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My dear ones,

We have our official notice to quit now - at least, we have our destination, though not the date. The whole of this Division is to go to LARKHILL, which is somewhere in the middle of Salisbury Plain, though I can't find it on the map. Well, the Lord Lieutenant held his inspection last week. For full details see my earlier letter of a former inspection. His one was exactly the same, down to the smallest details. Afterwards His Exellency said a few kind words of encouragement, and told us he had obtained the leave of the Secretary of State to make a definite public statement to the effect that we were shortly going to England for a brief period! Anti-climax. Then the battalion walked back to Kilworth (the show was held at Fermoy), and Billy and I stayed behind. The beauty of being a departmental officer is that on these occasions they take all your men from you to swell the ranks of their companies, and you are left without a job. So the Scouts Officer and the Signal Officer remained in Fermoy and spent a thoroughly enjoyable day, while the others marched back in the heat.

We were invited to lunch in the Munsters' Mess, and a very nice lunch too. Afterwards we took a boat on the river, and bathed (a priceless bathe, the best I've had for months) and rowed back slowly in time for tea. In the evening we went to the cinema. It was a topping show, featuring Charlie Chaplin (have you seen him? - the little idiot with a wee bowler, rather like an Italian ice-cream man) and we both laughed ourselves sick. At night we were given a lift home and had a night-cap in my room. Altogether an enjoyable day. On Tuesday Their Excellencies gave a garden party in Adare. Billy and I went, and a couple of the Leinster sub-alterns, and of course the C.O and Adjutant, with one captain; so we were fairly well represented. Adare is Dunravens' model village, a few miles from Limerick, where the Adare Cigarette Company is that makes those abominable Irish weeds. Adare Manor itself is the most glorious place I've ever been in. There is a very keen gardener and there is every kind of tree, shrub, and plant you can think of from all over the world, acres and acres of them.

So we cast pyjamas and a toothbrush into a suit - case and departed by the 12.20 on Saturday morning and got to Cork by 1. We rushed straight to the picture house and sat through the matinee of a most amazingly rubbishy piece called 'Love and Laughter'. It was so bad that it was good, and we were so glad to be away from the camp that we enjoyed it heartily. Then we went to the Imperial Hotel and booked a bedroom and drank tea. After tea we went for what we had really set our hearts on - a Turkish bath. After it, feeling very much cleaner than when we came in, we returned for dinner and went to a music hall, where we saw quite a good show, and so to bed; though I think it was about 1 in the morning before we finished talking and went to sleep. Clean sheets, real beds instead of Army beds, big fat pillows, a room where one could turn round - it made a fine time, to be enjoyed to the fun. Next morning we went down to breakfast at 11, after a very hot bath and shower, and lazed about Cork in the sunshine till lunch, which we had at the club, even though non-members. In the afternoon we hired a motor and drove out to Queenstown, about 17 miles. It was a priceless day, and the drive was beautiful. We had tea there, and wandered around taking photographs and things. We heroically resisted battle ships and destroyers; not from lack of observation, but because we did not want the cameras confiscated. And then we drove back in the evening, with a glorious sunset over the hills. We slept the night again in our rooms, and caught an early train back in time for parade on Monday morning. Of course it cost us some money, but we enjoyed every minute of it, and felt so much better after it we both agreed it was thoroughly well worth it.

Well, we finished up our handing-over in great style, down to the last "poker, soldier's, one" in the last barrack-room. (Did you know that a "poker, soldier's" is quite a different article from a "poker, married soldier's"? It is, though; and it's not the least good trying to palm off one for the other on an unsuspecting Ordnance official, oh no.) We got all clear at about 12 midday, telephone for an A.S.C 5 - ton lorry to take the men's kit into Fermoy and for a bakery van to meet us at the station with their travelling ration, and for extra coaches on the train. We paraded the whole crowd left in the camp, and found we were richer by this time by two new recruits come to join their regiment, five men recalled from furlough too late to go with the battalion, and three Royal Irishmen who had missed their crowd when it went out the day before. We gave them each sixpence as travelling allowance, and started them off down the road under an N.C.O. Then we finished packing our own kit, telephoned for a motor, paid one last visit to all the barrack-rooms and camp buildings, and went to get a "biting-on" at our old friend the Soldiers Home.

When the car came we whizzed down to Fermoy, arriving of course before the men, and arranged with the station-master about carriages, and also got the 40-odd portions of bread from the baker ready for distributing. We went to the Fermoy Soldiers Home as well and arranged one last meal for them at 3d a head. By the time we had this done they were just arriving, so we paraded them on the platform, counted heads, stacked their gear and mounted a baggage-guard over it, and packed them off to eat their last Irish meal.

Twenty minutes before train-time we fished them back, told them off to their compartments, and got them entrained, each man with all his kit, eight to a carriage, and turned the key on them. We wired to Mallow that we had a detachment for the Dublin mail, and instructed them to have extra coaches in readiness there; we wired to the Railway Transport Officer at Kingstown to arrange for embarkation on the steamer; we wired to the battalion at Aldershot to notify them of our intended departure (telegrams are cheap On His Majesty's Service), and despatched a written message to Divisional headquarters stating that all instructions as to handing-over had been carried out and giving particulars of the steps we had taken to consign things left behind and instructions as to their disposal.

