I got him a spare horse, and he
was still laughing, and cursing them with a sort of triumph. We only
trotted away. A man in my troop kept touching his cap to the Germans,
saying "Third-class shots, third-class shots."
The next day we went forward to another places and intrenched against a
very big German force, but we only had to face their guns. Poor ---- was
killed. They pushed us pretty hard back to our infantry. We were
supposed to have done well.
Since then we have been doing infantry work in the trenches. We have
been out of work in our trenches; only shrapnel and snipers. Some one
described this war as "Months of boredom punctuated by moments of
terror." It is sad that it is such a bad country for cavalry. Cavalry
work here against far superior forces of infantry, like we had the other
day, is not good enough. The Germans are dashing good at that
house-to-house fighting business.
It is horrible having to leave one's horses; it feels like leaving half
oneself behind, and one feels the dual responsibility all the time. I
hope we get them on the run soon, then will come our chance. They have
been having terrific fighting on the line on each side of us, and it has
gone well.
I adore war. It is like a big picnic without the objectlessness of a
picnic. I've never been so well or so happy. Nobody grumbles at one for
being dirty. I've only had my boots off once in the last ten days, and
only washed twice.
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