BX December 24, 1914
Received Word Her Husband Was Not Wounded
Owing to the fact that the British War Office sent a notification to Mrs. J. Pizzey, 1 Simpson Street, city, that her husband had been wounded, an announcement to that effect appeared in the Expositor. It afterwards turned out that the war office had sent the notification to the wrong party, as it was not Sergt. J. Pizzey, a British reservist from this city who had received a wound. A letter received by Mrs. Pizzey shows that her husband, who is in the trenches in Belgium so close to the enemy that the latter can be heard talking at night, was well and in good spirits on November 21.
The letter, divested of personal matters, is as follows:
November 21, 1914
B. Company, 2nd Essex Regiment,
British Expeditionary Force,
Belgium
In the Trenches
Dear Wife
It is with the greatest of pleasure that I write you these few lines to let you know that I am still in good health, and I hope that you and the baby are the same. I have had my first taste of war, and it is a strange experience. In fact it is indescribable, and I am not going to try by letter to tell you about it. I will tell you all when I come home.
It is very cold here, we having had a snowstorm yesterday, and I had another baptism, that being in sleeping in the snow; but we take all things as they come, and take them as cheerfully as possible.
We are getting enough to eat, and we get a tot of rum every morning, and lots to smoke. We are so close to the Germans that we can hear them talk when it is quiet at night. Our old regiment is doing some grand work. I will not talk any more about war, for you can read it all in the papers. I have not heard of or seen any of the boys who came with me from Brantford, except Maggie's husband, and that was when we came over to the base together.
Goodbye, your loving husband,
Jack
Mr. and Mrs. E. Pizzey, Sergt. Pizzey's parents, have received a postcard wishing them good health and a Merry Christmas. He stated that he was well, and expected to be home not long after the New Year.
BX December 31, 1914
Life of Brantford Soldier in the Trenches in Belgium – Lance Corp. J. Pizzey, With the 2nd Essex Regiment Tells an Interesting Story in a Letter to his Wife Here – Only 80 Yards Away From German Trenches.
An interesting story of life in the trenches in Belgium is told by Corp. John Alfred Pizzey, Essex regiment, now fighting the Germans in Flanders, in a letter to his wife here. The letter shows that the British Tommies are a cheerful lot, even under depressing conditions, such as not taking off their clothes for a 12 weeks' stretch. The hope is expressed that he will be home soon after the New Year – a hope which has been expressed by many other soldiers writing home. Corp. Pizzey's letter is as follows:
November 29, 1914
B. Company, 2nd Essex Regiment,
British Expeditionary Force,
Belgium
In the Trenches,
My Dear Wife and Baby,
At last I can find time to write you a letter and I trust it will find you and baby in the very best of health, as I am quite well myself. Well, I have not received any word yet – I cannot understand why, but I should like a word from you just to know how you all are, but as long as you receive mine I won't mind. Do not fret or worry about me, for we are safe in the trenches, and I have only one complaint, and that is the cold, but we are getting fixed up on bomb-proof shelters and we will have little fires in them, and we are getting lots of tobacco, etc. We got another lot today and the government is doing all it can for our comfort. Now we get relieved every few days and go back out of fire and get a wash and shave, etc., also new shirts, boots, or anything we need. We were also given warm undershirts, and above all things we were taken to a brewery and had a bath. The big vats were about three feet deep with hot water, and there were about a dozen of those vats and 14 men jumped in at a time, and we were all given a complete rig-out there. I can tell you we felt like new men. That was the first time I have had my trousers off for 12 weeks, and I had not had a wash for eight days, but we don't take any notice of such small items as that. I would just like you to see us in the trenches. You would think we were a lot of black devils – muddy, black, unkempt, wild-eyed, and unshaven – but happy in spite of all. I am sure you would never recognize your husband. I hope you don't think war is all kill – why sometimes it's a picnic, and the grub is good. We get jam, bacon, beef, biscuits, bread, cheese, tea and sugar and a tot of rum. These are our government rations and sometimes a rabbit or chicken wanders from some deserted farm and well, we don't like to see poor dumb animals all alone, so we look after them – understand.
