In England I had been accustomed to "battalion messes," but out here such an arrangement was very rare. "Company messes" were the thing out here. There were generally five messes in all—Headquarters and the four companies. Major Brighten at once invited me to stay for lunch at Headquarters and, when the meal was announced to be "served," told me to sit next to him. I found him extremely interesting. The conversation was most entertaining. The subject upon which his wit pivoted during a good part of the meal was the Brigadier (always an interesting topic!), his latest sayings and possible future career 'after the war'—a period which Major Brighten always declared to be in the very near future. The first thing which struck me about Major Brighten was his youth; he was only twenty-seven. I had not been accustomed to such young senior officers in England. In fact, youth seemed to be the foremost characteristic of the Battalion. Nearly all the officers were extremely young. And I learnt that Colonel Best-Dunkley himself was only twenty-seven! It was the pride of the Battalion that it was led by youth. If ever a proof were required of the truth of Disraeli's famous maxim "The youth of a nation are the trustees of posterity," it is here in the brilliant record of the 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers. Let Mr. Alec Waugh and the League of Youth and Social Progress carefully note that, for here, surely, is a feather in their cap!
After lunch I was posted to a company—"B" Company; and I was conducted to another cell where I found my company commander, Captain H. H. Andrews, sitting up in bed, looking very happy. It was quite the thing to stay in bed until the afternoon in those days, because the nightly working parties did not get back until just before dawn. It was a day of pleasant surprises. I had already been very favourably impressed by the magnetic personalities of Major Brighten and Padre Newman; now I was ushered into the presence of another amiable military genius, Captain Andrews. I had not been in his presence two minutes before I congratulated myself on my good fortune in having "clicked" for so delightful a company commander as Captain Andrews. Though older and very different in appearance, he was another officer of the same stamp as the lovable and brilliant Major Brighten. He was an ideal company commander. One could not hope for a better either from a military or from a social point of view. He was ability, wit, and sociability combined. Those were great days.
But to continue the reproduction of the letter quoted above:
"I am attached to B Company, commanded by Captain Andrews, and I have been appointed by him to command the seventh platoon. Just before tea Captain Andrews had me in his room and gave me maps of the district and explained—with reference to the maps—the situation. He also told me the plan of campaign and explained what Haig's intentions for the whole summer offensive are and what he requires us to do; so I now know the general idea, and I also know in detail what this battalion, this company, and my own platoon have got to do—and when; but as it is all very secret information only for officers, I, unfortunately, cannot give it you. My opinion is that the general plan is good, with the exception that I do not quite appreciate the point with respect to the particular part which this battalion (and brigade) has to play in a few days; it strikes me as being rather foolish, though it may be all right.
"While we were having tea the Germans set up a most terrific bombardment of this prison. Shells exploded just outside the window-opening, causing quite a wind inside the room. It is going on still; shells keep striking the wall outside. There it goes—bang! And there are our guns smashing back at them. There again—debris scattering in the quad, the other side of the door. Whizz-bang! It is extraordinary that any walls in this city can remain standing at this rate. They say that this goes on day and night. When a shell explodes the room is temporarily darkened by the cloud of smoke which rises. This is some bombardment; it is worse than the worst of thunder-storms.
"I have found Verity here. He has been here some time, and is alive and in the best of health.
"Well, I really must stop now; though I could go on recording every bang as it comes; there are about two explosions during every sentence which I write.
"Now do not get anxious, we manage to exist through it all; and I do not see why my luck should desert me. I am on the one point on the Western Front where I had a desire to explore. There is something doing here."
And "something doing" there was, much sooner than I expected. I had reached the Prison at Ypres just in time to hear and feel the best staged battle in history—the Battle of Messines. The following letter written home on the evening of June 7, describes Messines Night:
"Since I wrote to Mother yesterday a good deal has happened. About 6.30 I attended a conference consisting of the officers and sergeants of B Company in Captain Andrew's room; and Captain Andrews explained the scheme which he had explained to me earlier on; though he did not tell them quite as much. I, of course, will not tell you what the scheme was! Then dinner. Things were much quieter now—quieter than they had been all day. A working party of the Battalion was to leave after dinner. The 2/5th Lancashire Fusiliers are the battalion in reserve to General Stockwell's brigade at present: we hang out here in the day-time, and go out on working parties in the trenches in the Salient at night. But Captain Andrews said that I need not go out with them on this occasion. So I remained behind and censored letters. While doing so my eyes began to water—about 11 to 11.30. Then the Company mess-waiter, Private Saul (Captain Andrews' batman), came in and told me that the Germans were sending over 'tear gas.' So on with my gas helmet. The gas shells were bursting outside the windows; but I thought it safe to take off my helmet after a few minutes; my eyes watered a good deal, that was all. At about midnight I went to bed.