SABBATH EVENING, AUGUST 1, 1915.
On Wednesday night we moved away from our nice Château at 10.30 p.m., and at 1.30 a.m. reached the village where we were to stay the night. The moon was good, and the march was a good one of about seven miles or so. At 2.15 that morning I lay down on the top of a bed with just my boots and jacket off, and slept till 6 a.m. Then I got up and shaved, and drank a cup of cocoa that my servant made, and was in the saddle again by 7 a.m., and rode about five miles to the headquarters of a French General in a Château. Officers Commanding Battalions were ordered to go there at 8 a.m., and we were provided with French guides who could speak English, and went over the trenches that our Battalions were to take over on Saturday night. This we did, and were much pleased with the construction of them and the general conditions of everything; so last night we marched off from our Billets in the village to the trenches, and we are here now. Our Battalion is not actually in the front line just now, but is in 'dug-outs' just behind the first line. It is in a wood, and is so picturesque in places that one would never connect it with war, were it not for occasional shells that come over our heads.
MONDAY, AUGUST 2, 1915.
I am well, and busy all day with many varied things. I am acting just now both as Commanding Officer and Adjutant, but we are getting on nicely. We are a few hundreds of yards behind the front line just now, and, beyond a little shelling now and again, we are very quiet.
We are living in a wood with high trees and undulating ground, and the French Army, who have just vacated the place have constructed most elaborate shelters from shell-fire. They are much more palatial places than any 'dug-outs' we have seen or made elsewhere. They go so deep down into the ground, or are built up with such thick sides and roofs, that they are considered quite safe things to be in, even if they do get a direct hit upon them with a big shell. We are going to make application for leave for other two Officers.... Then perhaps it will be my turn to come. Yes, I am waiting till all the others have had leave, as I would rather be the last to go.
SABBATH NIGHT, SEPT. 19, 1915.
To-day has been my birthday and I am getting very old, but I don't feel it, so it doesn't matter, and the best thought is that we grow old all together. And I have more to be thankful for than most. Our mails have been delayed one day, and that has had this result, that to-day's mail brought me no fewer than eight letters, and six of these were partly written for my birthday, and if the mails had not been delayed I would likely have had all these birthday letters one day too soon! So that I am quite content to see a purpose in all that concerns me, and I am especially rich in real friends.
SAME DATE.
I am thirty-seven to-day.... but I don't feel old, and pray that I may be given more strength to give more and do more, and to keep nothing back that should be given.
There is an inspiration in giving, and in being spent for the greatest things, that knows no limits and never knows what it is to give too much.