not supposed to be remarkable; though as a picture of part of the life at the Front during the 1915 phase of the war they are interesting, as many other such letters must have been. The second part gives specimens of what at present are considered by most people unusual communications; though these again are in many respects of an ordinary type, and will be recognised as such by other bereaved persons who have had similar messages. In a few particulars, indeed, those here quoted have rather special features, by reason of the assistance given by the group of my friends "on the other side" who had closely studied the subject. It is partly owing to the urgency therein indicated that I have thought it my duty to speak out, though it may well be believed that it is not without hesitation that I have ventured thus to obtrude family affairs. I should not have done so were it not that the amount of premature and unnatural bereavement at the present time is so appalling that the pain caused by exposing one's own sorrow and its alleviation, to possible scoffers, becomes almost negligible in view of the service which it is legitimate to hope may thus be rendered to mourners, if they can derive comfort by learning that communication across the gulf is possible. Incidentally I have to thank those friends, some of them previously unknown, who have in the same spirit allowed the names of loved ones to appear in this book, and I am grateful for the help which one or two of those friends have accorded. Some few more perhaps may be thus led to pay critical attention to any assurance of continued and happy and useful existence which may reach them from the other side. The third part of the book is of a more expository character, and is designed to help people in general to realise that this subject is not the bugbear which ignorance and prejudice have made it, that it belongs to a coherent system of thought full of new facts of which continued study is necessary, that it is subject to a law and order of its own, and that though comparatively in its infancy it is a genuine branch of psychological science. This third part is called "Life and Death," because these are the two great undeniable facts which concern everybody, and in which it is natural for every one to feel a keen interest, if they once begin to realise that such interest is not futile, and that it is possible to learn something real about them. It may be willingly admitted that these chapters are inadequate to the magnitude of the subject, but it is hoped that they are of a usefully introductory character. The "In Memoriam" chapter of Part I is no doubt chiefly of interest to family and friends; but everybody is very friendly, and under the circumstances it will be excused. CONTENTS PAGE Preface vii PART ONE: NORMAL PORTION CHAPTER I. In Memoriam 3 II. Letters from the Front 15 III. Letters from Officers 73 [Pg vi] [Pg vii] [Pg viii] [Pg ix] PART TWO: SUPERNORMAL PORTION Introduction 83 I. Elementary Explanation 86 II. The 'Faunus' Message 90 III. Sequel to the 'Faunus' Message 96 IV. The Group Photograph 105 V. Beginning of Historical Record 117 VI. First Sitting of O. J. L. with Mrs. Leonard 125 VII. First Peters Sitting (Anonymous) 129 VIII. A Table Sitting 137 IX. Attempts at Stricter Evidence 151 X. Record Continued 158 XI. First Sitting of Alec 162 XII. General Remarks on Conversational Reports and on Cross-Correspondences 171 XIII. An O. J.L. Sitting with Peters 174 XIV. First Sitting of Lionel Anonymous 180 XV. M.F. A.L. Sitting of November 26 188 XVI. O. J. L. Sitting of December 3 191 XVII. K.K. Automatic Writing 205 XVIII. First Sitting of Alec with Mrs. Leonard 208 XIX. Private Sittings at Mariemont 217 XX. A Few more Records, with some Unverifiable Matter 226 XXI. Two Evidential Sittings of March 3 237 XXII. More Unverifiable Matter 262 XXIII. A Few Isolated Incidents 271 PART THREE: LIFE AND DEATH Introduction 283 I. The Meaning of the Term Life 289 II. The Meaning of the Term Death 296 III. Death and Decay 302 IV. Continued Existence 308 V. Past, Present, and Future 312 VI. Interaction of Mind and Matter 317 VII. 'Resurrection of the Body' 322 VIII. Mind and Brain 326 IX. Life and Consciousness 332 X. On Means of Communication 338 XI. On the Fact of Supernormal Communication 345 XII. On the Contention that all Psychic Communications are of a Trivial Nature and Deal with Insignificant Topics 349 XIII. On the Manner of Communication 355 XIV. Various Psycho-physical Methods 362 XV. Attitude of the Wise and Prudent 367 XVI. Outlook on the Universe 374 XVII. The Christian Idea of God 378 Index 397 [Pg x] ILLUSTRATIONS Raymond Frontispiece PAGE Raymond when Two Years Old 8 Raymond, 1915 78 Group of Officers, as Sent Us by Mrs. Cheves on December 7, 1915, Showing an Arm Resting on Raymond's Shoulder 110 Another Edition of the Group-Photograph, with Shoulder Instead of Hand 112 Group Subsequently Obtained, Evidently Taken at the Same Time, but Pressure on Shoulder Removed 114 Mariemont 224 Raymond and Brodie with the Pigeons at Mariemont 224 Large Double-Compartment Tent in Its First Form (1905) (Built at Mariemont and Taken to Woolacombe) 250 The Tent in Its Second Form (1906) Made out of the Remains of the First 250 First Edition of the Sandboat (1906) at Woolacombe, with Alec on Board 252 Rising Ground Behind Older Tents on Woolacombe Beach 252 "Grandfather W." 258 "Mr. Jackson" with M.F. A.L. at Mariemont 258 Second Edition of Sandboat, at Mariemont, Before Being Unshipped and Taken to Woolacombe, 1907 260 Raymond Working at the Sandboat in the Boys' Laboratory at Mariemont 260 "Curly" and "Vix." Curly being the Shaggy One. Vix was the Mother of Raymond's Dog "Larry" 278 Raymond in His "Nagant" Motor, 1913. Outside a Friend's House in Somersetshire 278 PART ONE: NORMAL PORTION "And this to fill us with regard for man, With apprehension of his passing worth." Browning, Paracelsus. C H A P T E R I IN MEMORIAM [Pg xi] [1-2] [Pg 3] M THE bare facts are much as reported in The Times:— Second Lieutenant Raymond Lodge was the youngest son of Sir Oliver and Lady Lodge, and was by taste and training an engineer. He volunteered for service in September 1914 and was at once given a commission in the 3rd South Lancashires. After training near Liverpool and Edinburgh, he went to the Front in the early spring of 1915, attached to the 2nd South Lancashire Regiment of the Regular Army, and was soon in the trenches near Ypres or Hooge. His engineering skill was of service in details of trench construction, and he later was attached to a Machine-Gun Section for a time, and had various escapes from shell fire and shrapnel. His Captain having sprained an ankle, he was called back to Company work, and at the time of his death was in command of a Company engaged in some early episode of an attack or attempted advance which was then beginning. He was struck by a fragment of shell in the attack on Hooge Hill on the 14th September 1915, and died in a few hours. Raymond Lodge had been educated at Bedales School and Birmingham University. He had a great aptitude and love for mechanical engineering, and was soon to have become a partner with his elder brothers, who highly valued his services, and desired his return to assist in the Government work which now occupies their firm. In amplification of this bare record a few members of the family wrote reminiscences of him, and the following memoir is by his eldest brother:— RAYMOND LODGE (1889-1915) By O. W. F. L. OST lives have marriages, births of children, productive years; but the lives of the defenders of their Country are short and of majestic simplicity. The obscure records of childhood, the few years of school and university and constructive and inventive work, and then the sudden sacrifice of all the promise of the future, of work, of home, of love; the months of hard living and hard work well carried through, the cheerful humorous letters home making it out all very good fun; and in front, in a strange ruined and desolate land, certain mutilation or death. And now that death has come. Unto each man his handiwork, to each his crown, The just Fate gives; Whoso takes the world's life on him and his own lays down, He, dying so, lives.[1] My brother was born at Liverpool on January 25th, 1889, and was at Bedales School for five or six years, and afterwards at Birmingham University, where he studied engineering and was exceptionally competent in the workshop. He went through the usual two years' practical training at the Wolseley Motor Works, and then entered his brothers' works, where he remained until he obtained a commission at the outbreak of war. His was a mind of rare stamp. It had unusual power, unusual quickness, and patience and understanding of difficulties in my experience unparalleled, so that he was able to make anyone understand really difficult things. I think we were most of us proudest and most hopeful of him. Some of us, I did myself, sometimes took problems technical or intellectual to him, sure of a wise and sound solution. Though his chief strength lay on the side of mechanical and electrical engineering it was not confined to that. He read widely, and liked good literature of an intellectual and witty but not highly imaginative type, at least I do not know that he read Shelley or much of William Morris, but he was fond of Fielding, Pope, and Jane Austen. Naturally he read Shakespeare, and I particularly associate him with Twelfth Night and Love's Labour's Lost. Among novelists, his favourites, after Fielding and Miss Austen, were I believe Dickens and Reade; and he frequently quoted from the essays and letters of Charles Lamb. [2] Of the stories of his early childhood, and his overflowing vitality made many, I was too often from home to be able to speak at large. But one I may tell. Once when a small boy at Grove Park, Liverpool, he jumped out of the bath and ran down the stairs with the nurse after him, out of the front door, down one drive along the road and up the other, and was safely back in the bath again before the horrified nursemaid could catch up with him. [body of Memoir incomplete, and omitted here.] [Close of Memoir] [ 4] [Pg 5] [Pg 6] That death is the end has never been a Christian doctrine, and evidence collected by careful men in our own day has, perhaps needlessly, upheld with weak props of experiment the mighty arch of Faith. Death is real and grievous, and is not to be tempered by the glossing timidities of those who would substitute journalese like "passing-on," "passing-over," etc., for that tremendous word: but it is the end of a stage, not the end of the journey. The road stretches on beyond that inn, and beyond our imagination, "the moonlit endless way." Let us think of him then, not as lying near Ypres with all his work