FRANCE, March 18th, 1915.
Here we are in France--journey not finished yet. We had an ideal
crossing--and a most amazing one. I believe every square yard of the
Channel has its own British T.B. Destroyer--queer black shapes with
rectangular outlines, hard and well drawn against the dark sky or the
streams of light from more distant warships. I never saw one in detail
with the light upon it--always in silhouette against the light. We
steamed with lights out nearly all the way. I slept on deck--not over
warm--but I kept getting up to see the latest sight as one or other
called me and so kept warm.
We are fed on Bully Beef (ordinary Fray Bentos, you know the brand) and
lovely hard biscuits which I adore. Last night I added to my menu a
bloater and some bread and marmalade, "duff" and coffee--having scraped
an acquaintance with some of the engine room artificers who invited me
to sup in the fo'castle. It was very hot in there but we supped in low
neck. Great fun!
Bye bye--Love to my blessed boy--Try to read him as much of my letters
as he will understand. I do miss him so and I want him to hear about
me all he can so's we shan't be strangers when we meet next. Rubbish I
know, but still I'm not quite joking. He's growing so fast.
An unfortunate officer has got to read this and a hundred more letters,
so I'll cut it short. Bless you.