C. has command of my battery now. He's a fine chap. You remember how he left London before his leave was up, “because he wanted to be among men.” That's the sort he is, and I admire him.
XXXVII
London April 14, 1918
We're sitting together in the little flat at Battersea, and Reggie is with us. It's Sunday afternoon. To-morrow morning early I set out for France. The little party wanted me to sleep here to-night so that they could get up about 6 a.m. and see me off. I wouldn't have that. So we're going to say good-bye comfortably to-night and the boys will sleep with me at a hotel just outside the station.
You can't guess how glad I am at the thought of going back. I was afraid I should never be a fighting man again. Now that I'm once more to be allowed to do my bit I feel extraordinarily grateful. I have the silly feeling that just one more man might make all the difference at such a crisis, and I'm jealous lest, when so many are being called upon for an exaggerated display of heroism, I should lose my chance. I know now why soldiers sing when they go out to war—they're so proud that they have been chosen for the sacrifice.
The boys came down to camp with me and lived near to the camp. I took an anti-gas defence course before re-joining in France. Friday night we came up to town and we've had a very jolly time.
Well, dears, we've lived a happy crowded life since I was wounded, and we've each one of us learnt more about the glory of this undertaking.
XXXVIII
France April 21, 1918
I've been back at the Front six days. This is the first opportunity I have had to write. I left England last Monday, having spent Saturday and Sunday in London with the boys. Major H. came up to give me a send-off and we had a very gay time. Saturday evening, after dinner and a theatre, we returned to Battersea and all found beds in one or other of the flats. On Sunday evening we slept at a hotel next to the station so that I might be sure of catching the early morning train. We managed to get a room with three beds in it, and so kept all together as in the old days. By 5 a.m. we were up and stirring. P. and L. walked in on us as we were having breakfast, and S. met us on the platform. They all seemed quite assured that they would never, never see me again—which makes me smile. I suppose they all had visions of grey waves of Germans deluging our infantry by force of numbers, while the gunners were left far in front, trying to stem the tide. That is what we all hope for. It's the kind of chance we dream about; but it hasn't happened yet.