May 1st, 1915.
Am still O.K. and dodging shells. It certainly is a hot town. Dont worry I am pretty good dogging.
Some unspeakable English Tommy ransacked my dugout while I was at breakfast and stripped everything off my belt, pistol, pouch, compass, etc. and cleaned out my haversack. Thank heaven, they left my photographs as I would be lost without them. However, I can get some more alright later.
Well the mail leaves this place in a few minutes to go back to our first line ammunition waggons.
It is grand to see the drivers galloping across the field with shells bursting all around. The dear old 9th. How proud we are of it (the officers I mean). The Major speaks with tears in his eyes of his brave men.