Letter from Coporal Ernest Douglas Barton to Rose Petrie - October 7th, 1944 HQ 121CBR Battalion CAOS 10 October 1944 Dearest Rose, Hello honey, hoe maakt u het, mooi? See, I gotta learn another language now, Flemish this week, next week, Dutch. Gee, pretty soon --Roosian. Well, kid, things in Belgium are just as good as ever. Been getting around the old town in great style. Took 3 or 4 hours off the other afternoon, & wandered through the old castle of the Dukes, or Counts of Flanders. The ruddy pile dates back to the 9th century --just a little before our time eh sweet? It's in a very good state of preservation though, but of course castles were really build in those days, tremendous blacks of stone, massing arches & walls so thick you could build a house on 'em. Must've been cold as the devil in those solid, rocky vaults, with no central heating or anything. The place was full of intricate mechanisms of torture. --amusement, no doubt, for the count during the long winter evening. Below ground level, the joint was honeycombed with dungeons, deep holes & foul pits full of odiferous water, --lovely places to put our Nazi trouble makers, I thought. I picked out a beautiful solitary cell for Herr Hitler --about 50 feet deep, with sheer rock walls, no light & dimensions about 3 feet by 6 feet, (sort of a living grave). While I was down there, I felt like poor of' Dante in the chateau D'If of Monte Cristo fame, remember? We certainly won't model our home on the 9th century style. Anyway dear, 's too cold and forbidding. However, just across the canal from this medieaval town mansion, there is a very pleasant contrast. An enterprising greengrocer has taken over a little old church & has displayed his stock in trade all over the front of the ancient shrine. Bunches of large, purple, & green grapes hang from ledges & corners, big yellow pears stand out against the dull grey background of the masonary, & red apples, & large oversized crimson tomatoes make blotches of colour thru it all. And the sun's rays gleam from a life-size, gold-lacquered crucifix that is set in a deep niche in the wall, just below the apex of the gabled roof. How I wished I'd had a colour camera with me --'twould have taken a prize back home, I know. These numerous canals with their queer barges, low bridges, & spotless little waterside cafes, are very picturesque too. Leathery skinned old boatmen clatter around in their wooden shoes, --which bear a remarkable resemblance to the vessels they man. Grimy, ragged little urchins are forever grasping your hands, begging for cigarettes & souvenirs. A chocolate bar to the kids is like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. At the mere mention of the word, you go down under a struggling, scratching, infantile mass. We passed through quite a number of the famous towns & cities of France & Belgium --of the last war. Familiar names like Arras, Lens, Amiens, Rouen etc., drifted by. Cemeteries of the Canadians & British who fell during that bitter struggle still dot the landscape. The most moving, & to me thought provoking scene I've ever witnessed, is the Ridge of Vimy, with its world famous twin shafts --the Memorial. They are a stirring sight, set just below the crest of the hard won ridge, & dominating the industrial valley below, --slag heaps --factory chimneys & smoke grimed towns. Somehow, I felt very thankful that Jerry had spared this mighty remembrance of that other time. Well Rose, it looks like I've overstayed my leave again --should 've been in bed long ago. G'night darling, I love you more & more every new city & country I visit. You too? Yes? Yours forever, Doug. Over Encolsed is a thesis by an unknown professor of gastronomy --very truthful, I'd say. EDB. The cartoon clears me of any infidelity whatever --Gawd's truth' selp me. Your bug-eyed boy friend, Bart