for an attack. You ought to be near a
six-inch shell when it bursts to hear the sort of "scruntling" wrench
that it gives as it breaks up the tough outer steel. To-day I have
been arranging to have my men and their clothes washed, for such
things have to go on in war as well as in peace time, only I am
obliged to have the clothes fumigated as well now. My own hair has not
been cut since I left Winchester, but I will try to see to that this
afternoon! The weather has broken from frost into a heavy drizzle,
which ought to make the trenches a sight, with the mud that is in them
already, when we go back. I have written to my Mother thanking her for
her generous gift to the Regiment. I fear she is alarmed at my being
out here.... I am going for a walk this afternoon to try to get some
life into my toes; they have been quite dead since we went into the
trenches for the first time. Probably they are really all right,
though I cannot feel anything as yet in them. Gen. Davis tells me
that we are shooting away at the enemy to-day, but still they will not
fight. Our last hostess was the daughter of a gamekeeper; that was
where we had some milk yesterday morning. She said that her father
escaped the Germans by jumping on a horse and riding 20 miles. I think
I could have walked that distance easily for the same reason. Col.
Napier told me that his boy Charlie was captured by the Germans at
school at Hanover, "which," he added, "doesn't make me love my enemies
any more."...

IN BILLETS.
_December 29th, 1914._

We are off to-night for the trenches again. I hear that the Germans
spent their time shelling our particular ones. It is to be hoped that
they have used up their ammunition for the present, as I believe they
are rather short. Such a night as it was; blowing a raging gale; but
one gets very selfish, and we only remarked: "What an awful night in
the trenches! Please God the Germans do not attack! Thank God we are
not in them to-night!" and that was all. I wonder how long this war
will go on. It never seems to come to an end, does it? I walked
yesterday afternoon to a small town beyond shell fire and had my hair
cut at last. I also had tea with a Capt. Sherlock, whose wife, I
think, was a friend of yours, one of Sir Francis Cruise's daughters,
"Gussie." I heard from Major Alston, of the 2nd Bat., how Capt. Whelan
was killed. He showed