J Stallan, Sapper, Royal Engineers

I was sitting in my dugout somewhere in France reading in your “Advertiser” news of the dear old home, and a thought struck me I should like to write a letter to the old town. I came out of the trenches yesterday for a few days’ rest from a week of sniping and other jobs on the front line. While I was staying in Egypt I was made a marksman for firing, so I was put in the Sniping Corps when I landed in France a few weeks ago. Now this life of sniping is not so bad as I thought it would be. I told one of my mates it was a good job, popping the Germans off as they show their heads. All the week I was lying behind a row of sandbags waiting for them to show their heads so I could knock it off for them. When I got back to the Company for a rest they all wanted to know if I had made a cricket score with the Germans. I have not run across any of the boys from St. Neots yet, but I am always on the lookout for them, you can bet, to have a good talk about the old town. I should just like a pull up the old river now in one of the Rowing Club boats.