Dear Mother:

West Sandling, April 8, 1917

This is a most beautiful Easter morning and comes a pleasant contrast to what we have been having of fitful weather. Yesterday, too, was fine but there was a tang of winter mingles with the sunshine. I went down to Folkestone and saw the picture in the Picture House and had two suppers, two eggs each time. I met Everett Henry. He is looking well and is very little changed in any way.

Last Saturday I got a letter from Roswell Rutherford (Lieut.) who is now with the 11th reserve Batt. at St. Martin’s Plains. I walked over to the camp on Wednesday night only to find that he had gone to Hythe to take a course in musketry. Jimmie Paterson is taking the same course. I went to Hythe the next night but could locate neither of them. Jimmie is coming up today and Ross Rutherford sent me his address in Hythe in a note I got last night.

While I was at St. Martin’s Plains I looked up Cavell’s two brothers and Everett H., all of whom are in the same Batt., 8th Reserve. Everett was surprised to see me in full Highland regalia. We are preparing several drafts for immediate procedure to France, and soon there won’t be a single original 170th fit man in this unit. There are several battalions coming in to Otterpool near here and we have had big fatigue parties down there every day for nearly two weeks putting up tents. It seems that the tents are for newly arrived troops to spend a period of quarantine after which they will come to us for training. I’m going to the ranges to fire next week with a party of 200. It will take five days and means getting up at 5 o’clock as the ‘Fall In’ is at 6am. They have a daylight saving scheme which went into operation last night at ten o’clock when all clocks were set forward one hour. Last night seemed very short as one had to go to bed one hour earlier to get his usual ration of sleep.

We’ve had quite a few holidays. Good Friday, nothing to do but a church parade, but it rained nearly all day. Yesterday was Saturday and meant a half-holiday and today there is only church parade tomorrow being Easter Monday there are no parades in the afternoon. You will note that they know how to observe Easter in this country.

All along the soldiers of this brigade have been harassed and worried by the Brigadier – General. He really is only a Colonel but is acting Brig-Gen. He had seemingly the happy faculty of probing into us by some silly special parade on Saturday afternoon or Sundays or by excessively severe regulations about dress, demeanor, conduct, etc, ad infinitum. Examples of his efficiency are strict regulations against using shoe polish, riding breeches are not to be worn, nothing but government issued clothing or badges could be worn. There is a strong aversion in the heart of the Canadian soldier against ‘dubbin’ which we were to use on our boots instead of shoe polish and so we dubbed him Brigadier Dubbin. Many a time and oft as the soldier rubbed dubbin into his boots, just as we used to grease our shoes in former days on the farm, has he hurled maledictions and swore vindictively at the head of the poor Brigadier. Likewise on his ceremonial parades the things that were said about him were to say the least unkind and malicious, because many of these parades were called for by those higher in command. At any rate the Brigadier waddled on, I say ‘waddled’ advisedly for he had the appearance of some fat farmer rolling along, apparently immune and delightfully unconscious of our unkind thoughts about him.

Anyway whether fate so willed it, or the anger of heaven was brought down through the torments of the rank and file or predestination so ordained or for what reason no one, of course can tell but disaster befell the poor old gentleman. We are too often inclined when certain things occur to say ‘I told you so’ but on Thursday afternoon while being inspected, I hear a soldier more malicious, vindictive, and godless than most, say he wished the old b-----d would fall and break his neck. That’s exactly what happened. The self-same evening he was thrown from his horse and died as a result of injuries. WE are now in mourning. Now I haven’t composed and allegory nor have I drifted from the truth but just told the tale from the standpoint of those around me, quite unvarnished, but with no intent but to increase the interest of this letter by describing it in readable verbiage, even though the chirography is more or less unreadable. I always write carelessly when I think fast. Hope you can read it.  Right in the middle of this epistolary effort, cook house was sounded and in the wild dash for food, soldiers you know return to the elemental or primitive and so the dash, and it has quite knocked me out of the spirit of letter writing.

Then to add to my difficulties, the C.O has pronounced CB upon the whole battalion, until 2:30 this bright Sabbath afternoon, because the huts were not clean and neat this morning when inspected. Wasn’t going out anyway but nearly everybody else was, and many had done so, leaving the room in a disgracefully pigsty„like condition. And the few of us left all full fledged sergeants at that had to dig in and square things away. I have dirt in my ears, on my neck, in my throat, and where the kilt but poorly protected my nether extremities, but wash!, I refuse to do its not my hour for that fortnightly bath, in which I usually discover a suit of underwear I didn’t expect.

By the way, I got a good photo taken yesterday at least it should be good.  They charged me enough. I fairly gasped inwardly when they told me their rates, but outwardly I maintained my correct poise and batted not an eye. At any rate if it’s not good there will be an investigation and a repetition till I do get it to suit me. I’m sending you in this mail, a photo of the Sergeants of this Reserve. The picture is too large to send mounted and have adopted the wise, necessary, and precautionary measure, of sending it unmounted. If you care to mount it, it will be not only an ornament but more or less of an object of conjecture for visitors, as I am about the only person they will know. Jim was at Ayr when it was taken so is absent with leave, unfortunately.

We had two boiled eggs for breakfast this morning. So had the men, and it was one of the nicest breakfasts I have had for months ever since I came to England with the exception of when on leave. They are cutting down Army rations I believe, especially bread, and you know what a bread eater I am. But believe me potatoes (boiled with the skins as time is too precious to waste peeling potatoes even for officers) taste like manna to me, or the fabled ambrosia of the gods. I do hate peeling a boiled potatoe’s especially when it has rolled two or three times in the gravy and done everything gymnastic but turn a somersault, and with an agile waiter it may even do that at times, but I hate to commit myself without absolute proof upon the latter point.

 I wonder if you are having a backward Spring over there. At any rate, take the advice I proffered in my last, to get in as much crop and grow as much grain and meat as possible. We need it and the Empire needs it. I suppose Steve will be home before you get this. I haven’t written him lately because of that contingency, for it takes time and effort to write and duplicating two letters doesn’t agree with my military training and principles.

 Oh yes! I got your parcel and have just started into the tobacco. The nuts and candy have vanished days ago. I gave Jim one pair of gloves and kerchiefs. The belated Spring has made that style of glove quite a convenient article for the present._

The honey tasted like sweet nectar, which it literally is, and I still have some of it by me. I entertained Corp. Jock Devlin and Cyclone Taylor. (L/Cpl Taylor is his military name), but he’s been nicknamed Cyclone, Speedy, Windy, because of the violence of his temper and his supposed desire for scraps and rough house. Devlin was over in the 15th Highlanders, and Taylor in the 13th, for many weary months. We went to the Y.M.C.A, taking the honey with us, and had a good supper with buns, cakes, biscuits and honey, washed down with cocoa. It’s more fun entertaining those fellows than some fellow sergeant who has a fair share of comforts sent him from his own home.

Now I’ve drifted along aimlessly and verbosely without even mentioning the welcome news that USA has joined us in the war. Just what she will do is more or less unknown. But no doubt, in any case, her moral and financial and commercial backing are of great help and should largely increase the prestige of the allies in this war. It means eventual and clearcut victory perhaps months or years sooner than if they had remained on the fence. I must really draw the curtain upon page 10.. I have other letters to write and duties to perform. I think I acknowledged the receipt of Carman’s cheque and one of my own. Thanks. Will close with love to all,

F,L,T, Cannon