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passed on July 28, 2024 at 05:35
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View of loose item on ScrpBk1_06-verso: typescript of letter written by Georges Destrubé for his family, May 2-25, 1917. Page 4 of 19.

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  • [start page] - 4 - He said he was getting very weary of the War and could hardly see how his luck could last. "I feel like a cocoanut (sic) on one of those cocoanut shies (?)," he said, ""that ahve remained unhit for days and months and whose turn must surely come." Poor old Minty, how deeply we regret him, he has gone the way of his pals, Munroe and Guy and Paul, and like them he played the game in the highest sense to the end. May 7th 1917 The Battalion is back in a rest area. Had I been coming out of the line with Guy and Paul how I should have appreciated this rest. Coming out on rest in those days always caused an agreeable reaction on our spirits: hardship and danger were over for the time at least, so we were invariably merry an bright. Such happy hours we thus spent on rest. We seemed to go naturally to the same places and did everything together by natural choice, for we had the same tastes and interests and our ideas dovetailed. And what we loved best of all was laughter: we went in for the same line of humour, it was our mainstay, we always fell back on it. We could always spare time for a joke and it would break out frequently in our most serious discusssions. In the trenches too, in spite of much exhaustion, and uncertainty of life and the mud and the cold of winter we often had our laugh: besides we had so many good pals in those days - there was Robinson and Minty, Spikesman and Munroe, and a host of others and we were on familiar terms with each and every and the Heads as well. Many a joke and drink we had with sergeant and sergeant-majors, and many a plan and scheme we made to dodge parades while on rest. While on rest we were always breaking bounds, wandering out and spending [end page]
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