October 13th, 1916.
Dear ones:
I have only time to write and assure
you that I am safe. We’re living in trenches
at present I have my sleeping bag placed
on a stretcher to keep it fairly dry. By the
time you get this we expect to be having a rest, as
we’ve been hard at it now for an unusually long
time. How I wish that I could tell you so many
things that are big and vivid in my mind-but the censor !
Yesterday I had an exciting day.
I was up forward when word came through that an officer
still further forward was wounded and he’d been
caught in a heavy enemy fire. I had only a kid
telephonist with me, but we found a stretcher, went
forward and got him out. The earth was hopping
up and down like pop-corn in a frying pan. The
unfortunate thing was that the poor chap died on the
way out. It was only the evening before that
we had dined together and he had told me what he was
going to do with his next leave.
God bless you all,
con.