France
23rd Nov. 1917
My Dearest Maidie:–
Say Baby don’t you ever get letters from me? I swear that I do write letters at least every so often but they never do seem to get through. I have had a letter to-night and still you haven’t had a letter! My Sweetheart! – I haven’t missed writing very often, but I know that our mail service is on the blink especially during the stormy times of the last three weeks. For things have been humming with us these times with us, and it is not so strange if things get mixed up. But your letters seem to get through to me at least fairly regularly and I can’t see why my letters do not reach you. Today I got up at seven thirty – imagine staying in bed until seven thirty? – and cleaned and shined until nearly eight thirty. Then I had to get on the job and at ten o’clock – the first minute I had I went out for breakfast. This is a real city and there is a restaurant two doors away – and I went in there with Miller and had eggs and bread and cafe au lait. This afternoon I am going to have a bath and a change of underwear. I am not so sure that I am free from puce. I have been itchy lately but can’t locate any thing – anyway I shall welcome a bath. This is a big town, but not so very attractive – just the same its good to get into a respectable place once in a while to get the pitch combed out of one’s hair and liven up a little. For instance it is quite a while since I had my food at a table and I find it a little strange.
Bill Leicester was very slightly wounded when in the line not enough to make him leave his unit but I hear that when they came out his M.O. sent him for a rest. I have been trying hard to locate him but I do not know just where he is. Lord, I was glad to hear that he was well out of that neck of [the] woods, it was no good healthy place and Bill is so long – !
There is an awful bunch of work to get through here and I aim to get everything into pretty good shape while we are here At the same time just as soon as we are rested and settled I think that we shall take it pretty easy, see the country and take advantage of the rest
Now, Dearest, please get a lot of the rotten letters I have written you and don’t think that I am not writing you [or that I don’t love you]. For I am doing both the latter of course more consistently than the first. I am very sure that at this very minute I love you more than you love me I have taken soundings felt my pulse and synchronised my watch and I find that I love you more than I ever did Do you love me as much as that do you think? I just perfectly well know that you do mon ange. I can scarcely wait for the day when we shall be together again – the time – the actual days go quickly and yet it seems awfully long since I left you – I know that it won’t be so long before I see you again. With all my love, Dear.
Your own
Ross



Part of any rest was a bath parade, ideally once a week, sometimes only monthly. Facilities ranged from former breweries with open vats to the elegantly tiled minehead showers near Vimy Ridge [see Ross’s letter of Nov. 25, 1917] where the men were crowded three to a stall. Many baths were housed in prefabricated metal huts where the winter wind whistled and water froze on the duckboards. Rusty nozzles emitted a few minutes of warm water, stopped for men to soap themselves and gushed a few more minutes of cold water, leaving the shivering men to dry themselves with a dirty towel or a flannel shirttail. Medical officers insisted that hot showers would be “enervating.”
“Imagine a watering can with all the holes but three blocked up, spraying tepid water for three minutes in a room without doors or windows, and a cold windy day,” Garnet Durham explained. A detail of men could be processed in thirty minutes. They were soon lousy again. Most baths included a laundry where Belgian refugee women washed, sorted, and sometimes repaired socks, shirts, and underwear. Attendants tossed “clean” clothes to shivering soldiers as they emerged. Sharp-eyed soldiers spotted the larvae that remained in the seams of flannel shirts and woollen drawers. In 1918, when lice were finally identified as the carriers of trench fever, a pair of Canadian medical officers finally had their ideas on effective disinfection adopted, and both baths and disinfection improved.
6.30 A.M. Reveille and Sectional Training from 8.30 A.M. to 12.30 P.M. Lewis Gun and Rifle Grenade and Bombing Classes started, Inspection of all Billets by Commanding Officer. ... Reinforcements of 21 Other Ranks taken on strength.
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