‘This evening there was one of the finest sunsets I have ever seen,’ he wrote to Pips, ‘even the famous Selsey Sunsets could hardly rival it…a red glare in the sky which at first I thought was a fire…Against the glorious red sky with dark black clouds here and there were silhouetted little ruined houses and barns – some retain their walls and roofs – the latter usually only consisting of a skeleton frame like a firework set piece – then you see little avenues of burnt frizzled up trees which once bordered one of those typical French roads – but no road remains now – no artificial features are allowed to remain when war comes – then you see little groups of black crosses dotted about amongst the rank weeds that grow everywhere…’
The sunset had clearly put him in a philosophical frame of mind, because he went on to consider the ‘two great armies’ sitting across from each other, and how it reminded him of Alice Through the Looking Glass: the Germans were ‘just a reflection of us at present’ – they were both doing the same things – writing letters home, running away from trench mortars, wondering what the other was up to: ‘taking it all round,’ he wrote, ‘we just sit and frighten each other’.
On a happier note, he told Pips that he had enjoyed a walk to the local village, to buy some supplies, and to have his hair cut ‘in a little French Barber (or more correctly Barbress)’. The walk had been quite interesting, ‘although those items of interest cannot be described here – they must wait and be put in my book if that ever becomes written.’
Writing to his mother that he and Gibson were still ‘having quite a nice time’, he went on to praise Morris’s skills as a chef, noting that ‘he performs marvels over a brazier (that Navvies use) and a little billy can. He cooks eggs and bacon and steaks…nearly as well as you do, as anyone has at present approached, in my opinion.’ He told her they were well taken care of with rations (including fresh eggs), and that, ‘with the delightful addition of the contents of your parcels we really live too well…’
He also told her that, although he had now been out in France for a month, the time had flown past, and that ‘it seems but yesterday since I said goodbye to you at Charing X [sic]. I can still picture that last little glimpse of you that I had as the train moved out, and I shall always remember it…’
[Next letter: 31 October]