Never talk about the “idle” staff.  Yesterday we were working absolutely solid without any break at all except an hour for lunch and an hour for dinner (tea? away frivolous thought!) from 9 a.m. till 11.30 p.m.  Most interesting; but let’s hope this first day’s experience won’t be a fair sample, or I shall simply melt down like a guttered candle.  None of the Generals and people seemed to think it unusual.  At least they never said so.  Personally I found it quite kolossal.

12.30 a.m.

Such a funny Christmas Day!  I’ve been fixing on a large map all the gun positions on the corps front.  There are a very great many, and the positions must be marked very exactly.  I was quite nervous lest there should be a mistake.  It has taken since about two o’clock till now.  And I think it is accurate at last.

At about 10 p.m.  I found out an awful mistake.  One of the heavies quite 100 yards wrong, which might have meant that it would be ranging on the wrong place, and probably do no damage whatever.  Desperate thought!

Well, the staff is the most hard-working body of men I’ve ever seen.  They don’t appear ever to get any exercise.  And, really, the work is all so vital that I don’t see how they ever can expect to get any exercise.

About leave.  Possibly on the way up to the other corps a side-slip to Blighty will be allowed.

Don’t depend on anything.  There seems to be a dearth of people who can do this work, and so it would be unwise to count on getting away.  The thing is, however, conceivable—­that is all.

December 27.

First of all about current affairs here.

Captain G——­ is probably going to Army, so it is suggested that I shall take his place here.  He runs all the plotting of the aeroplane photographs, etc., for the corps.  It’s a most awful and alarming responsibility, and I don’t feel that I can do it yet.  May he not get taken away just for a little while, or I’m lost.

The corps commander sends for him (he has been doing the job for nine months), and says:  “Now, where is our line at the present moment?  Has so-and-so trench been repaired, and where is so-and-so German battery that was shelling the ——­ Brigade yesterday?” Well, of course I simply couldn’t answer these questions yet.

The prospect is murky.  Given a little time, I think I could do it; but ... well, one can but try.

I asked the Captain if he thought leave at all possible.  He most strongly advised me not to dream of asking.  The corps is certain to refuse in any case, as they will want me to sweat up the show and get to know all about it as rapidly as possible.

January 2, 1917.

I think I shall be going to live with the R.F.C., so as to be able to snatch their photographs the instant they come in—­puzzle them out—­put them quickly on to a map—­and send them off.  Everyone then will know far more quickly what Fritz is up to.