s hope we'll have finished up
this damned War before they get little Norris.

Love to Dorothy and Don and Ronny.--Your loving, MICK.

When Frances read that letter she said, "I wonder if he really is all
right. He says very little about himself."

And Anthony said, "Then you may be sure he is."

May 31st, 1916.
B.E.F., FRANCE.

MY DEAR RONNY,--I'm glad Mummy and Father have got all my letters. They
won't mind my writing to you this time. It really _is_ your turn now.
Thanks for Wadham's "Poems" (I wish they'd been Ellis's). It's a shame
to laugh at Waddy--but--he _has_ spread himself over Flanders, hasn't
he? Like the inundations round Ypres.

I'm most awfully touched at Dad and Mummy wanting to publish mine. Here
they all are--just as I wrote them, in our billet, at night or in the
early morning, when the others were sleeping and I wasn't. I don't know
whether they're bad or good; I haven't had time to think about them. It
all seems so incredibly far away. Even last week seems far away. You go
on so fast here.

I'd like Ellis and Monier-Owen to see them and to weed out the bad ones.
But you mustn't ask them to do anything. They haven't time, either. I
think you and Dorothy and Dad will manage it all right among you. If you
don't I shan't much care.

Of course I'm glad that they've taken you on at the Hampstead Hospital,
if it makes you happier to nurse. And I'm glad Dad put his foot down on
your going to Vera. She gave you up to my people and she can't take you
back now. I'm sorry for her though; so is he.

Have I had any adventures "by myself"? Only two. (I've given up what
Mother calls my "not wanting to go to the party.") One came off in "No
Man's Land" the other night. I went out with a "party" and came back by
myself--unless you count a damaged Tommy hanging on to me. It began in
pleasurable excitement and ended in some perturbation, for I had to get
him in under cover somehow, and my responsibility weighed on me--so did
he. The other was ages ago in a German trench. I was by myself, because
I'd gone in too quick, and the "party" behind me took the wrong turning.
I did manage to squeeze a chilly excitement out of going on alone. Then
I bumped up against a fat German officer and his revolver. That really
was an exquisite moment, and I was beast enough to be glad I had it all
to myself. It meant a bag of fifteen prisoners--all my own. But that was
nothing; they'd have surrendered to a mouse