them better than the last battalion and, personally, I feel quite satisfied with Fourdrinoy. I have learnt quite a lot of French there and will remember it because of that.
Tonight I have had two letters from you, two sweet letters but so full of news and kindnesses that I despair of ever being able to answer them as I would like. My soul, you pour out your love on me, abasing yourself, in the depth of it, before me. You should not. I am so poorly furnished as an inspiration for romance that I am utterly undeserving of such a deep affection as is yours. It is I who should abase myself. It is I who am the fortunate party to our bargain. Believe me, my soul, I am fully conscious of it. And my love for you grows with the speed of the flame in stubble. How else could it be? Every day I see such evidence of your goodness, your thought for others, your bravery and your perfect womanliness that I would be but a senseless clod did my love for you not respond as I say. May our sweet Babe grow into such another woman as her mother. It is my hope that she does.
31st December ’15
New Year’s Eve. And what a strange one. The first for six we have not been out together. I feel sad and sick at heart, for I hate the anniversaries unless they be in happy company. Don Murray and I intended seeing it through together but the D mess came in about eleven and insisted on hauling us round to C Coy. We went under protest and found many merry spirits there but mostly flushed and rowdy and quite out of touch with our mood. We, I expect, grow somewhat staid or perhaps it is that we have so much more to think about, perhaps, being married, we feel we have given up so much more than the others, that life can hold for a man such thoughts, such sweet, sad memories that he had rather be alone with them. I do not know, I am so poor a theorist, but I felt out of the throng. All I desired was to be alone with the night and to dwell on my memories of other New Year Eves with you and to think out plans for future ones. And as I came home from C Coy at 12.10am. this New Year’s Day a shooting star sped right across the heavens before me. It is a good omen for our future New Years.
1st January ’16
New Year’s Day. And, I am glad to say, a day full of promise for the battalion. I may be slightly sanguine in saying that, but I care not in my present mood, for I am somewhat elated. We won today our first match in the Division League, beating the Queen’s 2–nil. I mean no injustice to our team when I say surprise added zest to our pleasure. We had thought the ‘Lambs’xi almost too hot to tackle. No doubt they took us for more rotten than we are. Both were mistakes I doubt not. And, anyway we gave them a whacking.xii
Before the match we were inspected by Coys by the CO.xiii The men looked and stood very well and I think the colonel was pleased. They do good, these inspections. They cause men to buck-up and do their best to turn out well and so ensure really clean things being displayed.
In the evening we went to D Coy and talked and told tales and played ‘vingt-et un’, a feeble pastime which left me 1fr. 50c. richer at the end of an hour’s listless dealing.
We do some Brigade work next week, a thing we rather look forward to, since we are rather anxious to see how we shape in the field alongside regulars.
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