This letter is written to you from a real town--written, in fact, above ground. You may be surprised to know that recent letters to you were not written in these conditions. They were written in a dug-out, but I was not permitted to tell you so at the time. In a dug-out, also, were written the verses I sent you some two weeks ago--you may remember their damp-clayey flavour. I slept and worked (the latter sometimes for twenty hours at a time) in this dug-out for a month, except for one week when I was out on special work with the Regimental Intelligence Section. You don’t begrudge me that week, do you? I cannot now describe it, but it was a week of wonder--of sights and sounds essential, I think, to my experience. For there are obligations of experience--or experiences of obligation--to be distinguished from what I might call experiences of supererogation or experiences of perfection--but what rubbish this is! Let us rather consider my present great luxury, and the marvels of which it is composed. In the first place, one room (not a cot in a crowded barrack, not a coffin-like berth in a subterranean chamber) but a real room, with windows and a large bed and a table and chairs and a practical wash stand. The bed I share with one L---- D----, an amiable gamin, about to be made a Corporal. I am a Sergeant--with stripes some five days old. (It is the height of my ambition, for to be commissioned I’d be sent to school for three months and then, whether or not I succeeded, be assigned to another Regiment. And I’d rather be a Sergeant in the 69th than lieutenant in any other outfit.) To continue--I also eat from a table excellent meals, with a napkin on my knees. I have soldiered pretty hard for some months now, taking everything as it came, and I think I’ve honestly earned my stripes. Now I’m going to have an easier life--not working less hard, but not seeking hardships. So I am paying seven francs a day for meals, and six francs a week for my share in a bed-room. And it’s delightfully refreshing. Also, I yesterday had a hot shower-bath--very much a novelty! This morning I received two letters from you, to my great joy. The pictures of the children are excellent. I am glad to see Deborah’s hair so long and lovely. Do, by all means, send me pictures of yourself and Deborah in a leather case, as you promise. I can imagine no possible gift I’d rather receive. Mail is coming here every day now, so I look forward to frequent messages from you.