I am delighted to tell you that I have been temporarily posted to a job of real interest and responsibility, having been given the command of a working-party composed of infantry, artillery, and A.S.C. men, whose function it is to load and unload ammunition at an important railhead not far from the Front. We are about 150 in all, and a very happy family. We live in tents and work under the orders of the Railhead Ordnance authorities. There is a vast amount of work, and it goes on continuously, at present from 4 A.M. to 9 P.M. daily, and sometimes throughout the night as well. It is a revelation to see the immense quantities of explosives, etc., that are sent up. I have nothing further to report about the R.F.A. transfer, but my C.O. has assured me that if my application is not successful I shall be able to return shortly to the Cavalry Brigade in my old capacity as Requisitioning Officer. This working ammunition-party of which I am in command is located in a little town well in the swirl of war, with the guns booming in the near distance most of the day and night. The "unit under my command," to put it in official language, lives in a field by the railhead. We have a pair of first-rate sergeants (R.H.A. and Infantry) and various very sound A.S.C. n.c.o.s in charge. Everything goes merrily as a wedding-bell. A gunner officer looks after the administrative welfare, pay, etc., of the artillerymen, but the discipline and command of the unit as a whole devolve on yours truly. Next door to us across the line there is a concentration camp of Boche prisoners. They work on the railway all day shovelling stones in and out of trucks and lorries. To the eternal credit of England the treatment the prisoners receive, the food supplied to them, and the conditions under which they live are all of the very best. They have their being in tents within a barbed wire enclosure, not too crowded, and have excellent washing facilities (hot baths once a week), good food and conveniences for its preparation, including huge camp kettles for cooking--in short, every comfort possible. The work they do is hard, but no harder than that many of our own fellows have to do in the normal course of events. The considerate way in which our prisoners are treated is a great tribute to British chivalry. An old French soldier, watching them one day in their camp, said to me: "Vous les traitez trop bien ces salots." I replied: "Oui, mais c'est comme ca que l'Angleterre fait la guerre--avec les mains toujours propres."