P.S. The Gas has slain the strawberries—I fear.
(42)
June 15, ’15. 6 P.M.
... All your news so interesting—esp. of Eton—ripping you’re going down
there from _my_ point of view—I hope you saw all the old haunts—library
and all—they have a very big place in my heart here—and I try and liken
_this_ game to the old House ‘Ties’—only the odds aren’t so against us
here and we’ve more to back us up! I wrote to Tutor—did he tell you? I
want to know _all_ news about Eton....
Another quiet day here and another still more beautiful evening. Really
it is very hard to realise that anything is doing—the country looks
wonderfully pretty in spite of its ugly spots. The ruins of farms
scattered over the place look quite picturesque.
We had a few swells round the trench last night and they complimented the
Essex on our work—oh! we are ‘some boys’!
(43)
6.30 P.M. June 16, ’15.
MY DEAREST MUMMY,—What an evening! the most perfect sunset I have ever
seen—and de la Mare has just had a parcel of food—so what with eggs etc:
we shall have a fine meal tonight!
This morning at 2 A.M. there was a big attack further south[6]—we don’t
know result yet but believe we took 3 lines of trenches. We witnessed the
_whole_ fight from here—at least the _artillery_ part of it, since we are
on a raised piece of ground.
You never saw such a sight as just now—6 aeroplanes (all English and
French) up at once and one German—poor old Fritz! However he got away
alright.
Another quiet day on our part of the line. It is getting quite like a
rest-cure in our booby-hutch—nothing but food and slopping up and down
our own little section of trench—very little sleep though. Sleep is apt
to be disturbed so rudely at all hrs. of the day!
No letters this morning—but no doubt will hear from one of you tomorrow.
Much love.