I gave him a teething rattle purchased from the men’s woodwork exhibition at 1st Eastern, but could not get into the spirit, my thoughts continually drifting to my half-brother. I must keep telling myself there is no doubt he is gone, but it is as if the news of his death is something I dreamt, and will soon wake to find not so. Sunday 2 January Though it remains undiscussed, Harry’s death has cast a pall. Edmund returned to London early. Father visibly upset: one son’s death must surely make one feel the departure of another more keenly. 3 January, 1st Eastern A letter awaited my return to Cambridge. It is from a Captain Elliott, Harry’s Commanding Officer. Included are my letters and various personal effects — it seems Harry asked that these come to me in the event of his death. The Captain writes that Harry and four others were killed by a shell while on wiring patrol, that it would have been instantaneous and that they would not have suffered.
