Raymond; or, Life and Death. Sir Oliver Lodge
flashes). Rather a nasty wound through an artery. They applied a tourniquet and managed to stop the bleeding, but he was so weak from loss of blood he had to be carried back on a stretcher.
"I had noticed this man before, partly on account of his name. Last time I was in the fire trenches (about ten days ago) I was dozing in my dug-out one evening and the Sergeant-Major was in his, next door. Suddenly he calls out 'Raymond!' I started. Then he calls again 'Raymond! Come here!' I shouted out 'Hallo! What's the matter?' But then I heard the other Raymond answering, so I guessed how it was. …
"While at tea in the next room the post came and brought me your letter and one from Alec. Isn't it perfectly marvellous? You were surprised at the speed of my last letter. But how about yours? The postmark is 2.30 p.m. on the 16th at Birmingham, and here it is in my hands at 4 p.m. on the 18th!
"I was telling you about the difficulties of going to and fro between here and the trenches, but you will understand it is not always like that. If there is a moon, or even if there is a clear sky so that we can get the benefit of the starlight (which is considerable and much more than I thought), matters are much improved, because if you can still see the man in front, when he is, say, 5 yards in front of you, and can also see the holes instead of finding them with your person, all that 'waiting for the "tail" to close up' is done away with. …
"Last night Laws, Thomas, and myself each took a party of about forty-five down separately, leaving the remainder guarding the various billets. Then when we returned Fletcher took the rest down.
"It was a glorious night, starry, with a very young and inexperienced moon, and quite dry and warm. I would not have minded going down again except that I would rather go to bed, which I did.
"Do you know that joke in Punch where the Aunt says: 'Send me a postcard when you are safely in the trenches!'? Well, there is a great deal of truth in that—one feels quite safe when one reaches the friendly shelter of the trench, though of course the approaches aren't really very dangerous. One is 'thrilled' by the whistle of the bullets near you. That describes the feeling best, I think—it is a kind of excitement."
"Thursday, 22 April 1915, 6.50 p.m.
"I have received a most grand periscope packed, with spare mirrors, in a canvas haversack. It is a glorious one and I am quite keen to use it, thank you very much indeed for it. Thank you also for two sets of ear defenders which I am going to test when firing off a 'Very' light. A 'parachuted' star is fired from a brass pistol with a bore of about 1 inch and a barrel of about 6 inches. The report is very deafening, I believe—though I haven't fired one yet.
"The star, by the way, though it lights up the country for some distance, is not too bright to look at.
"I have just remembered something I wanted to tell you, so I will put it in here.
"When walking to and from the trenches in the darkness, I find it is a great help to study the stars (not for purposes of direction). I know very little about them, and I saw a very useful plan in, I think, the Daily News of 3 April, called 'The Night Sky in April.' It was just a circle with the chief planets and stars shown and labelled. The periphery of the circle represented the horizon.
"If you know of such a plan that is quite easily obtainable I should be glad to have one. The simpler the thing the better.
"The books you had sent me, which were passed on to me by Professor Leith, are much appreciated. They circulate among officers of this Company like a library. At the time they arrived we were running short of reading-matter, but since then our Regimental Headquarters have come to the rescue and supplied each Company with half a dozen books, to be passed on to other Companies afterwards.
"I enclose an acrostic that I made up while in the trenches during our last spell. It seems to be a prolific place for this sort of thing."
Acrostic
(One word of five letters)
Lights. The lowest rank with lowest pay,
Don't make this public though, I pray!
Inoculation's victim, though
Defeated still a powerful foe.
When Government 'full-stop' would say
It does so in this novel way.
The verb's success, the noun's disgrace
And lands you in a foreign place.
A king of kings without a roar,
His kingdom that no anger bore.
The final goal—the end of all—
What all desire, both great and small. R. L., 19 April 1915
[The solution of this is the word Peace given twice—once inverted. The first 'light,' which is not 'public' is 'Private'; the second is 'Enteric'; the third is a sign employed in Government telegrams to denote a full-stop, viz., 'aaa'; the fourth is 'Capture'; and the fifth (with apologies) is 'Emp,' and some occult reference to Edward VII, not remembered now; the kingdom without anger being Empire without ire.—O. J. L.]
"Friday, 30 April 1915, 4.10 p.m.
"I wish you could see me now. I am having a little holiday in Belgium. At the moment I am sitting in the shade of a large tree, leaning against its trunk, writing to you. The sun is pouring down and I have been sitting in it lying on a fallen tree, but it makes me feel lazy, so I came here to write (in the shade).
"Before me, across a moat, is the ch�teau—ruined now, but not by old age. It is quite a handsome building, two storeys high. It is built of brick with a slate roof; the bricks are colour-washed yellow with a white band 18 inches deep under the roof; there are two towers with pointed roofs that stand to the front of the house, projecting slightly from it, forming bay windows. These towers, from the roof down to the ground, are red brick, as are the fronts of the dormer windows in the main building.
"The larger and taller tower is octagonal and stands in the middle of the front, the smaller one is square and stands on the right corner. On each side of the main building are flanking buildings consisting on this (left) side of a brick-built palm-house and beyond that again a glass-covered conservatory. The other flank has a conservatory also, but I have not explored as far as that. The front of the building is about 70 to 80 yards long.
"The main entrance is on the other or northern side. It is reached by a drawbridge over the moat. The house on that (north) side is not so much damaged. It has long windows with shutters that give it a continental air. I can't sketch it, so I have given you a rough elevation from the south. I am sitting to the south-west, just across the moat.
"The place is in an awful mess. In some parts it is difficult to tell how the original building went. One can see into several of the rooms; the outer wall has fallen away, exposing about three rooms and an attic. In one room the floor has dropped at one corner to some 8 feet below its proper level, and a bed is just above poised on the edge of the room, almost falling out where the room is sectioned.
"There is no glass in any of the green-houses—it is all on the floor. The palm-house is full of green tubs with plants in them, mostly overturned.
"In the garden the trees are blossoming, some of the fruit trees are covered with white blossom; but many, even of these, are lying flat and blossoming in the moat. The drive runs down to the road on the south side in an absolutely straight line, flanked by tall trees. But many of these are down too. I was lying on one just now. The garden is in good order, though getting a little out of hand. There is a small plantation of gooseberry bushes that looks very healthy. Shell holes are all about, however.
"The house, although it is not on an eminence, commands a good view to the southward and has a fine view of the German lines, which are slightly raised just here. The enemy evidently