‘Have you heard what they are saying?’

‘What are they saying?’ Clarke looked immediately alert. He enjoyed the titbits Howard fed him. Howard had a helpful way of eliciting stories from troops and civilians alike. He had the sort of overpowering good looks that made people want him to like them; they wanted to be his friend and found him easy to confide in.

‘Today the “barbarians” carried the Belgian wounded back to the Belgian trenches and handed them over to safe keeping.’ Howard emphasised the word barbarians in a way that clearly indicated he was using it with heavy irony.

‘Did they really?’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘I must write about it.’ Clarke pulled out his notebook and scribbled something down.

‘Will you?’

‘Of course.’ Both men glanced around at the celebrating crowds. Men who had killed and slaughtered now kissed and slow-danced. ‘Strange thing, war.’

‘Isn’t it.’

NOVEMBER 1914

21

5th November 1914

Dear Vivian,

I hope this letter finds you well and settled in at Blackwell. I’m certain you are finding it charming. I’m pleased to hear the pianoforte arrived safely. Have you found a man to tune it? You never said in your letter. I hope you are practising.

I am quite well here. The chaps are all decent sorts, as you’d expect. I am comfortable. We each sleep on a narrow camp bed and we’ve been given a sleeping bag, which takes one back to when one was a boy and camping with the Scouts, especially as the bag is a bit thin, but there are plenty of blankets so nothing to complain about. I share the tent with a terribly talented chap who goes under the incredible name Ace Cuthbert. He can play the viola and the lute, which he does to entertain us all as he brought both of them with him and says he’s looking forward to taking them to the Front.

We each have been allotted a manservant to make the bed and keep the tent tidy and what have you. My man seems honest and reliable, I’m pleased to say. The officers’ mess is enormous, utilitarian rather than luxurious, of course. I’d be horrified if it was anything other. There’s a war on. It’s not a building but a tent, with boarded sides, quite robust even when it’s inclement.

I’m relieved to inform you that the food is excellent. The men are always commenting that they are well fed. Some say they’ve never eaten better in their lives. Sausage, eggs. They think they’ve died and gone to heaven. Fish and chips are served on a Friday. There’s also an anteroom where we can go to read a book or write letters. Yes, all very pleasant.

Please will you post this letter on to Mother and Father so they get my news too. I shall write to you and them alternately, and arrange for their letters to be forwarded to you. This way I will not have to repeat myself.

Fond wishes,