To-day we are off for the Somme.  I looked out anxiously with the dawn, and saw streaks of white mist lying over the village and the sun struggling through.  But as we start on the road to Amiens, the mist gains the upper hand, and we begin to be afraid that we shall not get any of those wide views from the west of Albert over the Somme country which are possible in clear weather.  Again the high upland, and this time three tanks on the road, but motionless, alack! the nozzles of their machine guns just visible on their great sides.  Then a main road, if it can be called a road since the thaw has been at work upon it.  Every mile or two, as our chauffeur explains, the pave “is all burst up” from below, and we rock and lunge through holes and ruts that only an Army motor can stand.  But German prisoners are thick on the worst bits, repairing as hard as they can.  Was it perhaps on some of these men that certain of the recent letters that are always coming into G.H.Q. have been found?  I will quote a few of those which have not yet seen the light.

Here are a batch of letters written in January of this year from Hamburg and its neighbourhood: 

“It is indeed a miserable existence.  How will it all end?  There is absolutely nothing to be got here.  Honey costs 6s. 6d. a pound, goose fat 18s. a pound.  Lovely prices, aren’t they?  One cannot do much by way of heating, as there is no coal.  We can just freeze and starve at home.  Everybody is ill.  All the infirmaries are overflowing.  Small-pox has broken out.  You are being shot at the front, and at home we are gradually perishing.”

" ...  On the Kaiser’s birthday, military bands played everywhere.  When one passes and listens to this tomfoolery, and sees the emaciated and overworked men in war-time, swaying to the sounds of music, and enjoying it, one’s very gall rises.  Why music?  Of course, if times were different, one could enjoy music.  But to-day!  It should be the aim of the higher authorities to put an end to this murder.  In every sound of music the dead cry for revenge.  I can assure you that it is very surprising that there has not been a single outbreak here, but it neither can nor will last much longer.  How can a human being subsist on 1/4 lb. of potatoes a day?  I should very much like the Emperor to try and live for a week on the fare we get.  He would then say it is impossible....  I heard something this week quite unexpectedly, which although I had guessed it before, yet has depressed me still more.  However, we will hope for the best.”

“You write to say that you are worse off than a beast of burden....  I couldn’t send you any cakes, as we had no more flour....  We have abundant bread tickets.  From Thursday to Saturday I can still buy five loaves....  My health is bad; not my asthma, no, but my whole body is collapsing.  We are all slowly perishing, and this is what it is all coming to.”

" ...  The outlook here is also sad.  One cannot get a bucket of coal.  The stores and dealers have none.  The schools are closing, as there is no coal.  Soon everybody will be in the same plight.  Neither coal nor vegetables can be bought.  Holland is sending us nothing more, and we have none.  We get 3-1/2 lb. of potatoes per person.  In the next few days we shall only have swedes to eat, which must be dried.”