Photostat copy of letters from Percy Wellesley Chapman to his mother, 5 April 1915 to 1 February 1917 - Part 4

France

24/9/16

My dear Momman,

In the Y.M.C.A. church is in

progress at present I am in a place called the

officers club, where tables are scattered about

for writing and afternoon tea purposes.  Two men

near me are busy making plans for the compilation 

of some trench or other.  I am still at school

a sort of war school which is half over, I was

going to say worse luck but I really dont know

whether I will be sorry or not when I return to the

trenches.  Leave to England is being given to the

Battalion now so I expect my turn will come

shortly.  I may look up cousin [N?] if I go.

I have all the addresses you sent me.  France

is a lovely place anywhere away from the firing line

there everything is in ruins.  France is a great place 

for churches, every small town boasts of one

and anything smaller than the [trwi?] cathedral

would be very small.  There is one at this place

about 400 years old filled with old carvings

and painted glass.  I went in once but as church

service was on I had to drop rather guiltily out.

 

I wish there was someone here who was interested

in old buildings, but most seem more taken up

with the lassies than anything else.  Well Mammon

I would like to write a description of this old

Monastery where the school is situated, I suppost

when the place was being constructed they

never dreamt that a military band would clash

out its music while the officers dined.  Surrounding

the walls is a wood still is out of bounds.

"Reserved Hunting" the notice says, but I took

a stroll through it the other day, to have a look

at the bunnies which looked quite tamely flashing

their white tales through the blackberry and goese.

The blackberries are ripe now but they have not

the flavours of those in Australia.  Autumn also

has laid her fingers gently on the plane tree leaves

which have flashed a red & gold at her gentle

touch.  The port here is very beautiful, an old

rampart surrounds the town, the walls of which are

about 50 ft high, at the foot of the port of this are

the gardens.  The wall is one mass of Ivy and at its

front is a fountain pouring water into a pool where

white swans bend their graceful necks making one

wonder if that swan could have ever been the

ugly duckling.  Lovers walks wind in and out

through the thick foliage, where one almost imagines

nymphs & fairies peeping at him from behind the tree.

Well Mammon I will to bed.  My love to all

and heaps to yourself.  Your loving son    Bob

 

 

No. 3 General Hospital

London

8/11/16

My dear Momman,

I suppose when you

saw the address at once that all sorts

of conjectures will enter your head

as what is the matter with me and

whether I am badly hit or otherwise.  As a 

matter of face I am hit just about hard

enough to say I am fit and that is

all.  Our Battalion was stationed on

the Somme, that pleasant little land

in France when everything is blown

clean off the face of the earth.  I 

can't describe the scenery France in the

Somme district before the war was. The

Somme district before the war was

undulating rounded hills with beautiful

little roads perched on top and in 

the valley while nestling in these

as if almost too shy to show their

position with little villages their

spires and steeples peeping out over the

tree tops.  In one place on our road down

 

we saw a fawn which disappeared in the

Woods as we marched past.  I don't know

if any country Australia to offer as

a comparison.  Here the trees are different

the crops seem different.  Fancy a golden

[[?]] wheat crop sprinkled all

through with a mass of scarlet poppies

while corn flowers peep at you from behind

the ears of wheat while a cool breeze

whispers through the trees and makes the

poppies nod a farewell as you pass.

Well now there are no trees left, just

tree trucks with the leaves and limbs

gone, no crops, no villages just

heaps of bricks and in some case

not even heaps of bricks, just a

great desolate waste consisting of

nothing but shell holes, still big 

guns now and from without ever

seeming to stop.  Well this is a long

[?] from what I was going to say

 

 

We were moving up into the front

line through mud & slush when something

went bang over my head and the

next thing I knew was a blow on the

back of my right leg.  It made me

stop a bit but not much.

The cap of the shrapnel caught me

and just punched a bit of skin

off making a bruise about a foot long.

It does not hurt & I can walk quite

well, but just at present I am in

bed as I have no clothes.  Just

now a Doctor came in to see me.

I can't make out why, he said someone

asked him to do so, I asked his name

and have forgotten it.  Well Mammon I 

am not in the mood for writing and

bed is a rotten place when you have too

much of it.  Good bye

Love to all from 

Bob

 

Regent Palace Hotel

London

27/11/16

My dear Mammon,

I posted a letter to you

yesterday but another wont hurt will it?

at present I am on sick leave seeing

life in London doing things in style

walking about with stick & gloves, only

I left my gloves in the taxi this morning 

when going to see St. Batholomew's church.