Then at last we took our seats in the train, feeling we had done all things man could do (even to the buying a sufficiency of cigarettes) - and found we hadn't a match between us.

We hustled the men across at Mallow and into their coach, which was hooked on to the Dublin mail when it arrived, and we sent one more wire to Maryborough for the portable troop-water-wagon to be brought alongside there for the men to fill their water-bottles, and then we separated ourselves from half-a-crown for the benefit of the head- waiter and secured a table for two in the dining-car and disposed ourselves in luxury for the journey up. At Maryborough we got out and superintended the water-work, and at Ballybrophy we strolled down to see if the men were all right - which they were - otherwise we played cards in comfort, and I took just enough off Billy to pay for our teas and dinners, so that also was all right.

At Kingstown Billy had some of his people to see him off (he lives at Bray,by the way), so I took charge of the party and got them marched on board. They had a special gangway ready for us, and we checked each man as they filed along it with their kitbags (our own personal baggage was stowed in two berths for us, which in fact we never used), and ordered supper. I was introduced to Billy's people when I went to look for him, and we chatted for a minute or two, and then we slipped our moorings and pushed off. The boat, by the way, was the Munster, which I think you have both travelled by.

At Holyhead we drove them off the ship and packed them into the Irish Mail. They didn't beetle off this time, for they had a corridor and could go along and see their pals. (Also the sanitary problem wasn't so pressing.) We wired to Euston to have breakfast ready for them, and to Crewe for another water-wagon, and then we had just time to capture our seats in a first-class compartment before she pulled out.

We had an uneventful run up to town, sleeping most of the way (and please, Mother, I was good to Billy, 'cos I gave him my greatcoat to sleep under as well as his own), and arrived in Euston about 6 in the morning. The men turned out rather dirty and dishevelled, but all present and no kits missing; but we found that a big draft of Navy men had preceded us with the breakfast order, so there was none for us. Fortunately, however, we had stated in our telegram that we were en route for Aldershot (you may be generous with your information when you have such a small party) and someone had ' phoned on to Waterloo and our breakfast was waiting there.

So Billy said he would collect our own things and run them across in a taxi and see about the breakfast, as well as arranging about the train to Aldershot, if I would bring the menu round.

I led them down into the tube station (we went down in two lifts, and I just managed to herd back the other half from rushing away to a train for Shepherds Bush or the Elephant & Castle or somewhere at the back of God's world) and explained to them that the trains here are not exactly the kind of easy-going Irish affairs they had been used to, which would wait half-an-hour for them to get leisurely on board. Apparently they took this to heart, for when the train pulled in there was a stampede and they nipped in for their lives like a lot of bunnies going to earth when a man comes round the corner with a gun. In a couple of seconds there wasn't a trace of them to be seen. They made themselves awful unpopular with their stampede, too, because the train was very crowded with folk going to work, and these 50 men who surged in all stuck out a couple of feet all round with their rifles and tins and blankets and kitbags.

At Waterloo we saw their breakfast, and gave them a packet of Woodbines each; and then, as we couldn't get a train down till 10.30, we turned them loose on the platform for a smoke and a rest and went to see about our own breakfast. First of all we had a gorgeous hot bath in a princely bathroom with big sponges and taps that roared like the Atlantic Ocean and shiny nickel fittings and showers and warmed Turkish towels and scented soap (different from a bath in the distressful country, I'm afraid) and then, after having our hair cut out and shampooed, our faces shaved; our boots polished, and putting on clean underclothes and socks, we felt real good, and went in to all the things we can't get in the mess, and ate a breakfast that scandalised even the head waiter.

Shining with soap and repletion, we came out at last, and strolled heavily across to put the men in the train for the last lap, and despatched a final telegram ahead to order a transport wagon from the regiment to meet us at the station.

It was a slow train, and it wasn't until twelve o' clock that we reached Frimely. Here we tumbled out, loaded up all our stuff into the wagon, and started to march the two or three miles up to Blackdown Camp

We got here about half-past one, and handed over our reports, accounts, and marching-in roll to the C.O., and dismissed the men with a profound feeling of thankfulness and wrote 'finis' to the show. I couldn't help thinking how differently the men behaved from the first draft that came down from Galway.

I haven't see enough of this place to describe it yet, but we're messing on one of those pretentious little houses that stand in the middle of about 5 acres of trees, so common in Surrey. Billy and I share a decent enough room at the top with a priceless view and an electric fire in the fire - place, so we might be a lot worse off. He was at the Christ's Hospital, which is at Horsham; I was at the Charterhouse, which is at Godalming; we are now at Blackdown, not 20 miles from either - voila tout. He came over to Charterhouse to play cricket for C.H against our Maniacs once, by the way.

Finn travelled over quite all right with me. He came as a recruit, so I didn't pay a penny for him. I had something else to do than bother about dog-tickets.

Bed-time. Good-night.