Original Letter


                        28th April, 1918.


My Own Dearest:

Getting out is certainly worth while, last night proved it. When I arrived there were two letters from you a hot supper, a good fire and a bed waiting for me! And I sat right down by that warm feu and read my beautiful letters and straightaway forgot that I was hungry and tired and dirty forgot everything but you – and our love. I don’t think I ever enjoyed letters so much and that is saying an awful lot. When I had finished I discovered I wasn’t tired any more only happy and contented and glowing with pride of you. That was a lovely outburst of yours about the Irish and all so true and said so convincing. I expect that the stiffnecked suspicious Ulster Scotch are responsible for keeping sores open that would ordinarily have healed up centuries ago and as far as being a blot on the Empire is concerned – its a joke.

I am awfully glad to know that you are quite satisfied there. I often imagine that perhaps you would be happier and more satisfied in Blighty or in Canada and that I am awfully selfish in wanting you to stay in France. I am of course but I don’t know how I would get on if you weren’t here. For although leaves are six months apart I feel that you are really close to me always and it keeps the blues away. That is my side of it – a half hearted luke warm description of it, what can you show on the credit side to justify your staying?

We are not going to vegetate here very long it seems but are going to see who’s dat knocking at the gates. Its great to travel providing we don’t have to hoof it all the way. I am very certain that friend Hun is going to be damn sicka de bell before many moons are out. Now I am not the slightest bit bloodthirsty – not being a fighting man I don’t have to be – but more than ever before I want to see Germany trimmed to nothing, and its coming, by leaps and bounds. Be quite confident, Dear, that everything is working out all right and that the end is near.

What did I do but break my ring again! I am sending it to you to-day as I am not going to take any chances on towns in this vicinity. It will probably cost three francs to fix and I am sending you francs with the ring. Its a shame but c’est la guerre.

If I told you that I love you to-day, Dear I’d only be telling you a half truth. I’m clean mad about you and I, too, want to go round telling people how much I love you but if I did they might put me out of the war! Dearest, I want you and nothing else in the world counts but you. I suppose you wouldn’t give me a little kiss at all?

            Your own