o buy a newspaper one is
lucky. The difficulty of communicating with anyone is great--no
telephone--no letters--no motor-car. I am stranded.

[Page Heading: FRENCH MARINES]

I generally go in the train to Adinkerke with the French Marines, nice
little fellows, with labels attached to them stating their "case"--not
knowing where they are going or anything else--just human lives battered
about and carted off. I don't even know where they get the little bit of
money which they always seem able to spend on loud-smelling oranges and
cigarettes. The place is littered with orange-skins--to-day I saw a long
piece lying in the form of an "S" amid the mud; and, like a story of a
century old, I thought of ourselves as children throwing orange-skins
round our heads and on to the floor to read the initial of our future
husband, and I seemed to hear mother say, "'S' for Sammy--Sammy C----,"
a boy with thick legs whom we secretly despised!

I have found a whole new household of "eclopes" at Adinkerke, who want
cigarettes, socks, and shoes all the time. They are a pitiful lot, with
earache, toothache, and all the minor complaints which I myself find so
trying, and they lie about on straw till they are able to go back to the
trenches again.

The pollard willows between here and Adinkerke are all being cut down to
build trenches. They were big with buds and the promise of spring.

_14 March._--I went to the station yesterday, as usual. Suddenly I
couldn't stand it any more. Everyone was cleaning. I was getting swept
up with straw and mopped up with dirty cloths. The kitchen work was
done. I ate my lunch in a filthy little out-building and then I fled. I
had to get into the open air, and I hopped on to an ambulance and drove
to Dunkirk. I had a good deal to do there getting vegetables,
cigarettes, etc., and we got back late to the station, where I heard the
Queen had paid a visit. Rather bad luck on almost the only day I have
been away.

I am waiting anxiously to hear if the report of the new British advance
yesterday is true. When fighting really begins we are going to be in for
a big thing; one dreads it for the sake of the boys we are going to
lose. I want things to start now just to get them over, but I rather
envy the people who died before this unspeakable war began.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Keays-Young._

CARE OF FIELD POST OFFICE, DUNKIRK,
_17 March._

MY DEAREST BABY,

[Page Heading: CAPT