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Dearest Lucy
More than ever thankful I got out last night after eight most awful days of shelling. I received your parcel just as we were leaving the reserve and what I ate of it I enjoyed immensely , the rest was blown to bits. The cartoons on the War are no doubt highly amusing but don’t be led away with the idea we are chasing the Hun with a big stick all over the countryside. The German infantry of today, where the push is taking place at any time is broken and their morale feeble but behind them is a splendid force of artillery and believe me there is little rest from it. Each day brought its intense period when, for as much as six hours on end the air shrieked with the sound of shrapnel, the thump of heavies or the terrific explosion of the H.E.'s The stretch of advance and we were in the furthest salient was deluged with lead and iron; it was almost a rare thing to hear a machine gun pooping and it gives you an idea of how much artillery is in play. We are reaching forward and stretching outwards towards their batteries, but always through their thunderous hail. Trenches and woods were lost sight of in the smoke of the shells, so rapid and numerous were the bursts and yet hundreds came out untouched. When we came away to billets or reserve it takes hours to clear the gauntlet and then we are still liable to shell fire. Lillie has an idea I have been to Paris, surely she doesn’t imagine we are always fooling time away whilst actually we are passing through such hellish days and nights. Verdun has been removed to our part. I should like to come back for a bit to potter around again, instrumentally give Jim a hand, but it can’t be yet. Reeves was killed the other day, hit by one of our own shells, his people must grieve his loss.
Lillie is buying Jackie a torch for the stable and no doubt it is getting dark at bedtime now. Agnes Francis sent me a book of short stories by H.G Wells, the Lady’s Pictorial and the English Review and has written two delightful letters. She writes for the L.P.
Well dear girl, there is much to do and write and sleep to be found and so with fondest love to all
Yours ever
Harry
I want to buy you one of those acetylene reading lamps for you and Jim to read by or work even when you gather round the fireside. Will you search the catalogue and choose and let me know by return. I want you to have a reliable light.
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