trombone.' We really have a good bit of fun at times; other
days are--crudely, but truthfully putting it--'Hell.' The
first month I had out here was such. You heard of Hill 60
back last April, and the second battle of Calais. It was
during that time that I lost my friend, with whom I joined.
Since we were thirteen years old we've been inseparable.
Only 40 per cent. of the draft I was on are left, and in my
pocket I have a long list of chums whom I shall never see
again in this world. It seems wonderful to me that I should
be spared whilst so many better men go. Naturally I am
thankful, especially for mother's sake, that I have escaped
so far. Only once during the eight months out here have I
been more than ten miles from the firing line, and ten miles
is nothing to a gun.

"Well, now I must knock off for dinner, the variety of which
never changes. You've heard of 'Stew, stew, glorious stew';
perhaps, however, beer was the subject then. Well, I'll
resume at the first possible moment; for, in the Army, what
you don't go and fetch you never see, and then again, first
come first served, last man the grouts."

* * * * *

"Here we are again; I was last for dinner, but didn't do
badly by reason of it. I am writing this at a house which
our Chaplain has put at our disposal. It's quite a treat to
sit on a chair and write at a table, after sitting on the
ground with knees up and a bad light.