The winter campaign of 1915-1916 now set in in earnest, and from this time onwards there was a long struggle against the rain, mud, and trenches that were continually falling in.
A fleeting visit was paid to the neighbourhood of Hulluch, where the Battalion was in reserve during the struggle on the 13th October, and narrowly escaped the fate which befel a Battalion of the Black Watch who went down in attempting the impossible feat of cutting their way, under very heavy machine-gun and artillery fire, through enemy wire of incredible thickness.
On the 28th October, “A” and “C” Companies had the honour of representing the Battalion at an inspection by His Majesty the King in a field near the village of Haillicourt.
Soon after their return the weather went from bad to worse. Everywhere men were huddled on the firestep with just a ground-sheet rigged over a couple of rifles placed across the trench—the “shelter” thus formed carefully collecting and depositing the rain-water down the neck of the passer by! On every ration fatigue to the “lone tree” you floundered up to the knees in mud and water. Private Beatty, of “A” Company, soothed his feelings one night on slipping head first into a slimy shell-hole with the following impromptu:—
“Mis-ry unspeakable,
Horrible, shriekable,
Groundsheets unleakable,
I don’t think.
Rain never ending,
On us descending,
Simply heartrending.
Gawd——!”
when he fell backwards into another shell-hole, and the rest is unprintable.
The effect of the incessant rain and water-logged trenches began to tell on the spirits of all ranks. The days of hot meals in trenches had not then arrived. Sheepskin coats, leather jerkins and woollen gloves had not, at any rate, been issued to the Civil Service Rifles, while gum boots, though sometimes heard of, were seldom, if ever, seen. On many occasions, too, the only implements available for the work of baling out the water and thin mud from the trench bottom were picks and shovels!
It is characteristic of the spirit of the troops that there are so many good stories told of this period of discomfort. Although it was found that the working parties increased as the strength of the Battalion decreased, it was also found that the rum ration increased, and one man of “A” Company benefited so much by the extra ration that when his next turn for sentry duty came, he faced the wrong way on the fire step and called the attention of his platoon sergeant to a wood, which he said he could swear was not in front of him during his previous turn of sentry duty!
Another story is told of the same man, who was a Scotsman, during another of his turns of sentry duty. His platoon commander suspected him of being asleep, and brought his sergeant along to confirm or allay his suspicions. The man was resting his head on the parapet and apparently gazing straight to his front. The platoon sergeant said he felt sure the man was awake, but suggested to his officer that he might test him with a franc. The officer thereupon slipped a franc note on to the parapet in front of the sentry’s face. Without taking his eyes off his “front,” the sentry promptly opened his mouth and took the bait. “The franc is yours,” said Lieutenant Bates, whose doubts as to the alertness of his sentry were now dispersed.
By way of a diversion, the Battalion was inspected during one of the short rests in support trenches, by a civic dignitary from London, accompanied by his Press photographer. Of all the discomforts of life in France few, if any, were more irksome to the British soldier than being visited by a civilian, looking clean, and fat, and comfortable, who would return home and have it duly advertised in the Press that he had just been to the front to see things for himself.