France,
8th October, 1916
My dear Mother,
This ought to get home in time for your birthday (Nov. 5th) so I wish you Many Happy Returns of the Day. I would sooner do it personally, but will next year. We are out for a month’s spell now. It’s getting cold and by the time you get this it will probably be very cold.
I don’t like the cold much but we are as well provided against it as possible under the conditions. I tried for a commission in the Royal Flying Corps and almost got in because of my grip of things mechanical but they turned me down as too old by five years. They want men of twenty and have a limit of twenty five. and only asked my age as a kind of parting shot. The examiner seemed very surprised at me being thirty and said I could have passed had I lied but twenty five was the limit. I was very disappointed. It is hard to realise I’m an old fogie. I invited them to give me a trial and told them they didn’t have a twenty year old who could give them more fight and still have some up my sleeve. I’d got in first class fighting condition to reduce my weight before applying. Got rid of a stone weight and came in just under 11 stone – felt like jumping over the moon then got turned down as an old fogie. It almost made me fight. I never missed examining planes when I got a chance and knew a wee bit about them. Being a signaller was helping me until they asked me my age. At thirty I am a long way younger than many soldiers at the same age who have kicked from pillar to post in an irresponsible manner but couldn’t get through my CO – and the doctor gave me an excellent recommendation too.
Love to all, Stid
