My dear Mother
Father’s last letter had a note dated Friday morning saying that you were better and had had a good night; I do hope you have made good progress since then. If you have had two such glorious days as we have had, you certainly ought to be getting well quite rapidly. I want your influenza to have left you by Friday, for I am coming home that day. We are getting four days special leave all round in batches and my turn comes on early; that is a good thing, for they are only letting 10 per cent go at a time, and the later batches stand a pretty good chance of never getting their leave. I shall stay with you till Monday I think, and then back to town and stop one night at Sydenham; then returning to duty on Tuesday night.
I am very disappointed that Arthur’s is still stuck in Nantes. Why can’t they hurry up and absorb men so placed in the establishments of busier hospitals! They would at least be learning their way about, even if there was no actual work to do; that is always worth something.
I had a long letter from Betty a few days ago; very high-spirited and discursive: though she was distinctly disappointed at not having had an opportunity of seeing Arthur.
There is a big day coming on tomorrow. Every week, pretty well, we have a turn out of the full Division, and the operations become more and more formidable, and the time occupied longer and longer. The last affair kept us out just over 12 hours, and as tomorrow we move out at 6.15, there seems some likelihood that we shall be out even a longer while.
I am glad Boo’s crowd also begin to show signs of moving. They ought to be efficient enough by now and I expect they are as tired as we are of standing by, awaiting orders.
Till I see you on Friday, then.
Love to all from
Your affectionate son