frowsy at that. The roads here are just as muddy as ever, and if you go
off the roads you go too deep. We are camouflaging the whole place, and
I think it will soon be very difficult for the Huns to see it. At least,
when I say "we" are camouflaging, I mean that I run out for two minutes
about every three hours, and give hurried directions to a few bewildered
men, and rush in again. I'm sure they think the extraordinary patterns
that I order them to paint all over the huts, etc., are quite mad. The
R.F.C. show isn't ready yet, but it's likely to be so shortly.


_January 17._

To-day's letter got me into an absurd fit of internal laughter. Hale
brought it in while I was poring over some new photographs of Boche
emplacements, or dug-outs, or something--poring with a magnifying
glass.... And then came your drawings of the rooms at the cottage.

That'll be admirable. I tried to hold my head and think of exactly how
the cottage looked, and where the new rooms were to be; but somehow I've
got no brains left. And I leave it all to you. One day we shall be able
to discuss it peaceably, but at present this brain is like some limp
jellyfish floating in the sea.

To-day I'm doing a map, and the draughtsmen are copying it, of some
Boche dug-outs. Ye gods! what do I care about dug-outs! As well make
maps of all the rabbit-holes in Glamorganshire. But there, what's the
good of talking like that. It's got to be done.


_January 24._