When last I left you I was anticipating a pleasant morning’s potato and onion peeling, but my hopes were frustrated by the substitution in a later edict of “Butchers Shop” for “Cook House”. The work did not take above a couple of hours, but — well you know how fond I am of raw meat and scrubbing greasy floors. I often wonder what some of the perkier individuals would look like were they asked to put their patriotism to the test by, say, carrying half a dozen carcasses of mutton out of the nether slums of the ship, up a precipitous stairway and into the evil-smelling den of the fleshers. Pouff! There is now a “Submarine guard”, armed men posted round the fore-parts of the vessel looking out for submarines or mines. It doesn’t make us nervous, only blasphemous at the prospect of more frequent duty. It is difficult to see what use the rifles would be. Received wireless indicating that America seems to be on the move towards joining the Allies. You would have been amused to see me last night yelling such devotional exercises as “In the sweet bye and bye” – “When the roll is called up younger” at a service held by the Methodist Chaplain.
Walk March 