Dear Sweetheart...

I criticize the Globe & Mail's reporting on a regular basis around here, and with good reason, I like to think. But I must heartily congratulate them now on their "Dear Sweetheart" series, a collection of letters from a QOR Sergeant who subsequently earns his commission to his wife back home during the Second World War. They are extraordinary.

Barrack room soldiering may be O.K. but I can't see that it wins wars. And that is the main object to my mind. Let's get this business over and get home. If I thought that holding my feet at exactly 30° angle on the parade ground and having my little finger just so would win the war in a hurry, I'd stand there for a month. But I really think that too much hidebound red-tape and tradition is hampering Britain's war effort. And until the whole Empire really gets down to the business of fighting “all out” we're going to drag the war out to a slow death. Don't think though, from the above, that I'm beefing due to any personal troubles with the instructors. Because I'm rarely checked-up on except in details of sloping arms, which we of the Q.O.R. aren't used to doing. But it does seem rather pointless at times, all this parade ground hooey. I'm afraid that I attach more importance to the ability to shoot straight and fast than to parade ground drill and we aren't taught to shoot, nor are the men. But enough of that! Let's speak of something more important.

For some reason or other I've missed you more, lately, than ever before I think. Maybe it's because I'm tired and want someone to talk to in the evenings. I know that there is an awfully empty space inside me and having you with me is the only thing that will ever cure it. In fact I haven't slept particularly well the last couple of nights because I'm missing you. So you see I must be in a bad way. I think probably being near Christmas has something to do with it as I'm strictly a homebody at heart and I'm missing the atmosphere that surrounds the family as Christmas Eve draws near. I really miss Anne and Karen a great deal as well as you.

Pour yourself a large portion of your beverage of choice, sit down, and prepare to get lost in the life of a WWII Canadian soldier - warts and all - for a couple of hours. You'll be glad you did.