War Classics
Page 20
In 1942 Christina left both Oxford and the Classics behind. She returned to Caithness, and devoted herself to the subjects which had perhaps been her first love all along – Scottish history and Scottish literature. Living alone in Thurso and relying on the Pentland Hotel for her meals, she wrote newspaper articles and published The Russet Coat, a study of Robert Burns. The reviewers did not quite know what to make of Christina’s perceptive insights wrapped up in her unconventional style. Her history of Barrogill Castle, published when that castle came to prominence as the Castle of Mey, the Queen Mother’s new home, was deeply personal, drawing on her family knowledge. A biography of Walter Scott, The Author of Waverley, was completed just before her death in 1963, and was seen through publication by her brother Barrogill.
Christina’s story of her six months in France, at a time when soldier and civilian alike were beginning to shake free from the horror of war, is the story not just of a fascinating episode in history, but also of the triumph of women’s education and the move towards a society less bound by convention.
For Christina, it was simply the story of a quite remarkable time in her life.
Appendix:
David Barrogill Keith
And tomorrow, oh! tomorrow, I thought, as I laid my tired body with rapture on my bed, tomorrow I shall see where my brothers have been and all the things they’ve never told me of these weary years.
As Christina travelled across the silent, charred landscape of northern France, she passed where her brother Barrogill had lived and fought while the guns still roared and the horrors of trench warfare were all around.
Barrogill may have told her little, but his mother Katie kept many of his letters from the front.
An accomplished artist with a keen sense of humour, Barrogill passed long weary hours in the army by drawing countless caricatures of his comrades. These little books evoke a real sense of the camaraderie which helped to carry the men through their terrible experiences. Comedy is laced with tragedy, as below many of the cartoons he has added the eventual fate of his friends – killed at Dardanelles … killed at Salonika … wounded at Dardanelles …
A sample of these pictures is reproduced here along with Barrogill’s letters.
2.10.15
Royal Pavilion Hotel, Folkestone
My dear Mother,
I have arrived here on my way to France. We got word late on Thursday evening that we were ordered off. We had no previous warning of any kind. A memo had indeed come asking for all the names of officers fit to command active service platoons but our reply had not reached Headquarters when we were ordered off. There are 21 of us in all. We expect to be sent to different regiments.
I saw Mildred in Edinburgh on Friday morning and Jul in London this morning. I had of course no time to go north.
I am just writing this prior to catching the boat across so have not time to say much.
There are several rumours afloat. One is that we are to make a new landing at Ostend. Another that no more drafts are to be sent across later this year as K wants all his men across now. What the reason of this sudden bustle is I don’t know. I only know that the Tain crowd are here too and from everywhere there are crowds of officers so it may be that the hour has struck when K and Joffre have determined to make the beginning of the end.
Personally I fear not. It seems to me that things are pretty black. What is a gain of 200 or even 600 yards or even one mile or two miles. If we have only made ’em give ground we have gained nothing in the wide world. The time will be when one or other drives a wedge through the other’s line. Then the war will be decided.
Meantime I must close. You might make up my comforter and balaclava helmet – two pairs socks one pair or two pairs woollen gloves and send them when I know my address.
You might also get Donnie to send me every week 50 Gold Flake cigarettes – as soon as I am settled.
Meantime hoping everyone is well and don’t worry too much as worry won’t help.
With love to all from DB Keith
5.10.15
12th Scottish Rifles, attached 10th Cameronians, BEF
My dear Mother,
There is nothing much to tell this time. Only yesterday I saw the fattest man in all the world. Honestly you could put five or seven men together in the space he occupied. He was simply enormous.
We hear the guns all day here but pretty far away in the distance. Other than that and the fact that this French town is full of khaki, one would not know of the existence of the war.
Things apparently are black in the Balkans. Bulgaria is in and probably now the other states will wait to see how the cat is going to jump. Greece may or may not come in. I think she probably will. Romania I think will not.
So public opinion seems to be rather against our success. The war anyway is hardly started. I do not believe the economic factor will defeat Germany. Germany is far too systematic to fail to take all due precaution against that. Some day a year or so hence we may awake to the fact that danger threatens us from that source. Of course so long as we retain control of the sea – with our colonies not going bankrupt through excessive pay to their soldier and bonuses and pensions and dependants – we ought to get our necessaries all right. But things are not looking too well and even on sea I fear the Germans. They have something up their sleeve. The war indeed – the more I see of it makes me more certain – will be a long one and the people to carry it to a close will be other men and other politicians.
It may be a day or two before I write again as there is nothing to report. You might arrange to send me some grouse and some other eatables now and then. Later when we have a company mess I might get some stuff sent out every day.
Love to all and hoping all is well.
From DB Keith
You’ll see George on Tuesday I expect. DBK
11.10.15
My dear Mother,
I got your welcome letter this morning. I have tried to write as often as I can but we are pretty busy with one thing or another to get settled up and unfortunately my last letter to you did not get sent off as soon as it might have.
