disappointment when I was back in the wood (as supports). It reminds me of one of our Quartermaster-Sergeants in Edinburgh. He is an Irishman, O'Brien. I found him on the platform while we were waiting to see a draft off; he looked very despondent. I asked him how he was, and was surprised when he replied, 'I've had a reverse, sorr!' It turned out that he had applied to headquarters for an improvement in his position, and was told he didn't deserve any. It had almost broken his heart!
"Well, I had a reverse. I was given the job of building a hut and was nearly through with it when we were ordered away. If we get back to the old wood again I shall go on with it, in spite of whatever the present tenants may have done in the way of completing it (our guns are now 'going at it' hammer and tongs).
"I did enjoy laying the sandbags and building a proper wall with 'headers' and 'stretchers.' I got a very good testimonial too, for the Sergeant asked me in all seriousness whether I was a brick-setter in civil life. I was awfully proud.
"Later
"(I had to leave off here because we were ordered to 'fire-rapid' in between periods of our artillery fire, and I had to turn out to watch.)"
NOTE BY O. J. L.
The dream referred to, near the beginning of this long letter to his mother, Mr. J. Arthur Hill remembers that I told him of, in a letter dated 7 May 1915, which he has now returned; and I reproduce it here:—
"To J. A. H.
"7 May 1915
"I do not reckon that I often have conscious intuitions; and when I have had vivid dreams they have not meant anything, though once or twice I have recorded them because I have them seldom. I happen, however, to have had an intuition this morning, before I was more than half awake, which, though not specially vivid, perhaps I had better record, namely, that an attack was going on at the present moment, that my son was in it, but that 'they' were taking care of him. I had this clearly in mind before seeing the morning papers; and indeed I do not know that there is anything in the morning papers suggesting it, since of course their news is comparatively old. One might have surmised, however, that there would be a struggle for Hill 60, and I know that my son is not far off Ypres. (By the way, I have been told that the Flemish Belgians really do call it 'Wipers'; it does not sound likely, and it needs confirmation. I know of course that our troops are said to call it so, which is natural enough.) O. J. L."
I now (August 1916) notice for the first time that the coincidence in time between dream and fact is rather good, especially as it was the only dream or 'impression' that I remember having during the war. Practically I do not dream.
But as this incident raises the question of possible presentiment I must deny that we had any serious presentiment about Raymond. My wife tells me that her anxiety about Raymond, though always present, was hardly keen, as she had an idea that he would be protected. She wrote to a friend on 22 March 1915:—
" … I ought to get him back safe. I have a hole in my heart and shall have till he comes back. I only saw him for the inside of an hour before he left, as I was away when he came home for six hours. … "
At the same time I must admit that on the morning of 15 September 1915 (the day after Raymond's death, which we did not know of till the 17th) I was in an exceptional state of depression; and though a special game, to which I had been looking forward, on the No. 1 Course at Gullane had been arranged with Rowland Waterhouse, I could not play a bit. Not ordinary bad play, but total incompetence; so much so that after seven holes we gave up the game, and returned to the hotel. To make sure of the date, I wrote to Rowland Waterhouse, asking him when that abortive match occurred, since I knew that it was his last day at Gullane. He replies:—
"Violet and I left Gullane for Musselburgh on Wednesday, 15 September. Our final match ended that morning on the eighth tee" [which that year was on the reservoir hill].
One more dream I may as well now mention:—
After the family had returned home from Scotland and elsewhere, near the end of September 1915, and begun to settle down, Alec, who had felt Raymond's death exceedingly, told me that the night before he heard the news—or rather the early morning of the same day, 17 September—he had had an extraordinarily painful and vivid dream, quite an exceptional occurrence for him, and one of which he had spoken to a manageress in the hotel near Swansea where he was staying, describing it as the worst he had ever had in his life. He did not know that it had any significance, and neither do I, as the dream, though rather ghastly, was not about Raymond or anyone in particular; but it seemed an odd coincidence that the ill news should be, so to speak, on the way, at the time of a quite exceptional and painful impression. The person to whom he told the dream handed him the telegram a few hours later. He has written the dream down, but it need not be reproduced.
No real provision is involved in any of this, unless it be that of an hour or two in my own impression, in May; but for general remarks on the question of the possibility of prevision Chapter V in Part III may be referred to.
"Friday, 14 May 1915
"I had a glorious hot bath yesterday; Fletcher and I went up to the brewery here. The bath is zinc, and full length, and we have as much water, and as hot, as we like. …
"I spent some time too stemming the leaks in the roof of our shed. With my two waterproof sheets I have rigged up a kind of chute above my bed, so that any water that comes through the roof is led down behind my head. I don't know what happens to it there. I thought of leading it across on to the man next me, as the Germans used to do in the winter campaign. They fitted a pump in their trenches and led the delivery pipe forward, so that the water used to run into ours—only the plan was discovered. …
"I wonder if you saw the appreciation of the soda cake on the back of my letter from the woods. M.P. stands for Mess President. Fletcher was M.P. and was a very good one. I am now, as he has done it for a long time and is tired. …
"As cheerful and well and happy as ever. Don't think I am having a rotten time—I am not."
"Sunday, 5.40 p.m., 16 May 1915
"We had a very fine piece of news yesterday. Over three weeks ago we were called out one night and were urgently required to dig a certain new trench behind our lines. The men worked splendidly and got the job done in a very short time (working of course in complete darkness). The next day the Brigadier-General inspected the trench and sent in a complimentary message about it to our Colonel. The day after he complimented us again—for the same piece of work! Well, we have had several such jobs to do, and just recently we have been to Hill 60, where the bulk of our work was deepening the trenches and improving the parapets. We were lent for this purpose to another Division (the Division that is at the moment occupying that area), and were away from here exactly a week. We got a splendid testimonial from the General of this other Division, who told our Colonel he had got 'a top-hole battalion.' Arising out of all this, we have now been selected as a 'Pioneer Battalion,' We are relieved from all ordinary trench work for some time to come. We simply go out at night and dig trenches or build parapets and so forth, and have the day to ourselves. This was arranged yesterday, and last night we went out and returned here at 1.30 a.m. The work is more or less under fire, but only from stray shots and nothing very serious. Our Colonel is awfully pleased that we have done so well; and we are all pleased with the new arrangement. One great advantage is that we can settle down in our billets and are not continually having to pack up everything and move off. We can now start and make tables, chairs, beds, a proper door for the hut, a glass window, and so on. …
"As to aeroplanes, when one passes overhead a whistle is blown and every one either takes cover or stands perfectly still. The men are forbidden to look up. Then the whistle is blown several times when the danger is past. I am afraid, though, these regulations are more honoured in the breach than the observance.
"We had quite a nice