Original Letter

            France

                        19th March, 1918.

 

My Own Dearest:–

It rained all night and I had a beautiful sleep – never did hear reveille this morning nor anything else until half past seven. To-day is inclined to be messy and chilly and I am sitting as close to the fire as I can. Two letters yesterday and “Land & Water”. Your letters of the 12th and 13th. On the 12th she hadn’t reçu any letter from me and so she must make a joke about poor old Charity beginning at – a very good joke and a good place to begin.

Between raids and explosions Turk must be getting plenty of excitement in Paris. I don’t expect that it will spoil his holiday much. Six days of his leave are gone now and I rather expect him back any day now. Last year he had ten days and only managed to stay away eight of them. This year with much less money he has fourteen. He will have to mend his ways or else come home early. It makes me sick the thought of them dropping bombs on Paris. The policy of retaliation seems to be popular now though and its not impossible that Fritz will try to have it cut out if he is getting more than he gives. You ask me if I could see any hopeful signs. You know me, Al, I can see lots of them. I think that everything will come out all right. In spite of his successes in the East he is in far worse shape than we are. We are growing stronger every day and he is getting weaker. Don’t get down hearted, dear, I am sure that this war is going to be won this very summer. I’ll bet that he is scratching his head right now.

I intended enclosing a picture one of Larry’s kids last night but forgot it. That makes about the third time I’ve missed. It doesn’t matter much when you come right down to it.

That was the odd kind of a dream you had. Quite an old soldiers trick stealing the sweater coat and then sassing the owner of it. I don’t think that I ever stole a sweater coat in all my life – not for ages anyway. Why didn’t you dream something sensible and interesting?

Say, Dearest, I’ll never say you weren’t listening – I don’t blame you for for [sic] pretending you weren’t if I was boring you with all that stuff you came back at me with. Imagine wasting our little time together telling you foolish stuff like that when I should have been telling you my love for you. Its a wonder that you didn’t let me have your hand on my jaw. I am an irritating mess.

But, Dearest, I want to tell you that I love you a lot to-day and I just thrilled to the thought of being taken in your arms and ‘crushed’ to you. It makes me heady just to think of it. Why don’t you come and do it right now. I’m wild to be taken like that and loved a lot. And, Dear, couldn’t you import a swarm of mosquitoes for July?

            Your own Ross