Dearest Ma,
Here’s another letter that may never reach you. I’m in an army camp in England. I don’t know exactly where. We travelled here through beautiful countryside – farms, cottages with thatched roofs, white horses pulling a hay wagon. It’s hard to believe England is at war.
I don’t know where Archie is, either. Or if there are any other people like me in the camp. The Army likes to keep things secret! Several officers have tried to make me change my mind, but I feel more determined than ever.
There are wounded soldiers here, working in the kitchens and gardens. Some of them have lost an arm or a leg. Some look as if they have seen dreadful things. I keep thinking: Why should young men have their lives ruined like this? I think of William, too. Please send him my kind wishes. I don
