France, Sept. 20, 1915.

Dear Parents and Brother:-

Well, things are booming here same as ever, was rather noisy at noon today and about 7 o’clock in the evening we have a friendly scrap. You can see the approaching signs of winter, but the weather at present is exceptionally fine. Everyone is dreading the winter and hoping it will be dry.

I was pleased to hear there was a stimulus in recruiting at home, for I am sure the fellows will all be here when they know they are needed. If they could only exchange places with the fellows who have been out for 12 months, for they certainly deserve a leave. Only wish you could see some of the boys when they leave the trenches. For example, a fellow who had been at the hospital on his way back stayed all night at our billets. He had been in a mine explosion and as for nerves was a physical wreck. He said in the night he heard a motor truck pass and felt himself trying to cover his body and did not realize what he was doing.

I had some fine pears the other day, the kind that grew on that old tree in the garden, I forget the name, but thought of other things I might have if home. Just six months yesterday since I enlisted, but seems like six years. I had almost forgotten my birthday is Saturday. Have not decided how to celebrate yet. You spoke of sending me some socks. Well, Mother, there is nothing that would be more acceptable, especially when the cold wet days set in.

The natives don’t seem to think “la guerre” (the war) will last the winter. At least I hope they are right.

Tell Ray I have had no answer to my last two letters and to get a hump on. Well, guess this is enough for this spasm.

As ever,
Charlie.