31 July, ’17.

My Dearie Lal: —

Today wet, cold, impossible weather; our bombardment slacking off a bit. Did nothing all day, sat in ground floor room, no ceilings, walls mostly wrecked, no windows, and large opening leading into hall. By tearing beams off outhouse, got wood for fire which we made in remains of the open fireplace. Very cosy when we covered the holes up with waterproof sheets. Heinie quit retaliating altogether.

In afternoon, he had the nerve to send a plane over — circled round just overhead. We could plainly see iron crosses on wings. Fierce attempts were made to get him, one chap having the presence of mind to get his rifle and have a shot. To every one’s disgust he got away. We are sore; but I guess the batteries were sorer, as no doubt he got pretty fair photographs. It was a brave act, and you have got to hand it to him. We all expected a deuce of a “strafe” after he got home, but as yet none has come. Slept as usual in the cellar on my stretcher, as none of us had even an overcoat. Haven’t slept for nights, owing to the cold.