Townsmen who are used to the noise and roar of streets can stand it better than the countrymen, and I think you will find that by far the fittest men are those of regiments mainly recruited in the big cities. A London lad near me says it’s no worse than the roar of motor-buses and other traffic in the City on a busy day: _Sergeant-Major McDermott_. Hard Lines We had been two days and nights in the rain and were soaking to the skin. My section was told off to hold a farm till we got the order to retire, but to burn it before we retired. I was in a hay-loft setting fire to it when the floor gave way and I was sent flying through to the ground below, and I could not get up. It was hard lines: _Private R. McBride_. Roughing It! I am laid on my stomach on a barn floor writing this with the light of a candle I am lucky enough to get hold of. As I write this I can hear our big guns firing; in fact, they fairly shake the place I am in. We are just going to turn into some nice dry straw, and have a well-earned sleep. Talk about roughing it: a man that gets through this can get through anything at all: _Trooper Stephenson, 18th Hussars_. A Sing-song Every night round the camp-fire we have our photos out--that is, if we have any--then we have a song. The favourites are “Never Mind” and “The Last Boat is Leaving for Home.” The French people gave us a great welcome when we came here, and they have kept it up in every town and village we have come through: _A Private of the 2nd Royal Scots_. One Blessing We are a rough lot out here, and washing and shaving are things of the past. The roof we sleep under is large--the sky--and the rain comes through very often. Our shirts we change when they wear out. You must not worry too much if there are very long lapses between the letters, as we can’t always write. It’s a game of dodging shells here. There is one blessing: we get plenty of food, and they are looking after us the best they can: _Sergt. Prout, South Wales Borderers_. Not Worrying I’m doing and going as I’m told, not worrying, but taking things as they come. I’ve slept in barns, wool stores, cinemas, casinos, dock sheds, and for a bit had the stars as a counterpane. The fighting has been very fierce and close; as one pal said, “Oh! ain’t it ’ot?” We have been outnumbered, sometimes 10,000 to 2000, but our boys stick to them, and have played havoc with their “mass formations.” The Maxims have cut them down like corn, and when we charge with fixed bayonets see ’em run like rats. They will get no quarter from our “mob”: _Pte. Bromfield, Royal Engineers_. Scrap Iron