Original Letter

                                                            France.

                                                                  8th April, 1918.

My Dearest Maidie:–

I have just finished my supper and we had “silver lining” pudding! That’s what the cook called it although why he called it that I don’t know. It was just a very ordinary kind of a pudding made out of issue biscuits and no one would be tempted to exceed the greed limit by it. Our cook, “Smokey” is toujours on the job with the jest and I always enjoy getting my meals from him far more than I enjoy the meals. When I asked him what was in the pudding he said “sh-h-! its a military secret”.

Last night I got your April first letter – say, by the way who was it who once put the clock on an hour and had me flying around in the middle of the night? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Turk was at the Base on his way back from leave and very busy he was kept dodging parades. One morning the bugle blew and they got orders to fall in for pay. Anxious for a few scads Turkey fell in smartly. They were marched out and given physical drill for two hours! It was some time afterwards before Turk discovered that he was a poisson d’avril.

Its pretty great about you loving me on April first, Dear. Its a sign, you know. If you love me on the first of April you will love me all the month – at least I know that is the way it has been with me for ever so many Aprils – as many as fourteen. I think that I saw you first in 1903. or first saw you, anyway I have loved you an awful lot of Aprils but I can’t remember one when I loved you so much as this.

Turkey could not get that book “Under Fire” in Paris. It was ‘off’ all sold out but I am negotiating for a read at it. One of the officers has it and has promised to lend it to me. It is written about a part of the country that we here are very familiar with and I think that some of the writer’s arguments re war are very familiar to me – very similar to your own. The only drawback to your arguments against war is that enough people haven’t got them. I am sure that if anyone had known how frightful modern warfare would be that this war would never have been fought. I know one who wouldn’t have any way. By far the frightfullest thing is being away from you. All the rest – his H.E. his gas, his 75 milers  are only irritations compared to that. I had a note from Charley Holmes last night. He says “God has been very good to us – the Kaiser hasn’t let him throw anything at our Horse Lines”. I cannot find out where Mac is – we aren’t allowed to tell each other in letters  but one of these days I expect we will run across each other. I do want to see Mac, he will be very disgusted with this war, I know.

But there is only one person in the world I want to see – much – and you have only one guess as to who that is. She is good looking and red headed, just the right size, kind, thoughtful, witty, sweet, pleasant and clever – you must have guessed by now. She is lots of other nice things too. You are a wonderful baby, you know, Sweetheart, and do you know that I love you so much to-day that I have had to oil my pulse because it was running hot? Its true. I adore you, Dearest.

                                                            Your mari

                                                                  Ross