Guns. What a curious nation we are, training our
men quite happily within ten miles of the enemy! I think I told you
about our billets in the last letter. The Germans emptied the wine
cellar. Imagine an English farm having a wine cellar at all! We do not
even burn the wood, and we have done a great trade for these people in
milk and butter. Eggs there appear to be none. I expect we shall be
moving shortly; but where to I cannot tell. I was glad to find that
the French had not at all exhausted their reserves. For instance,
there is in the house here a labourer who is a cavalry soldier. He is
43 years of age, and his category is the next to go. Only your first
letters have reached me up to now, but some more are expected in
to-morrow evening. The General I met yesterday told me that the
Prussian Guards, 15,000 strong, were formed up two nights ago, and
were told that they must break through our lines, as their Infantry of
the Line had made an attempt to do so and had failed. They tried hard;
we heard the guns going. They did not get through, and they showed no
disposition to try again yesterday morning, fortunately. It is
probable that they suffered very severely. If this goes on, they must
stop shortly. Possibly you know more about it all than I do, though,
as I have seen no papers; in fact, I am absolutely isolated. It has
been raining in torrents, but has now stopped for a minute, and the
wind is getting up. Horrid in the trenches, I fancy. Our Protestant
soldiers open their eyes at the crucifixes scattered all about the
country. I have three in the tiny room which I share with Major B----.
My doctor is ill, which is a nuisance. I have not yet heard what the
Government gave me for my horse "Goldfinch."

Hope you are not having a dull time. I am; but that cannot be helped.
I shall be glad to get through this war with honour and return to
England. I have had a dreadful knocking about during the last four
months, coming from India and the horrid journey home, etc., etc.

Yours....
G.

Please send enclosed letters to your mother and to Aunt Helen. Love to
the children. My two new horses I have called Patrick and Michael.

_November 18th, 1914._

Still in my dug-out and just now under shrapnel fire. I have been out
this morning, having at last got a doctor, and I have arran