We marched out of the trenches successfully last night, getting in here about nine o'clock. Then I had to see to my company commanders and a lot of other work too, for a regiment will not run itself properly unless someone looks after it. I was rather amused at a case I had this morning of an N.C.O. charged with letting his rifle become dirty. He admitted the offence, but stated that whilst he was watching everyone out of the trenches, he heard cries for help, and found a small rifleman stuck in a ditch up to his shoulders, and that he was carrying, besides his rifle, a pick and shovel; so the N.C.O. went to his aid and got engulfed too. Hence his trouble about his rifle. The enemy, to prevent our forgetting him, is throwing big shells into the place we are billeted in. As he knows, probably, that the women and children have returned here, he expects with luck to make a big bag of such non-combatants. It was luxury last night getting into bed again without boots, even if one had no other night attire! You will be pleased to hear that your tobacco arrived this morning. The people who sent it were not very bright, for, despite the fact that my address was plainly painted on every box, they had stupidly nailed on other cards marked from Griffith, Solicitor, S. Wales, and addressed to the S. Wales Borderers or 24th Regiment. This was done to at least half of the cases. Apparently they had stuck them on the wrong boxes. Whether this accounts for the delay I cannot say. Anyhow, each box had 15 lbs. of tobacco, and I think there were 16 boxes. Well, then your last lot of plum pudding arrived, and has been issued to be eaten to-morrow. There were 65 tins containing four and a half lbs. each, so I think, my dear, that the men will be grateful to you. There was also a large bale of things like cigarettes and gloves from other associations, but nothing to touch your consignments. We had to turn out of our happy ruin twice yesterday afternoon whilst the enemy threw high-explosive shells our way, and just missed us. Fortunately his supply of ammunition is said to be running short, or he would do worse mischief. I had a very nice letter from my Mother and from Meta yesterday.... Your pheasants have come, also the ham, very well packed. Biscuits a little knocked about, but still edible; many thanks for them all. It is so misty and cold, a typical raw day in your own hunting district. Best of love, and hoping that the war will soon be over.... IN BILLETS. _January 21st, 1915._