Original Letter

            May 1st 1918

 

My Dearest:–

It has always been the big ambition of my life to be in Normandy with you on May Day. But here is another one passing and I am in Artois tout seul, tout seul, et je ne suis pas content de tout. Its a beautiful day so far as sunshine and warmth go but its not the maddest, merriest day – not any, au contraire – its the drabbest dreariest day. No, it isn’t, its just a day without you which means no kind of a day at all. But today I want to go over to your house and play. I am starving just for the sight of you, Dear, for the sound of your voice and there is quite no use trying to persuade myself that I am satisfied. No, I know what I want and it doesn’t involve being away from you. You are adorable, Dear, from your glorious red head to your feet, to your petits pieds si adorées. Do you mind if I fall in love with you again? I want to you know – Away from you or with you I am always falling in love with you as everyone must do who knows you. And I want you to tell me lots of things. Do you really love me more than I love you? Did you always love me? When did you know for sure first? Come on, Sweetheart, tell me all these things. I want to tell you that I love you, but I’m grown shy, just since I started writing and I shall probably end up by commenting on the weather. I expect I never shall get over being struck dumb when I start telling you my love. And here the time is going and I’ve never told at least not half of it another first of May well be sped and you have not been told – its too awful.

Do you believe that babies are found in cabbage patches and that the man in the moon was put up there for gathering sticks on Sunday? This is a poor place to retain ones illusions, and unless I get away soon my last cherished one will be gone. Everything though comes to an end and I am sure that this guerre will be no exception. And once back with you again the world will smile again.

This letter was started at ten this morning – its almost five o’clock now so you may see that I’ve had some healthy interruptions – bad cess to people. I’m not going into the line this trip but shall rusticate at the Horse lines and read my letters and my book when it arrives. In the meantime, Dearest girl of mine, au revoir. I want you and love you always.

            Your own

                        Ross