29th January 1917
Dear Mother and Father,
I am afraid my letter writing is going to the dogs, but really there seems to be less time every week and you never know when you will be whisked off to some duty or other. I hoped to get a lot of letters off yesterday, as I was at the Brigade OP, but I must have caught a cold in my stomach somehow and I had to get another man to relieve me when I had only done 12 hours.
The weather has been frightfully cold. Last night the thermometer went down to 16 below zero. It is rather nice to have the ground hard, but for ten days on end it gets rather monotonous. As long as you can handle a pick and shovel and keep warm it is all right but when you are in a place where you can't move about it gets rather tiresome.
I am going to the wagon line tomorrow where we have a house to live in which ought not to be so bad and in a few days Walford and I go on leave together, which will make it ever so much better.
I think I told you I had given up all hope of getting Jack into this division but, after probing round again, I think I have hit the right man to work it, the only trouble being that I can·t get any word of his whereabouts. May chance to meet him on leave. This leave is quite unexpected, though our present colonel is most awfully good to us and does all he can for us.
Please excuse this short scribble, but I hope to give you a better note when I get down to the wagon line and can keep warmer.
With best love to you all
from your loving son
Bertie
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