COPIES

N. France.

May 13, 1915.

My dear Charley:

Thank you for your kind and interesting letter which reached me a few
days ago. We have just got through the terrible battle of Ypres, which was
not the brief affair you might judge from the papers. We were going in on
April 22, and were 3 miles behind the French line at the spot where and the
time when it broke. We stood by in the mele-and confusion all night from
6 p.m. and at 3:30 a.m. were sent in on the gallop to a spot on the canal
north of the town, and there we stayed 17 days and nights: all the time we
never even had our boots off: it was fight all the time. We were far up to
the front, and to that we owe our effectiveness, as well as our losses which
could not but be heavy. The artillery fire was constant, heavy and from all
sorts of guns. We were said to have 2 army corps reinforcements on our front -
and it felt like it. The men behaved magnificently: and the labor was terri-
bly hard. In one 30 hours we fired 3600 rounds: and at one time our brigade
had only seven guns able to fire; two of those smoked at every joint and were
too hot to touch with the unprotected hand. Throughout three nights they
shelled us continuously: and the firing never ceased one consecutive minute,
night or day; and yet the birds kept singing in the trees - what trees were
not cut down by shells. We were so close up to the trenches (for guns) that
the rifle bullets came over us in clouds. We got the gas again and again.
Of the 17 days the first 8 we were with the French army, - and all the time
had French troops on our front: the anxiety was terrible, for we never knew
if the French would hold on or give. Our part of the battle was to hold the
German lines and allow the subsequent French and British advance to the south.
And day after day it was firing to support French attack, or repel German
attack. And we sometimes had 3 of these latter in a day. We got into them
well again and again.

We lost very heavily (for artillery) but we have justified our existence.
Of the 'horrors of war,' we saw them an hundred fold - at close quarters. From
some of my uniform I can't get the bloodstains clear yet. My good old friend

COPIES

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"Bonfire" (ex-John Todd) got two light shrapnel wounds, but is quite fit
again. It has been a terrible time, but we have been very mercifully pre-
served so far. No word of the hospital yet! My love to your family - both
families.

France, July 8th, 1915.

Dear Dr. Martin:

I was delighted yesterday to get your letter, which, notwithstanding
its facetious reference to "serious work" and the threat to give unto the
importunate woman that kept after the Judge, the thing that she wanted -
seemed a real treat to me - and was enjoyed by others as well. Col. McCrae
in particular. Your various messages I was glad to be able to deliver.

Here we are living a life of masterful inactivity - at least this applies
to most of us. We arrived in this place, which the letters we censor variously
and graphically describe - as anything between the two extremes, a little over
two weeks ago, and for the first week we amused ourselves putting up and
taking down tents. Now that we have our floors, we are not at all uncom-
fortable with the aid of biscuit boxes and other sundry articles recruited
from a nearby canteen. The latest thing of class is a marble slab outside
the tent of Col. Yates, bearing his name. I'm afraid there is room for "In
loving memory of" and "R. I. P."

Really, the site isn't bad although it may not be so luxurious as the
place at La Tonquet. It did look a trifle unlike the Garden of Eden, but
except for the temporary absence of Eve, it's coming along. The animals - I
tremble for, though they have been accumulating at a fearful rate, for some-
one locked up a dog in MacDonald's tent a night or two ago, and as sanitary
officer, he now comes forward with a reprisal - forbidding the practice of
collecting pets.

Although we cant honestly lay claim to be doing "serious work" we can