James Lusk: Letters & Memories

by James Lusk

The 6th Cameronians crossed from Southampton to Havre on Saturday, 20th March, 1915. The story of their arrival there, and of their first experience of the trenches, is told at length in the following letters:—

MARCH 23, 1915.

I am writing this in the train between —— and ——! This doesn't convey much information about our whereabouts, does it? ... On Saturday afternoon we got our horses and vehicles on to our ship straight from the train. The horses were led up an inclined gangway and were arranged in rows close beside one another on two decks, and the vehicles were hoisted into the holds by cranes.... We cast off from the quay about 7 p.m. and set forth upon our voyage. John and I were the only officers of our Battalion in our ship, and between us we had 50 men and 48 horses. There were other portions of regiments on board too and about 600 horses. The main part of our Battalion went over in a fast ship, and the remainder of our transport vehicles and horses crossed in a third ship, so we were pretty well split up. When we slipped out of Southampton Harbour and reached the open sea, the moon just gave enough light to show us that two of our grand Navy's silent watchers had slipped quietly alongside of us, one on the port beam and the other on the starboard. We watched them late into the night, and sometimes they seemed little more than black shadows on the surface of the water, and sometimes came so near that we could make out their shapes, and saw that they were torpedo boat destroyers. Not a light showed either on our ship or on our escorts. Fortunately the sea was calm and the crossing quiet. We left Southampton at about 7 p.m., and next morning we wakened up to find ourselves in a large bay or estuary whose name I cannot give. There were many other ships round about us, and a big Hospital one lay quite near us. This was Sabbath morning. About 10 o'clock we got the anchor up and steamed inside the harbour, and then tugs got hold of us and got us alongside the quay. We soon got the horses ashore into a big shed, and tied them up there. Then the dock cranes hoisted out our vehicles, and by 4.30 the last vehicle was ashore. Next we got the horses harnessed into them, and started off on a five miles' march through the streets of the town and up a winding hill to a camp where we were to stay the night. Everything was under canvas, and the horses were picketed out in the open, and it was bitterly cold. I slept—or tried to sleep—with two others in a tent with a wooden floor, and except for the cold it was all right. There was to be an inspection of transports next morning at 8 a.m., so we were up before six getting the horses watered and fed and harnessed, and the men given their breakfast. The inspecting officer turned up at 9.30! About 2.30 p.m. everything was packed up, and we moved off again down the hill to one of the goods stations of the town. We got there at 4.30, watered the horses again, and by 7 o'clock had all the horses and vehicles into the train. These days have been very strenuous, but we have got through it all wonderfully well. Some of the mules have been very obstinate in refusing to be led into the railway trucks; where persuasion has failed I got a strong rope, passed it round their hind quarters and put three men on either end of the rope. This was always successful! At 8 p.m. we were under way again. Before starting we got some hot cocoa and tea issued to us, and, after our hard work and fast of about seven hours, there seemed nothing quite so good! This time, instead of splitting up the Battalion into three trains as in our country, and running them at a fast speed, they put everything, that is men, horses and vehicles, on one long train of about fifty coaches, and trundled us along at about 25 miles an hour. It is now about noon-day on Tuesday, and we are still going along in a north-easterly direction to a destination unknown. Two Hospital trains have already passed us going the other way. The men have wrought very well. The French railways use exactly the same sort of trucks for horses as for troops, and each truck is marked on the outside:—Men 40, Horses 8. They do sprinkle a little straw on the trucks where the men are, but that is the only difference. There are, of course, no seats of any kind. The horses are put parallel to the rails in two rows of four facing each other, and all the saddlery and harness goes in the space in the centre; also two men to look after them. Their head-ropes are tied to rings in the roof of the truck (which is covered), and the strong breast-rope is fastened in front of each row and made fast to the sides of the truck. Each horse has his nose-bag hung round his neck. The country is very flat; a good deal of it has been ploughed and is being harrowed. Some of the lines we have passed over are anything but main lines, and a great many of the wayside signals are being wrought by women.

WEDNESDAY MORNING, 24TH INST.

We have passed one night in billets, and go on to-day to join our Brigade.

MARCH 25, 1915.