We are in a quiet place here but every day and night you hear the big guns booming just a continuous rumbling, something like bubbles on boiling toffee some big and some small – that’s rather an absurd metaphor but it expresses what I mean – a sort of sultry series of eruptions. And at night flashes blink for a second across the sky. Aeroplanes often come buzzing around. A series of trains with unearthly shrieks of agony in lieu of whistles and proceeding at a mild walking pace tugging interminable trucks puff along across the level crossing just as one wants to cross. Occasionally motor buses – Red X or otherwise, a few French horsemen or a cyclist or two flit past. Otherwise things are as usual.
There are rumours pretty nearly always that we are being moved the next day, sometimes to the trenches, and we look with a kind of questioning wonder at the flashes across the sky, sometimes further back and we think of theatres and pleasant billets, but so far neither has eventuated, and we are still pegging away here and it’s not so bad. We had a church service today to the sound of guns. It’s all new and the experience of this war will, if I come through all right, make a tremendous difference in me. It may drive me insane or it may be the making of me.
We are starting our own company mess here and I want you to send out or rather get Munro or one of the keepers to send out every day a box of grouse, venison, partridge, duck, etc, anything – enough for four persons, say one [?] grouse today and partridges or duck or venison – just a small bit for four or six each day – can you manage that. Otherwise we are likely to live on bully beef. Parcels take three or four days I believe so the stuff sent should be newly killed if possible. The other fellows are getting parcels everyday but it’s shortbread cakes honey etc.
16.10.15
My dear Mother,
For the last few days we have been pretty busy and I had no opportunity to write a letter. I sent a dozen pcs to the famil
y generally of scenes of the war etc. They will be interesting to keep. I have now lost immediate touch with George but he is still somewhere in the neighbourhood.
Life here tho’ not devoid of excitement is not particularly interesting or daring. Apart from continuous gun firing and aeroplanes hovering overhead everything is much as usual. I have not yet seen a shell burst on the ground tho’ I have seen some aeroplanes and observation balloons shelled.
The grouse and butter arrived all right and are now duly eaten, but so far there is no word of cigarettes. I have also got, as I think I told you before, my scarf and some woollen things direct from home. Nothing has been forwarded from Stobs [a training camp in the Scottish borders].
I will return the photos you sent next letter. Meantime they are packed in my kit. I had of course already seen them at Stobs.
Hope everyone is keeping quite well at home. So you are still having runs with Strachan. I really think he’s too much swollen head. He will, I expect, learn it pretty soon from the people round about. The Courier seems to show that the people are about fed up with those self-conscious stay at home heroes who on active service require all the comforts of first-class hotels, if possible at the expense of the state.
You might let me know if the postcards arrive all right.
What’s doing at home – everything pretty dead & alive?
If you are sending any stuff out here to Tommies don’t send sweaters, cardigans, shirts, socks, etc. Any amount of these, as many as the people care to ask for are supplied free to the troops here. I know this for a fact. If they don’t get them it’s because their Quartermaster is rotten. But send out old magazines, matches and cigarettes. They get 50 cigs a week fewer than 500 each but these are all of one class and Tommy gets fed up without his Woodbine and his Gold Flake for variety. Send them of course cigarettes out of bond if possible. Also send ’em eatables but the people knitting are absolutely unnecessary. On active service if the officers are worth their salt and the QM a good man Tommy wants for nothing in the way of necessaries either of food or dress. But he wants luxuries, his own luxuries, little things such as handkerchiefs and soap. He gets plenty towels, a sponge, and odds and ends – reels, even small knives and forks for Tommy loses these and is looked on with a wrathful eye when he seeks that which was lost from comrades and Quartermaster.
No more just now, am just off to bed for this is really Thursday night tho’ it won’t go till tomorrow wherefore the date.
Hoping all are well, with love from DB Keith
Tuesday?
At last I am at the end of my wanderings at least for the time being. I am now within sound of the guns but quite far away from them and in absolutely no danger and likely to be in none for a month at best.
I met George today and was at his billets and saw him at teatime again. I have also been toddling about with Georgeson and have met Taylor who is in George’s company and also seen a fellow Ross I used to know in Edinburgh. Altogether it has been most interesting. The division we are in is resting after Loos.
I heard that AS Pringle – who was north with Keith Fraser – has been badly hit. He was magnificently game. With a battleaxe and a revolver old Toosie got over the trenches. He was hit four or five times and still fighting when last seen. He was in command of the OTC when I joined. George was not in it. All seconds in command of whom George is one, were left behind before the attack. Later I believe George went up. My impression of him is that he makes an exceedingly good officer and is quite worthy of his job.
I don’t think there is much to say now. We are just settling down here and quite behind the firing line with the certainty of a long rest.
Hope all are well. Love to all, from DB Keith
18.10.15
My dear Mother,
I got letters today from Tiny, Willie and yourself and yesterday from Mildred and Louise for which much thanks.
I thought I had acknowledged the grouse and butter. I got them and forthwith they were eaten.
