Original Letter

            France,

                        12th March, 1918

 

My Own Dearest:

This morning I wakened up with the lark and cramps in my little pan. Last night we ended a perfect day by each drinking quarts, one of beer, French. By we, I mean Holmesy the R.S.M. and me my own self and each and every one had a quart. Quite in accordance with expectations I wakened during the night with a well defined notion that I should go and see if any one was stealing apples in the orchard. But when this involves climbing out of bed and down two flights of stairs rendered rickety by time and troops – well I didn’t go. So as I said before I wakened with pains in my pan and it was little joy I go[t] out of to-days March although it was another grand day and we were near the old Band. But I made it without difficulty and I got a letter when I arrived!

In answer to your enquiry – I have wrought faithful – fought faithful! – frightful – tout le jour. Before I forget I must tell you that I had to carry the letter I wrote yesterday until to-day as we couldn’t send mail away yesterday being in a one night stand. We are off again demain but I think it won’t upset our letter service.

The Bachelors’ news wasn’t very cheerful was it – Au contraire. I communicated it to the two boys, and Miller who is a dyed-in-the-wool pessimist found a melancholy sort of joy in it. Turkey on the other hand said, “Sure there goes your old war”! But it isn’t the way any one feels really. I think that every one is full of pep. Fritz will get the surprise of his life. Me, I hope he gets it soon. It would clear the situation quite a bit if Japan would cut loose in Asia. They do seem to be devilling L.G. in England but I think that he is quite able to look after himself. But politicians do pull the strings.

Look here, Baby, what do you mean by looking thinner to Madame Batchelor this time than when she last saw you? You must take a tonic or eat more or something. I refuse to have you look thinner. You looked just great when I was home and if I have put you on the bum – well I shall kick myself thirty six times. You told me that you were all better and anyway I never did dream that you were so sick as to get thin. Please be awfully careful of yourself, Dear. You will, won’t you?

The Turk leaves for Paris in the morning and is busy to-night picking the burrs out of his tail. I want to go pretty badly but have to wait a few days yet, bad cess to it.

Perhaps, you are not aware that I adore you to-day, Dearest? If you are not I just want to tell you that I perfectly well do nothing else – even this morning. Those pains always make me lonesome and reminiscient! However now they are only a nuisance and a curse and fortunately not frequent. However that’s a digression – the thing is that I know that you are the grandest Sweetheart that this planet has produced and I am by far the luckiest man it has turned out. It’s the most wonderful thing ever to be loved by such a girl as you, Dearest. And I am quite aware of my luck.

            Your own

                        Ross