It is awful when you look upon the havoc the Germans have done. We are entrenched near a village and not one house is left standing, except the old convent, and half of that is down, but they must have put a thousand shells into it. As long as they keep smashing away at that we don't mind for they knock more wood down for us to make fires with. They seem pretty regular with those guns. First they have a smack at the woods on our right, then a few over to the town at the back of us, then the old convent comes in for a few, but we have to bob sometimes when they drop a bit short. Now would you believe that one part of our trench is only about 80 yards from the Germans and our fellows shout out to them and they answer back and above all we have not fired a shot for about a week – we just watch them, but they keep banking away all the time, so we don't let them get a shot at us if we can help it, but some fellows are pretty venturesome and sometimes someone gets hit, but very few, and above all things the nearer the enemy we are the safer it is and as they know we are here and we know they are there we are allowed a lot more freedom. That is we smoke, sing, light fires, cook, etc., whereas if we were at the back we would have to be more careful or their guns would soon drop a few into us while here they shell us but very little, owing to our being so close to each other and they might kill their own men.
We have aeroplane flights every day and they bang away at ours, and our guns blaze away at theirs, and it is a pretty sight to see the shells burst, but I have not seen one brought down yet.
So far my nearest call has been when a bit of a shell dropped about a foot from me in the trench. It is marvelous the narrow escapes men have. Only the other day one of our men had a bullet skim the top of his head as if a pin had been drawn over it and drew blood. I could tell you of dozens of such escapes if I had time.
Don't forget to buy baby a nice Christmas present. All of us fellows are going to hang our socks up, so don't forget the peppermints. That is our favorite sweet out here. Florrie is sending me a parcel and I have no doubt but what we shall get all we need for Christmas. Well Mary, I don't think it will be long in the New Year before I am home if all goes well, which I hope will. I have been out here about three months now and it seems a long time and so it does to you I suppose.
Don't forget to tell baby I think of her every day, also you and I often long to see you again, but cheer up, things will come right soon. Well I think I have told you all the news for this time, so good-bye and may God bless you. Both is the sincere wish of your loving husband,
Jack
BX February 20, 1915
Life in the Trenches Is Not a Bed of Roses – Another Letter from Corp. Pizzey to His Wife Tells of Recent Experiences on the Battle Line – Urgent Appeal Made to All Young Men to Enlist For Service
Most interesting is the description of life on the battle-line given in the latest letter received by Mrs. J. Pizzey, Simpson Street, from her husband Lance-Corp. Pizzey, B. Company, Second Essex Regiment of the British Expeditionary Force. Corp. Pizzey was an employee of the Massey-Harris Company but, being a British Reservist, was one of the first from Brantford to answer to the call to arms and has been on the battle-line ever since the outbreak of the war. The letter tells of the many hardships which the soldiers have had to endure and the terrible sights they have witnessed, but is written in a most cheerful vein. While expressing confidence in the ultimate success of the allied armies against Prussian militarism. Corp. Pizzey makes it clear that the conflict is not yet nearing its close and that there will be need for every man Canada can send. He makes a strong appeal to the young men to do their duty by enlisting at the first opportunity.
The letter follows:
7793
Lance-Corp. J. Pizzey,
B. Company, 2nd Essex Reg.,
4th Division
Belgium
My Darling Wife and Daughter,
I am so pleased to be able to write and still be able to say I am well, and I thank God for His mercy in bringing me through the dangers and perils of this war, and by His mercy and forgiveness may I be brought safely through it all and come back to you safe and sound. I received your loving letter and baby’s photo today (letter dated Jan. 3) and I must say that she has grown quite a bit. How I would love to see her once again. If I have looked at the photo once I have looked at it a thousand times and a few big tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of you and her watching and praying for my return. May our prayers be answered, dear. It makes me think of one of our fellows who was killed yesterday. As the stretcher passed by me he was calling for his wife and children. Poor fellow; maybe his wife and children were praying for his return, but he lies in our little grave yard at the back of our trenches now.
