Dearest Mother,

Here it is Sunday again, as you will see by the date. You will have my first letters by now and I looking forward patiently to hearing from home.

There has been considerable rain here this week and as a result had a day and a half of illness. But it very soon dries here after a rain. At least it appears to as there is no mud on the roads.

I’m going to London on Tuesday morning for a leave of absence and will not be back at camp again till the end of the week. So I will have some very interesting sights to see and write you about.

I suppose by now that winter will have set in at home. It sure don’t look much like winter here although they claim that November is the worst month of all. However we have put in half of it and I still do not mind it. Some of the boys who cabled to Canada when they landed had their cables returned to them as they are stopping them from cabling across at the present.

Winter has set in in Russia and from all accounts, the Germans are in bad shape there. I hope so, anyway. I suppose Dad is not at home a great deal. I am going to write him. I will have to close this epistle as I should write to my wife-to-be some time today.

Love to all the family,

Cliff