All leave is up by the 10th of January for everybody, officers and men.

The Princess Patricia Canadian Light Infantry have gone to the front to
the envy of everybody. It is a splendid battalion with fine officers. They
have been lying next to our lines and we have made many friends with the
"Pats."

Cerebro-spinal meningitis has broken out, and in spite of all efforts to
check it, seems to be gaining ground. Several officers have died with it,
and I believe that four battalions are quarantined. We have to use
chloride of lime on the tent floors and around the lines. My friend Pat
calls it "Spike McGuiness." The worst of a disease like this is that a
patient never recovers. Even a cure means partial paralysis for life. I
believe that Salisbury Plain is known for it, and I hear that all the
ground that troops are now occupying is to be ploughed up when we leave.
As far as that goes we have ploughed it up a bit already, but a systematic
ploughing will make it more regular. The subsoil is only four inches, then
you come to chalky clay. The tent-pegs when they are taken from the ground
are covered with chalk.

I think that the Canadian Contingent has had a pretty raw deal. We're not
even included in the six army divisions which are going to France by the
end of March. Wish I had joined the "Princess Pats," who are already
there. We want to fight.

We're having a beastly time as compared with the Belgian refugees and the
German prisoners in England. We're beginning to wonder if we are ever
going to the front. There is now some talk of billeting us in Bristol.
We've been under arms nearly five months and should be good fighting
material by now. With a similar number of men the Germans would have done
something by this time.

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All the last week the selected few of us have been working separately on a
course of work to qualify us for commissions. We have had to study hard
every spare minute when not drilling each other.

Several dogs have attached themselves to us; sometimes they find
themselves on a piece of string, the other end being in a man's hand. One
of these, a big bull terrier, sleeps in the canteen. The beer is quite
safe with him there, but two nights ago the canteen tent, after a great
struggle, tore itself off the tent-poles and went fifteen feet up in the
air like a balloon, then collapsed. The dog, I regret to say, did not stay
at his post, so a qua