Dear René,

I was delighted to hear from you again today, can’t imagine why I should be so lucky to receive so many charming letters from so nice a girl as you are, I just want to answer your queries by this rather brief air-mail, for I think you deserve a considerate reply, even if only because you so conscientiously write so regularly, it’s very kind of you and thoughtful and what you say is thoughtful too, more than I frankly deserve for my impudence! I’m so sorry if I hurt you at all, which I trust was not the case, glad you have a sense of humour too, but I quite deserve any bricks you might throw!

Sorry I was so miserable in my letter, I was rather morbid wasn’t I? As you so truthfully say René, and you are right in this respect, it’s not always right to look too far ahead. You are perfectly right by only living with a few days in advance. It’s quite wrong to take life for granted, and plan selfishly for the future. God, I’m sure, meant us to live each day as it comes, and not to look or try to foresee the future. We have to learn to trust God, don’t you think? Thank him for his provision each day, and the gifts he offers are given only at the right time. Though at one time I really wondered if I was making a mistake by writing as I do, not trusting enough. When a young boy I was always doing things which weren’t always the best saying “Oh, I thought so & so” and mother used to say “you’re always thinking & doing what you think”, but perhaps God allows for people’s peculiarities and their ‘thoughts’, if one really tries to do the right.

Sorry to hear you are so tired and worn out, you’ll have a good holiday at ‘Inglenook’, you need one I think, dear, dreary old Bristol!

Reading your letter again, I think I did ‘tease’ you unfairly, actually with so much in between, I can’t accurately remember what I said, it’s nearly a fortnight since I wrote, but always ‘pull me up’ if you don’t quite agree with me please René.

No, I know you are not the noisy, talkative type René, as I said in my letter of yesterday, I think you are just like your photo – gentle, quiet, and all a woman should be, anything else, well, I have to imagine the rest, I’m looking forward to the time when talking to you instead of writing will be the greater pleasure.

You rather did take my breath away, don’t, whatever you do, change your style of writing, I love the way you ramble on!! Seriously I do, and I promise to write as often as possible, with so agreeable a correspondent, how could I otherwise? I don’t really think that you are too comfortable at home to want to marry, not if you were really swept off your feet, or head! But being thoughtful is very wise, not rushing into anything you’re not quite sure of. I sincerely hope that you won’t marry the wrong fellow, who ever he is, at least being thoughtful about it does give me a ‘look in’ (says he, not realizing what he is writing, oh! I’m such a selfish brute).

Thanks, René, for going to have your photo taken soon, very considerate, and I can be patient if I want to be – who wouldn’t be, for you?

You wanted to know all about Perugia too, and I’ve filled the letter all with selfish remarks, I’ll send you a whole lot to look at, and you can think you’re over here too with me, can’t have a birthday with those sort of snaps. When is your birthday?

Day off today, saw all the old churches, tell you more later, it was good.

Seems near finis, thank you for all you said, you’re very sweet.

Cheerio for now, God bless you.

Yours very fondly

            Eric.

Ps. What’s the idea saying on Monday: -

            “Will write again at end of week”?

 Love to Auntie.

Dear René,

At long last, here I am with pen and paper quietly writing to you. I’m not exactly tucked away in a corner of God’s earth, as I would like to be, possibly away on a grassy bank beneath a shady hedge, as I can see through the open window stretching towards the foot of the distant hills: I am, instead, writing in our study room in barracks, wooden chairs and tables, very bare. However it’s fairly quiet, Saturday evening, most chaps either gone to pictures or a dance held up at the university, every Saturday, the usual ‘hop’ where fellows scramble to dance with what ATS girls are either on the course, or a mêlée of gushing Italian girls – ‘bright young things’ I heard an officer once describe them as. There’s only one other occupant in the room, conscientiously studying a subject. ‘That’s the rub’ (Shakespeare) if one wishes to do well it means occupying the spare hours we have (not many) for private study, instead of gallivanting off somewhere. That’s why I’ve not been writing so often here, to you, and hope you’ll understand the diminished mail, though you should have received three since I arrived, an air-mail written yesterday.

And now perhaps, after those few opening lines, I can settle down to the more serious business of answering your two delightful letters of this week. They really are beautiful letters, and I think, even if you aren’t ‘doing’ an English course, you have a lovely way of expression, so more’s the credit due to you – busy little conductress!!

I don’t know where to start, (I could almost begin that book with replies to all you have said) but will do my best, firstly though, I admire your description of Thorny Hill, that’s definitely worth a visit, and I am very interested too, in the trips you make, you seem very capable of getting about at your job, one which, I must say, I don’t envy you at all, wouldn’t like taking fares in a crowded bus, tho’ I’d enjoy the country runs very much.

Well, first letter first,

                        Aug 13,

Sorry about overtime, hardly fair, and tough on girls especially, or women! Did I thank you for the picture? Glad you re-discovered it, was it on the handlebars? Trust you obtain a good dress, sorry the coupons are so tight, was reading in ‘Union Jack’ that Stafford Cripps Minister of Production (?) isn’t at all popular with Britain’s women.

Was out for an hour today shop hunting, looking for photos of Perugia, looked in several shoe shops, they are as dear, or dearer than at home, and far inferior. The cheapest leather shoes were about 2500 lire, £6-0-5! Everything is very expensive, perhaps more plentiful, but it’s utility against overpricing.

What do you read René? As you say you like reading?

When are your holidays? The rest of them? Wouldn’t it be fun if I had ‘liap’ at the same time? That’s perhaps simple well wishing, don’t even know if I shall get drawn. The news was disappointing today, only ‘23s’ this year, from ‘home’ papers we had gleamed at least ‘26s’ by Christmas, it’s bad propaganda to put across the folks at home.

As a diversion, – have you heard about ‘Rome Sweet Rome’ published by ‘Manchester Guardian’ from this lady correspondent in Rome? There’s a veritable verbal battle raging in our papers at present between servicemen here about the lady’s impressions. She wrote that ‘The British tommy would miss this life of luxury, of waiters, hotels, band & ice cream’ etc etc: what an uproar she created!

The railways are not the least of Britain’s problems, what do you think of the A-bomb? Terrible, but it’s concentrated destruction, and shows more strikingly how wrong war is in any way.

Yes, it’s far better to take things quietly, life is most beautiful in quietness, I think, anyhow VJ day was one of thankfulness I think, deep gratitude.

We’ll both have lessons together, for I’ve not danced for ages, about three since leaving home, and hardly any before the war, not having a partner and consequently little enthusiasm, I’d hardly jitterbug, tho’ it must relieve one very much to become so involved in “letting off steam”, oh yes, have seen it on films.

Henry V is a very good show I hear, hope you enjoyed it, our English masters criticised it rather severely, said it wasn’t properly represented, the stage at that time. Do you like drama, theatre plays?

No, not American sisters, just plain, very ordinary English sisters, some alright, and some who think they are ‘it’, and ‘make up’ to officers! Silly I think.

Yes, sickness is indeed terrible, only those who suffer seem to know, which makes the necessity for kindness even greater.

Oh no! You wouldn’t really write to Harry would you? I shouldn’t sleep at all then.