ended, but rather, after due rest and refreshment, continuing his noble and useful career in more peaceful surroundings, and quietly calling us his family from paralysing grief to resolute and high endeavour. Indeed, it is not right that we should weep for a death like his. Rather let us pay him our homage in praise and imitation, by growing like him and by holding our lives lightly in our Country's service, so that if need be we may die like him. This is true honour and his best memorial. Not that I would undervalue those of brass or stone, for if beautiful they are good and worthy things. But fame illuminates memorials, and fame has but a narrow circle in a life of twenty-six years. Who shall remember him, who climb His all-unripened fame to wake, Who dies an age before his time? But nobly, but for England's sake. Who will believe us when we cry He was as great as he was brave? His name that years had lifted high Lies buried in that Belgian grave. O strong and patient, kind and true, Valiant of heart, and clear of brain— They cannot know the man we knew, Our words go down the wind like rain. O. W. F. L. Tintern EPITAPH ON MEMORIAL TABLET IN ST. GEORGE'S CHURCH, EDGBASTON REMEMBER RAYMOND LODGE SECOND LIEUTENANT SECOND SOUTH LANCASHIRE REGIMENT BELOVED SON OF SIR OLIVER AND LADY LODGE OF THIS PARISH WHO GAVE HIS LIFE FOR HIS COUNTRY HE WAS BORN JANUARY 25TH 1889 AND WAS KILLED IN ACTION IN FLANDERS ABOUT NOON SEPTEMBER 14TH IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1915 AGED 26 YEARS Whoso bears the whole heaviness of the wronged world's weight And puts it by, It is well with him suffering, though he face man's fate; How should he die? Swinburne REMINISCENCES BY O. J. L. [ 7] [ 8] OF all my sons, the youngest, when he was small, was most like myself at the same age. In bodily appearance I could recognise the likeness to my early self, as preserved in old photographs; an old schoolfellow of mine who knew me between the ages of eight and eleven, visiting Mariemont in April 1904, remarked on it forcibly and at once, directly he saw Raymond—then a schoolboy; and innumerable small mental traits in the boy recalled to me my childhood's feelings. Even an absurd difficulty he had as a child in saying the hard letters—the hard G and K—was markedly reminiscent of my own similar difficulty. Another peculiarity which we shared in childhood was dislike of children's parties—indeed, in my own case, a party of any kind. I remember being truly miserable at a Christmas party at The Mount, Penkhull, where I have no doubt that every one was more than friendly,—though probably over-patronising, as people often are with children,—but where I determinedly abstained from supper, and went home hungry. Raymond's prominent instance was at the hospitable Liverpool house, "Greenbank," which the Rathbones annually delivered up to family festivities each Christmas afternoon and evening, being good enough to include us in their family group. On one such occasion Raymond, a very small boy, was found in the hall making a bee-line for the front door and home. I remember sympathising with him, from ancient memories, and taking him home, subsequently returning myself. At a later stage of boyhood I perceived that his ability and tastes were akin to mine, for we had the same passionate love of engineering and machinery; though in my case, having no opportunity of exercising it to any useful extent, it gradually turned into special aptitude for physical science. Raymond was never anything like as good at physics, nor had he the same enthusiasm for mathematics that I had, but he was better at engineering, was in many ways I consider stronger in character, and would have made, I expect, a first-rate engineer. His pertinacious ability in the mechanical and workshop direction was very marked. Nothing could have been further from his natural tastes and proclivities than to enter upon a military career; nothing but a sense of duty impelled him in that direction, which was quite foreign to family tradition, at least on my side. RAYMOND WHEN TWO YEARS OLD He also excelled me in a keen sense of humour—not only appreciation, but achievement. The whole family could not but admire and enjoy the readiness with which he perceived at once the humorous side of everything; and he usually kept lively any gathering of which he was a unit. At school, indeed, his active wit rather interfered with the studies of himself and others, and in the supposed interests of his classmates it had to be more or less suppressed, but to the end he continued to be rather one of the wags of the school. Being so desperately busy all my life I failed to see as much as I should like either of him or of the other boys, but there was always an instinctive sympathy between us; and it is a relief to me to be unable to remember any, even a single, occasion on which I have been vexed with him. In all serious matters he was, as far as I could judge, one of the best youths I have ever known; and we all looked forward to a happy life for him and a brilliant career. His elder brothers highly valued his services in their Works. He got on admirably with the men; his mode of dealing with overbearing foremen at the Works, where he was for some years an apprentice, was testified to as masterly, and was much appreciated by his "mates"; and honestly I cannot bethink myself of any trait in his character which I