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"MY DEAREST MOTHER,
"Just a line to tell you I'm A1. By the time you get this
our rest will be over, and we shall be entrenched. Thanks
for socks. The stove is going a treat. We finished a fatigue
at 4 o'clock this morning and made some porridge. It was
great, and of course up in the trench it will be trebly
handy. We are taking up two big packets of Quaker Oats, and
with the tea, cocoa, coffee, and oxo we ought to do well.
"Glad to hear about Herbert's wound. Sounds funny, no doubt,
but he's lucky to get back at all, for he was at Ypres and
it's hot there."
From a letter to a cousin in the United States.
"I have sent you one or two photos which may be of interest,
and which may be useful to check the 'strafe Englands' of
the German who comes to your office. Ask him, if in these
pictures the Huns look as if they believe they're winning,
and then compare them with those of our boys and of the
Frenchies in the trenches, and with those of our wounded.
My! there's just all the difference between them!
"I also send a French field service card, so you now have an
English and a French one. I'm afraid a Russian card is out
of the question, unless I get sent near them in the Balkans;
and when I think of that I also think of a ditty that we
sing, which runs:
"I want to go home, I want to go home,
The Johnsons and shrapnel they whistle and roar;
I don't want to go to the trenches no more.
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