Letters From the Front

Dated:

During our spell in support, a little practice with prismatic compasses and protractors seemed to me would not only prove serviceable but interesting as well. I have seen the usefulness of a knowledge of the prismatic compass on more than one mighty important occasion. One night a young artillery officer, then on duty in our trench, took a bearing when an enemy heavy bomb came over to us, away to the left. It had a tail of sparks, and after the first bomb had crashed in our lines, he got ready to sight the next. Next morning we knew exactly where the Bosche mortar was located, as someone away to our left had acted as our visitor had, and their figures were handed in to someone only too anxious for such valuable information.
A cook was startled out of his kitchen by a whizz-bang which nearly got his head as it passed through his thinly built wall, and as he reached the trench outside his door an H. E. fell nearby and blew him back into the kitchen, fortunately nothing hitting him.
I went up the troubled sector that afternoon, travelling over - land for convenience most of the way. This was dangerous on that day as the atmosphere was very clear, but I was correct in calculating on Boche being too much taken up with six of our planes, some of them huge ones, which were flying over the enemy's lines so low that machine-gun fire was thought a good method to stop their work. Meanwhile the ground I was covering, in long strides to be sure, was quite overlooked and not even a stray passed within hearing. One huge unexploded enemy shell lay on the ground as though placed carefully for use; it was about a six incher, with, to us, unknown markings. I did not touch it, as such monsters are said by the artillery officers to even go off by themselves a long time after falling as 'duds,' or,—more technically speaking - 'blinds,' and particularly those with percussion fuses.
We have been having a long spell of wonderfully good weather. Trees are actually budding, and one may pick tiny daisies here and there in the fields. It is odd, during an absolute silence, say at midday, in the front line, to hear birds singing peacefully in nearby fire-swept hedges or shrapnel-torn trees. A rabbit sometimes causes a moment's interest and a shout. Wild pigeons are in flocks of hundreds at all times, and nearly every time a working party goes up from the rear they put up partridges and pheasants, at which no one, much to our grief, is allowed to shoot, even though we may be in possession of shot-guns. It is mighty interesting to see an occasional carrier pigeon go or come over our trenches, as they leave us much to speculate on, you may be sure.