still and send over twice as many. Then the Germans get nastier still, till both sides have got thoroughly bad tempered at having their parapets spoiled and trenches messed about. Then it gradually wears out. And as the Germans are using bad ammunition at present they go to bed or wander off to get a drink, and we soon do the same. I have just seen Brown. He says he was going up to the trenches in rather a nervous state of mind when the Officer Commanding the trenches into which we were going for instruction met him, told him his sergeant-major, would look after our men and took him to have a wash and then to have dinner in mess. They had soup, meat, sweet and savoury, all to the strains of a gramophone. Not bad for the much-abused trenches. The battalion was in about a week and lost nobody. This morning we were to be inspected by our Divisional General. But he spent so much time talking to the battalion that he was unable to see us. He says he is going to save every life he can in his division. He is going to improve any trenches we go into, to make them absolutely safe, and so on. He is a fine man. He was in command of a brigade at the beginning of the war, and saved his own brigade by his calmness and bravery.

Tell May there is nothing I like so much as long letters, otherwise I should not write such appalling long screeds about nothing at all.

I am going out to-night to mess with "D" Company of one of the Scots Battalion. Now I am attached to Brigade Headquarters I see quite a lot of Captain Creig, who is on it you know. He sometimes gives me news of Uncle Fred.

I have just received a letter from May and one from Father. They have been delayed, as I am away from the battalion. Remember that you can say anything you like in your letters, as they are not censored at all. I very rarely see a paper, so any news is valuable, especially about such things as the last Zeppelin raid, &c. Please send me also my slacks and shoes, and the Sam Brown belt as soon as possible. I will enclose a cheque for all I owe you in this letter; I hope it will cover it all. One of the Scots, Kitton, a friend of mine, came in to dinner last night with us, Carroll and myself, or rather it was Bill Fiddian and myself. Carroll was out.

Yesterday we spent in the usual way. I went to dinner in the evening with "D" Company of the Scots, and had a very pleasant time. Unfortunately, after dinner, I went to see Major Warden, of the Scots, and, instead of going into his room, I stalked into Madame's bedroom, and fled precipitately. This morning I took the men down, and we had a bath in some temporary baths the R.E.'s have rigged up. I received a very nice parcel from you to-day (Thursday) containing a cake, powdered milk, tea, &c. It was very welcome. It had been delayed with the battalion. I went along to the battalion and saw several of the officers to-night. I was very glad to see them. Good-night, little Mother, I am going to bed. Whenever it is raining you can be quite certain that we are being inspected by some big General. It has been pouring all this morning because we were being inspected by Lord Kitchener. We have just returned and had lunch and changed, and I am now spending a quiet afternoon, hoping that some of the battalion will come in to tea with us.

The Colonel is in command of the Brigade, as our new Brigadier is away on leave. Our Brigadier, General Fitton, was, as you may have seen in the casualty lists, the first casualty in the Division. He was killed by a stray bullet during a visit to the trenches. We are all extremely sorry to lose him; he was such a priceless old man, although he made us work. It was extremely bad luck for him.

I will finish this letter now, as I am just sending off a batch of my men's letters, which I have just finished censoring.

Much love to all—

From your loving Son,

ALEC.

11th Suffolks,

B.E.F., Sunday.

My darling Mother,—

I have just returned from taking the men to have a hot bath in some baths the Engineers have rigged up. You asked about our padré. He is at present at the base; he has been very ill for a little time, and we have no padré at present. Yesterday afternoon I went down to see "C" Company, and, whilst I was in a farm talking to Gillson, a Fokker came and dropped two bombs a few hundred yards away. They did no damage as they exploded in the middle of a large field. I am sorry that I have not sent this letter before, but I have been rather busy lately, not only with work, but with social business. Last night I had dinner with the A.S.C., and the night before with Major Warder, of the Scots, and the Signalling Officer of the Brigade had dinner with us. You will be surprised at the menu:—Soup, lobster, roast beef and fried potatoes, chocolate blancmange, welsh rarebit, coffee. Quite good for France. Fuller, my servant, cooks for us, and he is turning out a genius as a cook; he cooks toppingly. We have rather to try and make ourselves pleasant to other people, when we are an independent unit, they can do so much for us. A captain of the A.S.C. took me into the town I have often mentioned before—20 miles from here. I wanted to buy a gramophone, a lot of people have them in the dug-out. I am thinking of getting one. Will you ask May to get me two catalogues, one of Decca gramophones and one of Master's Voice. If I go on like this I expect you will all be coming out here for a holiday. We fired off our guns the other night and the Colonel in command of the R.E.'s came to see us fire. I asked him to dinner, but he could not come.

I cannot write a long letter, but will write again soon. To-morrow we go towards the trenches and will be in them in a day or so. Much love to all,

From your loving Son,

ALEC.

11th Suffolks,

A/101 Trench Mortar Battery,

B.E.F.

This letter is in two parts—this is No. 1.

My darling Mother,—

I have another letter half written to you, but the tablet it was written on is left at my billet, and, as I rather forgot where I left off, I hope I will not leave a gap. To-day is Monday, 22nd. As you know, or will know when I finish the other letter, Friday and Saturday we moved, and rather marched up, billeting Friday night and on Saturday night—I won't go into details. On the march we saw an aeroplane being shelled—a very pretty sight—white puffs of smoke bursting all round it; one bit of shrapnel fell quite near us and made one of the brigade sergeants quite excited. I am writing this in comfort in bed in my dug-out, though my eyes keep trying to close; I am a bit tired, but I shall get a good night's sleep, I hope. It is now nearly eleven. On Sunday morning I came up early to prospect round the trenches, and to take over from the battery we were relieving. I prospected and then returned back to bring the battery up.

To get to the trenches we go first along the road up to a deserted village the Germans shell when they have nothing better to do. They were shelling it when I came out in the morning. I have often heard shells described as sounding like express trains coming through the air. They are almost as difficult to describe as the noise of the bullet. It's a far quicker noise than an express train. It sounds like a taxi going at about a hundred miles an hour and then bursting; a bullet sounds like someone cracking a very loud whip just in your ear, and a bit noisier than that when it is close to you. A machine gun—there is one going now—sounds like a very noisy motor bike, exactly like