Series 01: Anne Donnell circular letters, 25 May 1915 - 8 July 1918 - Page 253

[Page 253]

pretty to see them. Rumour says that Fritz has brought 50 more divisions from the Russian frost to this. I can picture us yet going away with a rush or being prisoners of war (pessimistic still).

Jan 6th: Those wretched visits from Fritz when he knocks overhead with his zzzz and then leaves his cards or iron rations as the boys say. At 4 a.m. my trained ear detected the z, I get so limp, but went and stood by a very sick laddie who was awake and waited – only a few seconds and those terrific crashes. The patients awake with "What was that Sister". The very ill ones were too ill to take much notice for which I am truly thankful, and I, well I never did profess braveness when bombs are above, and I didn't tremble this time but literally shook. How I went around to see that my 54 boys were all right I don't know. The blighters returned again 2 hours later. It really is a nerve test – a terrible test. I had a letter from Mary to-day, she and most of the others have rejoined the 38th and are in Italy. To My surprise Matron had asked Capt. Chandler to keep a professional eye on me, the cough is obvious and I'll admit to feeling tired, but who wouldn't be leading a life like this, and as long as I feel I can justly do my part for the boys I shall endeavour to stay. It seems beyond human nature to be able to live in this bitterly cold and hard biting frost and snow, even tipping the snow, pretty to look at.

I certainly must start abridging and truth to tell I haven't kept strictly to the terse notes of the diary. I don't know but each day here brings some fresh new interest and I haven't told you quarter yet, and I feel sure that long 'ere you read this page you have called me the brook.

Jan 11th: Unpleasant rumours afloat that G is massing for a tremendous effort on the front. Our men are confident of our powers to meet it, but one cannot comfortably settle down. I keep my things in readiness to flit at any time. Work doesn't slacken one bit, the poor boys with trench