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This is a large village but very much overcrowded
with troops.

A girl watching us pass through a village to-day
cried out in astonishment-— "Ne pas des anciens!" We
certainly are a fine body of men.

One of our platoons is billeted close to a burial
ground, which they refer to as "the rest camp". "No
reveilles and route-marches there!" remarked a tall,
tired-looking man with a walrus rnoustach^. Getting
near the line is working me up into the same old
feeling of confidence and freedom from looking far
ahead. Is it self-defensive, or what?

Sunday, May 26. Very tired to-night. Guns making a
noise eight miles away, I am alone in a large room in
the Chateau—a barrack of a place. Small things have
conspired to exasperate me to-day. But I will read
Lamb's Letters and then go to sleep. My window looks
out on tree-tops and a large cedar. (I am on the third

May 28. Too tired to read or think after two days'
hard work with the Company. Devilish noise last
night when the next village was being bombed and
anti-aircraft guns firing. They are over again to-night.

May 29. Inspection by Divisional General. He made
a very pleasant impression, and talked very nicely to
the men. No complaints about my Company, any-
how! . . . Letters from England seem to come from
another world. Aunt Evelyn wants to know when I
shall be coming home on leave. Damn leave; I don't
want it. And I don't want to be wounded and wangle
a job at home. I want the next six weeks, and success.
Do I want death? I don't know yet. Anyhow the War
is outside of life, and I'm in the War. "Those we loved
were merely happy shadows." (Duhamel again.)

Sunday, June 2. Cloudless weather continues. On