West Sandling Camp.
Kent England.
November 23/16.

Dear Mother,

It is quite a long time since I last wrote. But since then everything has been busy and disagreeable.

They have been keeping us busy from early [paper damaged] till late at night and the weather has been bad. When you are living in a tent the weather plays an important part in everything.

Last Thursday I was Orderly Officer. On Wednesday I was in charge of the butts at the ranges. Thursday I was in charge of an entrenching party. Friday I was down to the ranges again. Sunday I spent back at the ranges. Monday we had a route march. Tuesday at the ranges again. Wednesday with the entrenching party again. And today an inspection by a General Staff Officer, and a re-organization of our company. Every one of these duties necessitated getting up long before daybreak and working sometimes till after midnight. For example when we went to the ranges this time we had to go about six miles. Also we had to be up, dressed, have breakfast, fall in, call the rolls, etc. and march down there and be ready to start firing at daybreak. We would then fire till dark and then march back.

Saturday it snowed hard all day changing to rain about midnight and stopping about 10 the next morning. It was bitterly cold and wet in the tent. Monday it rained all the time we were marching. The rest of the week has been fair, but with a very heavy fog all the time. It is now raining hard again.

I received a letter from you to-day. The socks arrived all O.K. Also about a week ago, I got a pair of white ones from the West. They were rather thin, but work fine when wearing slacks. I would like my muffler and wristlets.

I am glad to hear that you are getting settled down in your new house. I hope that you will be comfortable in it, and enjoy your surroundings as you get better acquainted.

The change in militia [?] should improve things here. The medical service has been an everlasting disgrace and crime on the name of the country. The equipment, nurses and doctors here have been excellent, but the work higher up – rotten. They are already beginning to clean things up here. They have appointed an [excellent?] commission to inquire into affairs.

Well, I must close now. I’ll write again in time to catch the next mail (Tuesday).

Goodbye for this time then, darling Mother.

Your loving son,
Grant.