But at Headquarters the flash signals are now taken as genuine, and the sight of that star from the outer world cheers us up.
At noon I rode out to see the new home of the 24th Field Ambulance from India.

It is down by the river, near Range Post, and the silent Hindoos have constructed for it a marvel of shelter and defence.

A great rampart conceals the tents, and through a winding passage fenced with massive walls of turf you enter a chamber large enough for twenty patients, and protected by an impenetrable roof of iron pipes, rocks, and mounds of earth.

As I admired, the Major came out from a tent, wiping his hands.
He had just cut off the leg of an 18th Hussar, whose unconscious head, still on the operating table, projected from the flaps of the tent door.
The man had been sitting on a rock by the river, washing his feet, while "Long Tom" was shelling the Imperial Light Horse, as I described yesterday.

Suddenly a splinter ricocheted far up the valley, and now, even if he recovers, he will have only one foot to wash.
A civilian was killed yesterday, working in the old camp.