My Dear Agda.
I fear I have been neglecting writing to you recently Little Girl. I am very sorry. I don’t believe I even answered your last letter, it seems so long ago. But you know Dearie that the mail Service seems to have been a little dislocated, and letters take so long now. We must not loose track of each other, because of that for I feel sure, that the future holds some good times in store for us. Do you ever feel like that? And do you ever feel a little lonesome for the pre war days? If so when this arrives, if it is a cold windy day, just get comfortably settled down by the stove and write me a nice long chatty letter, as yours always are, and tell me all about it. I am always so glad when I recognise your handwriting on the envelope and the anticipatory (good word that) pleasure of looking forward to your letters helps out to pass away the time.
There must be such a lot of interesting things we could put in our letters if we could only know them, but I suppose the regular occurrence of them has made them appear humdrum and monotonous.
I know I always can write better at night or early in the morning at about 2 or 3 o’clock Rather an [?] hour now. Isn’t it? But at that time everything generally is so still and quiet, and I can dream on undisturbed, and then go to sleep, and dream again untroubled, unless Fitz disturbs me. I often think of the difference there must be in my ‘going to bed’ preparations and yours. I hope you don’t think me irrevelent, but I guess you can imagine that strange ideas do come to a fellow when he is away from a girl for so long. Oh joy what a time when we do get back. I will describe to you the usual proceedure here. First I take off my puttees, and sometimes my shoes. (not always) my tunic too, put on a woollen tuque, pull my braces, and pull a blanket over me, on the floor get my gas mask handy in case of emergency, and “good night” in two minutes I’m fast asleep, and maybe dreaming of you. What do you do? A little Different to that I guess. Say we are having some regular weather here just lately. It’s much too good to be sitting in a dug out.
It is frosty in the morning, but good and bright, and by noon, it is real warm, and these nights there is good moonlight, the kind of nights that Fritz chooses for a bombing raid to London and Paris, so I suppose some people there right now will have their wind up. His bombs Do not bother us in the line very much, His minnies though are rather troublesome. I guess you have heard of ‘minnies’ before. If I ramble on much more I might be telling you some secrets of Military Importance so I’ll quit. Good night Dearest, think how I’l be tonight. Do write lots next time.