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My dear ones,

Your letters make me envious. Everybody seems to be moving and doing things except ourselves. It will come in time, I suppose, but it's very long waiting.

Thank you for your telegram of congratulation. It was the first intimation I got, do you know. I had got so sick of waiting for the thing that I had given up looking in the Gazette. By the way, I'm still "Esq." on an envelope, though, and not "Lieut." Still a subaltern, you see, (though a senior one now), and therefore still very small potatoes, and nothing to swank about. Only one shilling a day extra, too.

I'm up to my eyes in work just now. The battalion signallers are increased to 53 instead of 16 (they're getting very important in this war), and I have only one competent N.C.O. under me as yet. They're divided up into four different classes of proficiency, from the oldest lot I had at the beginning down to the latest and absolutely ignorant class I started last week, and I have to dash around from one to the other all day. From 6.45 till 7.30 the whole lot do flag drill together (which is like a musician doing his half-hour's scales every day); from 8.45 till 9.15 I sit in judgement upon their crimes (of which there are very few), their sickness, pay, clothing, and other private troubles; then till 12.30 we work, some laying telegraph cables, some doing buzzer work, some more flag-drill, etc., with a lecture to the infants' class. In the afternoon we put them out to station-work with flags around the countryside from 2 till 4.30. from 5 to7 I look after their shooting on the range and train the special team for the Signalling Competition at the big Brigade Sports next month. And from 10 till 11 every night we do lamp-work. So at the end of a day I don't feel up to much.

They are giving me another subaltern as an assistant instructor, who is now away at Mallow on a course. When he comes back and I have put him in the way of things, and the latest class is able to feel it's feet a bit, I shall put in for a fortnight's leave and come home for a rest-cure. I'll to work that round about July 31st* if I can.

Fortunately all but a very few of the men are quite keen, and that makes the job much easier. I had them out for a couple of nights last week, after I had shown them how to make tents of their blankets and tree-branches, and we had quite a good time. We marched out by map and compass to a place about four miles away over the hills and camped there, cooking our rations in mess-tins, doing flag-work in the daytime and lamps at night. The only drawback was the weather, which was too hot for words.

And that reminds me; if you can find any of my old cellular shirts around, I'd be very glad if you would send them out. These heavy khaki things are impossible with a tightly buttoned tunic in this weather. The same remark applies to white flannel trousers for the (rare) unspare moments, together with white socks and shoes.

Goodbye. Take care of yourselves, and mind the Zeppelins.

All my love.

* His mothers birthday