My dearest M. & Daddy,—Got the Chronicle, letter and ‘Land and Water’ this morning—also all those letters which went wrong when I was in hospital! I had a ripping letter from Auntie also and a note from Daisy—also the fruit etc: from G.M. so I didn’t do badly. Amongst the lost letters was one from Shane and his wife; several from you both, and a note from Rooke. Shane seemed pretty cheery—he wrote from Salisbury. Have you seen anything of him lately? Well—you all seem to be reading my muckins—the whole contingent at No: 7—the ‘droppers in’ and car-riders etc: so I will extend my descriptive efforts a bit, for as far as I can see the papers talk a lot of rot and give people a very poor idea of the general doings, round here at any rate. Some day I am going to try my hand at a few short stories (shut up laughing!) on the Sniper, the ‘Jack Johnson’ and several other objects of interest—when I have the energy—which is not often. The programme is eat, sleep, and work, and there is not much energy left for writing, though any amount of time and scope. For instance, I simply can’t be bothered to write in Pen and ink—this is a very untidy output! Enough of this: now let me give you an idea of what the French trenches which we are occupying are like. First there is a barricade of earth thrown up—about[30] 10 ft. wide by 3 high—the cavity left being the actual trench. Between this mound of earth and the trench is a wall of sand-bags—three to four thick by 10 high. This gives a man 6 ft. of standing room with a stepping stone on which to stand for firing purposes. Behind and jutting out from this parapet are erected what we know as ‘traverses,’ or thick walls of sandbags 15 ft. long by 12 ft. wide (about) to protect the flanks of the trench; thus: Behind all are communication trenches, the purpose of which lies in the name and does for ‘dug outs’ etc: