Flanders,

Sunday, June 18^th 1916.

My dear old Hal,

I had your letter of the eleventh immediately I had sent off my last one to you.  Such is the usual happening.  I am very discreet and I hope you are as I tell you ever so much more than I do mother or Bern.  We are in the trenches for six days from yesterday.  I have still my steel helmet.  We keep them you know as whether we are in or out shrapnel is always with us.  I am in the supports & would be in the front line but our company is too big.  As it is some of us have no dug-outs.  Eight of us have to sleep on two big stepped staircases which go into the bowels of the earth it seems.  There are only the stairs.  Eventually there will be a tremendous dug-out between them.  The stairs are finished.  The dug-out is not started.  I had my position very near the top and I slept to some extent.  Tonight I am looking forward to sleeping in a better quarter as I have discovered a flat piece of concrete flooring with considerable shelter.  I am glad your London interview was favourable and am waiting to hear the result.  Your top-hole parcel came last night at a very welcome time.  You and Ethel have gone to quite a lot of trouble and the things in it are just the things I am fond of.  The butter is fine.  We have less butter than anything.  French butter is terrible stuff.  We can buy French bread easily generally.  Saturday Friday night at twelve thirty (of course that is really Saturday morning) according to new time (we have put on an hour about a week ago) we were all roused for our first gas attack.  It was a very serious business.  They always are.  Someone of the guard rushes round and people are literally kicked awake.  I jump out at once.  We had to get our gas helmets in the dark, put them on immediately in a certain fashion & wait till the attack was over.  All the gongs in every billet and camp are sounding.  They have big hooters which are going all the time, and we bombard the Germans as fiercely as possible everywhere.  Just after I was roused the noise of everything was the loudest I had ever heard.  The fellows in the trenches open rapid fire also, & the machine guns.  The attack lasted till two but I think we made them hop & had by far the best of it.  Six good whiffs are enough to kill you.  Two make you very ill.  I think where we were was about the only spot the gas missed, but of course we had to be on the alert.

Yesterday I had to go near the front line & I was waiting when someone said “I don’t think I’d stand there too long, Kingie” so I moved, looked around & saw a notice “Beware of Snipers, Duck or Die”.  I am very careful since of that spot.  It was hard lines on Bernard having to split his leave.  I expect mother is feeling very anxious about the two of us.  I am afraid we are not likely to meet unless we are sent to the base which is improbable.  I used to think that the soldiers in the trenches were bored to death for want of something to do.  With us it is quite different.  You never seem to have a minute to yourself.  All the time going you want to spend in sleep.  Today’s letters haven’t come in yet but I am expecting one from home & looking forward to it.  As I am keeping this until I get a green envelope I may add a thing or two.  I can scarcely keep my eyes open so will wind up with best wishes from

            Yours

                        Alan

Who is Lord Kitchener’s successor?  You will see I have had your postcard from Ethel’s letter.  Let me hear from you soon.  It is the 21^st today & things are about the same.

On Active Service envelope addressed to Harry R King, Esq., Munmore, Zion Road, Rathgar, Dublin.

Postmarked ARMY POST OFFICE 4 25 JU 16.  Hexagonal Passed Field Censor 1347 cachet.

Ansd 2/7/16 on back of envelope.