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Letter 79.—From Private Tom Savage, to his relatives at Larne:
At Sea.
Just a line to let you know that we are landing outside ——. They kept us without any knowledge of how and where we were going till the last moment. I am quite well and extra specially fit. It is good fun on a troopship, and we are going to have a nice little holiday on the Continent. I’ll be able to “swank French” when I come back. I’ll write a good long letter when I settle down. I’m writing this at tea time just before we land. I have got two very nice chums, Jack Wright, the footballer, who has seen service before, and Billy Caughey, both of Belfast.
In France.
I am writing this note while on outpost duty. I can’t say where we are, or anything like that, but I am in the best of health and enjoying the life. I am getting a fine hand at French. There is plenty of food and the people are all very nice. It’s great fun trying to understand them. Plenty of fruit here, pears and apples galore, and as for bread big long rolls and rings of it, and all very cheap. When you happen to be riding through a town the people give you cigarettes, fruit, chocolates, and cider.
If you are all extra good I’ll bring you home a pet German. How is Home Rule getting on? Send me a paper, but I don’t know when I’ll get it or you’ll get this. I suppose the papers are full of this ruction. I can write no more as I’ll soon have to go on guard.
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Letter 80.—From Mons. E. Hovelange, of Paris, written on August 30th, to Sir William Collins (Published in the “Sussex Daily News”):
How serious the situation is here it is hard for you to realize in London. We may be encircled at any moment by these hordes of savages. Such murderous cruelty has never been seen in the annals of war. The Turks and the Bulgarians were no worse. It is the rule to fire on ambulances and slaughter the wounded. I know it from eye-witnesses. The Germans are drunk with savagery. It is an orgy of the basest cruelty. They are rushing Paris at all costs, squandering their men recklessly in overwhelming numbers. Our troops are submerged and can only retreat, fighting desperately, but the spirit of our soldiers is splendid. All the wounded I have seen laugh and joke over their wounds and are burning to have another go at the barbarians. Victory is certain. But what disastrous changes shall we know before it comes. I am prepared for the worst—another month of hopeless struggle perhaps. But we will light to the last man. The tide will turn, and then—woe to them. I know you will stand by us in the cause of civilization, common honest truth till the bitter end. But if you want to help us you must hasten.