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Date: May 21st 1916
Malcolm (Mac)

Burnshott Camp

My Dear May,

Sunday again and it is the finest of days, quite the same as a Canadian July day bright, sunshiny, warm, and the trees are in full leaf and the grass is beautifully green. I don’t mind how long we stay her as I enjoy the scenery as much as anyone can. Yesterday afternoon Bob, Web Wood Blackwood Squair, Fraser and I went for a walk in the woods and a swim. We found a small lake made in a valley by damming the water up of a small brook which is small and swift and very pretty. It was this brook that Tennyson wrote about. He wasn’t any too good at description either and you would realize it if you saw the stream yourself.

Then maybe you would like to know that the “ Royal Anchor Inn” at Liptook our railroad stn is the one in which Nelson spent his last night and had a last meal on land. And then the chestnut tree across the road is “the spreading chestnut tree”. There are many brooks about here and the country is so hilly that there are scores of little waterfalls and lakes. I wish you could take a day off with me and walk through valleys and over hills across the country. You would be bewildered by the beauty of the scenery.

Ted is pretty well tickled that I like the country and that I had so much of a time in London and Edinburgh. Saturday night (13th) one of the Miss MacKenzies at Mill’s party jokingly told the group that she detested foreigners and more particularly Canadians. Then we told them straight although gently that the English forgot that we were the finest people on earth, came from the best country, and made the best fighters in the British Empire. Also that they were glad to take us at par for fighting and when it came to being men and boys they robbed us for everything we bought and detested us. We all laughed but we knew who was right.

That first part was written before church parade. No I’m waiting for dinner. The church service was held in a valley on the north side of camp and lasted about an hour and a quarter. Then we went back again for a swim – yes, on Sunday and had a dandy. One can dive off the bank so it’s a dandy place. The water is pretty cold as it is right from a Spring.

Canadian mail is in from Canada for this week just now and there is no letter for me but they must have some up there for me as I know you have written.

I can’t get down to Witley to see the fellows without a pass so can’t go today and will have to wait until next Sunday - a might long time. Just think it is nearly 8 weeks since we left old Guy Street: It seems like 7 months for we’ve seen a small bit of the world. We aint got much money but we do see life. We have been all about Folkestone, quite a bit about Hanto, to London and Edinburgh and have not accomplished a single improvement in signaling. So sleep soundly for at this rate we’ll never get to France and so long as I enjoy life as I am now you may bet I won’t worry about the fun across the Eng Channel. I guess we’ll just take what comes.


The inner man satisfied again Web and I took our stationery and books and hit out again for “The Brook”. Half way out we met Mac (Common) sauntering back to camp. After our swim he and his camera went for a walk. He met an old lady and her daughter and little girl. They had a basket and asked him to have dinner with them. He did. Then on meeting us he came back to write letters.

Here’s where I had better quit May as I can’t spell anymore and I can tell C.M.F. the same line over again if I write to her.

With lots of love to all and an extra lot to yourself, I remain

Your affectionate bro


Bert Metcalf gave me the enclosed postcards last night. They can hardly be the expression of our feelings. I think they are pretty

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