Saturday 28th August 1915

Nort-Leulinghem

The men of 10^th Battalion were given time to settle into their new life on active service; the Battalion War Diary simply recorded that, “Nothing of any note happened this day. The men were given a rest and settled down in billets which consisted of Barns & Farm Houses”.

Lt. Robert Stewart Skinner Ingram (see 27^th  August) took the time to write a long letter to his parents, some of it couched in the ‘Franglais’ which had been adopted by he and his fellow officers, describing his first impressions of life on active service.

28th Aug. 1915
(Notepaper clearly brought from home and headed “The Priory, Wimbledon”, but struck through)

Letter no.1
In billets
France

My darling Mother and Father

Voila ma premiere letter a vous d’overseas. Sorry, I can’t help it. All day we have been talking the lingo with madame et maintenant, avec mademoiselle. But mon avance est tres rapid. To get back a Bramshott. It was sweet of you and the family to come down in the car to the Anchor Hotel and of Jim to have been with me most of the day. The ladies of Liphook, led by Mrs. C.O. had an excellent tea ready for us all, officers and other ranks, on the station. There everything went exactly as expected. The crossing could not possibly have been better. Just like the proverbial mill pond. Not a cloud in the sky and a bright ¾ moon. Not a single man on the whole ship was seasick. On the quay this side in the first 100 yards I spoke to two Harrow men I knew quite well, and saw a third. From the quay a fearful 2 mile march up a hill like the side of a house brought us to a Rest Camp at about 2 am. Three hours sleep and another 3-4 mile march to a wayside station. After a long wait (for me, sleep) a huge train came up, drawn by 3 large engines. At least a 60 mph express thought me. But not a bit of it. The men in large cattle trucks, we in so-called 1st class carriages, that wretched train moved up country a la tortoise at speeds between 3 and about 12 miles per hour. Of halts at random there were not a few. Finally, after some hours of this foolery, we reached another little station. Thence an 8 eight mile march brought us to this little village, not unlike Eversley in Berks., where I was billeted on the Martins.

These little old marches don’t sound much but Jim, who knows the weight of my pack, will realise that we were bien fatigues by evening. And over the last 3 or 4 miles at the end of Friday I was also carrying 2 rifles. Altogether I suppose I was carrying 120 lbs. Never was one so thankful before for having taken some active interest in Madame la Boxe (Ingram had been a keen boxer in his time at Harrow), thereby acquiring a certain amount of strength of arms, shoulders and back.

It’s some country round here. Not unlike Hants. My whole Company, hereafter to be known as A Company, is billeted in a farmyard. The men are in the barns, cattle sheds etc and some are in the little farmhouse. Bolton (see 27^th August), Harris (see 27^th August) and I are in a barn up above. A rickety ladder leads up to it through what we call “Captain’s Drop”. The barn is fairly clean now and the spaces between tiles are protected by ancient cobwebs. Some years ago there was apparently glass in the window. During the first night it became perfectly obvious that we 3 were not the only inhabitants of that barn. The King of Carniverous Insects, however, reigns not in that place. For which we are truly thankful. This morning I had a delightful cold bath in a ½ barrel tub which my faithful servant Amos (see below) had raked out from “somewhere in France”. Judging by the colour of the water that tub was, until quite recently, closely connected with the butter or cheese industry. Our Company mess is going quite well and our French gets us along considerably better than we had anticipated. One of my Lance Corporals is a schoolmaster in private life (see below) and speaks French fairly fluently so I drag him along with me on any raiding expeditions. Everything, except matches, is very cheap. Fruit excellent. Ten large and sweet greengages for 1d. Pears and apples will soon be ready.

Nothing could be more peaceful than this little village. Haven’t seen the least sign of war yet, except 3 of our own planes buzzing over, having a look at us on the line of march. Away in the extreme distance there is the occasional boom of a big gun, but the line in front of us is apparently as peaceful as it could possibly be. This letter has stopped several times while I have been censoring letters. That seems to be one of our chief duties.

Suggest to Vyvyan that one of my best friends out here is my air cushion. A Sam Browne  belt is also essential for billets. (Could my Sam Browne belt with revolver, ammunition, holster be sent out, please?). Also tell him that the 35 lb. limit of kit is a washout. Anything up to about ½ a cwt will get through.

I wonder if my Jaeger sleeping bag and a revolver lanyard could be sent out? It would be very good of you if you would. The lanyard I don’t possess. I don’t much like the leather ones.

Now darlings, cheer up and try to worry about me at all. We are enjoying life immensely. One of the subalterns of the Company this morning described this life as a great picnic. And so it is while this lovely weather lasts. There are 2 Captains and 4 of us. There’s now not one that jars and we all get on very well together.

The whole thing really is a game, at times no doubt rather a hard game, but nevertheless just a game. We are trained for a game; the game of war, and come what will, we’ll play it as a game to the end of the show. I believe in enjoying life as much as possible, and not taking things too seriously. 

Don’t know at all how long we shall be here, but for some time. But what I do know is that tomorrow there is to be a huge 18 mile route march with full packs. Strafe the man who invented those packs! My address is to rather different from what I gave you. To give the Brigade and Division is not popular apparently. All that should be put on is Name, rank and Bn., ie 10th Battalion Duke of Wellington’s Regt., B.E.F. No more at all.

With much love to everybody

Your ever loving son

Robert

P.S. I wonder if I might have some of that notepaper that Tom uses?

Pte. John Wesley Amos was officer’s servant to Lt. Ingram. Jack Amos, as he was known, had been born in Rhyl in 1884, the eldest son of Thomas and Hannah Amos. His father had died in 1898 and he had lived with his widowed mother, at the family’s boarding-house in Rhyl, with Jack working as an accountant. His mother had died in 1912 and Jack had been visiting his married sister in Ilkley in September 1914 when he enlisted. He was one of the Ilkley contingent of volunteers who were added to Tunstill’s original recruits.

The Lance Corporal and former schoolmaster may well have been L. Cpl. John Charles Brison Redfearn (see 18^th August), who, like Amos, had enlisted in Ilkley, although this cannot be confirmed.

‘Jim’ refers to Ingram’s younger brother; ‘Tom’ was his older brother, serving with the RAMC; the identity of ‘Vyvyan’ has not been established.