‘Nights’ were very tedious, I’m feeling tons better, away from cookhouses.

Well, thanks for the compliment about Cary Grant, must try to get one with a smile, ‘a West Country smile’ as my letter said!

Now letter no. 2. Aug 15^th

We are all much happier now that the war is really over, should have loved to have strolled around Bournemouth with you and watched the celebrations, the coloured fountain, and waterfall, sounds interesting.

Must await return to unit to see about my leave, they told me I was due for another course on return: ‘Moral leadership’, but will give you the ‘guff’ (army word) on return. At most it seems as though there will be still a considerable number of letters to write yet René, before demob.

So the mystery name is solved at last! I like Irené very much, strange I hadn’t thought of that earlier, but the accent had me puzzled, but I think I’ll call you “Brown eyes”.

Have never been called ‘Riccy’, perhaps I’d grow to like it. My horrible nickname is “Busty’, (ugh!). That’s also from a film star. Someone, a bright office clerk tagged me once and it stuck, I’ve grown accustomed to it, everyone at the unit uses it, but I prefer Eric, or your pet version best.  Coming from leave it sounded very strange at first, obviously no-one calls me that at home, it’s purely nominal as, like yourself I am rather slim myself. I used to weigh 164lbs, but being abroad am about 156 now, 5-11½, blue eyes, fair hair, not a tanned complexion (that’s worn off now), rather pale in fact, for your information, thanks, for your description too, have now only to meet you in person, soon I hope.

The mail seems to be coming through alright now: yours arrived yesterday (15^th) 24^th, nine days, four days from the unit. Better when they come direct, would suggest you stop writing direct to me here after next weekend 1^st Sept; and write to 95^th again, that will prevent delay. No, air-mail and ordinary letters both come by air so just write ordinary letters please.

Your company don’t seem very considerate about paying for extra hours, rotten spirit that, I see you prefer the single deckers, no wonder.

So you relished the food as per menu! Perhaps with persuasion, you might (?) find me cooking your dinner, but on the condition I don’t get blamed for using all the rations, I am very ‘heavy handed’ and use tons of stuff.

A catering officer prescribes the menu; we growl and do the work. Night duty ends at six am, when the early shift begins. Italians wash up, and do the dirty work, fortunately for us. The army employs thousands of them, for office work (interpretation) cleaning etc.

Didn’t you feel rather ‘out of things’ ie. Rather lonely, on VJ night? But you are not a ‘noisy’ type are you? Did the company give you a holiday? Did you see the fountain? And waterfall?

Oh yes, the mayor’s letter was quite a surprise, the first I knew was Dad’s letter saying how one night going home by bus his eye alighted on the middle page, mother was very ill in hospital at the time and was very excited, she always thought that I would get compassionate leave and always expected to see me, in fact the vicar’s wife told her near the end that I was on my way and so she passed away in that thought, the following day.

Well now, about this ‘ere fishing! Don’t know what Dad’s been spinning to you, he loves to spin tales, but it really was funny: -

            We went for a swim as usual. The spot being at the pier’s end, where the rocks shelve steeply into the water, the sea is very deep there. Suddenly, just when we are prepared to dive in, a loud explosion shakes the concrete under our feet. The direction of the explosion obstructs the view so we cannot tell what is happening. Running around the lighthouse we see a naval launch twenty yards out, sailors leaning over the gunwale, raking the sea. All about are fish, dozens, of stunned, floating fish, with muddy bubbles surrounding. The performance is repeated, only now the launch is on ‘our’ side of the promenade. Diving in, we swim out and like dogs, only not in our mouths, we retrieve the fish. When about to scramble ashore, ‘Jock’ who has a large specimen in his arm, is being confronted by an eager Italian who offers him 500 lire (1-5-0) for his catch, not being an exception to the Scotch case, jock clinches the bargain there and then. It’s the first sale in water he has ever made in his life, with true comradeship ‘Jock’ shares the money and we have 100 apiece.

This was the only sale we made, being so large a fish. The others, and there were dozens, we gave away to the small crowd by this time gathered inquisitively around, did you ever know an Italian who wasn’t either hungry or curious? The whole episode was very exciting by the unusualness of it, yet the canoe in which I took an Italian soldier out to retrieve the farther ones, nearly capsized, I can still picture his look of dismay, and relief as we settled again.

There you are René, all for you, not very good, but well meant anyway. As an aftermath or anti climax, – following day “Fishing by means of depth charges is strictly forbidden”! And now the Italians talk of the ‘wonder’ catch one afternoon, as they sit sighing at their nets, waiting for the solitary bite!

Grammar not very good, tenses a little confused, please excuse me.

I’m going to be very busy when I do come home, writing, telling tales (by the way the above is authentic) visiting friends, seeing you, shan’t have much time ‘off’ shall I?

Haven’t said anything about the course, it’s all study, mostly lectures, taking notes, discussions etc: one interesting feature is ‘Anniversary’ every morning at 9 o’clock, great men’s lives on their anniversary dates is given in a talk for 10 mins. I’ve made notes about it all so will be able to show you and explain in detail.

There are about twenty in the English class (syndicates they’re called), all men, officers, sergeants, all mixed, and one ATS. We have two instructors and they cover a great deal. We work to a timetable, and there are numerous aspects of literature, I’ve a whole pile of notes and texts.

My guard was alright, as guards go, 2-4 this morning, I tried to count all the sounds I heard, cocks crowing, dogs barking, wind creaking wires & doors, someone snoring, a horse & cart far away, a church bell, crickets and that’s about all. I yawned all day! Glad we have the weekend free. Tomorrow there’s a church tour so shan’t really have much time to laze about doing nothing.

I do hope you are keeping well and cheerful, how’s Auntie?

Don’t take any notice of my rude remarks about your letters, will you René? Promise?

I’m looking forward to your photo, had it done yet? I’m waiting patiently, like a good boy.

I’ll write again about Wednesday, I know I shall be very busy early next week with my own talk to prepare for Tuesday.

Look after yourself

Keep cheerful,

Looking forward to your letters very much indeed, ‘Brown eyes’

affectionately, Eric.

Love and best wishes to Auntie.

“Riccy”!

Hope you like the snaps, different from Tuckton and Durley?

Thought the cutting from ‘Union Jack’ would interest you.

Dear René,

Hallo René, thank you very much for your welcome letter of 13^th arrived yesterday, I was very glad to hear from you, I’d just returned to billets feeling tired with study all day and listening to lectures, was very pleased to see your familiar hand, which I have come to know so well.

Oh dear! So much writing, listening to do that I haven’t had a chance to write even tho’ this isn’t a proper letter, it’s nearly ‘lights out’ and well past bed-time, I do feel tired so please forgive me if this is not up to standard, I promise to write over the weekend. It appears that you too have been working at all hours and I do thank you for writing just the same, afraid I’ve not been quite so faithful in writing.

I’m so glad you don’t object to writing often, if you knew how much I enjoy your letters it would be some consolation to you, I envy you sitting out in a deck chair despite the heat wave which no doubt is over by this time.

