M. Group. P. Wing. C. C. C.
Witley.
June 11^th ’19.

Hallo Agda Dearie

How’s the girl? I’m fine, but nearly all melted away. We are having a wonderful spell of really hot weather, and I find I have to slip my belt up one hole regularly every day, and I believe if I am kept here much longer they will have nothing of me to ship to Clan William, but a little piece of greece and an identity disc. I’ll leave you that in my will. Phew! it’s hot. I don’t know what it will be like, if one of these days I find myself with a pitch-fork in my hand and a couple of tons of hay to throw about. I’m getting real soft. I draw in a couple of fence posts the other day, and it raised blisters on my hands. Well Kiddie there is no news yet of sailing. I hoped to tell you that I would be leaving next Saturday, but I guess that will be another draft without me. Anyway I must surely be on my way some time this month. I guess I’ll have to raise [?] one of these days to let them know I am still here the S/M is getting to know me judging by the way he picks on me for [?] and [?] and things. but even that varies the monotony a little. I’ll write you again, girlie mine, and I do hope to be able to say something definite next time. I’m just going into the bush now and read an old Saturday Evening Post.

Be good to yourself Girlie Dear
Affectionately Yours
Harry