1915-01-25aa

Letters from Hamilton soldiers overseas had been printed in the local press often by January, 1915. They were mainly from volunteers en route to England or in training at Salisbury Plain.

However, on January 25, 1915, the Hamilton Times printed a letter from Lieutenant Everett Bristol, of Hamilton, who was about to see active combat:

“January 12, 1915 – The considerable time which has elapsed since my last letter has been more or less uneventful.

“We have been ensconced in billets in this straggling little farming village in northern France, and are many degrees more comfortable than we were in camp.

“We detrained in the pouring rain at the head of the railroad and marched 12 miles in the same to this spot.

“Each of our four squadrons have half a village, the two being about a mile apart. The rest of the brigade, two native regiments, are also billeted in neighboring villages, while every village within miles is similarly occupied by other British troops.

“The horses are more or less under cover, and the men sleep in barns and out-houses upon straw. I share a disused kitchen with Watson-Smith, an excellent chap and subaltern. With ten inches of straw on the red brick floor, and our sleeping bags on top of that, we are very cozy.

“The old lady of the farm is a typical picture of the old regime – apple-cheeked, pleasantly-rounded and with a snowy cap completely covering her head, save for the white curls fringing the edges. She is a French edition of old Mrs. Ferrie, and takes a motherly interest in us. The latest developments of the good lady consists in bringing us each a steaming bowl of hot milk, with a dash of rum in it, on wakening us in the morning.

“She also makes most excellent omelettes for breakfast. Our lunch and dinner, we take at the squadron mess, at the headquarters, in the house of the maire.

“Our day’s work consists of early exercises, 7 to 7:45, breakfast and the morning parade at 9; the latter for three days a week is purely a ten-mile jaunt to exercise the horses. On the remaining days, our active colonel, or an even more energetic brigadier, called Tobasco Jim, contrive some sort of a regimental or brigade show in marching order, fully-equipped, which usually takes place in the pouring rain, in which we furiously deliver or repel, as the case might be, attacks on or by some imaginary German force; dismounted action over plowed fields, with mud in proportion, and not exactly the pleasantest thing in the world.

“It is quite impossible to keep absolutely dry, as the wind gives the rain a tremendous penetrating power. However, we are all hardy, and well and happy.

“In the afternoon, which commences about 4, after a late return from one of the above shows, we have eatables and a general fuss-about in an endeavor to improve our billets and make the horses comfortable.

“There is a French interpreter with each squadron, but most of us officers in this squadron can speak the lingo sufficiently well for everyday needs. Some of the inhabitants are so hopelessly ignorant that they mistook us for Germans at first. Most of them, however, are very friendly, and put up with a considerable inconvenience we cause them in occupying their premises, with great, good nature.

“Our evenings are snug times when we gather around the stove in our mess-room and read the English papers, which have been sent to my confreres, or, in my case, the Saturday Night or Post, which turn up with great regularity, and are very welcome; or we have a small game of poker for an hour or so, inevitably turning in early after our evening toddy of hot rum and water. The rum, you will be shocked to learn, is served out to us as part of our daily ration by a thoughtful government.

“Tomorrow we have our first turn in the trenches, leaving the horses and a few men to look after them, behind. We march afoot about three miles away, and then climb aboard London motor buses, which take us to about three miles from the firing line; then more afoot and legging it to enter the trenches just after dark.

“After our return, I am to go on the machine gun section, at which I am very pleased, although very sorry to leave my good friends here. I have always had a leaning towards machine guns and one has more individual scope. They are carried, of course, on horses and accompany the regiment everywhere, even in the trenches.

“Now I must say au revoir. Good luck to you all. Don’t worry, and be sure that with luck you’ll hear from me soon again. Will take every reasonable and honorable precaution.

                   Everett.”¹

^{1 “}Just Before Going Into the Trenches : Everett Bristol Writes an Interesting Letter From Northern France”

Hamilton Times.   January 25, 1915