Yours as ever

M. C. SIMMONS

In the address I slipped in the words—­“Seaforth Wds.”  This I hoped the censor would take to mean—­“Seaforth Woods”; and which I hoped my friend would read to mean—­“See fourth words”; and would proceed to do so.

After I had sent this away, I began to fear it might miscarry and resolved to try another one.  I wrote a letter to my brother Flint, at Tillsonburg, Ontario, in which I used these words, “I want you to look into this for me”; later on in the letter, when speaking of quite innocent matters which had nothing to do with “compasses,” I said, “Look into this for me and if you cannot manage it alone, get Charley Bradburn to help you.”

I took the envelope, which had a bluish tint inside and steamed it open, both the ends and bottom flap, and when it was laid open, I wrote in it in a very fine hand, these words:  “I tried to escape, but was caught and my compass taken away from me.  Send me another; put it in a cream cheese.”

When the envelope was closed, this was almost impossible to see.  I knew it was risky, for if I had been found out, I would have been “strafed” for this, just as hard as if I had tried to escape.  However, I posted my letter and heard nothing more about it.

I had, through the kindness of friends, received a number of books, Mr. Brockington, of Koch Siding, British Columbia, and Miss Grey, of Wimbledon, England, having been very good to me in this way; and as many of the parcels of the other boys contained books, too, we decided to put our books together, catalogue them, and have a library.  One of the older men became our librarian, and before we left Giessen I think we had a hundred volumes.

The people who sent these books will never know the pleasure they gave us!  The games, too, which the Red Cross sent us were never idle, and made many a happy evening for us.

At night we had concerts, and many good plays and tableaux put on by the boys.  There was a catchy French love song, “Marie,” which was a great favorite with the boys.  From this we began to call the Kilties “Marie,” and there were several harmless fights which had this for a beginning.  The Kilties had a hard time of it, and had to get another dress before they could be taken on a working party.  The Germans did not consider the kilt a “decent dress” for a man.

The parcels were an endless source of delight, and I was especially fortunate in having friends who knew just what to send.  Mrs. Palmer, of Plymouth, sent me bacon; Mrs. Goodrich, my sister, and Mrs. Goodrich, Sr., of Vancouver, sent fruit-cakes; Mrs. Hill, wife of the British reservist who gave me my first drill in British Columbia, sent oatmeal, and his sisters, Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hamer, made candy.  Lee Davison, of Trail, whose brother is now a prisoner in Germany, sent me tobacco, and so did Harold Andrews, of Trail, and Billy Newell, of Koch Siding.