Please René, don’t take any notice of my unkind remarks about paragraphs, you write the most charming letters and wouldn’t have you alter them a bit. Perhaps, and I know I do, say some very idiotic things, very egotistically (phew!! English course!), so don’t pay attention to any funny things I try to say, or we shan’t be natural towards one another and spoil the charm of correspondence, it holds much charm to receive from you.

I’d love to come to Tuckton, that’s a date for you, I thought at the time, “What a beautiful spot to visit”, but didn’t like to say so much.

Sorry you are working so hard and long, you must get very tired, it’s wonderful, the way you manage to stick it for so long.

Ha ha! I’ll have a birthday if you send some snaps of B’th, I’m trying to be very patient, but you know which snap I’m really looking forward to, and I hope you find the knitting bag alright, I’m not alone in my untidiness, or forgetfulness!

I trust painting won’t stop you writing, suggest you “stagger” the time!

Friday midday.

                        Wasn’t able to complete this last night, am on guard tonight so must hasten and get this off as you will be thinking you are being forgotten which I assure you is incorrect. Another pleasant surprise today, your letter of 15^th, was very glad to hear from you again. On Sunday morning I’ll start early and write a long letter and answer all your queries, if not too many! Thank you for all the compliments, glad you think I can write well, mustn’t get swell-headed, I’m only a ‘learner’ yet, perhaps the course will help. We are very busy ie, fully occupied the whole time, we work from 9-1, 3.30-7.0, which allows say 3 hours for ‘off’ periods, including any spare study and personal affairs. I have to prepare a talk for next Wed, a discussion for Tuesday (4 of us) at the Fellowship up the road, an essay I believe, so don’t have much time off, I’ve been to the pictures once here only. On Sunday I’ve been asked to play for 10.00 service, there’s a tour of churches at 2.00 so don’t know whether I’m on head or heels, but it’s very interesting and I’m benefiting greatly by the change, will tell you more later about the place, you’d love it I think. Thanks for personal description Renie, there! I knew you had brown eyes! Durley looks a lovely spot, I see we shall be out sight seeing quite a lot, you must come to Bristol some time and let me repay the ‘conducting’

I had some bad meat for dinner last night and had a bad stomach this morning but struggled thro’, feel OK now.

You may not be like a film star, but I think you are just as attractive, and your letters are delightfully expressive.

Must close now as duty calls,

With every fond wish
affectionately

Eric (or “Riccy” if you wish)

Best wishes to Auntie,
Keep smiling,

“Brown eyes!”

Army School of Education,

Perugia, Italy

Sunday 19^th Aug.

Dear René,

How’s my pen friend in Bournemouth keeping very well, bright and gay? I hope so, and finding plenty to do in off duty hours, not working too hard on the ‘boneshakers’?

I am at last here, in Perugia. Left my unit at 2 o’clock on Thursday, arrived here yesterday at midday. Two days to cover roughly a hundred miles! The trouble was, and I met two other fellows in the same boat; (or train) that we were mis-informed by an RTO (military police at the stations) and went too far. So consequently were ten hours delayed in reaching our changing station. You should have seen us riding ‘hobo’ on timber wagons! Just like these wild west films, only it wasn’t a bit heroic! Anyhow we eventually ‘made it’, and here we are, all ready for the course to begin tomorrow.

Perugia is a very quaint old place, dates from medieval days. The streets are winding and narrow with grey, drab stone buildings, overhanging, and hundreds of steps! It’s built on a hill, of many, and right on top there’s the old church, with beautiful stained glass windows, I was inside last night with a Palestinian corporal whom I palled up with. It must be at least eight hundred years old, the walls are strengthened with iron bars, expect you know the kind, but we’ve a church that old in Bristol and not nearly as old and decrepit looking.

The university isn’t much better either from the exterior, but better able to judge tomorrow inside. Our billets, ‘Adam House’ is down in the village, a big building with dormitories and beds. (H’m) When I get home am going to make a two tier bed, with hard wooden racks, and sleep on the top one, six feet high (I don’t think). Gosh! I nearly rolled off during the night, shall have to stay awake tonight to watch that I don’t. The food is very good, Italians wait on us, so for the army it’s not too bad.

There’s a suspicion of red tape for I heard a nasty large bird whisper something about guard duties and blanco. So if not swotting perhaps I’ll be standing outside wiv “a rifle”, keeping small boys away from picking up cig-ends etc.

Saw “Marriage is a private affair” at the local cinema last night, Lana Turner, it wasn’t bad, I enjoyed it, and there’s a good moral if you see it, tho’ its definitely not a first class film, a love triangle affair which ends typically American-ishly happily. (Which if isn’t bad grammar I’ll eat my hat).

I went to church at 7.45 this morning, up bright and early before the other chaps and the church is ten minutes walk. It was a sunny morning, plenty of people about too, passed a queue of women & children outside some shop, possible for bread or milk. The bells, oh! You don’t know what Italian bells are! They start about 5am: not just one, solitary bell, oh no! at least three, of inharmonious tones, banging away, for 5 minutes? Oh no, all the morning, with intervals, probably to cool the bells off. So –, here I am in Perugia, “Ye olde Italian university town”, all set for a splash at English. I expect that sounds funny to you, the army going to school, but one never knows what the army will do next, perhaps they’ll even send us home!

The mail hasn’t yet come through, it probably will be a couple of days, and so means a fistful to reply.

I do hope you and Auntie are both very well, and life going well. How’s Joan & husband? & May?

I’m not going to call you ‘Dearest Renie’, etc, as my last letter began. You may resent that, goodness knows what you think about me for such colossal cheek! I hope not too badly. Anyway, the real reason is, that it won’t do to grow too sentimental in writing thus to you. It wouldn’t be fair, and it would probably upset you very much if you discovered on meeting me, you didn’t like me a bit. I read of an RAF chap who grew very fond of a girl and at the last moment changed his ideas, and the poor girl was so worried and upset that she lost weight and became nearly ill. I suppose there are girls who take things lightly, and fellows too, but anyhow I wouldn’t like to be the cause of so great unhappiness. It’s so important for the right people to meet and the danger is so great for single persons to make mistakes in impatience, to regret at leisure. That’s the way I feel about it, more especially with us, for although we have met, it’s so long ago as not to have made any true reason for considering ourselves otherwise. How do you look at things, or maybe it hasn’t struck you that way yet? I really can’t remember you very well, although sometimes I believe I do. Dad says you are something like Gwen, so you are rather tall, my guess is your hair is dark, am I right? With possibly brown eyes, big brown eyes, and that’s as far as I’ve got, except that you have a beautiful face, not glamorous, but so gentle, and patient.

You’ll probably think me an awful chump, and very self-willed, as that’s a very bad fault, I hope I’m not. Do you still wear your hair amid ships? You know, straight down the middle?

It’s nearly tea-time, I had intended to write Auntie, perhaps I may be able to.

Will write later on in the week, if not too sick of writing and English, tho’ I don’t think it’s as bad as that here, I usually, always feel keen to write to you tho’ not always the opportunity.

Best wishes for now,

Eric.    X.

Love to Auntie.

I hope you won’t object to such a “claiming” beginning.

