Somewhere in France
Jan. 9. '17.

Dear Lulu

Since I wrote last we have travelled 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, for they are rather interesting, but I could not, of course.

The journey was very tiresome although I was fortunate enough in being put for both nights in a compartment. One stoppage, from which I sent you a postcard, was particularly interesting.

Where we are now is an old dilapidated French village, curious in design, with narrow, winding streets, ancient church & crucifixes at different corners, and paved streets. The sound of our heavy guns can be heard almost all the time, and at night we can see the flashes in the sky. A very little way from us is a place where most of the houses are in ruins, apparently badly shelled a long time ago.

We expected to leave here with the rest of our battalion for our turn in the trenches. Indeed, our colonel gave us a fine address, 'owning us', as it were, and giving us all sorts of good advice, and telling us that we would go on our "turn" the next morning. He seemed pleased with us, and we certainly were well pleased with him. He is a thorough "fighting man", and 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 somebody. All the time in 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 or very soon afterwards.

The first two nights here we spent in huts. We had no blankets but lay down on the 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 with gaping holes, and anticipated a freezing. To our surprise and delight, just as we lay down, we were given blankets. Oh, I was 'tickled to death', and had the best nights' sleep since I got 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 days, 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 is spattered to the eyes. Regular mud larks!. Where we are is fearfully muddy, but the trenches themselves are in places waist deep in water & mud - so the men say. You would laugh to see me, but you would just roar to see me a month from now. No one would see in me a Methodist minister I am quite sure. If I can get a photo taken and passed by the censor in my full equipment I will let you have it.

Well I must stop now. How I wish I had your letters to me as I suppose you have from me! I am afraid you must be tired of reading them, but you know, you "asked" for them.

Well, with love & kindest greetings to those at home, and with prayers that we may all be kept safely until we meet in beloved Canada once more

Yours as ever,
Tom.

P.S. Address:-
No. 252656, Pte. Thos. W. Johnson,
102nd Battalion, Canadian Contingent
B.E.F. Army Post Office. London, Eng.
On Active Service.