Just a line about our own little grave yard. It is a picture and also a credit to our regiment. It is about a mile from the trenches and every man who has been killed since we have been in the trenches is buried there, and I am sorry to say it grows every day, till it is not a little one now. It’s a big grave yard, but each grave is nicely built up and turfed over, and at the head of each is a wooden cross with the number, name, etc., of him who lies there, and no doubt after this war is over our regiment will erect a monument to the memory of those who lie there and maybe the wives, etc., of them who lie there will get a picture of it.
I am sorry to say that two more of my Canadian chums who were in my regiment, but were living in Canada, have been added to the number. One came from Hamilton. Parker was his name and the other’s name was Gandy. I don’t just know what part of Canada he was living in. The strange part of it was that they were both killed about the same time. A lot of the 24 of us who came over together seem to have gone – some killed and some wounded. I can only muster about five of us now, and of the battalion that left Chatham last August but few remain. But not all are dead; some are home wounded and some sick. Although some regiments have lost more than ours, we have lost a lot, for our casualties’ amount to 900 killed, wounded and missing. My company has lost as many as any. We have lost 250, that is to say, that we have lost the entire company’s strength, but we are still as strong as ever, as we get reinforcements every couple of weeks.
My Dearest Wife,
I would just like you to see us in the trenches crouching round our little fires, as black as coal, and the smoke making the water run down our cheeks, boiling water or cooking something to eat. In the daytime we do odd jobs such as cleaning out the mud or building up the parapets, etc., but one must keep low or it will bring a shower of bullets our way. As soon as dusk begins, everyone stands to, all ready for action. After the stand to is over one man in every three goes on sentry, while the others snatch a little sleep, but it’s very little of that we get, for its too cold as a rule.
A couple of men go foraging, that is, go and get wood from some knocked down farm house. Not only wood do we get, but potatoes, water, etc. We do not find much now as all the other stuff we had long ago. We used to have chicken stews once in a while, and pork, but all have disappeared now. But thank God we get lots of water, for I bet that no one drinks more tea than we in the trenches. As we get lots of tea and sugar and not much else to do we drink tea and swap yarns. I won’t say all of them are true but it helps the hours pass away. But if they stretch them too much we start singing “Tell Me the Old, Old Story.”
I see that one regiment of Canadians is out here. Princess Pat’s Light Infantry, and I have no doubt but that the Germans will know they are here too, if they get a chance at them. Good luck to them all, and we need them too. Tell all to come, for there are some thousands of Sir John French’s contemptible little army who are in need of a little rest after a weary winter in these trenches, and if we few can hold them, what will we do with about another hundred thousand Canadians? Just wait till the spring and see. It will be forward, no retirement then right on till they say enough and Belgium is avenged and Prussian militarism is no more and England and her colonies return with their honor untarnished and victory ours and the world will know we fought for God and the right.
I have not seen Jack Knott’s brother this last week or two, but strangely enough you may not meet a friend for weeks, although you are in the same regiment, as all moves are made at night and maybe I am in the trenches when he is out.
I am trying to get my box, etc., off to you, but have not got a chance yet. I did think we were going back for a rest; but it was all rumors. That was what I thought would be the good news, but alas, it’s all rumors. I shall offer up a prayer to God when I do get out of this, for it will be something to be thankful for to get out of this safe.
We had salmon for breakfast this morning. It was British Columbia’s gift to the soldiers, and it went down A 1 too, and I said to myself good old British Columbia. We get lots of little things sent us from these different funds, sweets, etc., and we had a lot of prunes the other day. In fact, we get on fine in regards to grub, but one doesn’t have to be particular, as a mouthful of mud helps you to digest it. I want to tell you of an incident that I saw happen the other morning. We were having our breakfast and the fellow standing beside me said, “Look at that saucy ---- over there.” So I looked and one of the Germans was looking over his trench, head and shoulders showing. So he said: “Hold this,” handing me his chunk of break and jam, picks up his rifle and fired, and I saw the German throw up his hands and fall back, no doubt dead. My chum took back his bread and jam and calmly continued his breakfast, as if nothing had happened.
