[transcription provided by collection donor]

France
May 1, 1918

My Dear Carl,

I was ever so glad to get your letter yesterday, of Easter Sunday. I'll never forget that day: it was a dirty one for us. We moved to a different sector of the front, the day before Easter. Our gun position was an open field and of course, we had to have the guns dug in and camaflouged before dawn. We finished at 5:00 AM Easter Morning and after an hour's sleep in a shell hole, we were floated out of our blankets. It poured. We were wet all day.

The next position we hit was the best one yet, only it wasn't as " healthy" as it might have been. I suppose that Herbert gave you my letter about the accident

I certainly laughed when I read your letter. It seems incredible, that it is from the same brother that told me never to fight, until the enemy was at your door, just 3 years ago. I only wish you were 10 years younger. But I have no doubt that you'll be here even at your age before it's over.

I'm not a pessimist, man, one has to look this thing square in the face and give the enemy their due. I'm glad that your wish that before your letter reached me, I'd be en route to Berlin, did not come true, as the only way we'll ever go there, is as prisoners of war. My God, surely, the telegrams can't be turning black entirely into white. Size up the situation for yourself. I have no doubt about the final issues of this war. It will only end one way unless every man is buried in France, but it's going to take time and lots of it.

Canadians take very few prisoners.

Very many thanks for the socks…thank Mrs K. Skinner for me,.. but never have received the helmet, perhaps I'll get it yet. The sugar came in yesterday and believe me, it has the honor and respect of every man in the hut. I am just about to eat a plate of porridge. We make it on the stove at night, anytime we can get ahold of anything to sweeten it with.

I'll send you a list of things most needed for winter, as I know the ropes, now.

I received the photo from Gladys and wrote her a long letter of thanks. Received long letters from Norman, Mamma, and Papa along with yours. They were all well.

It's raining to beat H. Have had my porridge. It was great.

Write soon again, and lots of love for Mabel and self, from your affectionate brother,
Bertie

PS remember me to Piggott