smallhobbit

My Dear Holmes,

I am taking advantage of a few minutes break to write these brief words to you.  As you will see I am sending them care of your brother, who will, I am sure, forward this letter to you.  He is more likely to know your whereabouts than I.

You will be relieved, as am I, to know that I am no longer working on the front line.  Apparently, I am too valuable to be allowed to stay there.  I would be rather more flattered if I wasn’t aware that the same remark has been made to all the experienced surgeons.  Of whom, sadly, there are far too few.

We are now away from the gunfire, which means that we suffer less interruptions in our work.  Whilst a direct hit is, of course, fatal, a hit nearby can cause so much damage that many hours are lost before work can resume.  I do not need to elaborate on the effects of this.

I have little else to tell you.  I leave to your own imagination the sights I see on a daily basis.  There is time only to work, eat a little, grab some sleep (never enough) and then return to work.  I have not ventured even as far as the boundary of our compound for the last few days.  I have, however, been promised a day’s leave in two days’ time.  I shall endeavour to describe the sights and sounds of the countryside to you next time I write.  Unless I spend the whole day asleep, as some of my colleagues have done.

I must close now.  I can hear the rumble of wheels and the running footsteps which herald the arrival of the next batch of casualties.

I look forward to the day, however far in the future it may be, when we shall meet again, and this conflict will all be behind us.

John H Watson