would have had different—unless it be that he might have had a more thorough liking and aptitude for, and greater industry in, my own subject of physics. When the war broke out his mother and I were in Australia, and it was some time before we heard that he had considered it his duty to volunteer. He did so in September 1914, getting a commission in the Regular Army which was ante-dated to August; and he threw himself into military duties with the same ability and thoroughness as he had applied to more naturally congenial occupations. He went through a course of training at Great Crosby, near Liverpool, with the Regiment in which he was a Second Lieutenant, namely the 3rd South Lancashires, being attached to the 2nd when he went to the Front; his Company spent the winter in more active service on the south coast of the Firth of Forth and Edinburgh; and he gained his desired opportunity to go out to Flanders on 15 March 1915. Here he applied his engineering faculty to trench and shelter construction, in addition to ordinary military duties; and presently he became a machine-gun officer. How desperately welcome to the family his safe return would have been, at the end of the war, I need not say. He had a hard and strenuous time at the Front, and we all keenly desired to make it up to him by a course of home "spoiling." But it was too much to hope for—though I confess I did hope for it. He has entered another region of service now; and this we realise. For though in the first shock of bereavement the outlook of life felt irretrievably darkened, a perception of his continued usefulness has mercifully dawned upon us, and we know that his activity is not over. His bright ingenuity will lead to developments beyond what we could have anticipated; and we have clear hopes for the future. O. J. L. Mariemont, September 30, 1915. [ 9] [ 10] R T T A MOTHER'S LAMENT Written on a scrap of paper, September 26, 1915, "To ease the pain and to try to get in touch" AYMOND, darling, you have gone from our world, and oh, to ease the pain. I want to know if you are happy, and that you yourself are really talking to me and no sham. "No more letters from you, my own dear son, and I have loved them so. They are all there; we shall have them typed together into a sort of book. "Now we shall be parted until I join you there. I have not seen as much of you as I wanted on this earth, but I do love to think of the bits I have had of you, specially our journeys to and from Italy. I had you to myself then, and you were so dear. "I want to say, dear, how we recognise the glorious way in which you have done your duty, with a certain straight pressing on, never letting anyone see the effort, and with your fun and laughter playing round all the time, cheering and helping others. You know how your brothers and sisters feel your loss, and your poor father!" HE religious side of Raymond was hardly known to the family; but among his possessions at the Front was found a small pocket Bible called "The Palestine Pictorial Bible" (Pearl 24mo), Oxford University Press, in which a number of passages are marked; and on the fly-leaf, pencilled in his writing, is an index to these passages, which page I copy here:— PAGE Ex. xxxiii. 14 63 St. John xiv. 689 Eph. ii. 749 Neh. i. 6, II 337 St. John xvi. 33 689 Rom. viii. 35 723 St. Matt. xi. 28 616 Ps. cxxiv. 8 415 Ps. xliii. 2 468 Deut. xxxiii. 27 151 Deut. xxxii. 43 150 Isa. li. 12 473 Isa. lii. 12 474 Jude 24 784 Ezra ix. 9 335 Isa. xii. 2 451 Isa. i. 18 445 Isa. xl. 31 467 Rev. vii. 14 788 Rev. xxi. 4 795 Mizpah. Gen. xxxi. 49. 14/8/15 R. L. HE following poem was kindly sent me by Canon Rawnsley, in acknowledgment of a Memorial Card:— OUR ANGEL-HOST OF HELP IN MEMORY OF RAYMOND LODGE, Who Fell in Flanders, 14 Sept. 1915 "His strong young body is laid under some trees on the road [ 11] [ 12] A from Ypres to Menin." [From the Memorial Card sent to friends.] 'Twixt Ypres and Menin night and day The poplar trees in leaf of gold Were whispering either side the way Of sorrow manifold, —Of war that never should have been, Of war that still perforce must be, Till in what brotherhood can mean The nations all agree. But where they laid your gallant lad I heard no sorrow in the air, The boy who gave the best he had That others good might share. For golden leaf and gentle grass They too had offered of their best To banish grief from all who pass His hero's place of rest. There as I gazed, the guests of God, An angel host before mine eyes, Silent as if on air they trod Marched straight from Paradise. And one sprang forth to join the throng From where the grass was gold and green, His body seemed more lithe and strong Than it had ever been. I cried, "But why in bright array Of crowns and palms toward the north And those white trenches far away, Doth this great host go forth?" He answered, "Forth we go to fight To help all need where need there be, Sworn in for right against brute might Till Europe shall be free." H. D. Rawnsley EXTRACTS FROM PLATO'S DIALOGUE "MENEXENUS" Being part of a Speech in honour of those who had died in Battle for their Country ND I think that I ought now to repeat the message which your fathers, when they went out to battle, urged us to deliver to you who are their survivors, in case anything happened to them. I will tell you what I heard them say, and what, if they could, they would fain be saying now, judging from