6 p.m., 1940. Since writing, we left New Brunswick behind and are now rolling merrily over Nova Scotia. I forgot to mention the tidal bore, but will do so now. The whole thing looks like a dry river bed filled with small islands and blocks of ice. The surrounding country is flooded to several hundred yards and when the tide comes in, ice results. I imagine it would be quite a sight when the tide comes in.
We had an hour’s stop-over at Oxford, N.S. and waited for the west-bound flyer to clear the track. The town was very dead and most of the time was spent on board, however, we spent another hour from four to five at Truro, N.S. The people were very friendly and gave us a splendid reception. Apples were distributed and we were made to feel our efforts were appreciated. We have an awful time with souvenir hunters at all these stops. Some of the officers lost buttons and one officer of the Regina outfit lost pips and buttons.
Well, at present we are less than an hour out of Halifax so I guess I had better wind up this lengthy manuscript. It is extremely difficult to write an account of a trip of this kind, make it descriptive yet stick to the cold facts, however, I’ve done my best and hope you will like it. In closing, I want to say goodbye and lots of love to all in the family until you hear from me again in England.