I haven’t very long to write to you tonight, had potatoes to cut up for a salad for 200, and thought I’d never get through, its just 2 o’clock which gives me roughly an hour, and that’s not long enough to write to you. I’m being sent tomorrow instead of Saturday on my course, wasn’t writing ‘till tonight to you, but can’t leave without saying a few words to you: wouldn’t rest in the train! I do hope you aren’t cross with me after some of the things I said in my last letter, are you, truthfully, Renie? I expect you think I’m such a conceited and proud sort of chap, and I don’t want you to think that, I don’t think I am really, and I do hope more than anything, that it won’t make any difference to your letters for I love the things you say and wouldn’t like you to alter or stop writing the way you do. Perhaps I do own some funny ways and you may not agree with me in lots of things, promise you won’t stop writing naturally please Renie?

I’ve been looking at your photo again, I always am, and I admire you immensely, where was it taken? You never told me. Are you still as gentle looking? I think you’re fine and ‘fine’ means a whole lot to me. I am looking forward so much to meeting you, we have so many things to do too haven’t we? Don’t forget, there’s the cathedral, pictures, perhaps a dance (if you want to) and anything else you wish, or want to go to. If I am lucky enough to get leave, that would be fine too, I’d be down to see you alright.

In one of your last letters you said there weren’t any cows, so am sending you half a dozen!! So perhaps that means a box on the ears when you see me!

Didn’t get up until 6.30 yesterday, nearly slept the clock around, they then told me I was off tomorrow, but had to work tonight as usual. Shall try to get a few hours sleep in the morning, after packing, saying ‘cheerio’ to my pals etc: have to go by train, not over the mountains as I thought, it’s just beyond Florence, pretty spot in the hills, but more about it when I arrive there.

Will you write direct for a few weeks: -

Pte. Crabb, RAMC, Course 14, U.E.ls, Army School of Education, Perugia, Italy.

And I’ll let you know when to change again.

I loved your last two letters, there’s a lot to answer in them, but oh dear, I haven’t the time tonight.

Oh yes, (your last letter), I jolly well hope you won’t invent an excuse for not writing so much Renie, a very bad thought! Very bad.

What about the photo? I really believe you’re a little bit shy! Really Renie. Since spelling your name Renie, you’ve reverted to René, now look here, which one of you two am I writing to? Do you write René when on 3 hours “spread over” duty to save time. Very nice of you, if you do, to squeeze in an extra letter, you’re like Gwen who spells her name Crabbe, actually wrong, because she prefers the e, aren’t girls funny?

Have you been to any more shows recently? Do you read very much? Do you like poems? And short stories? I was looking at a “True Life” mag. The other day, gosh! Aren’t some of those stories ‘soft’, honestly, the romance book I mean, expect you know it, you don’t like ‘soft’ stories do you?

I don’t seem to be progressing very fast tonight, my brain seems to be in a whirl, strange how one’s thoughts get jumbled up at night. If I was asleep now, I think I’d be dreaming of all sorts of things, usually I sleep very well, don’t get enough tho’, as we are early risers, always wake up very sleepy in these climates. Feel like a bad night’s nightmare or a bus conductress’s early morning! I bet you feel sleepy too on your early shift, don’t you? Are your eyes all tired too? Oh dear, at this rate, my impudent remarks, you will have such a lot to take me to account for, but I think I’ll rather enjoy it!

How’s Auntie Kitty? Is she keeping well? Please give her my love and best wishes, and I’m looking forward to her next letter, when she isn’t too busy.

Interruption here, had to make a cup of tea for one of the orderlies who dropped in for a chat, but he’s nearly fallen asleep on the form, and I’ve no time for chatting at present!

If you won’t be too annoyed with me for my cheek, I am cheeky am I not? Will you make paragraphs to your letters ‘cos you write so many things all in one paragraph. Starting off with one thing about yourself, and ending up about the buses! Even tho’ you are connected in a way, I think there’s a world of difference between yourself and the bus, and you are definitely worth a paragraph to yourself, even if you won’t write a complete letter about yourself when I wouldn’t expect paragraphs. Perhaps it’s because you have so much to say, and so quickly, that you don’t remember to make a pause, don’t forget I’m going on an English course and will be a very severe critic (says he) when I come back, but don’t take any notice of me if that’s going to cramp your style, I like you, not a copy book. I am now prepared to duck, as the bricks come my way!

It seems, very unfortunately, that my time is up, now 3.30. I hate to stop, I love writing to you, especially now you don’t think I’m ‘silly’, don’t please, take any notice of my remarks, as they aren’t meant to hurt, and only because I’m too sleepy to think of anything better to say. I don’t think I’d fall asleep over your letters, only afterwards, with the thought of work to do, or exhaustion!

You know I’ll write to you Renie, as often as I can, I don’t know when I’ll have a chance again, perhaps later this weekend.

Keep well and cheerful, write when you are able, I’m always ready to hear from you.

Goodbye for now, God bless you always

My love, Renie,

affectionately,

Eric x.

Many thanks for your letter of 7^th arrived yesterday with one from Auntie, and one of 8^th arrived today. Thank you for the views and cutting, there look to be some very pretty places at Bournemouth.

I could write to you tonight during my quiet time, but then I wouldn’t be so fresh and full of sparkling humour! Have only been up long enough for a shave and cup of tea. I was going to write anyway, today, and now I’ve two letters to answer instead of one. I usually begin on writing paper to you because I never know when I’m going to stop! But haven’t very much time today so am writing air-mail for a change.

You don’t need to worry about being too ‘flattered’ Renie, in your photo, it would be very hard to surpass the one I already have of you, but I’m eager to see how much you have altered after so long, whether you really look so tired as you say you feel, so don’t delay it.

Glad you don’t think I’m wasting my time or being ‘silly’ by writing so often, very nice of you, it does seem very strange doesn’t it, the way we have begun to correspond so often, I’m all for it myself, as long as you do too, but there is a word of warning I’d like to offer, probably unnecessary if you are at all sensible (pardon me). You say I may be disappointed if seeing you, well I hope not, it would be disappointing to us both I feel, but perhaps you would be about me too, very likely! Though equally I hope not. I don’t remember you well at all, you were rather taller than Joan I believe, rather quiet and I didn’t take much notice of you, so can’t say I even know what you are like now. Lots of people think they like someone because they want to, you know that don’t you? But only to discover that they don’t. Well to be quite truthful with you Renie, we don’t know how we stand, do we? I like your snap, letters and think you are a very decent sort, but I would hate to disappoint you in any way, or perhaps you will meet someone you like before I get home, so lets make a bargain, that we will be honest with one another? Don’t be afraid to say what you think at the risk of hurting me, it’s the only fair way, if you don’t meet anyone else, well I for one would like to continue writing as a close friend, if that’s alright with you. That’s at least fair, isn’t it?

You say so much that’s very interesting and I would love to answer more thoroughly, I don’t think you use a wobbly table any more and I’m sure I never meant it.

You don’t make me conceited about all Dad and Pat say, they probably exaggerate anyway. My ears weren’t burning! They think an awful lot of me really and I’m lucky to have such a good family.

Didn’t know you played the piano! Good show, but don’t neglect it altogether. I’ve a few songs, and you could play them as I can’t do both very well, would you?

