I wonder if it has ever occurred to them how much their presence meant to us boys?  For many they were the last seen of the womanhood of our race.”

I wonder too.  Will any of those ladies read these lines?  I hope so—­I’d like them to know what their presence meant to just one of the boys they have been serving so well.  They will have their reward.  I should like them to have just one word of a Tommy’s thanks now.  He continues: 

“In our little compartment of six two were killed within a month and one wounded; the other three survived until the first of July, when one was killed, one was taken a prisoner of war, and I was wounded and rendered unfit for further service.  When at last our train started, amid rousing cheers for the ladies and a fluttering of white handkerchiefs from the little group on the station platform, we seemed to leave the last of civilisation behind.

     “Before midnight we were under shell-fire in the Infantry
     Barracks of Ypres.”

He writes to his mother: 

“My word we were tired at the end of the journey.  We are stationed in the military barracks of the city, and have had a chance of looking round the town.  The buildings, especially the cathedral, are very much damaged.  The only discomforts are the lack of food and the absence of money to buy it.  Both G. and I landed here without a penny, but managed to borrow enough to buy a loaf.  We know now what it is to be hungry; we have 1/4 lb. of bread a day only, and no milk in the tea, so you can see that what you want you must buy, and it’s terribly expensive here, 6_d_. for a loaf, etc.  But we shall be paid in a day or so.  The only things which are really necessary, and which we cannot get here, are candles and Oxo cubes.  Although I don’t want to be a burden to you, I should like you to send 1 lb. of candles and some cubes.  The candles are used for boiling water or tea, etc., in the trenches, and it is the only way we can get anything hot.  Of course anything in the way of food is acceptable, but I can understand that you have enough to do without extra trouble and expense.  Anyway, should any kind friends wish to send, please let them do so.

“We are two miles from trenches, and shall be going in on Sunday.  A few shells are knocking round, but we take no notice and sleep well.  Well, don’t worry.  We are in comfortable billets and with very decent fellows, and they have shared their bread, etc., with us.”

I shall not attempt to picture Sydney Baxter’s daily life in the terrible salient of Ypres in any detail, but that I may prove my words that he was a typical soldier let me quote just one letter received at this time.

     “My own dear mother,