I keep the letter among my most treasured war souvenirs.
The winter rains had not improved the roads, but still day and night, through mud and water, a constant stream of vehicles of all descriptions passed up towards the front carrying ammunition.

Ammunition was everywhere.

At certain places it was stacked along the roads.

The strain upon the horses was very great, and numbers of them died, (p.

164) and their bodies lay by the wayside for many days, no one having time to bury them.
It was perfectly impossible to get any place in which to hold Communion services, so, with the permission of the family who owned it, I made use of a little Gothic shrine near the church, which stood over a family vault.