The same place, France

Monday. 24 June, 1918

Letter No 52

My dear old Dad,

I have your letter, written last Tuesday evening to answer. As you assume, I shall soon get used to the trenches - they aren't nearly so bad as might be imagined. Of course there is lot of noise as a rule, but I found it helpful to bear in mind what one of the officers said before I went up "noise is calculated to alarm, but cannot do one any harm" - which is of course, largely true. I have had two cards from Uncle Geo; I only wish I could get an unlimited supply of Field Cards like him. My issue is two weekly (which I get if I am lucky) and a green envelope about once in three weeks. I should like you to remember, when I am next in the line (which I hope won't be yet awhile) that letters are only censored occasionally so that I might not be able to write for a few days. This applies most rigidly when I am in the front line, which would not be for more than six days. You have seen that the continuity of the receipt of my letters home has been broken during the past week - well, that is owing to the moves when no post is collected.

You seem to give the impression that one or two things that I have said concerning what has taken place out here has rather upset dear old mother. If that is so I am more than sorry; but I must say whatever was said, crept in quite unconsciously. I have refrained from mentioning anything that I thought would make her worry, but at the same time if I make it appear that I am living in a land of milk and honey and having the time of my life always, I should create a false impression and you would feel certain that I had hidden things from you which would allay anxiety if you knew something about. However I will be much more guarded in future. I do wish you could persuade mother that there is nothing to get worried about, because you know that in fact there isn't. I stand every chance of coming through safely and a better chance than a good many; don't you think so?

As for being venturesome, I wouldn't think of it, not only because it doesn't pay, but I love you and all the dear ones at home too much to unnecessarily jeopardise my life by running into danger as I know only too well what anguish would be caused if I got killed. So you can trust me fully to take every care compatible with the exercise of my fair share of the work which has to be done. Of course I might get detailed for dangerous work, but then whether I go or not doesn't rest with me - I call myself unlucky and make the best of it. I have written to you in all confidence so that you may be sure that I am doing everything for the best out here. Beyond that I can only trust in the help of God.

You won't show this letter to mother; but it will help you to do the work of comforting her very much better. If there is anything that would rather I didn't mention in my letters home, I should like you to let me know.

I am writing to mother tomorrow telling her all that took place today. I shall not get much time for letter writing now as I have started training in full earnest and don't get much spare time.

Now I must conclude with fondest love

from your affectionate son

Bert

PS. Please "8 Platoon" after B. Coy in my address