A Soldier's Letter

Levin Daily Chronicle, 30 January 1917, Page 2

A Soldier's Letter

TO L'HVINI RELATIVES. Private Walter Barratt, writing * from "Somewhere 1 in France'' 011 sth December, says ho is well and in good spirits, notwithstanding the hard going in the winter campaign. In this kind of weather, he says, the prospect of a brush with Fritz is hail- ~ e.l with delight, for to be excitedly fighting is better than standing about in gum-boots in a muddy trench and suffering with the cold, which is very severe in France. And when the orders come that we are to attack, there is such sprinting across <tli<? zone as . vou never did see. With bayonet and bomb wo race—not for life—but for death, cither for ourselves or for poor Fritz. But no one has any time to think of "giving up the ghost," for ; we all believe that a good angel will show 11s into the realms of "kingdom , come." Well, we have won much ground from Fritz since July, and • have dug him out where 110 dug in. I wish you see mnie of his dug-outs, 20, 30, 40 feet deep, and the lower ones '■* furnished in style. But these duffouts are death-traps and the fighting in them is bloody and ghastly. I have hunted for rabbits between Levin and the sea, and you know how s bunny makes for escape at the other end of his burrow. That is just an idea of bow the Germans burrow, and when driven out of one end of his bur-' tow makes his escape at the otljer away in the distance. But we often bag him when lie appears. I cabled , alter the Somme affair to say I was well, and you may depend that should | anything happen to me II will cable a t once. Ido not understand young fellows never writing home, and some never get a line, though they devour a newspaper, every line. .It is surprising the close shaves one expencnces when in an engagement. A clip on the helmet, a hole in your coat, is not reckoned. And when one is disabled and helped back he is comforted by being told lie will soon have ■ a chance of seeing the sights of London, and getting back,to old liome. iT>on't think that this life is a melancholy one because we are face to face with death every day. Wo get good tucker, and all that can 'be done to make us comfortable is done. We don't enjoy the luxury of a drawing room, nor the pleasant visits of lady friends with rolls and warm coffee, but we enjoy life, just like savages on the warpatli—if my reading has been trustworthy. Thanks to you all far the gifts received, and there a.Te anticipations for more about Christmas ' time among mcst of the boys. It ■;> brings us very closely in touch with liome when opening a parcel and we think of whoso fingers packed it. And we kuow that a stream of love thoughts flow over all. Let me say to those s who have loved ones at the front 1 "Dinna forget them, and write often." A letter brings up fond remembrances and I have seen strong young fellows cry like children while reading a let- *» tcr from Mends and relations left behind. A comforting letter is like a drink of pure wate .on a sandy desert. 1 have sent many cards to my acquain- * tances, by which they can perceive that memory cuiijures up their faces. We don't forget. .Sometimes strange tnings happen among us. One man will sing to himself some old hymn or a well-known song. Another catches , the air, and soon many of us are chipping in with all the parts, and we float away home with the melody. And then we wish we were with our loved ones again. We have moving pictures here, run by the Y.M.C.A., admission 3d, from 0.30 p.m. to 7.50 p.m.; no reserve seats. This draws the men « away from spending the evening and their money in an "estimanet," where champagne ie 7d a bottle. Then we get eggs and chips for Is 2}d; coffee Id ; eggs are 3d and -Id each just now. On the 'J 4tli of tiliis month I shall have been in uniform one year, and in' that year what startling changes have I not seen. To-night lam to sleep in- a house where my officer is and in one room three of us doss 011 the floor each with oil she:t, two blankets and overcoat. One of my comrades is an American, 57 years of age. Was a .! urn: en ;U1 t-cclono! 'in the Spanish- , American war. Truly we meet with strange bedfellows. Well, I'll ming off. I hope next year to see the end of the war. If I come home it may he on:' crutches. Who can say ? With good wishes to old cronies.— Yours, etc.—