Original Letter

France.

30th Sept. 1917

My Dearest Mary:–

We got settled last night in this our newest home, about eleven o’clock. But before even getting settled I scarcely had my pack off when the mail was delivered! Wasn’t that glorious. And two letters from you. Here I was all braced for no mail for at least two days on the move forward, and instead of that it was on my heels. This is the good front and I love it. One letter was from Paris and the other the first one after getting home. They did let my Baby sleep in and she had to make her little legs twinkle to catch her train. And old stingy wouldn’t tell me a joke because my friends look at me queerlike when I repeat her jokes. Who said I would ever tell it to anyone? Course I wouldn’t ever dare tell any of your jokes again not after that last awful one but that doesn’t say that you are not to tell them to me. Funny but I’m blowed if I can remember what that other one was – I wish I could think of it – so that I could shock someone else. Why shouldn’t they be shocked?

We had a great trip last night. There is some snow on the ground – two or three inches and it was a glorious night a silver haze and no moon, the sort of night I have always loved. We travelled through some waste places but they didn’t look so terribly desolate at night with snow on them as they do in daylight. At the front there should never be any daylight – its quite ghastly enough at night. But in some sort of gruesome morbid way it is fasinating – when its quiet. Our home is in a cellar, good old cellar, there are unmistakable proofs that at one time there was a building over this cellar but it has parted long since. But it is no jerry built place, this and there is lots of earth between our roof and the weather. Any person with only a smattering scattering trifling knowledge of hygiene knows that if a person lives in a dark cellar where fresh air comes in the form of a draught that it will eventually impair the health until at ninety a man will only be a mere shadow of his former self. But here everyone seems to prefer to court ill health.

The old arrangement is on again Turk working all night and I take the day shift and its fine. It is fairly busy but only a rush occasionally There is a good chicken wire bed in our cellar and we take it in turns Turk and I. Altogether we are far more comfortable than we were before.

But, Dear, I’m getting so lonesome for you that I am nearly talking to myself. It is only too true that I am just crazy to be with you Sweetheart, to love you, to worship you, to take you in my arms and keep you forever and ever and – well I’ve just go[t] to quit eating pepper – Oh Playfair you bad. Until to-morrow, Sweetheart. Your own Ross
[This is written up the margin of the last page:]
Of course your French is good and of course they could understand it. I’d like to see them try to misunderstand.

War Diary

Working parties as usual. Lewis Gun and Rifle Grenade Classes in afternoon. Divine service in the afternoon. Officers on reconnaissance. CASUALTIES. 1 O.R. Died of Wounds.

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Map

  • Location: Blue Bull Camp (Zouave Valley)
  • Battalion role: Front

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