etc., etc.; not to mention a few on duty as military police _pro tem._,
others guarding bomb shelters, others reconnoitring new areas for new
divisions, etc. Dennis is very badly wounded. He can't be moved yet.
Some bits of shell went into his thigh, up his back, and it's not
certain yet whether it entered his lungs or not. They are afraid so. He
was on his tummy at an O.P. A crump got him. Dear old Dennis! I hope
he'll pull round. Also Clive is very seriously wounded, I fear. Damn!


_August 27._

I am Acting Adjutant now. An Adjutant's job is a most hairy job, and I
sit with drops of perspiration dripping off my brow all day. Never see
the horses, never get any exercise except for a moment or two.


_August 29._

We are probably going to move again soon, and consequently the amount of
correspondence is vast. Clive is better, I think. Dennis about the
same. I suppose a thing can go into your lung and not kill you?


_September 2._

The Colonel seemed (from a telegram he sent yesterday morning) to be in
a great hurry for me to come down to the other squadron. So I decided to
go by train, and send Hunt with the horses. And this is the train
journey.