what they then said; but you must imagine that you hear it all from their lips. Thus they spoke:— "Sons, the event proves that your fathers were brave men. For we, who might have continued to live, though without glory, choose a glorious death rather than bring reproach on you and your children, and rather than disgrace our fathers and all of our race who have gone before us, believing that for the man who brings shame on his own people life is not worth living, and that such an one is loved neither by men nor gods, either on earth or in the underworld when he is dead. "Some of us have fathers and mothers still living, and you must encourage them to bear their trouble, should it come, as lightly as may be; and do not join them in lamentations, for they will have no need of aught that would give their grief a keener edge. They will have pain enough from what has befallen them. [ 13] I Endeavour rather to soothe and heal their wound, reminding them that of all the boons they ever prayed for the greatest have been granted to them. For they did not pray that their sons should live for ever, but that they should be brave and of fair fame. Courage and honour are the best of all blessings, and while for a mortal man it can hardly be that everything in his own life will turn out as he would have it, their prayer for those two things has been heard. Moreover, if they bear their troubles bravely, it will be perceived that they are indeed fathers of brave sons, and that they themselves are like them.... So minded, we, at any rate, bid those dear to us to be; such we would have them be; and such we say we are now showing that we ourselves are, neither grieving overmuch nor fearing overmuch if we are to die in this battle. And we entreat our fathers and mothers to continue to be thus minded for the rest of their days, for we would have them know that it is not by bewailing and lamentation that they will please us best. If the dead have any knowledge of the living, they will give us no pleasure by breaking down under their trouble, or by bearing it with impatience.... For our lives will have had an end the most glorious of all that fall to the lot of man; it is therefore more fitting to do us honour than to lament us." Stat sua cuique dies; breve et irreparabile tempus Omnibus est vitae: sed famam extendere factis, Hoc virtutis opus. �n. x. 467 Footnotes Swinburne, _Super Flumina Babylonis_. Note by O. J. L.—A volume of poems by O. W. F. L. had been sent to Raymond by the author; and this came back with his kit, inscribed on the title page in a way which showed that it had been appreciated:— "Received at Wisques (Machine-Gun School), near St. Omer, France—12th July 1915. Taken to camp near Poperinghe—13th July. To huts near Dickebusch—21st July. To first-line trenches near St. Eloi, in front of 'The Mound of Death'—24th July." C H A P T E R I I LETTERS FROM THE FRONT SHALL now, for reasons explained in the Preface, quote extracts from letters which Raymond wrote to members of his family during the time he was serving in Flanders. A short note made by me the day after he first started for the Front may serve as a preliminary statement of fact:— Mariemont, Edgbaston, 16 March 1915 Raymond was recently transferred back from Edinburgh to Great Crosby near Liverpool; and once more began life in tents or temporary sheds. Yesterday morning, Monday the 15th March, one of the subalterns was ordered to the Front; he went to a doctor, who refused to pass him, owing to some temporary indisposition. Raymond was then asked if he was fit: he replied, Perfectly. So at 10 a.m. he was told to start for France that night. Accordingly he packed up; and at 3.00 we at Mariemont received a telegram from him asking to be met at 5 p.m., and saying he could spend six hours at home. His mother unfortunately was in London, and for many hours was inaccessible. At last some of the telegrams reached her, at 7 p.m., and she came by the first available (slow) train from Paddington, getting here at 11. Raymond took the midnight train to Euston; Alec, Lionel, and No�l accompanying him. They would reach Euston at 3.50 a.m. and have two hours to wait, when he was to meet a Captain [Capt. Taylor], and start from Waterloo for Southampton. The boys intended to see him off at Waterloo, and then return [ 14] [1] [2] [ 15] home to their war-business as quickly as they could. He seems quite well; but naturally it has been rather a strain for the family: as the same sort of thing has been for so many other families. O. J. L. First comes a letter written on his way to the Front after leaving Southampton. "Hotel Dervaux, 75 Grande Rue, Boulogne-s/Mer, Wednesday, 24 March 1915, 11.30 a.m. "Following on my recent despatch, I have the honour to report that we have got stuck here on our way to the Front. Not stuck exactly, but they have shunted us into a siding which we reached about 8 a.m., and we are free until 2.30 p.m. when we have to telephone for further orders to find out where we are to join our train. I don't know whether this is the regular way to the Front from Rouen. I don't think it is, I fancy the more direct way must be reserved for urgent supplies and wounded. "My servant has been invaluable en route and he has caused us a great deal of amusement. He hunted round at the goods station at Rouen (whence we started) and found a large circular tin. He pierced this all over to form