We marched up here last night during a violent thunderstorm—I’ve never experienced one like it—pouring rain and fork-lightning which lit up the whole front. My word, but I’ve been ’ blooded’ alright! There was a lot of confusion in the trenches which resulted in the Germans waking us up a bit. We—that is me and my Platoon—are at present in the 2ᵈ line of trenches supporting another Coy in the 1st line. The distance between us is about 250-300 yards—and then another 400 to the German line. During the night one could walk about in comparative safety outside the trenches—but it was exciting work—as I[11] had to supply the Coy: in front with barb-wire and sandbags—1300 sand-bags—under a cross-fire from those wretched snipers whom they employ so much. There is an old ‘Estaminet’ up in front (200 yards off), to which we have to get up these things. There we leave them to be called for by the others. The Germans have a nasty trick of sending up coloured lights—very brilliant—which reveal our whole position. When we got up there! at 1 A.M. this morning—I and 6 or 7 men—they got a bead on us, and as they have a perfect range drawn on the Estaminet things were lively. I may now be more cheerful and say we have had no one touched as yet—but these men are magnificient—they don’t care a —— for shells or anything—they scuttled about like rabbits all night—digging bomb-proof shelters etc. But those infernal lights gave the whole position away more than once. Of course, sleep is out of the question in this sort of game—but I feel as fit as anything—though I have never had such a trying ½ hr in my life as just before lunch-time when some asses on the left of the platoon showed themselves and one of their guns got at us—My aunt! but I was in a funk! How they never actually hit us I can’t imagine. Shrapnel in front and behind—but no one was hit. The worst of these shells is that you hear the beastly things coming directly after they leave the gun—whistling like a train (Our own are doing so at this moment over our heads)—so the betting is then—where is it going to land! I am absolutely cut off from the other Companies as there is no telephone here—so have to work entirely on my own—and have a look round directly it becomes dark.——and the other two platoons seem to have vanished off the face of the earth—I suppose they are somewhere. I hope so.[4] [12] Yesterday we marched off at 9.30 A.M. and went to Divisional H.Q’s where we remained until it was time to move off in here at dark. Div: H.Q’s are situated in a glorious old château (which has escaped injury altogether) in a park which looks perfect in this month and in this weather. 6 P.M. now—they are shelling Ypres right over our heads—we call these 15-in. shells the ‘Wipers expresses’—‘Here comes the 6 P.M. express’ with a hum like an engine exactly.