_October 2._

Jezebel and Swallow and Tank have all been clipped trace high. I am
getting rather attached to Tank. She is so modest and unselfish--a
contrast to Jezebel. She never expects little treats, and seems quite
surprised when I give her anything. Swallow and Jezebel always neigh
when they see my electric torch coming towards them after dinner (while
we are back in these safe places). But Tank is very shy of the light,
and thinks it will bite her.

Swallow is getting much better, and really seems to understand that the
shells and guns and things probably won't hurt him. We have been most
extraordinarily lucky. The troop that got through nearly to ---- the
other day, hadn't a single casualty, although Dick's own mare was shot
under him and a great many other horses were wounded. The squadron of
---- were very badly scuppered, I fear. But, anyhow, we all feel that
Lloyd George is right. We are just beginning to win.


_October 5._

It is a glorious day. Such clouds. Swallow kicked up his heels and
played about like a kitten when Hunt took him to water this morning.
It's extraordinary how used the horses are getting to trenches and
wire, etc. At first they were rather afraid to jump these sudden deep
ditches, but now they pop across like rabbits.


_October 17._