the incidents just related, I was
exhausted, mentally & bodily. I
slept in a cellar and next
morning set out to rejoin my unit.
They had no word of me and I
was presumed, "Missing." How I
got back is hardly worth telling.
But for few minutes, Dad, I
looked at the finish and it didn't
seem so bad, going out with the
knowledge that I had done my
best. I didn't think of you or
Mother. The only things were the guns
and their safety, and I've learned
the lesson of all good machine-
gunners which may be translated
as "The play's the thing."
We go into the trenches in a few
days. I am fit as a fiddle, thankful
to be alive, and very tired. I had
a card to-day saying my express
packets were being sent on from
Please don't publish any more
of my letters, otherwise I shall
send only field post-cards. It
isn't fair to me. You can send
cakes, socks etc. as often as you
please - and pipes.