We are still in billets and still under a heavy fire; a nasty cold rain is falling, and altogether it is very disagreeable, excepting that it would be worse in the trenches, as being _more_ cold and wet. Well, last night we discovered a pigeon loft in the ruined part of the town, and as we have orders to destroy all these birds we put a guard on it, and Major B---- and I walked down to the Brigade office and asked if we could kill the lot. We found, however, that it was supposed to belong to the French Army, so we returned sorrowfully home. On our way we had a near shave, for out of the darkness whizzed a shrapnel shell. I heard it coming, having very quick ears, and shouted "Down!" It was rather amusing to see what happened. The three men stood stock still, and gazed like owls solemnly into the dark. Major B ... walked rapidly forward in the direction he was then going, whilst I gave a flying jump and was face downward in orthodox style in a second and into a ditch. The shrapnel landed its contents within 20 yards of us, but all escaped unhurt, I'm thankful to say. We managed to get under cover before the next one came. Such is our life here, though we are politely said to be resting! It is fairly raining shrapnel 200 yards up the road now, but what I am on the look-out for are high-explosives, as they are so much more dangerous to troops amongst buildings. The other day, on November 9th, we heard a tremendous burst of firing, and in _The Times_ of November 23rd I see it is thought that the British guns caught the German reserves forming up for an attack on us, and destroyed them in large numbers. Certainly, as Colonel Napier says, it is an awful war. However, I notice that a lot of German fuses do not explode their shells, which makes me think they have not got quite so good a supply of stuff as they try to make us believe! I want very much to go out, but, on the whole, I think it is safer to stay in at present. Sir John Ross will have his work cut out to write the history of the Coldstream Guards for this war. My mind is so full at present that I cannot say if I shall be able to write ours, even if I come through all right. However, I keep an official war diary, which will always help greatly. These brutes have now changed from shrapnel to high explosives, which are whirling over our heads and bursting in the town about 400 yards farther down. I hope they will not drop one short and put it in here, which would be good-bye to all of us.... LETTERS OF DECEMBER, 1914. IN TRENCHES. _December 2nd, 1914._ MY DEAR F----