It is a very old one built in Henry Ⅰ time

1123 I believe to be correct. Most of the

old masonry is still the same although

of course a lot has been repaired.  The

tomb of the founder an old chap called

Rahere is in the church but I did not

have the luck to see that as it is

sandbagged up agains zep raids.

Sixpence has to be paid to go down into

the crypt and as the verger was busy the

char woman took me down. I'm afraid 

I can't write very good letters in London

as there is too much rain.  Yesterday which

 

was Sunday.  I went to Westminster Abby

in the morning to church and listened to

an English sermon.  In the afternoon I

visited Kensington Museum, and saw

[Pesthiconthrogus?] & Neondulhal?  two  old friends

also many of these old monsters that are

in my evolution in the Past.  At night I

went to Westminster Abby again as the

Bishop of London was preaching.  Let me

see I had better catalogue the places I have

been to I wont say much about them

as you will know that already.  I will start

with St. Paul's as it is the biggest, and in 

the script saw Nelson's grave & Wellington's

grave.  Also the funeral coach, which carried

Wellington's remains.  Then I have been three

or four times to Westminster Abby and felt I

loved England because of the Abby, [?] the

London Museum, the library one of this

is open which contains 7,500,000 books

"seven million, five hundred thousand" that I felt

giddy so [come?] [?] then the two museums

at South Kensington, the natural history and

the Arts & potteries, the natural history I

have been to a couple of times.

2

Then I have been to the "old cheshire cheese"

in that favourite haunt of Dr. Johnson.

"No more ink" (28/11/16)  I have visited a shop to get

my fountain pen filled as here I am again.

I have also been round to the base post office hospital

to see about letters.  Today is my birthday

the 28th of November so I thought it was up to

me to get a bit of a birthday present.

I received  1.  a letter from Bun

                    2.  "    "           "     Nell

                    3.  "     "          "     Lucy Jessop

                    4.  "     "         "      Kitty "sister Kitty"

                    5.  "      "         "      Miss [?]   " I wrote to

                                                 her about her brother

                                                 who was killed"

                    6. "      "        "      Rosy Mom

                    7.  "      "       "      Nina Mann

Not a bad birthday mail was it?  The most

peculiar thing was that those letters had only

just came in and were all written the same

time as one I received from you about 6 weeks

ago, and for 6 weeks I have received no mail

at all.  Well peculiar all the [?] of a [?]

but I must get on. Let me see what was I

going to say. Oh yes, today being my birthday

I am going to spend it with mine aiu folk

 

 

writing letters and this afternoon I will spend

with my best friend in London, my other

Mother.  Lady Turing.  She has been awfully good

to me.  I go there and discuss my pet subjects

and ideas like I used to do with Mrs. Crapper.

I have also left my Military Cross with her to

look after.  Last Saturday I visited Buckingham

Palace and the King penned fastened it on my breast

ha hem!!  It is a pretty thing like this made

of silver.  Well to continue.  Where have I been.

oh yes. the  [?]   Drury Lane.  Adelphi,

" The [treves?]"  "National Gallery" &

Military museum in Whitehall.  The Royal

Geographical Society"  I went there with Lady

Turing she is a member, her brother was a fellow

has had been killed in the war.  Her Husband is dead.

All the people she was fond of are gone, mostly

killed in the war so now she has become a

V.A.D. and visits hospitals and looks after

wounded.  Her address is Lady Turing

                                            (LADY TURING)

                                            ( 87 VICTORIA ST.)

                                            ( LONDON SW)

oh yes and I have been

to the Temple where I

thought of Mr. Guppy

and old Falkinghorn.

And I have been in Tubes, Taxies & Buses.

Drawing of Military Cross Medal

and admired the pretty legs of the

conductors who wear short skirts and

leggings and look most business like.

You are all so interested in my military cross

that I will give you a page cut of my dairy.

Only Mammon it is not for publication.

You see I am more afraid of my diary than

of anything else I have.  I always carry it in

my pocket so that if I should get wounded

I will have it.  I don't mind people who are my

real friends seeing my letters but I don't like

anyone else to see them.  Here goes.

In the first place we had taken up rather

a quiet place position in the firing line

when news came that we were to take part

in a certain operation of storming the a

portion of the enemy's trenches. The Battalion

was anxious for this as we all wanted to

do our share, but our special job was

practically that of pioneers of our brigade.

Two battalions the 53rd and 54th were to

make the charge while we were to follow

and dig the communication trenches between

the captured German trench and our own.

For about 6 hours our artillery stormed the