The War Service of the 1/4 Royal Berkshire Regiment (T. F.) | Page 6

The men
knew exactly where they were. There was a time to eat, a time to sleep,
a time for fatigues, and a time for sentry-go. There was little rain, and
no bitter nights. The shelters, which held two or three men a-piece,
though mere flimsy shell-traps, were comfortable, and either boarded or
lined with straw, which was frequently renewed. When the Warwicks
took over from us they exclaimed in admiring surprise, 'Why, they're
all officers' dugouts.' Each section had its little oven made of a biscuit
tin built round with clay. For the officers' mess in D Company we had
the kitchen range from Anton's Farm, and a large zinc-covered erection
in which six people could eat or play cards at once. The domestic
element was supplied by two cats, who safely reared their offspring
among us. Indeed, the calm of that placid series of days was such that it
was difficult to realise that the second Battle of Ypres was raging with
unbroken ferocity a few miles to the north, until we listened to the
unwearied rumble of the guns and saw by night the great light in the
sky where the doomed city blazed.
When in reserve our days were mainly spent in or close to the famous
wood, which was at that time regarded as the show-place, par
excellence, of the British front. Its natural glories have long since
departed under the devastating shell fire of the latter days of the war,
but in the spring and summer of 1915 it was a beautiful place, where
one might fancy that the many British dead rested more easily beneath
oaks and among familiar flowers than in most of the cemeteries of this
dreary land. The wood was about 1-1/2 miles long, with a maximum
depth of 1,400 yards, and its undergrowth, where not cut away, was
densely intertwined with alder, hazel, ash, and blackthorn, with water
standing in large pools on parts of its boggy surface. In one corner was
the picturesque Fosse Labarre, a wide horseshoe moat enclosing a little
garden, now a machine-gun emplacement, where grew the cumfrey,

teazle and yellow flag. Everywhere the dog violet and blue veronica
flourished in enormous clumps, and near the Strand was a great patch
of Solomon's seal. It was a continual pleasure to see the wood clothe
itself from the nakedness of early April and increase in fulness of life
until we left at midsummer. The nightingale sang there unwearingly,
but other birds were few, and I never noticed a nest in the wood. The
few pheasants which survived a winter with the 4th Division were, I
fear, exterminated by us. Rabbits continued plentiful in spite of rifles
and snares, and every now and then a hare was started in the deserted
fields.
Our predecessors had spent much labour and ingenuity in fitting up the
wood for comfortable military habitation. It was everywhere intersected
by corduroy paths, which though tiring to the feet, completely saved
one from the horrors of the mud, and enabled rations and engineering
stores to be brought up with ease in even the worst weather. Near the
centre of the wood was Piccadilly Circus, whence many of these paths
radiated; Regent Street and the Strand were the two great lateral
highways; Bunhill Row preserved the memory of the London Rifle
Brigade; Mud Lane served to remind us of those days when corduroy
was still non-existent, whilst Spy Corner hinted at some grim and secret
episode in the wood's history.
Meanwhile, screened from aeroplane observation by the dense foliage,
the reserve Companies of the Brigade, lived in canvas tents
fantastically daubed or in log huts. Some of the more elaborate of these
latter served the double purpose of mess and bedroom for the Company
Officers, the sides being taken up by two tiers of bunks made of wire
and filled with straw. Outside the devices of the various regiments
which had built or occupied them were carved or painted. Around them
were little gardens, some of which with happy forethought had been
planted in the winter. The most elaborate of all boasted a clump of
Madonna lilies, and a red rose. We sowed vegetable seeds also, and ate
our own mustard and cress, lettuces and radishes. In this connection,
too, I should mention the 4,000 cabbages sent by Messrs. Sutton &
Sons, which, planted in the transport lines at Rabot, were left for the
consumption of the 5th Battalion when we moved south. These sylvan

billets we generally shared with the 4th Oxfords, Hunterston North and
South, peaceful spots, seldom visited by shells or stray bullets; less
fortunate were the Bucks and 5th Gloucesters at Somerset House,
further to the east. Here by night a steady drizzle of lead descended,
and on one occasion 70 incendiary shells