15 February, ’17.

My life at present has got into a groove, it would seem, and each day is exactly alike. I have got used to bombardments. Even as I write, Fritz is almost directly above, and our men are trying after him on all sides.

The thaw, I think, has set in for good, and it’s more than welcome, though the mud and wet are pretty bad. I got a new pair of boots just in time, the first pair I’ve ever had in the army, so can keep fairly dry.

Leave is stopped now for some days, and my little vacation seems as far off as ever. I suppose the trouble is in regard to boats. Fritz is sinking a lot of boats, a devil of a lot, and even though it seems so good that the U.S. has broken with Germany and all that, so many ships will not sail, and our supplies must be curtailed. I may be wrong — I hope I am — but I think this is an anxious time for us, and I believe history will show it. However we shall cope with it and overcome it, and that’s the main thing.

You will notice that a great many raids are being pulled off just now. A good many are pulled off on our bit of front — any time of night now. All at the same second, a perfect roar starts up — every gun at once. It’s rather magnificent while it lasts. Last night it was very dark while I was taking my messages, and the gun flares were most welcome as they lit up the road most opportunely.