Original Letter

            18th Sept. 1918

 

My Own Dearest:–

This will be a dreadful scrawl for I am half lying on the ground and for a desk I have an absurdly inadequate kind of a box. But I am as happy as a sandboy for I have had your letters. Isn’t it selfish of me to be deliriously happy because I have your letters telling me how blue you are? I just knew that you were pretty sorry when I went away. You see I could nearly guage [sic] your feelings by my own. Its the grandest thing in the world our love, Dear, especially yours for me, mine for you is easily explained and understood but I am still trying to figure out how you came to love me – any at all let alone the way you do.

I slept like a top in my le petit bivouac well bolstered up with two trench coats. My bed roll is here and I look forward to a rare good sleep ce soir. My bank book came from the B of M and I find that I have just what I expected to my credit, to wit etc. nil. I have salvaged a pair of binoculars – beauties – and now I am on a still hunt for a compass.

I saw Charley Holmes today and we had quite a talk. I salvaged three pairs of socks from him. His correspondence with Blanche Constanty is flourishing and he is entirely pleased with it. She has sent him her photograph. I haven’t seen Tommy to-day – he went to “C” Company.

I shall be glad to get the disc and watch thanks ever so much for getting me the disc I always did want one of those.

We are going to move tomorrow nothing serious – just move – and gosh how I dread it. But I shall not let it interfere with writing.

Sweetheart, I love you with all my love. I love you all the time night and day – awake and asleep – and I miss you more now than I ever did before.

            Your own

                        Ross