all
the work except the washing and ironing. And the beautifully-cared-for
English cart-horses that belong to the F.A., and the waggons and the
motor ambulances and the equipment, are all kept ready to move at a
moment's notice.

Colonel ---- showed me all over it this evening. It is done at a cost to
the Government of 7d. per man, washed and clothed.

My blackbird has laid another egg.

_Friday, May 7th_, 10 P.M.--A pitch-dark night, raining a little, and
only one topic--the Attack to-morrow morning.

The first R.A.M.C. barge has come up, and is lying in the canal ready to
take on the cases of wounds of lung and abdomen, to save the jolting of
road and railway; it is to have two Sisters, but I haven't seen them
yet: shall go in the morning: went round this morning to see, but the
barge hadn't arrived.

There are a few sick officers downstairs who are finding it hard to
stick in their beds, with their regiments in this job close by. There is
a house close by which I saw this morning with a dirty little red flag
with a black cross on it, where the C.-in-C. and thirty commanders of
the 1st Army met yesterday.

The news to-day of Hill 60 and the gases is another spur to the grim
resolve to break through here, that can be felt and seen and heard in
every detail of every arm. "Grandmother" is lovingly talked about.

The town, the roads, and the canal banks this morning were so packed
with men, waggons, horses, bales, and lorries, that you could barely
pick your way between them.

Since writing this an aeroplane has been circling over us with a loud
buzz. The sergeant called up to me to put the lights out. We saw her
light. There is much speculation as to who and what she was; she was not
big enough for our big "'Bus," as she is called, who belongs to this
place. No one seems ever to have seen one here at night before.

We are making flannel masks for the C.O. for our men.

Our fat little Gabrielle makes the most priceless soup out of the ration
beef (which none of us are any good at) and carrots. She mothers us each
individually, and cleans the house and keeps her wee kitchen spotless.

4 A.M.--The 9.2's are just beginning to talk.

Here is a true story. One of our trenches at Givenchy was being pounded
by German shells at the time of N. Ch. A man saw his brother killed on
one side of him and another man on the other. He went on shooting over
the parapet; then the parapet got knocked about, and still he wasn