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Early October. (Oct 3rd 1917)

The English officers are a new quantity to me; some of them are complex, others I've seen are simple in their makeup. In appearance they strike you at once by their neatness, and their uniforms have the admiration of every American who sees them. So perhaps I've undergone a change of heart in regard to the "horseworks", as I called it. The are hard, much overworked up here, to describe the English dress uniform is that [[strikethrough]] off [[/strikethrough]] oft repeated "smart".

Most of our Leftenants - (not Lieutenant is it is in the States) are men who have been in the mill across the pond. They are the pioneers who were in the thick of things in the winter of 1914-15. They wear wound stripes and can tell some startling tales of war-rifled France.

Leftenant Steward, the officer in command of this Cadet Wing is a typical tea-drinking at-5-o'clock Englishman. He has a great propensity to say "dam" and "hell" every five words, words, by the way, which, since the war began, do not constitute swearing. He began to spring on our unsuspecting innocence