Course 14
Army School of Education,
Perugia, Italy
Sunday 19th 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.
