“In my Dugout”
Somewhere in Belgium
Dear Dad Mother and All,
Dave and I would just now be finishing our evening hymns on the veranda now, were I at home but such is life. We don’t hear a horn of any sort across here – not even a beigle (thanks duly given for that too). Maybe we’ll be again raising the village to their sense of churchgoing again before ong – after a dozen or more (do you remember? I do!) ears of corn.
I have just written to Mrs. Hattie Fraser giving her a list of Glengarry boys’ names and numbers so that she will be able to tell from the casualty lists “who is how”.
Today has been very uneventful; I don’t know if Fritz thinks it a crime to make too big a fuss on Sunday or not but he hasn’t done much today. We ate and slept all day in our dugout, doing a phone shift occasionally for variation and also spent a little time papering our walls. The method is the finest I’ve ever thought of: this – rip a sand bag open along the seam and paste it on the wall with several big spikes. I advise you to try it – but not on any wall less than 27’ thick.
Web is with me on our station this trip in.
Last trip into the trenches I started a letter to Dr. Gunn but decided after writing 15 big pages to do the right thing and consign it to the flames. I’ll try again sometime, with more pronounced success.
Have you ever seen the cartoon books “Fragments from France” advertised in Canada? If you do, then, by all means get both copies. Give my best regards to the Nicholsons, Dr. Gunn’s, Mrs. MacM etc.
Signals 73rd RHC