a brazier and attached a wire handle. As soon as we got going he lit this, having filled it with coal purloined from somewhere, and when we stopped by the wayside about 10 or 11 p.m. he supplied my compartment (four officers) with fine hot tea. He had previously purchased some condensed milk. He also saw to it that a large share of the rations, provided by the authorities before we left, fell to our share, and looked after us and our baggage in the most splendid way. "He insists on treating the train as a tram. As soon as it slows down to four miles an hour, he is down on the permanent way gathering firewood or visiting some railway hut in search of plunder. He rides with a number of other servants in the baggage waggon, and as they had no light he nipped out at a small station and stole one of the railway men's lamps. However, there was a good deal of fuss, and the owner came and indignantly recovered it. "As soon as we stop anywhere, he lowers out of his van the glowing brazier. He keeps it burning in the van! I wonder the railway authorities don't object. If they do, of course he pretends not to understand any French. "He often gets left behind on the line, and has to scramble into our carriage, where he regales us with his life history until the next stop, when he returns to his own van. "Altogether he is a very rough customer and wants a lot of watching—all the same he makes an excellent servant." Letters from the Front in Flanders "Friday, 26 March 1915 "I arrived here yesterday about 5 p.m., and found the Battalion resting from the trenches. We all return there on Sunday evening. "I got a splendid reception from my friends here, and they have managed to get me into an excellent Company, all the officers of which are my friends. This place is very muddy, but better than it was, I understand. We are in tents." "Saturday, 27 March 1915, 4.30 p.m. "We moved from our camp into billets last night and are now in a farm-house. The natives still live here, and we (five officers) have a room to ourselves, and our five servants and our cook live and cook for us in the kitchen. The men of our Company are quartered in neighbouring farm buildings, and other Companies farther down the road. We are within a mile of a village and about three or four miles to the southward of a fair-sized and well-known town. The weather is steadily improving and the mud is drying up—though I haven't seen what the trenches are like yet.... "I am now permanently attached to C Company and am devoutly thankful. Captain T. is in command and the subalterns are Laws, Fletcher, and Thomas, all old friends of mine. F. was the man whose room I shared at Edinburgh and over whose bed I fixed the picture.... "We went on a 'fatigue' job to-day—just our Company—and were wrongly directed and so went too far and got right in view of the enemy's big guns. However, we cleared out very quickly when we discovered our error, and had got back on to the main road again when a couple of shells burst apparently fairly near where we had been. There were a couple of hostile aeroplanes about too.... Thank you very much for [ 16] [ 17] your letter wondering where I am. 'Very pressing are the Germans,' a buried city." [This of course privately signified to the family that he was at Ypres.] "1 April 1915, 1.15 p.m. "We dug trenches by night on Monday and Wednesday, and although we were only about 300 to 500 yards from the enemy we had a most peaceful time, only a very few stray bullets whistling over from time to time." "Saturday, 3 April 1915, 7 p.m. "I am having quite a nice time in the trenches. I am writing this in my dug-out by candle-light; this afternoon I had a welcome shave. Shaving and washing is usually dispensed with during our spell of duty (even by the Colonel), but if I left it six days I should burst my razor I think. I have got my little 'Primus' with me and it is very useful indeed as a standby, although we do all our main cooking on a charcoal brazier.... "I will look out for the great sunrise to-morrow morning and am wishing you all a jolly good Easter: I shan't have at all a bad one. It is very like Robinson Crusoe—we treasure up our water supply most carefully (it is brought up in stone jars), and we have excellent meals off limited and simple rations, by the exercise of a little native cunning on the part of our servants, especially mine." "Bank Holiday, 5 April 1915, 4.30 p.m. "The trenches are only approached and relieved at night-time, and even here we are not allowed to stir from the house by day on any pretext whatever, and no fires are allowed on account of the smoke. (Fires are started within doors when darkness falls and we have a hot meal then and again in the early morning— that is the rule—however, we do get a fire in the day by using charcoal only and lighting up from a candle to one piece and from that one piece to the rest, by blowing; also I have my Primus stove.) ... We are still within rifle-fire range here, but of course it is all unaimed fire from the intermittent conflict going on at the firing line.... "I have a straw bed covered with my tarpaulin sheet—(it is useful although I have also the regular military rubber ground sheet as well)—and my invaluable air-pillow. I am of course travelling light and have to carry everything in my 'pack' until I get back to my valise and 'rest billets,' so I sleep in my clothes. Simply take off my boots