We are all pleased to hear from anyone at home. Personally, I get the St Neots paper sent to me every week out here, in which I find a local war news very good indeed. I was sorry to hear that three of my old school chums have been called on to lay down their lives- and also Sam Irons- in this terrible war. I should think that you feel it’s great honour to turn out 87 of your older boys to do their best for the good old England which are no doubt we shall all try to do. We are billeted a few miles from the firing line in a paddock belonging to a French Farmer. The Division Ammunition Column consists of all sorts of arms, from high explosives to small arms, so you say it would not be safe if the Germans got to know, as they would put a straight shot on us. While I am writing one of our airmen is being shelled by the enemy. It is a grand site to see him dodging the shrapnel is they best they leave a cloud of smoke. I must say they are plucky lot of fellows: they seem to take no notice of them. One are the last Monday have no fewer than 27 shells fired at him, but I’m glad to say not one of them find that their mark. They pass over us on their return journey to the base to report. We can hear the guns going at a great distance; the noise is sometimes awful. We have seen some queer sites out here. One church in particular has the spire and the lower tower gone and the roof blown in. Not a pain of glass left, I’m even the clock shelled right through the centre. Houses are raised to the ground, Sam with their sides in: one whitewashed house simply riddled with bullets. We have some very nice officers and also plenty of good food, which consists of fried bacon and bread and tea for breakfast; stew or fried steak peas and potato for dinner; bread butter and jam the tea, so you can guess we do not take any harm. You must excuse such scribble for I am using a box containing 18lb shells for a table, I’m going to shell case for a seat. I hope you are all in the best of health as I am glad to say I am at present.