1 August, ’17.

Weather worse — it’s damnable. Was there ever such luck! Rain came so badly through roof had to hunt around for corrugated iron to put on the remains of the ceiling beams — that is, on what was once the front bedroom floor. All dry then, huge open wood fire — jake! Noon, heard armies to the North and South had gained objectives, but one had had a hard fight. Do not thoroughly understand it. All seems to be going well, though. Maybe their weather is not like ours.

Evening.

May have to go on working party tonight. Got full supplies of dressings. Got a fine kit now. Was low, owing to busy time the other night. Fritz now starting to come back a bit with overhead shrapnel and 5.9’s. One casualty only so far. Mail for every one but me, Cheerful! Got a cold. Dreading trenches; they’ll be full of water. Damn the luck! Good weather, which we had every right to count on, and we would have been away ahead — “Gott mit uns.”