Under Difficulties
We got into a little hell yesterday and all last night—a proper warm corner. Shells bursting all over and round us and bullets whizzing about all over the place. I had to take one of our wagons right into the firing line. Our captain, who was riding ten yards in front, got blown off his horse. The battle is still raging now. Heaven only knows how it will end up. We cannot hear ourselves speak. My writing is very bad, but you must excuse it as the very ground is shaking. I have to take another wagon right into the firing line in ten minutes’ time: A Corporal of the Royal Army Medical Corps.