H2O. Now, as to my Eastertide. My Good Friday brought
with it duty. I was on Police Picket, much the same as a
village policeman. Our duties are to see every soldier is
properly dressed with belt and puttees before going out, and
that there are no suspicious persons around, that all lights
are extinguished by 9.30, etc. It's not a bad job, but on a
Good Friday it's tough.

"Sunday was as usual,--Church Parade in the morning, and
free in the afternoon, when we had a cricket match. Monday
was the worst day of all. We were called out at 8.30, and
from then to 12.30 had to clean up the roads, scrape mud out
of ditches, and make drains in our village streets. Nice
occupation, wasn't it? The afternoon was not so bad, but we
might have had a holiday. Instead we had to go and throw
live bombs for practice purposes. The evening, as usual, was
free. That ends my Eastertide, and in spite of what sounds a
far from good one I enjoyed it immensely and count myself
lucky to be out of the trenches for it.

"I ought to have mentioned earlier that we are in a village
behind the firing line, in reserve; we shall be having our
turn of trenches in a few days, and so we are making the
best of our time out. The weather is glorious, and we are
having a good time. I do not doubt that there will be some
hard work shortly along the front, but it's difficult to say
what will happen. Only the folk in charge know. We only
obey, and really it's just as well to be in the dark and so
escape the worry beforehand."