The rats in the trenches are delightful animals, about as large as an overgrown horse, but you get quite friendly towards them in a little while; after all, I suppose they are fighting for their country like some of us. I expect the papers in ratland are like ours: "In the western hole there is nothing to report, the situation was normal, in Rotten Row Alley gnawing was heard, and it is thought that the enemy are sapping towards us." Then they have articles about the bad conditions of their trenches, and write home to say that the human vermin simply swarm there, and are swollen to a huge size and have all become furry. Much love to all, From your loving Son, ALEC. P.S.--We had an official message sent by the French line brigade to say that the French had won back all ground lost at Verdun and taken thousands of prisoners. A/101 TRENCH MORTAR BATTERY, 101ST BRIGADE, B.E.F. Monday. My darling Mother,-- I have not written for the last day or two; that is, my writing has not been continuous as it usually is, because in billets we do little, and have little we can do. All the guns are in the trenches, so we have nothing to amuse ourselves with; half the battery is in with my second in command. We have only had three killed in the battalion so far, two men and one officer, and about half a dozen slightly wounded, almost all on working parties, on which trench mortar batteries do not go. If you are with the battalions you come out for four days rest, but it is a very deceptive rest; you usually have to send large working parties up at night-time to work on the trenches. Our rest, fortunately, is really rest. The only things we have to do is to take rations up to the dump for the rest of the battery, draw our own rations, and get our mails from the Field Post Office. I have a fair amount to do. There is a sort of Will o' the Wisp person called the field cashier, from him a whole army corps draws the pay for its men, and he goes to various places. His best game is to hide himself in a wood miles away from anyone, and, then just before you succeed in reaching him, he flits away to the other end of France; it takes about a week to catch him, if you are lucky--I have been trying for six days now. Another way I manage to fill up my time: Suppose I want some rifle oil I send an indent in marked urgent. Then the indent goes to the Practical Joke Department of the Division, and the indent is returned to you, telling you to apply elsewhere. You apply elsewhere, and are told to apply to the cheese department. If you are persevering you get the right department at last, and your indent is returned to you again with either a demand for the authority for the issue of what