We have been pretty free from shells these last few days. I don’t know why. They are always trying to find our guns, but the shells whistle over our heads, as the guns are sometimes miles from us and they never get them.
Its strange how one gets to know the different aeroplanes. We have one we call 9.2, as it is the one that controls a big nine point two and we watch its flight and bet on what the aviator will see. After a time we hear old Nine Point Two say “Good,” it does not bang or boom, it seems to say “Good,” and we know then that our friend up above has spotted something. Then we begin to guess what he saw. One will say it’s a supply column, another will say it’s a body of infantry on the move, another will say he has spotted a German battery, and another will say they are blowing up some bridge, etc., till we have about guessed everything and then we console ourselves by saying “Well, some of us must be right.” And so it goes along sometimes commenting on somebody’s cocoa or which is the best tobacco or whose jam is the best, and would you believe it, we can tell who makes the tea, and it goes by the name of the man who makes it. We have one fellow named Sam. He makes it very sweet, so his tea is called Sam’s tea. Another will make it strong, and another won’t like much sugar in it, and so on, but if it meets with general approval all round it is called mother’s tea. So like are the names of men known by their little failings. We have Fireside Sam, because he likes to hug the fire. I myself am Stamping Jack, because I am always trying to stamp a little warmth into my feet. We also have Tea Scoffing Murphy as he is the champion of us all in the tea drinking contests. All this may seem childish and foolish to you at home, but just put yourselves in our places and then you would find out that any little thing like that helps to pass the time, and makes us forget. Yes, it’s good to forget the horrors of it all if only for a few minutes, for the next time you put your head up to see if all is right, it may be your last. Only the other day one of our fellows was hit right through his head while he was laughing, and you would hardly believe it, he fell back with the laughter still ringing out from his mouth. It was a sudden death for the poor chap. It is at such times that I have noticed how it affected the different men’s feelings. One will shake his fist and curse the Germans; the other will just murmur “Poor Devil,” another will turn his head and maybe choke back the lump that rises in his throat; another may say a short prayer, “my God, I wish it was over,” or some such little prayer. We then take all his belongings from him, such as letters, etc., and hand them over to the officer and among them you will always find a photo of some loved one, wife, mother, or sweetheart. It’s a cruel affair, Mary, and that’s a fact.
And so it goes, from day to day, till that day arrives when we shall get out of our trenches and put a stop to it all. But it will be a few months more before this is over, unless something turns up to alter things so tell our men around Brantford not to go around saying it will soon be over and such like, and we won’t be needed, etc., but just tell them from me that they are needed and the sooner they enlist and make one more, the sooner this will end.
Well my dearest wife, I will now draw to a close. Remember me to all my old chums, and tell them I have seen lots of their work such as binders etc., all knocked to pieces by shells. By the way, I have got a little piece of a bind which I believe is a Massey-Harris binder. I am not sure, because it was in a burnt down barn, but I went by the make of the binder arm which was like the ones I used to make, so I broke off a little for a keepsake. I did not have time to inspect it thoroughly or I could have told by the casting numbers whether it was one of ours, it was night time too, so I could not be sure of the maker, and only the twisted frame was left to tell that it was once an implement of peace, and there was I who maybe had helped to make it, groping around it with an implement of war in one hand, in the shape of a rifle and a bag of spuds in the other, which I had just got from one of the outbuildings. I said to myself, I ought to have a hammer instead of this, and a big pile of sand to dig into, in that place where that binder came from so I heaved a sigh and went back in the trench and mud. Well, my dear wife, I think I have told you all the news, so kiss baby for me and tell her to be a good girl and I will be coming home some time later on. So farewell my dearest, and may God bless and protect you from all harm and bring me safely back to you. I remain your loving and devoted husband.
Jack