and puttees, put my feet in a nice clean sack, take off my coat and cover myself up with my British Warm coat (put on sideways so as to use its great width to the full). Like this I sleep like a top and am absolutely comfortable." "I have been making up an Acrostic for you all to guess—here it is: Lights. My first is speechless, and a bell Has often the complaint as well. Three letters promising to pay, Each letter for a word does stay. There's nothing gross about this act;— A gentle kiss involving tact. A General less his final 'k,' A hen would have no more to say. Our Neenie who is going west Her proper name will serve you best. Whole. My whole, though in a foreign tongue, Is Richard's name when he is young. The rest is just a shrub or tree With spelling 'Made in Germany.' "That's the lot. The word has ten letters and is divided into two halves for the purpose of the Acrostic. "My room-mate has changed for to-night, and I have got Wyatt, who has just come in covered in mud, after four days in the trenches. He is machine-gun officer, and works very hard. I am so glad to have him. "By the way the support-trenches aren't half bad. I didn't want to leave them, but it's all right here too." "Thursday, 8 April 1915 [ 18] [ 19] "Here I am back again in 'Rest Billets,' for six days' rest. When I set off for the six days' duty I was ardently looking forward to this moment, but there is not much difference; here we 'pig' it pretty comfortably in a house, and there we 'pig' it almost as comfortably in a 'dug-out.' There we are exposed to rifle fire, nearly all unaimed, and here we are exposed to shell fire—aimed, but from about five miles away. "On the whole this is the better, because there is more room to move about, more freedom for exercise, and there is less mud. But you will understand how much conditions in the trenches have improved if comparison is possible at all. "My platoon (No. 11) has been very fortunate; we have had no casualties at all in the last six days. The nearest thing to one was yesterday when we were in the firing trench, and a man got a bullet through his cap quite close to his head. He was peeping over the top, a thing they are all told not to do in the daytime. The trenches at our point are about a hundred yards apart, and it is really safe to look over if you don't do it too often, but it is unnecessary, as we had a periscope and a few loopholes.... "I am awfully grateful for all the things that have been sent, and are being sent.... I will attach a list of wants at the end of this letter. I am very insatiable (that's not quite the word I wanted), but I am going on the principle that you and the rest of the family are only waiting to gratify my every whim! So, if I think of a thing I ask for it.... "By the way we have changed our billets here. Our last ones have been shelled while we were away—a prodigious hole through the roof wrecking the kitchen, but not touching our little room at the back. However, it is not safe enough for habitation and the natives even have left! "Things are awfully quiet here. We thought at first that it was 'fishy' and something was preparing, but I don't think so now. It is possibly the principle of 'live and let live.' In the trenches if we don't stir them up with shots they leave us pretty well alone. Of course we are ready for anything all the same. "Yes, we see the daily papers here as often as we want to (the day's before). Personally, and I think my view is shared by all the other officers, I would rather read a romance, or anything not connected with this war, than a daily paper.... "Was the Easter sunrise a success? It wasn't here. Cloudy and dull was how I should describe it. Fair to fine generally, some rain (the latter not to be taken in the American sense). "I wonder if you got my Acrostic [see previous letter] and whether anybody guessed it; it was meant to be very easy, but perhaps acrostics are no longer the fashion and are somewhat boring. I always think they are more fun to make than to undo. The solution is a household word here, because it is only a half-mile or so away, and provides most things." [The family had soon guessed the Acrostic, giving the place as Dickebusch. The "lights" are— D um B I o U Cares S K lu Ck E dit H.] [To a Brother] "Billets, Tuesday, 13 April 1915 "We are all right here except for the shells. When I arrived I found every one suffering from nerves and unwilling to talk about shells at all. And now I understand why. The other day a shrapnel burst near our billet and a piece of the case caught one of our servants (Mr. Laws's) on the leg and hand. He lost the fingers of his right hand, and I have been trying to forget the mess it made of his right leg—ever since. He will have had it amputated by now. "They make you feel awfully shaky, and when one comes over it is surprising the pace at which every one gets down into any ditch or hole near. "One large shell landed right on the field where the men were playing football on Sunday evening. They all fell flat, and all, I'm thankful to say, escaped injury, though a few were within a yard or so of the hole. The other subalterns of the Company and I were (mirabile dictu) in church at the time. "I wonder if you can get hold of some morphia tablets [for wounded men]. I think injection is too complicated, but I understand there are tablets that can merely be placed in the mouth to relieve pain. They