It is about 5 o'clock on Thursday afternoon, and I am sitting in the little house where some of us are billeted, and I shall try to begin again where I left off in my first letter. I finished my last letter rather hurriedly, so that it could go off at once. I had got to the point where we were just starting off to march to join our Brigade. We left at about 10 a.m. and reached the place where we now are about one o'clock yesterday. That was Wednesday. We are not quite at our destination yet, as we are to move a few miles away to-morrow, and I suppose that will be as nearly the end of our journey as we can judge just now. The travelling has been pretty constant since we left Falkirk last Friday night, and we have just gone on and on, so that I have to stop and think what we did each day and night.... Monday night was spent ... trundling along at about 25 miles an hour, and also the most of Tuesday. We got to the end of it at 5.15 p.m., and by about 6.45 I had my transport off the train, and the horses and mules all harnessed and hooked to their vehicles, ready to go to spend the night in billets, when the rain came down. It poured. The men of the Battalion were all right, but my wretched transport horses had to spend the night in a field that had been used for a similar purpose before and was inches deep in mud. We put the blankets on them and, of course, they lay down in the mud, and everything was such a pleasing sight next morning! I slept that night in the same room as the Adjutant in an empty house. I lay down on my valise and blankets on the floor about 11 o'clock and slept with few wakenings till six in the morning. I got up then and went to my muddy field to see to the watering and feeding of my 72 beasts. Then, as usual, the blankets and cooking utensils had to be collected from the Battalion billets, and everything belonging to the transport picked out of the mud and got on the road ready for the march. Several times my big wagons stuck in the mud, but we got them out again. It was about one o'clock when we reached the little village where we now are, and all along the road troops got more and more numerous, and motor-cars, motor-ambulance wagons, motor-transport wagons came and went in continuous streams, and we knew we were getting nearer the centre of things. To-day has been wet, and mud is even thicker than usual. I had my clothes off for the first time last night since leaving Falkirk. There is some rumour of baths or tubs of some sort being available not far away, but we have not yet sought them out. They say that we are not far from the trenches, but we shall get reliable information soon on that point, as our four Company Commanders,—Captains McKenzie, Brown, Boyd and Murray,—are going into them to-morrow night without any other officers or men of our Battalion with them, just to see what things are like. So far as one can judge from the sound of the guns, this portion of the line appears to be comparatively peaceful. There have been several loud bangs this afternoon that sounded not far away, but there were not very many of them altogether. The roads here are narrow, and the centre portion of them is paved with square-shaped blocks of stone; the sides are of mud, thick, deep mud, churned up by passing traffic.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1915.

I sent off my letter to you to-day, and now it is 7 o'clock and we are ready for our evening meal. We have moved into new quarters since morning, but not far away from yesterday's billets. There are eight officers at Battalion Headquarters. They are the Colonel, Major Shaw, the Adjutant, Dr. London, Lieutenant Hamilton (Quartermaster), Captain Lawrie (Machine Gun Officer), the Interpreter and myself. We sleep on the floors of different rooms of an empty house and take meals at a round table that just holds eight. Thus far we are most fortunate, but I suppose we must look for many changes. We have candle light only, and our candlesticks are usually empty bottles. The water throughout the whole countryside is not considered safe to drink without boiling, and it is best to filter it and then boil it. The troops drink a great deal of tea, and no doubt this accounts for the absence of illness that would otherwise have resulted if the water had been drunk unboiled. The country is painfully flat, and everywhere along both sides of the roads there are ditches with stagnant water in them, but I suppose the open air life of the people counteracts these unwholesome influences ... The weather has stopped raining, and my transport field is beginning to dry up. I had a hot bath to-day—my first bath of any kind since leaving Falkirk. It was down in the basement of a disused brewery, and two big zinc baths had been arranged on a concrete floor, and a hose pipe led into it from a big boiler above. The place is now used as a laundry for washing the clothes of the troops, so I put on a complete change of raiment and felt much refreshed.

P.S.—Sabbath Forenoon. We have just had a short voluntary Service in a billet that was a school. The Colonel read some portions of the Prayer Book and a Lesson, and we sang the 100th Psalm to Old Hundred, and 'O God of Bethel' to Salzburg. There was no instrument of any kind available, so I had to raise the tunes myself. We all had our caps off, and the men sang well. To-day is dry but very cold. I have many people to thank for letters, but hope to do it through time. I am very well, and hungry for every meal.