Yes, do send some snaps, if not too much trouble, anything of interest.

Oh yes, I know all about minors on buses, having observed a few uncomplimentary remarks in pre-war days. I don’t envy you your job at all.

Oh, you are a cheerful soul! Saying I’ll probably get so tired that I won’t be awake to hear all the noise! Well, I didn’t reach so pitiable a state, I found an empty hospital tent where I sleep very well, but the only trouble was the ants, I had to put tins of water to stop them climbing all over my bed!

That’s a funny shift, 3 hours off midday; no chance of pictures etc is there?

Very interested in your account of the holiday, so glad you enjoyed the rest. Are you going to Bristol? I hope you will, it will be a great change for you, only wish I was able to take you about, but perhaps I will one day. Grandma, always took you around, I used to feel quite ‘out of it’ Perhaps that’s why I don’t know much about you.

No, am not working too hard on night duty but have plenty to do, the worst job is cutting chips for 200 which happens most nights, and I get so ‘browned off’ with the scroungers. Have only two more nights to do however, as I go away on Saturday. Don’t forget to write will you? I’ll need somebody to drop a cheering word. I hope you aren’t hurt by my remarks in this letter, if you are, please say so, and don’t go “all quiet” or funny like so many people do.

I think this is a rotten letter, but know you would rather have a scrappy letter than not one at all, don’t forget your photo Renie, I’ll write again before the weekend, am looking forward to your letters, write as much as you can, I love your letters too.

It’s raining now, miserable day, just like Bristol! Wish I was there, or at Bournemouth.

Cheerio for now Renie,

Keep smiling,

Lots of love

Eric, x.

Best wishes to Auntie, have written to her.

You don’t think you’re wasting your time either do you?

Excuse the above mess, I’m not wide awake. I wrote, “You don’t think you’re wasting your time either do you?”

Monday at 2am! What an hour to choose for writing! However it’s my only spare time this weekend, and I’ll try not to fall asleep over it!

I hope you are keeping well, not letting long working hours tire you out too much, eating well and not waiting too long in queues for anything.

Don’t know what’s wrong with the mail this week, they are certainly hanging us about; no mail from you for about five days, it seems ages; even poor old Harry, hasn’t heard from his wife for three weeks, and is properly browned off. No doubt it’s because the nearer aerodromes are shut down, so we’ll just have to be patient, how is it at your end? Usually much better going out than coming in.

By the time this reaches you, I’ll probably be on my way to Perugia, that’s next Saturday. My English course has eventually come through, I’m quite keen to go, and looking forward to getting away for a month or so. They say it’s very nice there; the army has taken over the university for its education scheme, one of the best in Italy. Bologna owns another. Our education officer says they ‘put you through it’, but I’m not afraid of that, it will be a change to study instead of the dull routine of a kitchen. Write as usual won’t you Renie? Your letters will be forwarded on, in a day or so difference, and I’m sure to find somewhere quiet, even tho’ it won’t be a kitchen, to write to you. I hope my letters are coming through OK.

Are you very busy? Tell me more about yourself, seen any good shows? And is it still very hot, and too many visitors? How’s the painting going? I’ll wager anything, that you haven’t done a stroke towards it? What you need at ‘Devonia’ is a strong useful cousin to take those jobs in hand! I’m very good at those sort of jobs, for about an hour, then I like the rest of the day off, while the paint dries!

What sort of garden have you? Don’t tell me, full of overgrown weeds, and last year’s cabbage all gone to seed? And just one or two poor little flowers? You must think me very sarcastic.

Well Renie, there isn’t really very much to write about, nothing much has happened since I last wrote. My first week has flown by, had quite a surprise yesterday morning to realize it was Sunday, so I had to stay up until nine as I wanted to attend communion. Am ashamed to say, I didn’t know what the collect, or gospel was about, I was so tired, was trying to keep wide awake but wonder I didn’t fall asleep over my prayer book, wonder why one’s mind wanders so much when very tired, perhaps it’s the thought of bed at the back of the mind that keeps leading one’s thoughts astray.

We have a new padre, the one from Bournemouth has gone away. The new one appears to be very decent, but he has gone on ‘liap’ today. About twenty fellows went today, so that’s roughly 50 from the unit on leave. The ‘local’ week’s leave has been stopped; there wouldn’t have been enough fellows to work in the hospital. Twenty sisters went yesterday, volunteered for India, but as the Jap war looks like ending soon they may not go.

We thought the far East war was really over, this week. In fact several chaps were drunk on the strength of it, they drink for any pretext, today even, several were tight, because their pals went on leave, nice brotherly feelings, but why on Earth they have to get so drunk beats me, I hate to see it. Thank God that’s not one of my weaknesses, it is a rotten thing. We had a little cook, he had a little moustache and looked like Hitler, who always had a bottle tucked away somewhere, and was constantly missing in the scullery, with head up and vino down, quite an agreeable chap, but always in a cafe, he was good natured too, not bad like some are, and would do anyone a good turn, he always stuttered when tight, as though his brain couldn’t work quickly enough. You may think I live in bad company Renie, but on the whole they are very decent fellows, we all get on well together. Little ‘Mac’ is bow legged and about five feet tall, when its fried eggs for breakfast I put a box for him to stand on! And he takes it in very good fun.

We have had some laughs too, as well as our ‘slavery’, in Africa. Our last Christmas there, I believe every cook was absolutely drunk, even the night cooks were frying eggs and giving them to everybody! The only ‘bad’ incident was a Scotchman who became annoyed and began to throw 7lbs tins of margarine about! We had to put him outside to sleep it off. ‘Pop’, an old boy of nearly fifty, with a big tummy, used to get tighter and tighter and gradually slip off his chair on to the floor, I caught him many times only just in time! Talk of Wallace Beery in his ‘bad men’ films, that’s nothing to our ex-cooks, most of them are away with other units now, and we have a respectable crowd now.

Poor old ‘Pop’, though, I slept in his tent for a while, he talked himself to sleep and during the night would hear imaginary noises and rats in his bed, and wake the whole place up in his confusion.

One last word about cooks, when little ‘George’ was drunk, he ground his teeth in the most alarming manner, just as though he was eating bottles. He’s discharged now, and back in England. He was drunk on the train, someone saw him in Rome, he was still drunk, he has a very young wife about twenty, poor kid, she will have a bad time if he continues like it.

‘Mickey’, my old sergeant, now home in Belfast, a butler-chef, in civvy life, was my pal, he wrote this week, we were together in France with the BEF, and I remember him cooking fowls for the officers as we retreated via Dunkerque. He’s 48, nearly bald but quite a gentleman, never swore until he was made a sergeant when he seemed to go a bit like the rest, but eventually came to his senses. He made friends with everybody, even with the Italians. He was extremely popular, as with the French in Africa, one could see him giving out with a little bit of something tucked away in his tunic, a severe risk to take, but he was always lucky, or blessed! So I expect you hope I won’t be made a sergeant if they all swear, eh?

