Well here I am as usual in my O.P. (observation post) doing the same as I have done every day since I arrived while outside it is a beautiful Palm Sunday, as warm and bright as any one could possibly wish for and for a wonder with very little war going on. For quite a long time you could sit here and not even be persuaded that there is a war and a very terrible one going on. Then from one side or the other comes a burst of sound that is for all the world like a boiler factory. The shells that have been fired pass by with that uncouth sucking shrieking whistle that they make and then everyingis quiet again.
When I said I would probably have my Xmas boxes for Easter I was nearer the truth than I had any idea of. For yesterday they arrived in the regiment at the horse lines and now all I have to do is to send someone to go and get them for me. The mills of the gods certainly are slow. As for the uniform, I have given that up as a bad job and bought another one which I can just about wear out by the time the first one gets here. When I think of the civilian clothes I have left at home it rather makes me smile and I imagine that if they are of any use to anybody they had better be used up since by the time this war is over they will either be ruined by age or so out of date that they will be done.
I have gotten letters lately from the most surprising people. One from Kit Hunt andthen one from Emily Avery (friends from Auburn) and from a couple of boys I hardly knew at college. I wonder if it is whether they have just realized I am gone or just begun to miss me. I flatter myself it is the latter but rather think it is the former. Good bye. Paul