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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, August 8, 1917"

I am quite alone at this minute, but don't you
go for to worry; they'll be back soon and then perhaps I'll get a bit
of something. It's pretty hard where I am sitting and I can't write
you much of a letter, what with the cramp in my legs and the noise
and wondering how soon the Sergeant will come and tell us to move up
nearer our part of the line. I can see some of the line, not our bit,
from where I am sitting. It's shining just lovely in the sun.
"Dear wife, this isn't a bit like home, but it still makes me think
of you at our station buying me that pencil and all, just as the train
come in. I think of you all the time wherever I am, but the noise is
something cruel, and here comes the Sergeant to tell us to prepare. I
shan't have time to get a drink first; but it don't matter; I'd rather
write to you than anything; and this pad what the minister gave me is
fine. I keep it in my left breast pocket. Please tell him it hasn't
stopped a bit of stuff yet, but I am sure it will soon.


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