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[Page 55]
April 19
71.
"The Judgment of Valhalla" read. A book to shelve with these, a representative collection of the writings of men who will pass… through the seven circles of flame … to the little gate of Valhalla.
The City of Fear, Frankeau
Poems, Alan Seeger
Letters and Diary of Alan Seeger
Poems, 1914 and others, Brooke
"Letters of a Soldier", Anonymous
Fairies & Fusiliers, Graves
War Poems, Vernide
With Masefield's "Gallipoli" and "The Old Front Line" – though he's not of, "The men who drive, to blade-ring home, behind the marching shell."
Three other books would be – judging from scraps read in magazines,
"Ardours & Endurances", Nichols
"The Old Huntsman", Sasoon [Sassoon]
(and yet to be published – "Counter Attack")
Poems, Leon Ghellert [Gellert], 3rd Bgde.
and Alec Waugh's "Resentment",
Later … and Verhauren's "Belgium's Agony".
72. 10 p.m.
A Tragedy, a losing of Fountain Pen in Chateau at Pradelles. There after 10 this morning with Buck and Les, after a secret cellar of Champagne and Liquers. The result, a splendid discovering of Moet & Chandon and fine white wines.
The chateau abandoned as when lived in, well furnished and equipped, but full of the showings of a poor and flash taste. Some rich linen and embroideries and some remnants of handmade lace. Wreckage all about and over the Chateau and its village. Some terrible barrages have fallen over it – of the whole village, not a farmhouse nor building but hasn't been partially wrecked. Brought away two fine old 17 Cent. engravings of ordnance maps of Louis – of his soldiers about Armentiers [Armentieres].
Mail – after three months waiting, from Hendersons the Jan. 16 parcel of books.
73.
Tonight clear and a star-brilliant night sky, for the last few minutes the guns about the hedges have been furiously firing. Last night a big counter-attack was expected of the Boche, but so far the front has been comparatively quiet.
All the while, and I worrying, my pen was in the bottom of my writing paper box – the white and green paper of Paris. But I only last remembered holding it, in the Kitchen of the Chateau, when I casually wrote in an old book, to camouflage from Mac, our being interrupted. Turning in I only recollected putting aside a few pencils from my pocket, making a pillow of my tunic. 'Laus Deo!'