alf a chance.
What happens in trenches is: that if the Germans get nasty and shell
us, or send a few bombs from trench mortars, we try to make ourselves
nastier still and send over twice as many. Then the Germans get
nastier still, till both sides have got thoroughly bad tempered at
having their parapets spoiled and trenches messed about. Then it
gradually wears out. And as the Germans are using bad ammunition at
present they go to bed or wander off to get a drink, and we soon do
the same. I have just seen Brown. He says he was going up to the
trenches in rather a nervous state of mind when the Officer Commanding
the trenches into which we were going for instruction met him, told
him his sergeant-major, would look after our men and took him to have
a wash and then to have dinner in mess. They had soup, meat, sweet and
savoury, all to the strains of a gramophone. Not bad for the
much-abused trenches. The battalion was in about a week and lost
nobody. This morning we were to be inspected by our Divisional
General. But he spent so much time talking to the battalion that he
was unable to see us. He says he is going to save every life he can in
his division. He is going to improve any trenches we go into, to make
them absolutely safe, and so on. He is a fine man. He was in command
of a brigade at the beginning of the war, and saved his own brigade by
his calmness and bravery.

Tell May there is nothing I like so much as long letters, otherwise I
should not write such appalling long screeds about nothing at all.

I am going out to-night to mess with "D" Company of one of the Scots
Battalion. Now I am attached to Brigade Headquarters I see quite a lot
of Captain Creig, who is on it you know. He sometimes gives me news of
Uncle Fred.

I have just received a letter from May and one from Father. They have
been delayed, as I am away from the battalion. Remember that you can
say anything you like in your letters, as they are not censored at
all. I very rarely see a paper, so any news is valuable, especially
about such things as the last Zeppelin raid, &c. Please send me also
my slacks and shoes, and the Sam Brown belt as soon as possible. I
will enclose a cheque for all I owe you in this letter; I hope it will
cover it all. One of the Scots, Kitton, a friend of mine, came in to
dinner last night with us, Carroll and myself, or rather it was Bill
Fiddian and myself. Carroll was out.

Yesterday we spent in the usual way. I went