30 Sept. 1918
I’m away! We’re here. Old Mac and I, in a billet in a large town on the French coast. This had been a factory of three or four stories, filled with bunks, three tiers, made of scantling and chicken wire. They have loaned us a blanket and oh I hope I’m alone in it. We are locked in, as prisoners. ‘May we go out for a few minutes? No, the door is closed.’ This with no courtesy. ‘Twas raining and as cold as September could be in Canada. We suffered with the cold while waiting for the train to get underway through the tremendous traffic. We came this far in a cattle car running up and down it to keep warm. On the way we passed a long train packed with German prisoners.
Last night we worked all night not knowing my leave was through and today I had none of the necessary rest. I have fifteen pounds of money in my pocket.
This place reminds me strongly of Guy St. Barracks, though not so noisy.
There is a very decent lad with us called Walker who is going to be married while on leave! Imagine travelling with a man like this. Good Night.