Original Letter



My Own Dearest:-

We are in the throes of moving today and my letter will not be posted until to-morrow. Not only that but the one I wrote last night did not get off and will not get away until demain. A curse on an upset system of life like ours. Things happen quickly these day – a bunch of Senior Officers who were on leave have got back and I find myself, ce matin, a platoon commander instructing my trusty spears along lines laid down in our old friend S.S. 143 “Fighting Spirit” etc. Can you picture me. I seem to have left the most of my self consciousness behind me somewhere – the most of it  and find myself very happy in the fact that I have a platoon of my own, to worry over and work for.

A letter today from my girl – rousing cheers – no wonder I am able to talk pep to the men when I, bolstered up by your letter, am full of it myself. I am on my toes over my parcel which I shall probably get tomorrow. It will be a great day for Bywell and me. He certainly looks after me, cet garcon. I am never without tobacco matches or cigarettes. He has staked me to a pocket knife and is just as much the martinet as you over the changing of clothes – socks and things. When opportunity offers I expect he will dog me into a bath. A man after your own heart is Bywell, M.M.

I have just heard that Tommy is in #2 Stationary Hosp. but that was some time ago – he’s probably in Blighty by now.

Dearest, you write me the lovely love letters and I just thrill to them – they make me sort of choke – and make me want to grab the distance between us in both hands and tear it to pieces. Its no good at all this being apart and there isn’t a single thing in its favour. So I have decided to come home just as soon as possible and never again – for even a night  shall I leave you again – its too ghastly. Sweetheart je t’adore toujours. I want you always. Your own Ross