My dear Mother
I hope my letters are going through all right, there is no Army Post Office here. I have had letters from Mary to the 20th, but none others. I’m afraid you’ve been rather a sickly household lately; I hope all of you are better now. With finer days you’ll get a better chance to pick up all right. Mary writes cheerfully and from her account keeps very well; I shall be glad to hear the same from you as well.
I’ve been quite busy here up to date; there are many things to see about as well as medical work. I’ve just returned from the station from sending off some discharged patients to Rouen. By Monday I hope to have only about eight or nine patients left – all but one are going ahead well. I think this is a healthier place than Nantes, and on one side it is quite pretty. The Loire estuary is quite muddy, but on sunny days attempts to look blue, hardly rivalling the Mediterranean, however. I really shall get quite French in my habits, shaking hands with everyone twenty times a day and saluting until my arm nearly aches.
I hear that the Officers’ Hospital has moved further up, but don’t know whether this is official, or whether I’ll get sent there again.
Letters are likely to reach me here if posted about till March 7th; after that I rather expect I’ll be going, unless something fresh turns up. There are quite a lot of German prisoners here, some ill, some working on the docks. They look quite decently cared for – but their rate of work is really humorous. I suppose if I were a prisoner carrying sacks, I’d do the same, though I think it would be less tiring to work more briskly.
This is a very early place, by 8.30 the streets are nearly empty, and an hour later everyone seems to have gone to bed. No British are left here now, except my patients and me, so I’m glad to have plenty to do or time would be dull.
I’m so glad to hear that Kath is really better; she didn’t look over well when I saw her early in the month.
Hoping to get a letter soon,
With much love
From your son Arthur