Well, this is a humbling letter. That’s pretty much all I have to say about it – his words say more than I ever could.

A couple of things – Boche was slang for Germans, and the Boche potato mashers were German grenades.

M11915 CPL Martin JS

6 Platoon Support Coy

Calgary Highlanders

C.A.O

16th Oct 1944

Holland

Dear Folks,

Thanks again for your super letter written Sept 28th. It arrived this evening so it didn’t take as long as the last one to get here.

I am writing this in my dugout and have only a flickering old candle made by myself out of some fat I scrounged from the cooks, so don’t blame me if you strain your eyes reading this.

This dugout I mentioned, is not very deep, as the ground is very sandy and it keeps caving in. I hunted up an old lumber pile and laid lots of heavy board on top, covered that over with soil, then placed the turf back on over the entrance. I have a couple of groundsheets which help keep the rain out. It also keeps this little light from shining. As you can imagine, I haven’t much room. But after I have been in for a while, it gets kinda cozy and it is a lot warmer than sleeping out on top.

Every place we go these days we carry a shovel, and dig ourselves below ground level. Then if we stay over-nite, we dig it deeper and try to get a top on it. The darn things won’t keep a shell out, but I feel heaps safer in one. Sort of ostrich like complex, if I can’t see out, I figure they can’t see in, and the top keeps a lot of shrapnel from buzzing in.

I remember the first time I was under shell fire. We had taken over positions from the Boche, and as he had been there some time, trenches had already been dug with roofs over them. The shells were coming over very thinly(?), and we could hear the whine a long ways off. I used to think it kind of a big joke to beat the shell to my trench. It was rather exciting, but at first not dangerous. It wasn’t until there were several casualties that I began to see the serious side of it, and still I hadn’t learned my lesson. Our next step was thru Caen. All our vehicles were perched very prettily on a hill and I had just stepped out of our jeep, when Bang. All hell broke loose. I dived for the lowest spot I could see, and in between shells I scooped out the ground with my hands to get a spot to bury my head in. For an hour they came over and I was a pretty scared boy. When the shells quit for a while, I beat the wind getting below ground. There was nothing around to use for a roof, so for the next three days I shivered in that hole. When it rained everything turned to mud, and the concussion of shells landing close, blew the sides of the trench in. So now next to my good old _____? I push my shovel.

It’s hard to describe things as they were during that first month around Caen. I watched a 1000 bombers blast hell out of Caen. Turning day into nite with the smoke they raised. Distances were measured in yards, and there was a dead body every yard. Every village was pounded and re-pounded until it was a heap of rubble, the stink, ruin, and cries of the dying and wounded just about drove me insane. There was no let up, day or nite. After we broke away from Caen, it was a little easier. When I went to hospital near Falaise, I figured I was lucky, and the two weeks out gave me a chance to rest up and stop my nerves from jumping. It used to be if I heard any sudden noise or if anyone spoke to me suddenly I’d jump a mile. But the rest fixed me up again. After coming out, it was a lot easier except for the odd day or two. I rather enjoyed the rest of the trip thru France. The people were very friendly and gave us all kinds of fruit and stuff they had been saving for years. Things got a little difficult thru Belgium as it, like Holland, has so many canals, and Jerry put a fight up at each one. This blasted country looks as tho it s going to be the worst of all, as on top of all the other things, it is cold and wet.

As for me, I have kept in quite good health, but I won’t be sorry when it is all over.

My job these days is to pick up mines, check on booby traps, and other fiendish contraptions, as well as doing the odd spot of stem? shooting.

The biggest percentage of the new recruits have never even heard of a booby trap. (God knows how they have been trained in Canada). So being a Cpl, I have to worry about them, as well as myself. One thing the most of them have is guts, and they learn pretty fast here, or they don’t last long. Things on the whole aren’t too bad. We usually manage to have lots of fun between times.

Don’t worry Edna about the mistake you made in my number. I noticed on the letter that came before this. If it is addressed to the unit, it will reach me. When I was in hospital all my mail went astray. Letters from my wife in England didn’t reach me until long after I returned to the unit. I didn’t know I was a “Daddie” until nearly a month after and a telegram that Eileen sent informing me of the news took 2 months to reach me. Now that I’m back my mail situation is better. But still some of the parcels you sent haven’t arrived, and you can bet that burns me up. But when they do I’ll let you know, when they come.

Tell Percy he hasn’t anything on me when it comes to fishing. I don’t need any line or reel. If we get near a canal, we drop half a dozen Boche potato mashers in, and if there is any fish around, they sure come up. But I believe I would rather do it his way.

Well folks, I guess I’ll soon have to finish this as my candle is getting very low. Thanks again for your letters, and I will drop you a line soon again. I hope it will be a fairly quiet night here, but I suppose that is asking too much.

My little Julie Ann is doing famously. I’m waiting on a picture of her, my wife tells me she looks like me, poor kid. It is over two months old now and is getting bigger every day. I can hardly believe it is true yet. But I’m longing for all this to end so that I can see her for myself. I tell the wife all about my times at the C.L. So don’t be surprised if some day, we all pay you a visit.

God damned guns have started up again and just about to blow my candle out every time they fire. So will say so long and All the Best to you all

Sincerely, Jack.