startlingly loud noise somewhere
near, but Captain R. said it was an exceptionally quiet day, and we
didn't hear a single German gun or see any bursting shells. It was a
particularly warm sunny day, and the men going into the trenches were so
cheerful and jolly that it didn't seem at all tragic or depressing, and
there was nothing but one's recollections of the Aisne and Ypres after
what they call "a show" to remind one what it all meant and what it
might at any moment turn into. One hasn't had before the opportunities
of seeing the men who are in it (and not at the Bases or on the Lines of
Communication) while they are fit, but only after they are wounded or
sick, and the contrast is very striking. All these after their "rest"
look fit and sunburnt and natural, and the one expression that never or
rarely fails, whether fit, wounded, or sick, is the expression of
acquiescence and going through with it that they all have. If it failed
at all it was with the men with frost-bite and trench feet, who stuck it
so long when winter first came on before they got the braziers, and in
the long rains when they stood in mud and water to their waists. Now,
thank Heaven, the ground is hard again.

I saw three small children playing about just behind the dressing
station, where some men unloading a lorry were killed a few days ago.
The women and children are all along the road, absolutely regardless of
danger as long as they are allowed to stay in their own homes. The
babies sit close up against the Tommies who are resting by the roadside.

We saw a great many wire entanglements, so thick that they look like a
field of lavender a little way off. From the top windows of the ruined
house we could see long lines of heads, picks and shovels, going single
file down "Hertford Street," but they couldn't be seen from the enemy
side because of the parapet.

_Friday, April 16th._--At about 7.30 this evening I was writing the day
report when the sergeant came in with three candles and said an order
had come for all lights to be put out and only candles used. So I had to
put out all the lights and give the astonished officers my three candles
between them, while the sergeant went out to get some more. The town
looks very weird with all the street lamps out and only glimmers from
the windows. It was kept pretty darkened before. It may be because of
the Zeppelin at Bailleul on Wednesday, or another may be reported
somewhere about.

This afte