might prove very useful in the trenches, because if a man is hit in the morning he will usually have to wait till dark to be removed. [ 20] [ 21] [ 22] "My revolver has arrived this morning." "Sunday, 18 April 1915 "I came out of the trenches on Friday night. It was raining, so the surface of the ground was very slippery; and it was the darkest night I can remember. There was a good deal of 'liveliness' too, shots were flying around more than usual. There were about a hundred of us in our party, two platoons (Fletcher's and mine) which had been in the fire trenches, though I was only with them for one day, Thursday night till Friday night. Captain Taylor was in front, then Fletcher's platoon, then Fletcher, then my platoon, then me bringing up the rear. We always travel in single file, because there are so many obstacles to negotiate— plank bridges and 'Johnson' holes being the chief. "Picture us then shuffling our way across the fields behind the trenches at about one mile an hour—with frequent stops while those in front negotiate some obstacle (during these stops we crouch down to try and miss most of the bullets!). Every few minutes a 'Very' light will go up and then the whole line 'freezes' and remains absolutely stationary in its tracks till the light is over. A 'Very' light is an 'asteroid.' (No�l will explain that.) It is fired either by means of a rocket (in the German case) or of a special pistol called a 'Very' pistol after the inventor (in our case). The light is not of magnesium brightness, but is just a bright star light with a little parachute attached, so that it falls slowly through the air. The light lasts about five seconds. These things are being shot up at short intervals all night long. Sometimes dozens are in the air together, especially if an attack is on. "Well, to go back to Friday night:—it took us a very long time to get back, and at one point it was hard to believe that they hadn't seen us. Lights went up and almost a volley whistled over us. We all got right down and waited for a bit. Really we were much too far off for them to see us, but we were on rather an exposed bit of ground, and they very likely fix a few rifles on to that part in the daytime and 'poop' them off at night. That is a favourite plan of theirs, and works very well. "We did get here in the end, and had no casualties, though we had had one just before leaving the trench. A man called Raymond (in my platoon) got shot through the left forearm. He was firing over the parapet and had been sniping snipers (firing at their flashes). Rather a nasty wound through an artery. They applied a tourniquet and managed to stop the bleeding, but he was so weak from loss of blood he had to be carried back on a stretcher. "I had noticed this man before, partly on account of his name. Last time I was in the fire trenches (about ten days ago) I was dozing in my dug-out one evening and the Sergeant-Major was in his, next door. Suddenly he calls out 'Raymond!' I started. Then he calls again 'Raymond! Come here!' I shouted out 'Hallo! What's the matter?' But then I heard the other Raymond answering, so I guessed how it was.... "While at tea in the next room the post came and brought me your letter and one from Alec. Isn't it perfectly marvellous? You were surprised at the speed of my last letter. But how about yours? The postmark is 2.30 p.m. on the 16th at Birmingham, and here it is in my hands at 4 p.m. on the 18th! "I was telling you about the difficulties of going to and fro between here and the trenches, but you will understand it is not always like that. If there is a moon, or even if there is a clear sky so that we can get the benefit of the starlight (which is considerable and much more than I thought), matters are much improved, because if you can still see the man in front, when he is, say, 5 yards in front of you, and can also see the holes instead of finding them with your person, all that 'waiting for the "tail" to close up' is done away with.... "Last night Laws, Thomas, and myself each took a party of about forty-five down separately, leaving the remainder guarding the various billets. Then when we returned Fletcher took the rest down. "It was a glorious night, starry, with a very young and inexperienced moon, and quite dry and warm. I would not have minded going down again except that I would rather go to bed, which I did. "Do you know that joke in Punch where the Aunt says: 'Send me a postcard when you are safely in the trenches!'? Well, there is a great deal of truth in that—one feels quite safe when one reaches the friendly shelter of the trench, though of course the approaches aren't really very dangerous. One is 'thrilled' by the whistle of the bullets near you. That describes the feeling best, I think—it is a kind of excitement." "Thursday, 22 April 1915, 6.50 p.m. "I have received a most grand periscope packed, with spare mirrors, in a canvas haversack. It is a glorious one and I am quite keen to use it, thank you very much indeed for it. Thank you also for two sets of ear defenders which I am going to test when firing off a 'Very' light. A 'parachuted' star is fired from a brass pistol with a bore of about 1 inch and a barrel of about 6 inches. The report is very deafening, I believe—though I haven't fired one yet. "The star, by the way, though it lights up the country for some distance, is not too bright to look at. [ 23] [ 24]