Original Letter

            France. May 3rd 1918


My Own Dearest:–

I have spent all the day in the ‘back area’ and did journey far to the rear in a motor car. The day was gorgeous and I was absolutely astounded by the beauty of the country. When we came in on this front it wasn’t spring yet and of course Dame Nature has not been able to buck events here at all. Where ordinarily she would have had a bit of grass or a wildflower or both, man has intervened and put a trench or a shell hole and its pretty hard for the old lady to have leaves budding out on trees whose branches have been ripped off or broken. So today when I got back where shells don’t bother I was entranced with the green grass the beautiful hedges and the trees. It was a riot – this is a glorious country. I got home about seven and I haven’t been so well satisfied with myself for a long time. I have enjoyed every minute of today especially getting a letter from you when I got back. Yes, there was a letter and the “Soul of a Bishop. Poor little Toopy [?], she was discontented when she wrote that letter, I know. It is rotten when one doesn’t get letters. Latterly the mail service is something shocking and it gets one so enraged often that I’m threatened with apoplexy. There is no reason for it at all and I’d like to have the ironing of the shirt of the Ineffectual who is responsible for the state of affairs.

Tomorrow I am just going to loaf – its a pretty good wheeze this staying out of the line and I could get fond of it. Ordinarily I wouldn’t stay out on any consideration but this time I wasn’t feeling very good so when it was suggested to me I just didn’t put up any argument but stayed – and I am well satisfied with the experiment.

Did you know you were motoring through Artois with me all day? You have been and you must be satisfied tonight that I love you an awful lot. For I have been making love to you all day and I was quite bold about it sometimes too considering the fact that we were not alone in the car. But you didn’t mind a bit and encouraged me – Sweetheart its fun pretending but can I go on contenting myself with pretence for nearly three more months? I’ve got to but I want you the really you. I love you too much to be away from you so long, Dear, my heart