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to slip over his vests. He wears at least three on all occasions. I went for a walk today with the housekeeper to bestow some rice and bread on a little family in rather destitute circumstances. The mother had two sons and one had been killed in the war and she hadn't heard from the other in months. Then just the other day the las son suddenly without warning game home on leave from France where he had been gassed. Imagine how happy they were although they had practically nothing to eat in the house except polenta and their clothing was insufficient for the cold weather we were having. They insisted on giving us a return present of a plat of huge chestnuts and we had to drink a glass of their excellent vino. Just think, a month from today is Xmas. I had almost hoped to be home for it but now I fear it will be another in Italy for me. Our work now consists of carrying sick and wounded returned prisoners coming into Trieste. Conditions there are beyond words. The commandant visited a Colonel of the prison camp and he happened there just at meal time and the only meal of the day. The Colonel was eating a dry biscuit and drinking a glass of water. I don't know what the men were eating but it sounds terrible doesn't it? They say they are literally dying by the thousands every day. It seems to me one of the greatest tragedies of the war that, after keeping body and soul together for years, they should meet such terrible hardships in the hour of repatriation. There is need in Europe for every ounce of food that can be procured and I fancy it will be up to Canada and the States to do what they can, for Russia the other great food producing country in the Bolsheviks is not as reliable as it might be. I see by the paper that America is sending at once 200,000 tons