28th November 1914

 Departure of S Sgt Jones, Sgts Truscott and Poole. Receive photo of family, gloves, handkerchief, Daily Mirror, People and Weekly Sketch. Had a fine walk along the sea front. Letters to Fred and Lena. 

Out here the scenes since I left Dublin have been many and varied. Scenes of peaceful tranquility and scenes embodying all the horrors of war. Scenes of triumph and scenes of defeat. The joy of welcome and the sorrow of departure. The invasion of armies and the flight of refugees, the honourable service of the patriot and the black dress of the widow, the gay fluttering of flags, through towns and villages, the ambulance and train loaded with shattered humanity. The glorious flight in the blue overhead, the scrap iron and wood splinters in the stubble. The long march, the screeching of shell and the boom of cannon, the bivouac in the cornfield, the quiet night, the sky overhead spangled with its myriad stars. The joyous song in the sunshine along the pretty roads of Normandy, the solemnity of the night march along the road past the silent dead laid reverently on the side. The twittering of birds in the dawn, the glorious sunshine, the mangled living and dead in road, field, wood, village and vineyard. Overwhelming odds and brilliant retirement.