Letters from George Leslie Makin to his family, 1917-1918 - Part 3

3
I am writing to the 36^th Battn for further
particulars & will write to Uncle George as
soon as they come to hand.
I expect to get over to England very
soon now & am looking forward to
spending my 10 days leave with Jim.
He is in London now & has already
met some of my friends.
They will be sure to give him a good
time, if he has any spare time at all.
You were saying that the war prospects
did not look too good, but I am on
the spot & believe me when I say that
in spite of everything, we are winning,
& winning easily.
Our position grows stronger everyday &
while the Germans are getting their
tails down, our boys have one thing
fixed in their mind & that is "That we
will win."
Wait till the spring comes. We all realize
what is ahead. Unfortunately, we were
held up last year by countless obstacles,
bad weather etc;  but this year we will
have an early start.
The price will be heavy, but we can
pay it, & barring accidents this year

4
should be a settler for Fritz.
Nobody is more fed up with war than
I am. Nobody has seen more, for
while I was away from the battn,
they were not in action, except the
ordinary trench warfare.
But the only way to finish it, is to
break this line in France.
All other theatres of war are only
sideshows & the Germans know it.
They are feverishly entrenching
themselves in front of us, but when
the time comes, our artillery will soon
smash them up.
All other engagements will seem small
in comparison with what is to come,
but I await it with confidence, trusting
to my extraordinary luck to see me
through.
To say that one is not afraid would
be pure bravado, but I am not
afraid of any German born.
It is the fear that every human
being & animal has when facing
death. The fear of the unknown.
Last night a pal of mine, whilst
lying asleep in his hut, not ten

5
yards from me got a shell splinter
in his shoulder.
Everybody congratulated him, for
his wound will give him a good
holiday in England.
Seems funny, doesn't it to envy a
man who has been wounded, but
its true every all the same.
England is known to soldiers as "Blighty,"
& every man who goes into the line
hopes to get a "Blighty", meaning a
wound which is not severe, but
will ensure him a holiday.
The weather at present is very cold.
For the past week everything has been
frozen & its wonderful to know the
things that will freeze.
The ink in my pen is a solid block
& my watch won't go unless it is close
to my body all the time.
A man goes for water with an axe
and a sandbag & brings it back in
lumps.
You are putting on "some" weight I see,
but I don't suppose you feel much
better for it.
I am in great nick at present. Had

6
a few games of football down at the
school & don't think I ever played
so well.
I have developed some pace too, for
in races & sports I could beat all
down there.
My weight at present is just under 13
stone & I haven't a pound of fat.
The only thing wrong is that I
sometimes get bad turns, due no
doubt to the fever, but they don't
last long & I soon pick up again.
Well Papa, it has been a very great
pleasure to write this letter, but I
must stop for want of news.
Since I have been in France, I have
met a couple of chaps that know
you, but for the moment I have
forgotten their names. I know one
is in the 8^th Battn.
Please give my regards to Mr. Grut,
Ted Baggott & anybody who is
asking after me.
Love to all
from Les.
P.S. Pipe first rate. Got another one
yesterday from Miss Crow. 
Les.

France
1/2/1917
Dearest Mother
Your letters of 4 & 12^th. Dec just
to hand, also letters from Ruby & Papa.
You've no idea how happy Papa's letter made
me.
I was as happy as a school boy last night,
although the news of Harry Makin's death
somewhat spoiled what would have been a
joyful day.
You were asking if I knew the way the
soldiers voted.
The majority voted "Yes", but all the same
there were a lot voted "No".
The spirit of unionism is deep rooted in
some of them & they said "Oh, I wouldn't
bring a pal over here.   Let them stay where
they are well off."
Some men have quite good excuses for
staying at home, but there must be a lot
of cowards still there.
I was reading in an old "Herald", where
a man was fined £2 for striking an
invalid soldier in a bath chair.
Fancy that, it made our blood boil to
read it.
I'd cheerfully pay £10 at the city court

to have 5 minutes with that fellow.
We find it hard to make excuses for those
misguided people.
According to the Referendum the majority
of people at home have no time for the
war or soldiers.
i suppose that when the boys come home,
they will line the streets & [[hoop?]];  but not
they, they would be afraid to play any
funny business then.
However, we are not worrying about them
very much, for we know we will win
the war in spite of them & when we do
come home, there will be a settling up,
if any of the curs are out of their holes.
I have no news dear Mother, for I have
written several letters home this week.
Tell Aunt Eliza that the only reason why
I did not write to her is because I do
not know her address.
I am very sorry to hear of Aunt Selina's
illness. Evidently she is beyond human
aid, but I trust the end will be peaceful.
I had a very nice New Year card from
Mr Coe, also a letter from little Martin, down
at the yard.   Do you remember him.
Best love to all
from Les.

France
10/2/17
Dear Jim
Just a line to tell you of
a great disappointment.
Last night I was waiting on the
railway station at — , with a
leave pass in my pocket.
Dreams of England & ^∧thoughts of the pleasure
of seeing you again, filled my
brain.
An hour before the train was due
to start, I came to earth with a
sickening thud.
Leave was stopped.
Today I trudged back to the
battn with a very heavy heart.
Seven miles & every step a jar of
disappointment.
Leave may start again in a few
days, or it may not start for
a couple of weeks, but I am
going into the line tomorrow &

after such bad luck, anything may
happen.
Perhaps when it starts again, I
will be wanted here.
Oh Jim, there's not a more
miserable man alive tonight.
Don't think I'm getting downhearted
or anything like that, but after
putting in such a time as we
have this winter, the thoughts 
of Blighty are like those of a
man in hell, being told that
he is going to Paradise.
And then at the last minute,
to have it snatched from his
grasp, after walking on air
for 24 hours.
Oh well as the French say "C'ést la
guerre", & after all, I may be
with you before this letter now.
Yours in hope
Les.

[*P.S. I am quite well
never better
Les.*]
France
20/2/1917
Dearest Mother
Your letter of 26/12/16
to hand a week ago.
We have been in the line & I could
not answer it before now.
I have no writing paper & am
using a message form, which
will answer the purpose for once.
Things are very bad here again
now.
While the "freeze" held, the going
was good, although it was very
cold, but now in addition
to the thaw, we have had
rain & the mud is as bad
as ever.
I had a shocking disappointment
a little while back, the day before
we went into the trenches.

I got my leave & walked seven

2/
miles to the railway station
at — .
With my pass in my pocket, I
was waiting on the station.
Just an hour before train
time, the R.T.O. came out &
told me that leave had been
stopped for the time being.
Imagine my feelings as I
turned away.
On the down journey I
walked along as if treading
on air, my head full of
very pleasant thoughts.
Thinking of the good time
I would have with Jim, who
I am just longing to see.
(I have just received a letter from
him, asking when I am coming
over.)