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[Page 41]
in oils. After lunch my stretcher arrived but it proved not to be too cleverly made although they had a model. And they didn't return the model - cuss them'. This place isn't supposed to be in the zone, but because I have arrived Jerry sent over a fair number of shells this morning - the first time he's done so here. The old hands don't take much notice but the wretched things sound like next door to me and involuntarily I duck as they come whistling towards us. The view I spoke of is a beauty - a lovely valley full of historic villages now devoid of human being, beuaitful in colour and form; you would love to see it. I hope to make a most exhaustive drawing of the scene and a smaller color scheme sketch. From the drawing I'll then paint, depending for the color, on the small cnavas. These chaps out here are real diggers, giving me the kindest of welcomes, and if the high velocity shells don't pay us so much attention I'd much rather be here than at headquarters. One great gun near at hand shakes hell out of every thing within a mile of it; but it's all right, as we know it's ours.
Bois d'Escardonnause.
France July 13th, 1918.
Last night, before it got dark, Lieut. Reid, one of my hosts, proposed a walk to show me the views to be seen from about this place. So we slung our respirators over our shoulders and set out. I very much regretted that the engineers had been so slow with my stretcher when I saw the wonderful panorama and all the points of interest stretched out in the most glorious amber light. The slopes, which were cropped, were a wonderful collection of greens, all impartially shot with gold and the worn-bare ones new copper or beaten gold. A small, but beautiful cathedral or abbey, embedded in empurpled trees, pushed up from them and was relieved against a screen of lavender, rising ground. In the clear light, matured by the lowness of the sun, the qualities of all local colours were enhanced and the cathedral, to me, looked as it glowed there, like a silver model dipped in Burgundy. Great balloons, like monstrous Chinese kites, floated, tethered against a marvel of