Some infantry came in from the line to-day. Oh ye gods! the British infantry! No rewards, honours, no fame, can ever be enough for them. We have not yet gone through what they have to go through, but we have been in and out amongst them all the time, and we know. Thank goodness this spell of dry weather seems to have come for a few days at least. Cold at night is nothing. It's wet at night that just kills men right and left. Alan died yesterday morning. Died of exposure. He caught a chill while we were up in front, and then got much worse, and it finally developed into peritonitis and pneumonia. And now he, too, is dead. We were all very fond of Alan. Death is such a little thing. A change of air--no more. Death is the last day of Term, the last day of the Year. Regret? That's because we don't understand, quite. _November 17._ I sent you off another beastly little scrap of paper to-day, because it was impossible to write more. Here (7 p.m.) is another moment, so I snatch it. Listen. Of course it is true that leave has been cancelled, but we hear (Rumour) that this is only for a few days owing to submarines. _If_ leave reopens again, as seems likely therefore, I go next. I shall have to hand over Orderly Room and all current correspondence, etc. That means, with luck, I leave here on the 2nd. Don't, of course, count on this; but let's toy with the idea. _November 23._ I am sitting in the sun, having read your letter. The valley of the ---- is below me, a mile wide, all reed-beds and half submerged willows, with the main stream lying like a blue snake amongst pale acres of sedge. Damn! I was going to write a long and cosy letter, but was called back. I had escaped for an hour from Orderly Room with your letter and a sketchbook, and was caught in the act. No time now. _November 25._ [Sidenote: THE SOMME VALLEY] A few more moments with you before you go to bed. Yes, isn't it funny how we seem to be talking face to face! And to every question of mine you reply in three days' time and _vice versa_. It always sounds to me like this, rather: QUESTION. ANSWER. _Mon._ Isn't it cold? None. _Tues._ Have you seen mother? None. _Wed._ Are you happy? None. _Thurs._ How are you all? Freezing. _Fri._ When did I see you last? Only yesterday. _Sat._ May I have a cake! Yes, very. _Sun._ How is Queen Anne? Much better. _Mon._ None. Last April. _Tues._ None. I'll send one. _Wed._ None. Dead. Don't you find it's a bit like that? What question can I have asked a week ago to which the answer is a rabbit? So tiresome when we want to talk at very close range. As to leave--well let's not talk about that. Every dog has his day.