One Blessing
We are a rough lot out here, and washing and shaving are things of the past. The roof we sleep under is large—the sky—and the rain comes through very often. Our shirts we change when they wear out. You must not worry too much if there are very long lapses between the letters, as we can’t always write. It’s a game of dodging shells here. There is one blessing: we get plenty of food, and they are looking after us the best they can: Sergt. Prout, South Wales Borderers.