My dear Mother,
Fred just finished writing you a big letter so I will make this short for once.
Snow fell at intervals this afternoon but melted as soon as it fell. I am in the church army hut listening to a band concert, so excuse the writing, for once, please. I know you will.
I haven’t seen Cliff yet but hope to soon.
Regarding promotion, I hope so Musie. I am a “Pete” just now but hope to come into my own again in time. Jim Steele is a private. He may be old but he certainly doesn’t look it. You say tell you everything but it is impossible. I would love to but the censors say no. I know anything I told you would be safe but letters sometimes go astray and then Hymie might get perfectly good information.
I will write you again in a few days.
Your loving son,
James
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