‘The fine weather is still lasting,’ wrote Sherriff to his mother, ‘and having worked during the night I am now resting in my little dugout listening to the boom! boom! going on outside’ (while also writing to her, and to his old friend Trimm [another Kingston man who had served with him in the Artists Rifles]).

He had heard that some more officers would be going on leave the following week, taking him nearer to the top of the list:

‘If only we do not have to go into any “push” during the next three weeks or month I may be lucky enough to get my leave – I simply long for it – and the nearer I get on the list the more impossible it seems that I may get it – or at least the thought of getting home has always been so much on my mind that until I have actually got the pass in my hand and until I am actually sitting in the train on the way I will not believe that I am coming home.’

He told her that as soon as he knew he had leave he would contact her by telegram, to see whether it might be possible for her to meet him: ‘I do not wish to raise your hopes, dear, but I want to let you know that should all go well with me for a bit longer and should leave remain open – that happy time may come within a month or so’.

[Next letters: 24 May]