[13 March 1917] is surely a record. Still even the complete disolation of war can’t stop the spring and there’s a dear little crop of snow drops come out near our battery – on looking closely you come to the conclusion that there must have once been a garden there and on looking further a pile of stones & rubbish suggest the position of the habitation of the former owners. Certainly picturing ones own place in that condition doesn’t encourage one to look much at any peace negotiation nonsense.
The ruin is really beyond words. You’d want to see it to believe or realise <it>. I certainly shan’t be sorry to see a decent tree with branches or a house with a roof again.
I’m afraid there’s not much chance of that – though Spring seems to me much to good to waste on war, but anyway you bet we’re all right and I think you’d have to go a