‘Harry’ is about my best friend now. He’s genuine, and very kind, but very noisy and sometimes rough. He always has too much to say, we are always telling him so, and sometimes the things he says are a bit hurtful, when however you tell him this, he says “Oh well! The truth always hurts”! So what can you do with a fellow like that? He’s very clever at making anal noises, and keeps us in fits sometimes. We now have two Indian cooks, both coal black, one has a double thumb with two nails, in their white coats they look very funny, they look up to Harry as the ‘big white chef’ which we think very funny too. Some of the Indian patients are Moslems, this month is ‘Ramavin’ (something like that) they only eat after sundown, so for a month the orderlies find them very troublesome. We seem to be having quite a number of ‘psycho’ Indians in lately, and they have to be drugged at night because they would otherwise keep every other patient awake. One of them got out of the ward and was wandering around the passages in his pyjamas looking for ‘Maynga’, the kitchen! Perhaps he was hungry.

There haven’t been so many accidents lately. A yank came in with concussion tonight, the first for several nights. The other night an officer drove 180 miles to visit a sister here, 360 miles for his girl, he must have been very fond of her. That’s what an officer can do, couldn’t do it on the basic ration at home! We have a Russian girl in one of the wards but haven’t been able to see her, believe she’s only 15, goodness knows what she is doing here. The sergeant, I told you about says he’s going to marry the Italian girl, well, perhaps he knows best, but I think there are still some worthwhile girls at home, isn’t that so?

It’s now nearly four, have been writing for nearly an hour and a half, must dash around now to finish my night’s work, catching the post at 8 o’clock.

Please give my love to Auntie, looking forward very much to your next letter, to hear how you are, and so – - keep smiling, don’t work too hard,

With fondest love,

Eric

How are you? Notice anything? I’ve spelt your name correctly, was reading through some of your letters last night and noticed my mistake. I hope you are very well and enjoying life.

I began a letter to you yesterday but didn’t get very far with it, so have started again today. There’s been no mail for two days owing to the fact that now there’s only one aerodrome at Rome, where previously we had two nearer ones, consequently it’s a bit erratic, however if I wait for delivery it may be days before you hear from me, and as I can’t wait that long, am writing today, would have finished the letter I began yesterday had I known mail was so bad. It doesn’t look very cheerful for the winter if the roads become snowed up.

Nothing very exciting to tell you about since my last: I’m still on nights and simply working and sleeping, shall welcome a chance again to get into town, to get away from kitchens for a bit. Last night the film “To have & have not” was shown here, was on duty so missed it, that’s the one you said wasn’t bad, the fellows enjoyed it.

The weather has changed, there’s a boisterous half-gale blowing now. We had a gale warning on Wednesday night, followed by rain and thunder and a terrific gale which hasn’t abated much, tho’ the sun is shining rather weakly now.

I haven’t been ‘up’ very long, am not feeling too bad, apparently more used to these funny hours. Last night was rather busy, I had a cake to make for a patient’s birthday, sometimes we do things like that. Once in Algiers I made one for a chap with no legs and one arm, only 21 who was returning to England, he was very pleased. Tonight shall ice and decorate the top for him. I saw the staff sergeant first now and believe I shall have a busy night with jellies, baked custards etc to make, the sort of night I could do with one of your letters to make me work like six men!

We’ve had no further accidents at night I’m glad to say, things are very quiet, one of the Italian electricians who came for a chat and tea, turned out to be an ex-partisan, we had quite an interesting talk about jerry, and the hospital when he occupied it. These fellows, before disbanded wore green Tyrolean hats and were very common to see, they were very proud of their status and the fact they played in the war, the allies used to contact them with radio and drop supplies at night in the mountains.

About another twenty are going on leave this week, our new C.O. has changed the old leave list and now the names are drawn out of the hat every allocation that comes through, so nobody knows until a few days before who is actually going, that’s about forty in a month now. I may be lucky one of these weeks, the only likelihood of preventing 25 groups and under from not going, is if the limit is raised by a certain time, in which case if not drawn say in 2 or 3 months would not be able to go. At present, everyone with 18 months service overseas has been promised leave by Christmas. “I have me doubts” about this tho’, having heard similar rash promises before.

You really must excuse my writing today Renie, I’m writing on my knee, in this strong wind sitting out in the “garden”. It’s peaceful here anyway and one is far away from the chatter & noise. Just now I saw a very large rabbit trying to break through the fence. Thought it was a dog at first, could have caught it quite easily.

Wish you could see this hospital, you’d like it I think. The gardens are all wild now, with seats everywhere, plenty to choose from to write a letter. This is where the patients used to sit and enjoy the sun. Mussolini did some good for Italy, this is one of his “Societe de Fasciata Nationale” institutions, certainly an excellent place, was used mainly for consumption and lung complaints. There must be an awful lot of those troubles here in peacetime, and probably much more now. They’ll be glad to get them back again I expect; the last place we were at was also for TBs. One of Italy’s biggest places. The gardens there were neater than here, and the nightingales sang all day long. They probably do here too, only June is the end of their season.

I’ve never told you about the south part of Italy have I? Such squalor and poverty, and so many children. We were at Barletta near Bain, on the coast; used to go swimming quite a lot. We miss the sea very much, but oh! The smells and filth! No-one was sorry to come to the cleaner north; the kids down there used to clamber on the canteen fence, begging for cakes, and they were always hungry, you could tell. Once I saw some Italian men, literally fighting, amongst themselves, for a few odd broken biscuits, which were left at a railway station, after the troops had fed. So many things do leave impressions one never forgets.

The Jap war is full of surprises now, isn’t it, doesn’t look like lasting much longer now. There will be such a rush to return home, and inevitably things are going to be in short supply, take houses and furniture and utensils for just one item. Looks like having a bad few years unless people bear it cheerfully. I hate hearing people grumble unnecessarily don’t you?

I’ve enclosed a menu, thought you would be interested, don’t try to follow it, can’t be done on civvy rations! Pretty good isn’t it? They are all of similar standard, means lots of work for us at times.

At night we get lots of ‘scroungers’ in the kitchen, they look in for a ‘cup of tea and a sandwich’. They aren’t supposed to, being a patients’ kitchen only, the company cookhouse is in another building. I usually try to fix them up, perhaps I’m too soft hearted. They say I am (the other cooks), but I always think it’s better to do a good turn if possible. Sometimes, however, I lose patience, especially with chaps who go out to the cafes and come in late smelling of vino, and reeling all over the place. Some, in fact most chaps, are honest and straightforward, but there are some ‘dodgy customers’. I had two in last night, have never lost my temper, but they tempt one very much, especially the lies, fortunately really bad examples of this are rare. When we have a concert, there’s always a supper to prepare afterwards. We had “Harmony Two”, two Italians, soprano and a pianist, they entertained for two solid hours, and were very good. Had made chop chips peas toms: ice-cream jelly, but they couldn’t stop, very unusual for them, so the sisters had chips that night.

At Algiers we had very large parties to cater for, 20 or 30 artists. Our hospital was very big then, and two cooks and an Italian worked at night, one night I dropped 30 gallons of porridge on the floor! When the air-raids were on we worked by candles and pieces of oily string, phew! Don’t want to repeat those days.

