January 28, 1917
The daily routine has been about as usual since my last letter, except for one night off, and one day party. The day work goes quicker than the night, but there is usually more overhead traffic going on to detract from the enjoyment. It is surprising, though, how quickly one becomes accustomed to the whistle of shells overhead and how little attention one pays to them so long as they are obviously directed at somebody further along. One is inclined, I am afraid, to lose perspective very badly, and give no thought to what happens to anyone save your own little party. You watch shells bursting over the other people's areas with the most perfect equanimity. As for the poor Bosch, who gets regularly at least ten to one, he is entirely beyond the pale of sympathy except at odd and fleeting moments.
I am off to-day on another course - three weeks this time - and will be leaving the guns more or less behind for the period. I can't say that I mind that, though I wish it had come after a few weeks more in the line, when it would doubtless have been an agreeable change.
5.45 P.M. The C.O. came in while I was writing this morning, then it was lunch-time, and then I had to start for this place, where I arrived a couple of hours ago. Have had tea and am now seated before an excuse for a wood fire. The school is in a big French chateau, but I am fortunate enough to be billetted outside. I say fortunate, for in the chateau there are no arrangements for hotwater in the morning and such little luxuries; whereas, in billets, if your servant has a way with him, as mine has, he can usually arrange with Madame or Mademoiselle to supply the necessary facilities. There are 20 officers on the course - a number of old acquaintances among them - two or three from my own regiment, others whom I have met casually on the way up, or in the line. Altogether, I think we shall have a pleasant time.
Oceans of love to all.