23rd Bn., Dibgate,
Shorncliffe.
Sept. 13th, 1915.
 
My dear Mally:
 
Your long letter came about a week ago, but so did one from every member of the family so I couldn’t answer them all, especially as last week was one of the busiest I have had since coming here. Major L’Heureux went off to France with a draft early in the week and left me in charge, and no sooner had he gone than another order came for a bunch to go to the second division, so I had to get busy on that as it was a hurry up order. Then “B” Company had to be wound up and those remaining transferred to other companies, some unfit and in hospital to H Co., the casualty company, and some in camp and in detention to “D”, the other French-Canadian company. I was glad to see them go. Individually they were thundering good material in many ways, but as a company they were poor soldiers and constantly in trouble. A case of not starting properly, I imagine, from what I have since heard of the 41st Battalion, C.E.F. The Colonel a “lifer”, the second in command a nincompoop, and the third in command a drunkard! What do they expect for ten cents. Its pretty hard to teach a bunch of lumber-jacks who spend most of the summer in Quebec and Hull in a semi-drunken state that drunkenness is a military crime and absence without leave is an unpardonable sin, when the junior Major has disappeared for a week and then turned up on parade more or less inebriated! As you know, I am not in the habit of taking anything too seriously, but that sort of inefficiency in high places disgusts me more and more as I get into this game further. How can such persons be put in positions where they can juggle with men’s lives, for that is what it amounts to!
 
Our 35th Bn. second draft are doing remarkably well. They are not phenomenons, of course, but somehow the 35th Bn. does manage to instil into all ranks a high sense of what military duty means and requires. One of the 23rd Officers watching them work one day turned to me and said: “Well, you Toronto fellows certainly can turn them out”. Poor old 35th, it should be over here now! We hear rumours that another draft still is coming, which should clean out the old original battalion; or is it the whole battalion this time by any chance. Two or three of the crack reserve battalions here now; the 49th, 42nd, 48th, together with the R.C.R. from Bermuda, are going as Army Corps reserve, so they will probably need some more base battalions here. Here is hoping!
 
The 2nd Division are off at last and we’ll all be gone at the end of this week. They should give a remarkably good account of themselves if the amount of training they have had is any criterion of their excellence. At any rate, there is very little they haven’t learned under the best instructors and hot from the firing line.
 
George and I wandered out to Westenhanger on Sunday and called at the Merritts’ cottage. Major Merritt leaves tonight, I believe. Marion and her mother are going to town for a week, then to Wales for five weeks, and are then returning to take a flat in Folkstone. Marion says that if by any chance we are here this winter we are all to make it our headquarters and home, which is very charming of her, don’t you think! She is a ripping good sort, is the same Marion, and with twenty men, the flower of Canadian youth, dancing attendance on her all summer, she has a whale of a time, but still sighs for “poor dear old Merton” back alone with his law books in Vancouver. Poor Merton is very down in the mouth. He had a very serious operation for rupture, I think, about two years ago, which necessitated his remaining away from Varsity a year and of course the doctors won’t let him fight!
 
I suppose the house is quite fixed up by this time, and Lord knows it could stand a little of the same. One of these days I shall probably just drop in on you and have some difficulty finding the right place. I could stand about six weeks leave with permission to return to Canada just about now to see you all again. The trouble would be getting away again, I suppose, eh! I know Fernie would simply make me take her this time, and truth to tell, if I had my captaincy I don’t think I should hesitate, for deary me, it looks like a long war in spite of the optimists!
How did you enjoy the trip to Jackson’s Point? It really isn’t a bad little spot to spend a few days. The air is so absolutely vitalizing and Lake Simcoe is a precious jewel in a wonderful setting. I suppose in the next mail, which should be in tomorrow, you will tell me all about it. I am so delighted that you finally picked up and went somewhere, but I hope you managed to coax Dad from his den for the week end. It is absolutely senseless the way he sticks at the job. One really doesn’t accomplish anything by doing it, I don’t think. He ought to get a month’s leave, pack his grip, and come over to see me, eh what!