Tomorrow George comes to dinner with us and if the partridges arrive as expected we will do well.
Other than the grouse and butter no eatables have as yet arrived and we have open-mouthed waited to find a parcel but none arrived. Never mind stuff. I’ll have to send some of the stuff I have here back but eatables need not be carried save on the person.
I’m in billets all right and quite comfortable – see little of war in its actuality.
I’ll write again tomorrow or later tonight, meantime I must end as the light is out and dinner ready.
With love to all and hoping all are well, from, DB Keith
23.10.15
Tho’ it is only 9 p.m. I am fearfully tired and ready for bed. I got your budget of letters and one from Mil all right also one from Julia I think.
The partridges have not yet come to hand. I got the grouse yesterday, also truffles & honey pretty squashed 1 fowl and brace partridges. We ate 1 brace grouse yesterday, gave the other brace to the CO and the partridge and the fowl were eaten tonight.
The days here soon pass. The big guns are not far off and the flash lights up the sky very brightly and the […] of the shells thro’ the air all help to make one realise the war. But for active service it is as yet pretty much a picnic.
I will write to Cox as father suggests. Also it might be better to give him a power of attorney over any stick, etc in my name.
I really am too tired to write more and must get off to bed.
I shall be sending home some things as I have too much out here. I fear George won’t get home this time after all. Georgeson may have told that he met me.
With love to all and hoping all are well, from DB Keith
PS Can you let me have Saroléa’s Address to the French Class? We don’t have much to read here.
2.11.15
My dear Mother,
I have regularly got your letters and very frequently your parcels for which I have to thank you very much. The last parcel I received from you contained a brace of grouse and a piece ham which was much enjoyed. However, don’t send any more ham as we get loads of it and jolly good stuff too. I also got a third parcel from Tiny which was also excellent. I am indeed very well off in respect of parcels for which many thanks. The CO and I had many meals off the grouse and partridges arriving while we were in the trenches. We go in again in a day or two so a repetition and continuous feast will be most acceptable. You will remember also to keep a turkey and grouse for Xmas.
About stuff for the men honestly they want absolutely nothing. They get a brand new rigout every time they come out of the trenches. They get a ration issue of cigarettes. They get papers and presents. I can honestly think of absolutely nothing in the way of ordinary comforts that you could send them that would be of any use. Parcels of eatables are of course asked for when they write home but then you can’t cater for that.
About my stove at home the only one that is any use out here is a PRIMUS paraffin stove. I had one once, a small pocket one. It seems to have got lost. If you find it you could send it otherwise don’t bother. I really don’t need one, only if there was that one knocking about unused we could use it. I don’t think it is tho’ and a metholated stove is useless and an ordinary paraffin one too heavy to take about.
I am sorry that Father has a cold and Ed the mumps. However I hope both are now better. You will see Foulis got wounded, a soft ‘cushy’ one we call it. It means a slight wound enough to let him get home and do no damage. He is as right as rain.
That last tour in the trenches was more or less uneventful. Except for dodging shells and one strafe of our own it was monotonous. One day an attack was reported and I had the messages calling up our artillery written out. It didn’t come off. I have the messages and later when ancient history will send you the identical message which will be interesting to keep. I have also drawn rough sketches of my dugout. You might ask Poll next time she is in Princes Street to go to DOIG WILSON & WHEATLEY in I think Castle Street on the left-hand side
going down and buy a small 6d ricepaper sketchbook or perhaps 1s and a good drawing pencil, a soft one to make sketches here.
You could send out one or two 7d or 1s novels; they always help to clear the monotony of existence.
Well I must end up now as I have some more letters to write. Love to all, thanks for the parcels. Hope all are now quite well. With love from DB Keith
10.15
My dear Mother,
George is taking this letter across with him when he goes on leave tomorrow. I hope he has a good holiday as he has had a pretty rotten time on the whole here with all his chums knocked out.
Things are rather quiet here on the whole and tonight we leave billets to go into the trenches, but it is improbable that things will be busy where we go as we got a pretty severe knock so lately.
However as now I am in command of my company I will have a great deal to do and won’t get many letters written even if facilities for posting them occur so don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for ten days or so. It will certainly do nobody good. Of course nowhere in the trenches is absolutely safe but still it’s not very bad in the support and not in the firing line. But we will be awfully busy working there and with no sleep at night I may find my hands full.
I get on very well here on the whole. The adjutant was going on leave on Friday or Saturday and I was to be acting adjutant in his stead. Now in all probability leave is off.
Well I can’t say much more as after all there is little to say. This time next week I will have either settled down to the trenches or be sick. Somehow I feel I will like the change into the trenches. After all my years at the Varsity were fighting ones and I was ever a fighter so one fight more. In all the things I have tackled, tho’ I says it as shouldn’t, I have fought with all my soul and I have tho’ the honour is not mine, in all won through. And here now on the verge of this trench war I feel a strength and confidence that I hope and believe will carry me thro’ so that at all events you will not I hope have cause to be ashamed of how I faced the foe.