‘It is very windy tonight,’ he wrote to his mother, ‘and I have been down to get rations and walking over some of the broken ground leaning against the wind reminded me of Selsey – dear old Selsey. I am wondering when the next time will be when you and I are sitting on that rickety little train planning walks to Pagham etc.’

The Sherriff bungalow, Sleepy Hollow (in white) – probably before the war. (Thanks to Marilyn Smith)

He thanked her for a letter he had just received, noting that he was all the more appreciative because she took the time to write it after a hard day at the hospital. ‘I am so glad you are doing that work, dear,’ he wrote, ‘ – sometimes when I see a poor, groaning man being carried down on a stretcher I think that you may be going to take care of him – you must love your work dear, I only wish I could help heal wounds instead of always being ready to make them.’

He was still hoping to be with the RE party for another 6 to 12 days: ‘I do not object a bit to the length of time I remain here, as compared with the arduous work in the line this is a rest.’ His fingers kept dipping into the almonds and raisins she had sent him: ‘I can’t stop nibbling at them – 2 RE officers came in this morning and they couldn’t help nibbling too – they said they hadn’t tasted almonds and raisins since last Xmas.’

He told her how much he enjoyed the evenings when he could be alone in the dugout, able to do exactly what he wanted, to sit and gaze at the ceiling and say nothing to anyone; and at bedtime he enjoyed ‘nestling down into my wooly sleeping bag with fleece lining in and a wooly cap  (everything nice and wooly)’. And he counselled her not to be miserable: ‘I am not miserable at present, dear – trust me to let you know when I am miserable.’

[Next letters: 6 November]