There was a company meeting the other day, where everyone suggests improvements etc; they are getting more transport for the evenings to Bologna, Forti and St Marino (the neutral state). Also managing more entertainment. There’s a dance next Tuesday, sisters and civilians invited. I shan’t be there, on duty instead. Surprising the chaps who go about with Italian girls. One sergeant especially, brought her actually into the kitchen the other night. He’s either got wool in his eyes, anyway I think he’s a chump, it only means heartbreak etc: when we leave. Very few ever marry and then it’s a big gamble. I prefer to leave well alone. I don’t think our sisters are very glamorous, taken all round, they usually go for officers, though one or two have married privates, and they are then posted about! We make wedding cakes then!

What are you doing with yourself lately? Any good films, any biking? How’s Auntie Kitty, please give her my love.

I’m looking forward to your letters very much, although I told you not to spend too much of your spare time writing to me, I still hope you write just as much!

Will close now, until Sunday,

Cheerio, lots of luck and good wishes,

Fondest thoughts

Eric

I won’t ever forget to write as long as you want me to.

Please forgive the scrawl

Thank you very much for all your charming letters lately. What a big mail, and how very nice to receive a letter from you almost every other day. It’s too much, and you must be using all your spare time, and I don’t want you to feel it’s a duty to answer all my mail. You are far busier than I, and although I look forward to your letters very much, and it’s very thoughtful of you, to be so conscientious, please don’t make it a burden, will you René?

You say such a lot of interesting things that I could write all night, but that’s not practicable always, so will answer the main points.

Firstly though, I must say that I’m only leg-pulling about the wobbly table! You write very well, and there’s no need to think you don’t, so don’t take any notice of that!

I’ve not been up long, it’s now 3 o’clock. Harry brought some tea and your letter at 1 o’clock, so I simply had to dress to answer, and besides I promised to write today didn’t I? In any case, whether I heard or not, but of course it makes it much more interesting to have another letter to reply to, the only trouble may be that I shan’t be able to answer all you say, but will see and try.

Incidentally about writing, I always try to get into somewhere quiet, with a table, I find it easier to concentrate, although being outside in the garden is very nice too only I can’t write properly on my knee, don’t know how you managed to write in a bus, perhaps you develop “bus” sense to all the jolting. Women seem to be able to write anywhere tho’, Gwen writes on the counter, in between serving customers, and I had a letter today from a friend of mother, her son is home from Greece, written on her knee in a deck-chair sometime, it’s probably much better than a bench, especially if there’s the sea to inspire one.

You must take me to see Tuckton sometime, it sounds a lovely place, from your very good description, is that another date?

Yes, E.G. Robinson is a very good actor I like him, but he gets in some queer spots. I like Walter Pigeon too, C. Boyer a little, Cary Grant a lot, the chaps in my old unit used to say I was like him, but guess that was before I wore specs: are you like anyone? Have not seen any more films since “The Bombay Gent” not very good, in fact it’s all work and sleep for a fortnight, last night was accident free the first since been on, it was quite an easy night. I had to cut up chips for 180, rotten job, took two hours, clean out a very awkward stove, it was red hot afterwards so not a waste of energy, and make jelly for 200, sounds a lot but it’s simple when one is used to large amounts, there’s also 15 night staff to provide a dinner for, and guards, drivers and “scroungers” coming for tea all night long. It depends mostly how I feel what sort of a dinner I cook for them, the other night feeling energetic, I made: – chips, chops, peas, fried onions, tomatoes au gratin, sauce & pineapple flan! & tea. They don’t often get so good a menu, oh no. Those are rare occasions (Did you say ‘I should think so’!). Though they always have something hot. The fellows say I spoil them, perhaps I do, but after all, why not as we have the stuff to do. One nursing sister, they’re rather particular, said one night that the dinner was ‘lovely’ so I told the orderly the following night to tell her it was a Buchenwald dinner! Some of them are quite decent and do their work thoroughly, but some are not popular at all, they usually only mix with officers, one of the boys had seven days CB for asking one “who do you think you’re talking to?”, so he definitely has strong views about them. It’s surprising how agreeable they can be when ‘scrounging’ for “a little tea, sugar & milk please cook”! Incidents of army life I suppose one could call it.

Our poor Russian patient, the one who has cancer in the throat went mad last night, poor fellow, there’s not much hope for him. There are some very pathetic sights, I’m sure some of the toughest battles are fought on a sick bed, and not at the front.

Gwen apparently has been rather ill recently but appears alright now, dizzy spells she says. Must tell her, she’s always been ‘dying’, she had an ‘op’ about 18 months ago but believe that’s OK now. I’ve never seen much of Shirehampton, you see Gwen was married in ’43, we came abroad in ’42, and I don’t even know her hubby. Gwen must be better now, as her sisters in law’s children are staying over August weekend.

Isn’t it bad about the railways? Conditions are bad I know, who said there is very little sick benefit, but it’s bad that they strike, causes so much confusion, our leave will stop if it comes to a general one. They haven’t waited for the new gov’t to sit even, and they promised to rectify matters in their programme.

Haven’t seen ‘Double Endemnity’, that’s a new one to me, endemic means disease so I guess the type of film, probably one where he has a mental complaint, ‘Fantasia’ was queer too.

Yes I am hoping to join or take up something in the entertainment line for a hobby when I get home again, I’ve a reasonable voice (says he boastfully!) and love to sing. I had hopes of being a fair pianist, but you know what the army is, nowhere to practise much, and all they want is “Hi, Chum, can you swing it” (and I can’t very well) my energies are usually confined to playing the hymns with an effort. I’ve always fancied having one of those small miniature pianos; I’ll have to see about one, if one can afford luxuries after the whole list of expenditures these days.

Oh yes, we often do feel like mixing all the diets together, we now have two Indian cooks, which relieves us of one job at least. With Moslems, you must never touch food with a knife, or meat especially, a thing I did last week, one poor Indian was quite upset, so it’s just as well their own cooks are here now, so different from our English ways.

Sorry to hear you are so tired, I know how that feels, sleepy eyes, and everything too much trouble to do, and I hope when August is over you will be much easier. Your buses sound very much like our trams in Bristol! But ours I think are unique. Perhaps they will modernise both after the war is over.

No, I’ll not get too ‘browned off’, it’s really a very wrong thing to be, tho’ everyone seems to have these spells, like the weather, not always bright and smiling! The chaps have noticed that after getting my mail from you, I do “six men’s work, they say. You can’t keep many secrets in a crowd of fellows, so that’s something good you do by your letters.

The mail is better now, more regular, sometimes it’s very bad, and we all get ‘browned off” then.

I do hope you have a good August weekend, and you take the Sunday off? Thought about you quite a bit, basking on the front, listening to the band. Is it still very hot? Dad says there’s a heat wave on, it’s much cooler here now, we are very thankful to say, too much sun is very exhausting and doesn’t suit us at all, we’ll probably need six or seven blankets in Blighty, and a few rugs, Will warn you when to expect a visit from me so you can start collecting! If it’s February, bliss! Must choose a thick demob suit, my old suits are finished I expect. It will be strange, having to buy one’s clothes, and looking at the prices first, and counting the coupons. Did you discover a suitable dress? Are you tall René, I only just vaguely recall you and apart from your photo don’t know a bit what you are like, would like to see you in your uniform, perhaps I shall if you don’t change your job before I see you.

