Letters to Helen

Letters to Helen

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Letters to Helen, by Keith Henderson
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Title: Letters to Helen Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front
Author: Keith Henderson
Illustrator: Keith Henderson
Release Date: August 31, 2005 [EBook #16626]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS
TO HELEN ***

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LETTERS TO HELEN

[Illustration: CRUCIFIX CORNER Between MONTAUBAN & HIGH
WOOD One of the hands was shot away, and the figure hangs there
suspended from the other.]

LETTERS TO HELEN
Impressions of an Artist on the Western Front
By KEITH HENDERSON
Illustrated
LONDON CHATTO & WINDUS
MCMXVII

PREFACE
These letters were never intended for publication.
But when the pictures were brought back from France it was suggested
that they should be reproduced, and a book evolved.
Then a certain person (who shall be nameless) conceived the dastardly
idea of exposing private correspondence to the public eye. He proved
wilful in the matter, and this book came into the world.

ILLUSTRATIONS
CRUCIFIX CORNER Frontispiece A CONFERENCE IN THE
CHATEAU To face page 6 BAILLEUL 10 LE MONT DES CATS 18
FRICOURT CEMETERY 32 TRENCHES BETWEEN FRICOURT
AND LA BOISELLE 48 GIRD TRENCH 54 A HOUSE IN

GEUDECOURT 60 A WOUNDED TANK 66 EXPLOSION OF AN
AMMUNITION DUMP 78 THE BUTTE DE WARLENCOURT 92
PERONNE 106

LETTERS TO HELEN
_June 6, 1916._
Well, here we are in the slowest train that ever limped, and I've been to
sleep for seven hours. The first good sleep since leaving England. And
now, as we've got twenty-eight hours to go still, there's time to write a
letter. The last three days' postcards have been scrappy and
unintelligible, but we departed without warning and with the most
Sherlock Holmes secrecy. Not a word about which ports we were
sailing from or to.
However, I'll tell you what I can without disclosing any names of
places.
After moving off at midnight from among the Hampshire pine-trees,
we eventually reached our port of departure. Great fun detraining the
horses and getting them on board. The men were in the highest spirits.
But how disgusting those cold rank smells of a dock are.
We sailed the following evening. Hideously rough, and it took
seventeen and a half hours. The men very quiet indeed and packed like
sardines. It was wonderful to think of all those eager souls in all those
ships making for France together over the black deep water. Some had
gone before, and some came after. But the majority went over that
night. I felt decidedly ill. And it was nervous work going round seeing
after the horses and men when a "crisis" might have occurred at any
moment! Luckily, however, dignity was preserved. Land at last "hove
in sight" as the grey morning grew paler and clearer. What
busy-looking quays! More clatter of disembarkation. No time to think
or look about.
Then, all being ready, we mounted and trekked off to a so-called "rest

camp" near the town, most uneasy and hectic. But food late that
evening restored our hilarity. A few hours' sleep and we moved off
once more into the night, the horses' feet sounding loud and harsh on
the unending French cobbles. By 8 a.m. we were all packed into this
train. Now we are passing by lovely, almost English, wooded hills.
Here a well-known town with its cathedral looks most enticing. I long
to explore. Such singing from the men's carriages! Being farmers
mostly, they are interested in the unhedged fields and the acres of
cloches. They go into hysterics of laughter when the French people
assail them with smiles, broken English-French, and long loaves of
bread. They think the long loaves very humorous! There are Y.M.C.A.
canteens at most stations, so we are well fed. The horses are miserable,
of course. They were unhappy on board ship. A horse can't be sick, you
know, even if he wants to. And now they are wretched in their trucks,
Rinaldo and Swallow are, of course, terrified, while Jezebel, having
rapidly thought out the situation, takes it all very quietly. She has just
eaten an enormous lunch. Poor Rinaldo wouldn't touch his, and
Swallow only ate a very little.
[Sidenote: FRANCE AT LAST]
In this carriage Jorrocks is snoring like thunder. Edward is eating
chocolate. Sir John is trying to plough through one of "these Frenchy
newspapers--damned nonsense, you know! they don't