afternoon after having been to the fire trenches when I heard a
shout: "Keene!" I looked up on the canal bank and I saw the general with
one of his A.D.C.'s sitting watching an aeroplane duel. "I've come up to
see your gun position, Keene." I saluted, waited for him, and took him to
it. It is below the level of the ground under tons of bricks in the ruins
of a farmhouse. He was standing on the roof of it and said, "Well, where's
the emplacement?" "You're standing on it, sir." "Tut, tut, 'pon my word,
that's good." He was delighted and congratulated me on it. My preliminary
work under the eyes of the general has gone off quite well. I start firing
to-night.

Intimacy between generals and lieutenants is unusual, but it looks as if
mine had taken an interest in me, because when he noticed my insect-bitten
face, he sent me down some dope he had used with good effect in India. I
expect the mosquitoes in India were the ordinary kind, but, believe me,
trench "skeeters" are constructed differently and are proof against the
general's pet concoction.

I have several miners in my section who take a personal pride in the
digging and shoring up of dugouts. So far the other two sections of the
Battery are always behind in this work but they may look better on parade.

The canal has one big lock suitable for swimming; a lot of "jocks" were
bathing there to-day. I ordered a bathing parade for my section. Later I
found that the swimming had livened three Germans, long submerged--the
bathing parade is off.

A Belgian battery commander has just wakened up and his shells are
rattling overhead. From the fire trenches an incessant rattle of rifles is
heard; all the bullets seem to come over here; constantly the whine of a
musical ricochet bullet is heard. Otherwise things are dead quiet. It's
getting on for three, so I'm going to bed in my blankets on one of the
late chateau owner's splendid spring mattresses and carved oak bedstead.
Oh! how nice it would be to sleep without lice. From an adjoining cellar
my section are snoring, and I'm going to add to the chorus. Good-night,
everybody.

-------------------------------------

We have been having Sunday "hate." Eight-inch crumps are once more busting
"up" the chateau. How they must detest this place. My tea and bully beef
are covered with dust of the last shell. You have no idea how terrible the
shell-fire is. First you hear the whistle and then a terrific burst which