Smyth, just rung me up to say he’s off tomorrow. He’s got a billet in Q. Office, with the Naval Division, whatever that may mean. I am very sorry we are losing him, but I always felt it had so come, and of course, it means advancement for him. A lovely day, but oppressively hot. There is a guilder rose in full bloom here in the waste of a garden, with a rose coloured peony underneath it. The effect is very pleasant to the eye. They are putting heavy stuff over at the Battery now just behind us. Just off to Church Parade.
3.00 p.m.—They have been firing all day at about five minute intervals; and they got one direct hit on a gun emplacement, but apparently no one was there; the gun seems to be disabled. It’s a lovely day, but sitting out in the garden is impossible, as fragments of shell are coming in at odd times. I am trying to persuade the Padre to go away on leave while we are back. He is not looking well, though he will not acknowledge anything being wrong. He has got thin. I think he is doing too much. The place we go to is quite a nice little village. It’s where Bde. H.Q. was when I came on leave. I wonder who will succeed Smyth—I can’t think Charlie would recommend C.S., but he’s a curious fellow. The Vanston case still hangs on. The papers are now being handed to and fro, to be made in triplicate, to be initialled by V., to know whether recommended for training purposes at home, etc., etc., and so it goes one and will go on, I suppose. Smyth just been over to say good-bye; very broke at going, and I am very, very sorry. Another link with the early war days gone. He has been with us 18 months. Charlie trying to get a man called Evans from the Manchester Regt. I believe Smyth sore at going to Q, but he’s more likely to get promotion, and he won’t be in the firing line, so Mrs. S will be pleased.