I am still in my hole in the earth. Very horrid. Have not washed nor shaved for two days, and am covered with mud from head to foot in thick layers. If I raise my head to stand up straight, a bullet skips about my ears. I went round my trenches last night from 7 p.m. till 12.5 a.m. Such a walk! For some four hours I was travelling as hard as I could in the mud, slipping down in filthy ditches, entering in narrow cuttings in the earth made to protect one from sniping, and called concentration trenches. Still, we got round and held the line afterwards, despite the miseries of the situation. Sometimes I had to crawl on hands and knees through tiny places. I fancy that a pig is a happier creature than I am at present! When I arrived home at my particular burrow, I found a bundle of correspondence waiting for me to be answered to the Brigadier, so that had to be done in my ruin. Was up at 4.30 a.m. to try to see about the men's food and teas for the coming day, and filling of water-bottles, all of which has to be accomplished in the dark. I have had a very trying time working night and day lately. No sleep the day before, and none excepting three hours last night. This makes 72 hours up to 5 o'clock to-day, with only three hours' rest. As I sit here I can hear the shells booming near us, and very heavy fighting on the left, whilst a solitary sniper keeps pouring bullets over my head, hitting all round the houses some four hundred yards behind me. I ask no questions, but think that we cannot possibly be relieved under four more days, and that we shall be very, very dirty at the end! IN BILLETS. _December 28th, 1914._