wait for us.

The worst discomforts of this life are (_a_) cold; (_b_) want of
drinking water when you're thirsty; (_c_) the appalling atmosphere of
the French dining-car; (_d_) lack of room for a bath, and difficulty of
getting hot water; (_e_) dirt; (_f_) eccentricities in the meals; (_g_)
bad (or no) lights; (_h_) difficulties of getting laundry done; (_i_)
personal capture of various live stock; (_j_) broken nights; (_k_) want
of exercise on the up journey. Against all these minor details put being
at the Front, and all that that includes of thrilling interest,--being
part of the machinery to give the men the first care and comparative
comfort since they landed, at the time they most need it--and least
expect it.

6 P.M.--Hazebrouck again. We are said to be going to Belgium this
time--possibly Ypres. There are a terrible lot of wounded to be got
down--more than all the trains can take; they are putting some of them
off on the stations where there is a M.O. with a few men, and going back
for more.

There were two lovely French torpedo-boats alongside of us at Boulogne.

7.30 P.M., _Ypres_.--Just arrived, all very bucked at being in Belgium.
An armoured train, protective coloured all over in huge dabs of red,
blue, yellow, and green against aeroplanes, is alongside of us in the
station, manned by thirty men R.N.; three trucks are called Nelson,
Jellicoe, and Drake, with guns. They look fine; the men say it is a
great game. They are directed where to fire at German positions or
batteries, and as soon as they answer, the train nips out of range. They
were very jolly, and showed us their tame rabbit on active service. They
have had no casualties so far. Our load hasn't come in yet. We are _two
miles_ from our fighting line. No firing to-night to be heard--soon
began, though.

_Sunday, October 25th._--Couldn't write last night: the only thing was
to try and forget it all. It has been an absolute hell of a
journey--there is no other word for it. First, you must understand that
this big battle from Ostend to Lille is perhaps the most desperate of
all, though that is said of each in turn--Mons, the Aisne, and this; but
the men and officers who have been through all say this is the worst.
The Germans are desperate, and stick at nothing, and the Allies are the
same; and in determination to drive them back, each man personally seems
to be the same. Consequently the "carnage" is being appalling, and we
have been practica