Somewhere in France
Jan. 9. '17.

Dear Mr Aitkin

Since I wrote last we have toured quite a distance over France, and have at last reached my own battalion, the 102nd. I have not yet received any mail, but hope to receive it "from soon on."

We travelled slowly for two days and two nights by train from the place where I stayed so long after reaching France, until we reached within a few miles of our destination. I would like to name the places, but I could not of course.

The journey was very tiresome, although I was fortunate in being put for both nights into a compartment instead of into a boxcar. One stoppage, from which I sent you a p.c., was particularly interesting.

Where we are now is an old dilapidated French village, curious in design, with narrow, winding streets; houses of stone, as are the streets themselves, ancient church & crucifixes at the crossroads. The sound of our heavy guns can be heard almost continuously, and at night we can see the flashes in the sky. A place about two miles away is mostly in ruins, having been bombarded a longtime ago.

We expect at any time to leave here with the rest of our battalion for our turn in the trenches. Indeed, on our arrival our colonel gave us a fine address, 'owning us', as it were, and after giving us all sorts of good advice, told us that we would take our "turn" the next morning. He seemed pleased with us, and we certainly were well pleased with him. He is a thorough "fighting man", & has won a high place with what is left of the original men of the battalion. They are apparently not a 'show' lot, but 'doers'.

It is good to be attached to something. Since we came to France we have been 'nobody's dog', kicked about by everybody. Now we have our own battalion organization, and will get our mail; that is the best of all.

We were disappointed in not going right up. We wanted to get over our real "baptism of fire." However, we may go tomorrow.

The first two nights here we spent in huts. We had no blankets but lay down on boards, just as we were. It was cold for the feet, and we only slept a little at a time. Last night we were moved to an old barn with a roof full of gaping holes, and anticipated a freezing. To our surprise and joy, just as we lay down, we were given blankets. Oh! I was 'tickled to death', & I had the best nights rest since I came to France. Everyone of the men was overjoyed. We shall be hard soon!

You should see the men who came back from their "turn" for a few day's rest, before going back again. They are for the most part cheery and very "companionable", but muddy!! Oh, it is just caked on them up to the waist, and the rest of them is spattered up to the eyes. Regular mud larks! Where we are is fearfully muddy, but the trenches themselves are in places waist deep in mud & water - as the men say. You would roar to see my in my full equipment; you would certainly never recognize a Methodist minister.

Well I must stop again. Give my kindest greetings to all at home, and to those on your circuit. May God give you continued courage and grace in the work you have undertaken.

Yours sincerely
Thos. W. Johnson.