W.A.K. This apparently means "Sealed with a kiss,"
which, considering that the sealing is done not by the writer but by
the Censor, seems to take a good deal for granted.
Most of the letters acknowledge the receipt of a "parcle"; many give a
guarded summary of the military situation.
_We are not allowed to tell you about the War, but I may say that we
are now in the trenches. We are all in the pink, and not many of the
boys has gotten a dose of lead-poisoning yet._
It is a pity that the names of places have to be left blank. Otherwise
we should get some fine phonetic spelling. Our pronunciation is
founded on no pedantic rules. Armentieres is Armentears, Busnes is
Business, Bailleul is Booloo, and Vieille Chapelle is Veal Chapel.
The chief difficulty of the writers appears to be to round off their
letters gracefully. _Having no more to say, I will now draw to a
close_, is the accepted formula. Private Burke, never a tactician,
concludes a most ardent love-letter thus: "_Well, Kate, I will now
close, as I have to write to another of the girls_."
But to Private Mucklewame literary composition presents no
difficulties. Here is a single example of his terse and masterly
style:--
_Dere wife, if you could make the next postal order a trifle stronger,
I might get getting an egg to my tea.--Your loving husband_, JAS.
MUCKLEWAME, _No_.
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