About my pals, the cooks are on the whole a decent enough crowd, ‘Harry’ from London, very fat, very popular, and very noisy, ‘Ken’, 28, going a little bald (to his annoyance) writing to his ‘jumper’, a girl he hasn’t met, who knitted him a pullover. A couple of Scotsmen, very decent sort, ‘Jack’, my boss, comes from Bath, we are in the same group, and probably go home together, is a chap in a restaurant. An ex footballer from Arsenal, a Welshman, one from Birmingham, one from Yarmouth, and a couple of new chaps I don’t know very well. We all get on very well together, we know each others little ways, and ‘esprit de corps’ is very high, we’ve been together for 3 years now, since the unit was formed in Peebles, Scotland.

My mother has been dead for 3 years on the 17^th. It will be sad without her. Dad and Pat manage very well I think, and he writes most regularly and cheerfully.

It’s now 5.30, have been writing all or nearly all the afternoon! And for the moment have run out of ideas, perhaps that’s because of the thought of approaching work, anyhow shan’t have to rush around and write you a “sleepy” letter, am glad I’ve managed this today.

Tell Auntie, that I’m looking forward to her letter, glad she found time to write, expect she is very busy, goodness I don’t remember her at all, a bad thing to say isn’t it.

Well I think that’s about all for today, René, let’s see, probably Thursday, if not when I get up, then some time during the night, in between cooking supper and breakfast, don’t forget about tiring yourself out by writing, I love to hear from you, but please don’t overdo things or neglect anything else will you? As for me, well I seem to have lots more time at present, and will write as often as I can.

Look after yourself,
Love to Auntie,

God bless you,

Fondest thoughts,
Eric,

This is “tired eyes” writing to you again. Many thanks for your very interesting letter of Tuesday, arrived today. Very glad to her that you are keeping well, and most interested in all you have to say.

I have just ‘got up’, about 6.30 pm, have slept heavily all day, only woke once when Harry brought me a cup of tea about one o’clock, but it could have been a sleeping draught, for I turned over for another five hours. When I woke, the sun had moved right around, it was very much cooler and the birds were singing softly in the shadows. As I lay collecting my thoughts over a cigarette before dressing, the strains of hymn singing from the evening church service came from the distance.

I decided to get up and would have just enough time to write to you. However, there was your letter, which I was very pleased to get, and by the time I had shaved, it was time to take over from the day shift, as before actually beginning to cook, have started this in the back of the kitchen, it looks very much as if it will be a midnight letter as my only free time is about one o’clock after the night staff have been fixed up. Anyhow even if I cannot answer in detail, our letter, it will be just an ‘in between’ letter till maybe Tuesday when I should have more time to write a longer letter.

It is now 3 am, only just able to ‘take a breather’ for ½ an hour, before lighting fires, cooking sausages etc etc. sounds funny, I expect, what we do for England!

By the way, this letter from you I see is dated from Poole, so the pilot must have flown?

Tuckton appears to be a very attractive spot; very peaceful, I love those kind of places, where one can think without distraction, back to a small, and natural setting any day.

About our breakdown, no, we didn’t have to walk, delay about 20 mins that was all, and no more trouble coming back.

There have been accidents every night so far, since I’ve been on nights. Traffic out here is literally ‘deadly’. Last night an empty ambulance turned over after hitting an Italian cattle truck. Tonight a 3 tonner attempted to dislodge a Bailey bridge with obvious results. Fortunately, the drivers escaped with very little injury, usually abrasions, and are in ‘dock’ for only a week or so. They always have sweet tea for shock on arrival, I’ve had two police in tonight, this is their second consecutive night. An unusual occurrence, fortunately, the other night was a chap who had been knifed by an Italian somewhere. It’s always a case of too much ‘vino’ which leads to these brawls. We’ve had one or two similar instances in this country, chaps getting into trouble, and in Africa it was much worse. There, however the motive was invariably robbery.

Quite a variety of plays etc you have seen, you’ve been lucky to be able to choose from so many, expect you would go for opera, if you like ballet. I have yet to see my first opera in this country. About ballet, I have never been brought to make a decision, don’t think have ever seen a ballet show, though’ there are a few over here from time to time.

Yes René it is only two days since you last wrote, we appear to have developed at least, a very regular postal friendship, I must say, since hearing from you that I do look forward to our letters.

No, I hope you don’t oversleep, it wouldn’t do to ‘miss the bus’ would it, but I know what a temptation it is to lay on for 10 minutes. I always light up a cig. At that time to get up, usually when on early turn, the night cook brings round some teas which always wakes one up best of all, (that’s my job for a fortnight) and a cig. Helps too, but it’s a bad habit.

Well, since you mention it, about the future, and work etc: one doesn’t know. I agree, that there’s a lot in favour of not being one’s own boss, up to a point, but on the other hand, being one of a thousand, does very much restrict one, and thwarts ambition, if the person has individuality, and a progressive mind. For instance your, or my old job, is OK for the people who only ask of life, a regular wage, a home and family, and are content with the humdrum things of life, there are thousands like that, the average chap in the army is content to drift along without much worry, or even a full sense of responsibility, it all depends upon one’s character and type There’s a whole lot to that, but more when I’ve more time to write and explain.

Expect by now, Dad and Pat have returned, refreshed in body and mind I hope, by their holiday, do write and tell me all about it. Expect it was a change for you both, especially Auntie, who must be very lonely at times. I expect my Dad has altered very much, 3 years is a long time, and with so much having happened, poor mother’s passing, he will have aged I don’t doubt. Pat needless to say is no longer the schoolgirl as I remember her, when she wore pigtails, and I believe put apples in my bed on my last leave. I had the other day, quite a business-like letter from her, she commenced in type but switched over to writing, to ‘get more in’ she says.

Oh, that’s alright about the postcards René, any time I have any views I’ll be only too pleased for you to have them, and if I have another snap taken, not a studio one, will let you have it.

Good, glad you didn’t object to going to a film show. Six months, that makes it February, with luck I should be out of the army by then. I think that’s only an excuse for not dancing, anyway perhaps I could persuade you to change your mind, I’m not very good at all, only foxtrot, waltz and a few chestnuts and glides, not exactly a Caesar Romano, or whatever he is called! Another thing, being a conductress shouldn’t make you a non-dancer! Anyhow, it’s a relief to know a girl (if I may still call you that) who doesn’t value life by the number of dances and late nights she can have.

I seem to have reached this stage with no disturbances at all, it’s nearly 4 now, so must draw to a close. Another 10 pages and this would be a long letter again wouldn’t it? I’ll promise to write again tomorrow, perhaps shall have more time, as I don’t like to rush writing.

How’s Aunt Kitty? Please give her my best wishes.

At this rate René, if we keep it up, we shall exchange a lot of letters shan’t we? If I go away on my English course which I hope they’ve not forgotten, I shan’t be able to write quite so often, but of course I’ll tell you when and if I go.

Meanwhile, look after yourself, don’t run up and down too many steps, or isn’t it a double decker?

Cheerio for now,

Best wishes,

Very sincerely

Eric