Item 04: G. O. Hawkins letters to his family, 2 January 1915-November 1917 - Page 237
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[Page 237]
8
The beautiful French grey veils of mist, which a little while ago made mystery in the East have vanished; and the newly risen sun which had blotted their purity as a colossal spot of blood has changed to a shield of gold losing his sharp scarlet edge in dazzeling beams
The sky overhead is clear, save for a sweeping cloud-drift here and there.
Now and then a shell curses and shines through the keen cool air, and explodes in the ocean of ragged earth round us; belching up the soil to mingle a while with its evil cloud, and casting heavy shards high and far like whistling demons conjoined unseen from hell.
We smile and pity Fritz for his aim is bad
We are having breakfast in the open, sitting on any old heap of chalk near the Trench where our once-German-held dug-outs are
The fried bacon, hot tea, and bread and butter which constitutes our meal seems extra good this morning, for our sauce is Fritz's bad marksmanship
"Theres another" says Mick, "Up there over to the right"
"Yes" replies Jim "The blighters are trying for our 'twelve inch', but they can't find her"
At that moment the solemn old gun alluded to fires, making the very earth beneath us tremble, and deafening us with its righteous angery growl
"Take that Fritz awld Bhoy" sayd Mick "its a pill for ye"