Chapter VII: One Young Man in the Salient

The city of Ypres, which Sydney Baxter had entered some few months previously, was now a heap of ruins. The whole country was desolate: the once picturesque roads lined by trees were now but a line of shell holes, with here and there leafless, branchless stumps, seared guardians of the thousand graves. On June 7th, 1915, Sydney Baxter writes:

"We have been having a very lively time, a second touch of
real life-destroying warfare. Many of the boys have been
bowled over. We have had a series of heavy
bombardments--shells everywhere, so that it was a matter of
holding tight where we were. However, I was again fortunate,
and have proved to myself and to the Captain that I can hold
my head whilst under heavy shell and rifle fire, although
it's impossible to keep one's heart beating normal under
such conditions.

"We are now entrenched for a day or two, but it is not
over-lively. A corporal who was a fellow bedman of George's
and mine at Crowborough has just been killed. The poor chap
died in agony.

"It is indeed comforting to know that so many are
petitioning 'Our Father' to spare me, if it be His will,
through all the dangers and hardships of this uproar, and
the confidence that the friends have in my return is very
helpful. I have had the feeling that God will give me
another chance of doing more work, but the thought of being
killed has not the terror it had. The idea of joining George
perhaps gives this comfort, but of course I know that it
does not rest with me--unless of course by negligence.

"Will you include, please, two fat candles as you sent
before."

_June 16th, 1915._

"MY DEAREST MOTHER,

"Just a short note in reply to yours received this morning.
I am still as per usual. Depends on how much sleep I get as
to how I feel. As I was able last night to get to bed before
3 o'clock, and slept on to 10 o'clock this morning, I am A1.

"We got drenched the night before last--every one soaked to
the skin. We came out of the trench, and as there were no
huts or dug-outs ready for us, we had to stand out in the
rain for over an hour when we arrived at our destination.
As the weather changed next day we managed to dry our
things. It was a funny sight to see chaps walking about in
pants, and some with sandbags for trousers.

"It is rumoured we are leaving here to go ----, but being a
rumour it won't come true. However, I shouldn't mind a
change. We are all fed up with this spot.

THE ALCOVE DUG-OUT,
_July 8th, 1915._

" ... How I long to be within the walls of our dear old
church! Some of the fellows can't realise or understand when
I tell them my church life and work are so much to me. I owe
all my happiness to God through my home and to the
associations and work at the church. I hope it will be His
Divine Will to spare me for fuller activities and to make up
for the sins of omission.

" ... Don't imagine for a minute we learn French out here.
We rarely see a civilian, and when we do we say, 'Avez vous
du pain?' and the reply is generally 'How many do you want?'
They know more English than we do French."

_Later._

"The fight for Hill 60 and the struggle with the Canadians
against the Hun at St. Julien has weakened our division, and
we are to be transferred further south to a quieter part of
the line.

"We are not sorry, for we feel sadly in need of a rest, and
Ypres and its environments are _literally_ a shell-swept
area of countless graves. The H.A.C. has relieved us, and we
marched back the other night to huts a few miles behind the
line. The following evening we marched still farther back,
crossing the Franco-Belgian border to the rail-head. We are
having a few days' rest, spending many hours cleaning up,
not only our clothes and equipment, but our ceremonial drill
and exercises."

One Young Man's Sunday