Item 06: Frank H. Molony diary, 25 March 1918-7 August 1918 - Page 25

[Page 25]

April 2, 3
of the Camerons: one a short stocky Scot, broad and rich in his phrases: the other of medium height, and lovely build; his face, hands and knees burned golden, with rich blood under: a slim grace about his body, and nervely splendid legs – "shewed splendidly, and sunburned to the bone!" His voice soft and clear, and his expressions following each word – a mythopoem of all Scotland!

Heavy rain after a day of sun and passing clouds.

April 3
31.
Hoograaf, Billets
M.D.S. La Clytte taken over this morning by Tommies: left there about 11 and arrived here about midday – in hut Billets in a cold camp. Rumour of waiting here till 5th then entraining for --? The villagers tell us we're not going to the Somme, usually they know more than we, so the old rumour of Nieuport resurrects itself.

32.
The last incident of La Clytte: at 2 a.m. the night-staff got even – inspired by "that – Woodbiner" – with the day staff. At 2 about four on either side of the long bow hut, arrived with short iron staves, at a given word started a running of the staves over the iron corrugated roof.

I lay stiff and dead in the instant, striving to feel the falling all over of bricks and tangled iron, the next instant I knew the Boche was all round us, riddling the hut with M.G. bullets, then we all recovered, and the curses of a full hut rang down the night.

The moment of sudden awakening was the worst I've ever known. Five minutes later shells of long range guns purred over us.

Tonight a sleeping with one blanket, and a great coat. It'll be trooper fashion again.

Short letter written & posted to Mother, and letter to T.B.C. written yesterday.

33.
Time and again, in reverie, or walking alone the last line of one of William Watson's poems has gone singing through my ming [mind ?]. "The throb of the bliss of the rose, and the pomp of the nightingale's pain". Tonight on the grout for safety pins to manipulate a single blanket. Charles T. passed me – from Basil – the Dec. Today with the full poem and a sketch book. So I copy tonight the poem on the first page of this journal.