After consulting my maps, and chatting with dozens of military police, interpreters, etc., I took my car forward by a certain road. By this time it was pitch dark, except for star shells and gun flashes. The road was crammed with traffic. We took a wrong turning, and eventually found ourselves on an apology for a road that ended in a swamp full of shell-holes, and had to retrace our steps gingerly. After blundering about in the dark for some time we struck the village we were looking for, a hopeless sort of place crammed with Scotsmen, all exceedingly grimy, but gay and cheerful. In one house the men were waltzing to the strains of a mouth-organ, though the boom of the guns was shaking the house every second or so.
Having reached the Headquarters I was in quest of, I ascertained from them that the battery with which I had business to do was now at a spot two miles away down a main road which was the scene of such desperate fighting not long back. The O.C. strongly advised me not to take the car down there, as if I did "it was likely that the car would stop some pieces of metal." There was nothing for it but to walk down the road leading to the recently captured village. It was very dark, but star-shells, with their weird green light, would illuminate the countryside every five minutes or so. In the darkness one could vaguely discern the shape of the first-line transport wagons taking up rations to the trenches, and small columns of silently marching men, and now and then a motor lorry belonging to some ammunition park. Presently, after what seemed an interminable walk, I found the battery, who themselves had only just arrived, and executed my job in a half-ruined house. To get back to my car I borrowed a horse and rode part of the way with a number of led horses, which, having brought up the guns, were going back to the wagon line.
On getting to my car I decided that my best road to return would be to go straight along into a certain large town, instead of the route we'd come by. As we spun along a voice from the darkness hailed us: "Have you room for an officer?" We at once pulled up and told him to jump in. Poor devil! he was almost in a state of collapse and talked wildly. He had been six months in the trenches, and had just come out of them in a half-hysterical state. I had to speak to him pretty firmly before he could pull himself together. We took him to his destination, and he was most grateful for the lift.
It was an uncanny experience, this wandering about in the darkness in desolate regions a few hundred yards from the trenches. In this grim struggle there is none of the glory and pomp of war as exhibited in the days of old, when rival armies met amid the blare of trumpets and the waving of standards. The pageantry of war is gone. We have now war in all its fierceness, grime and cold-bloodedness without any picturesque glamour or romance. Can you wonder that in such conditions civilised human nature out here swiftly changes and is replaced by elemental savagery?
In December, 1915, Paul Jones had short leave, and spent six days at home. He took advantage of the opportunity to have a game of football on the familiar arena in Dulwich, playing for the Old Alleynians against the College 1st XV.
December 21st, 1915.
All well after a pleasant crossing. The blundering authorities kept us and three other leave trains six hours in —— station, no one being allowed to leave the platform! We eventually reached —— at 7 P.M. The two first men I met on the boat were old Dulwich boys, W. J. Barnard and Bobby Dicke. Barnard is a field-gunner, and Dicke is in the 1st Royal Fusiliers. I also met another O.A., named Corsan, who is captain in Barnard's battery. How well I remember ragging with him in choir practices! We had a thrilling chat over old times. Both Barnard and Corsan went through the Battle of Loos. On reaching France we found there was no means of getting to our respective destinations until next morning, so we all dined together with a couple of other subs., one in the K.R.R.s, a mere boy in appearance but a veteran in experience. How delightful to meet old pals, and what splendid fellows these old public-school men are!
Everything is very festive about here just now. Officers and men are making ready to pass Christmas in the old-fashioned way.
December 28th, 1915.