1/1 London Reg’t RF
April 14th 1917.
My dear Winnie.
I have only a few minutes to spare and can therefore only manage to scribble a line or two, but it will be better than nothing, so here goes.
At the time of writing I am living in a real hun dugout. As you will see by the papers we have been pushing forward, and this particular dugout is the result of our show, a few days ago. To enter the dugout you must first find the entrance, which is a hole cut in the side of the trench. This hole is four feet square and you must go in backwards to prevent bumping your head, There are twenty five steep steps which you must descend backwards with head bent low. When you have gone down six steps you are in complete darkness and you go down the next trusting to luck. The inside is divided off into bunks and in one of these bunks I live, or rather sleep, for to tell you the truth I disagree with the hun and prefer fresh air. I wish I could show you some of the villages around here. In most of them there is hardly a wall standing, and in one not a few minutes from here there is not even that. I am going over there as soon as I finish this letter in order to pick a few snowdrops out of the garden of what was once a beautiful chateau, but is now, alas, only a pile of loose bricks and [?] debris. Well Win dear girl I must close for the present, for there is an issue of rum for our company and I must be there to superintend. Kiss Mother and Tod for me and give them all my love not forgetting Bert and Percy and of course not forgetting your own dear self.
Lovingly, Your brother