... It’s an extraordinary mixture of humour and ghastliness this whole life—On one hand you can’t go a yard along the trenches without seeing something which beats anything in peace-time for sheer humour—one of our orderly men for instance stumbling along a squelching communication trench with a couple of dozen eggs and other dainties for his officer (me!) suddenly slips and falls headlong with arms stretched wildly—well—you must be in a bad plight if that doesn’t make you roar—I’ve seen it and heard it afterwards too!... And again the very first time I was up here I went along to see my Company officer (a 2nd Lieut like myself owing to the casualties we have had) in the front line—and found his feet—that was all—a Jack J: had done the rest. I never told this at home—but it will illustrate what I have been saying.... [47] To his Cousin Winnie. June 28th, ’15. ... I hear from M. and D. pretty regularly—it wouldn’t be worth a week out here if I didn’t! How is Prescott & Co:—not suffering from any more maladies I hope ‘sincerely I hope so—I hope so sincerely!’ Do you remember that in ‘Jones of the Lancers’—priceless song! My servant used to sing that—and very well too—he sang it at a Concert at the place where we were billeted the other day—and two days ago was shot through the brain just outside my dug-out—poor fellow.... Isn’t it wonderful how things happen just at the most critical time? I was annoyed with [somebody or other] for getting me up unnecessarily this morning—He was promptly shot through the shoulder and badly cut in the head by an infernal Trench-mortar. It is time we had another scrap—this sort of ‘lying in state’ doesn’t suit your Highness! The place has been as quiet as the grave—and yet every day a few fellows get knocked out—and as R. K. says—‘There ain’t no chorus here to give—nor there ain’t no band to play!’ A poor letter—but will get something better off my chest one of these days—I have ‘a nasty taste in my mouth,’ if you know what I mean! Love to you all— Yours, Oscar. (61) June 29th. Another quiet day—oh! these quiet days—how many more of them! [48] (62) July 2nd, ’15. ... remember—we are the ‘trench diggers—builders—and holders,’ and therefore are put onto every dirty job the authorities can find!!... As for George—good luck to him in that benighted corner of Europe! I will send him a line sometime. Personally I would rather be in the Line anywhere than serving the guns, but that is merely through my experience of the former, long as it is!... (63) July 3, ’15. 8.30 P.M.