My Dear Mother,
I’m safe across and very comfy for France, thankyou!
Your aff. son,
Bob
My Dear Mother,
Elsie’s kept me up to date with news of home, so that’s alright. I was so pleased to know that you had news of Wilf and Walter. I shall write to Wilf tonight. My bag reached home alright did it? Well, the chap who sent the bag had instructions to make use of the bag until he too sailed for France, so doubtless he’ll be sending it with as much delay as possible! If not already sent to Major Plowden, his address now is, D.M.G.O. 14th Division, although the old address would eventually find him. It would be nice if I could get back to his Division, but I doubt my chances. I met my old 2nd in command of the 42nd down here, he’s now got a Company of his own. Have been playing tennis this afternoon, there are two courts here, gravel and asphalt, it’s much faster than turf. Am having a nice time in the sea and thereabouts – eating peaches and things. Three letters from Elsie in two days! We’re quite the unit in France now, it’s our crowd that’s turning Fritz dizzy, absolutely. Enough!
Your aff. son,
Bob
My Dear Mother,
I haven’t time to say much, I’m quite alright in every respect, that’s sufficient isn’t it? I’m enclosing a cheque for £5. I’ve been billeting officer today, enjoyed it too. Will you occasionally send me cake out, it’s the thing here! I mean, I’ve been eating cake for the past seven days, which brother officers have placed on the table, and I want them to know that my Mother is supreme in the arena of cake baking. Anyhow, I can’t eat their cake without reciprocating, I should eventually choke – think of it!
Elsie keeps me well supplied with news. Have you ever wondered, Mother, whether I’m even half worthy of such a fine girl? Doesn’t she produce nice photographs? Have you seen those of Bobbie Wingfield? So, you’re at Beauchief! What a nice change for you! Give everyone there my best wishes.
Your loving son,
Bob
My Dear Mother,
I’m having a very happy time. I haven’t been in the line yet, nor does it seem likely that I shall do so for another month. This is a fighting division, they just go over the bags about once in every six weeks, which is much nicer than sitting in trenches for weeks on end. Best wishes for everybody.
Your aff. son,
Bob
My Dear Mother,
Yes, you’re to have a letter! I told Elsie a nice one, we’ll see how it turns out. Wilfred home at last! How d’ye like England Wilfred? Nice comfortable spot don’t you think? I wonder were you quite as impossible as I was when I arrived, or rather when we arrived. I suppose you’re pretty well seasoned now, but you won’t have a commission – you are, you know. Yes, Mother, it was my intention to write to you but it’s such an age since I saw Wilfred. Last time I saw him we had a scrap! The war’s made us different, we don’t want to scrap any more, at least we only want to scrap Germans. Elsie says Wilfred’s nice, ‘course he is, I always thought so. We were despicable once, very very feeble specimens, seems we’ve got to be that or we’re never anything at all. Weather’s improvin’, beautiful today, saw the most gorgeously coloured butterfly this morning, caught it and let it go. I expect it will die, then where will its beauty be?
No, I’m not cold, hungry, dirty, chatty, wet, lonely. I’m happy sitting by a coke fire, writing with a fountain pen from which I have lost the top, so don’t think and say “Robert’s seeing red”, ‘cos I’m not. I’m really having a gay old time, in fact I’m now going to stop writing for one hour and have dinner with the Archie’s – Interval – selections on gramaphone – dinner’s over. Not too bad either, soup, fish, roast beef, beans etc., stewed fruit, coffee, cigarettes, wine, whisky, and now my own wee dug-out and my fire, nearly gone out. Aren’t I roughing it? There’s been an awful hullabaloo here today, Bosch is resting when he’s a chance. I think we’ll be chasing him soon, but we’ve got a long way to go. Fire’s lovely again now – master touch!
Three airmen came up here to see the war today – we showed ‘em round it, gave ‘em some tea. They didn’t enthuse, I don’t know why. Am I very frothy, Mother? You know my intentions were to write you a really nice letter. I told Elsie I would and so far I haven’t made one sound statement.
I’m sports officer, very enthusiastic too. I’m always asking men if they can run. Such a funny expression when they answer the call. I’m having wretched luck with the lighting tonight, a devil seems to possess my candles, jumping off the candelabra, making me spoil this nice letter. I did really mean it to be nice. Perhaps one day Mother soon, I’ll write a nice one. I’m simply stumped tonight for ideas. Anyhow, I hope you’re all well, as it leaves one in the pink! Cheerio everybody, good luck.
Your aff. son,
Bob
[Related Poem: The Battle Of Cambrai, November 1917. This poem gives an account of the Battle of Cambrai, where Grandad earned his Military Cross for his courage and exemplary leadership. The Officer referred to throughout the poem is Grandad, and he seemed to one of the few left towards the end! This was also the battle in which Grandad received the injury that resulted in him being invalided from active service. It’s fortunate that we have this poem, as there aren’t many letters from around this time. It seems that Grandad was very ill for a while, and incapable of writing his usual vivid account of the latest conflict!]