Original Letter

[This is written across the upper left corner:]

I love you an awful lot, Dear   Ross

 

            France. 17th April 18

My Dearest:–

No letter. Damn!

We are in comfortable new quarters – the Orderly Room is in the deepest dugout in the world but I have snared a place to sleep in a snug little ‘beehive’ hut on top and everything is serene. The dugouts get better all the time – and the ventilation in this one is exceptionally good. What do they call people who live in caves and holes – troglodytes is it? It isn’t a bad business at all, troglodyting in this – the “Better Ole”. There is depth to the life here. If the war goes on long enough and Lloyd George sends all the men out here civilisation will throw back five or six thousand years and we will be issuing forth from our caves and scouring the back areas carrying off women to our lairs. But I shall not be fourth. I shall be first and I have the one I am going to carry off spotted right now. So if you see a hairy, dirty, savage coming up the pike, club well attached you will know who it is. I expect that you would be terrified – probably give me a good beating and a bath and insist on me shaving. Its a cold rainy day to-day – English weather – and the sort of day that always makes me very homesick. If I were with you now we would be obliged to stay indoors and if it were not warm, well, we could go to bed. Further than that I refuse to let my thoughts ramble – its not good for soldiers 100 days removed from leave. The only consolation I have is that after 21st of June the days will start getting shorter.

Just at this moment I espied an old cocoa tin on a shelf and on the bottom of the label staring at me are the words “Absolutely pure”! I had to hold onto myself. There was one good joke – but it shattered my belief in signs.

My Sweetheart how I do adore you aujourd’hui! Its immense really. I’m aglow with it and I am wanting you so hard that you must feel it. Do you? And I don’t have to pull leaves off daisies to know whether you love me or not. I saw a shocking headline in a paper today “Big Push in the North” – of course I didn’t read the rest. Dearest je t’adore. Your own Ross

Photographs

dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: dugout: