As usual the Jocks are perched on the sky-line, indifferent to observation. They sit in the sun stripped to the waist, shaving or cleaning their riiies. My sergeant insists that this has a demoralising effect on the enemy. He is a believer in the divisional Tradition. It is as though the half-clad men were saying to the Germans, “Well, here we are. We’ve caught up with you. We know you’re there in those bloody hills and this is all we care.” It is magnificent folly. It will last till the shells come over.