goes a gun
quite close by.

Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out
of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a
very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three
different bridges--not the old bridges, which are broken down, but
sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on
the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of
the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to
civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way
behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of
those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress
they will look most charming, I think.

[Sidenote: ARMENTIERES]

Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from
which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the
everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here.

Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes
little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering
round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an
A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop
under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing
so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are
practically out of the danger area by now, but you never know. Some
boring A.P.M. might pounce on the sketch and create a botheration.

Meantime I have been laboriously making pretty maps to present to Sir
John, coloured maps showing where such and such a rise of ground could
be held, or where such and such a road offers difficulties to transport,
etc. But it's not easy to do, and we don't get back to camp till five
minutes before stables, having covered about thirty miles. Besides, we
had to stop and feed ourselves and the horses.

Then stables. Sergeant Hodge reprimanded for not having reported a bad
kick. Southcombe slacking a bit. Must keep an eagle eye on that young
man. At the end a whistle (no trumpets allowed). The horses all neigh
and toss their heads and paw. Nosebags are put on, and after touring
round to see that all is correct we slope off to tea, which Hale and Co.
have got all ready. Luxurious menage as of yore. But good when you're
hungry, there's no doubt. We are moving again--probably to-morrow.

_July 10._

We have moved. The sixt