No, my dear, I haven’t been to Scotland yet. I have been too busy and too poor lately. Had to get a new uniform this month which sets me back about £9 ($45), just about the same price as in Canada. Its a wonderful sartorial creation though; green khaki whip-cord serge and slacks with yellow khaki riding breeches. With breeches and high boots I’ll look some Field Marshall, what? The old uniform is still absolutely perfect but rather worn looking. I am having it cleaned and let out a little across the chest and it will be O.K. for working and for the front. The other will be for staff rides and dahnces, y’know. For if by any misfortune I have to put in the winter here I shall have to take in a few of them just to keep alive. Other-wise I should take to hard drinking no doubt! Next month perhaps I shall apply for a week’s leave and take a run up to Fife with Jack Crawford and stay with him a day or two in Edinburgh. That should be rather jolly. They are talking here of sending me to Camberly to take the short staff course of five weeks if it is possible. I would jump at that or a machine gun course. The trouble is, that one is in a quandary. If you show too much interest or ability the Colonel is liable to conclude that you would be a good addition to the staff, send you off to some course; then on your return you instruct drafts, and goodbye the ditches and dugouts. I have steered clear of courses so far, but a staff course at Camberly - some class, sis, some class! Then I have this flying-bug still in my head and have secured some information about it which may be useful. Of course flying in the present stage is a rather adventitious career, but no doubt in future it will be very much more developed and one might make a study of it and arrive somewhere or do something original in the business. It is fairly safe and the pay is high. However, we shall see. George is writing to Major Smith tonight to see what prospects there are of getting to the front this Fall and I shall act accordingly. I want to get out and learn the game while things are quiet, not be suddenly shoved in when the Germans are raising Hell in small fragments and probably pull some awful bone!

George and I had a pleasant and interesting experience yesterday. A lady living at the Lyndhurst, a Mrs. Miller, is the wife of a full Commander in His Majesty’s Navy, and that gentleman has command of the new Monitors which are being used to bombard the Belgian coast. They are at present lying quite near here, being patched up after their last attack on Ostend, which you no doubt have read about. Mrs. Miller was a Miss Duch of Toronto and is a great friend of Dalton MacBeth of Toronto, who is here with the 19th, and Mrs. Duch says she knew George MacBeth of London, Anyway, she is a charming girl and invited us to go down to --- and she would get her husband to show us over the ship. We motored down in Beardmore’s car, took a little steam launch and soon stepped on the quarter deck of H.M.S. Sir John Moore. She is a child of the war and was laid down only in January and launched in April; not a pretty craft, short, very broad and shallow, practically a bid steel barge mounting the heaviest naval guns. Commander Miller proved to be a delightful gentleman, typical reserved, almost shy sailor man, with iron gray hair and boyish face, probably about 30. He couldn’t see us for looking at his wife for a long while, but finally consented to show us over the ship. We went into the turret and inspected the huge guns, then climbed to the fighting hop where the fire is directed and the ranges taken, and looked over the whole ship. It is a most absorbingly interesting paraphernalia all around. Then we had tea on board and pulled away for shore. Commander Miller bade his wife goodbye, saying that perhaps the next day they would put to sea ’’for the next". So if you hear of another bombardment of the German position in Belgium you will know that our friend had charge of the job at sea. He explained to us the great difficulty of smashing the German fortifications and missing entirely every one of the 40,000 Belgians still in Ostend. "For the King of the Belgians objects, you know". "Take my wife to the naval pier". "Aye, Aye, Sir" replied the deep chested sailor at the helm, as the navy has answered its leaders for a thousand years, and away we shot standing stiffly at the salute; for a naval commander has the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the army. Jolly pleasant all round it was. These sailors have a simple charm which is most compelling.

I am putting in a little snap or two which Major L’Heureux took one day. Maurice Wilks left his camera with George as he couldn’t take it to France, so we may be able to get some snaps now. Whenever Canadian troops move it rains. Troop trains are dashing past below me for Southampton, once every fifteen minutes and down pours the rain with a steadiness that only English rain can achieve.

Dearest love to all, Kae, Dad and Mother. Tell Mother I got the snap of her alright and it is splendid. I was so pleased to get it and have it in my little case which Fernie gave me in my breast pocket.

Your loving brother ,
Errol.