10 Aug 1945

Dear Renie,

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

1 Aug 1945

Dear René,

A quiet room, an evening off, nothing terribly urgent to attend to, so everything looks favourable towards completing a reasonable mail for you.

How are you? Am not expecting to hear from you for a few days at least, your last noble effort, at least I think so, has probably exhausted all you had to say for a time, especially if like me, writing comes in moods and spasms. Anyhow, I trust that you are enjoying life to it’s fullest value, enjoying as much sunshine as possible, not breaking your neck painting, or your back by weeding, (have you ever known a girl who enjoyed weeding anyway!).

Well, there isn’t much to tell you, in the way of events there’s practically nothing to report. Since my last on Sunday Monday, we’ve been working hard, as usual with quite sufficient to cook for. It’s been terribly hot, goodness knows how we carry through at times, but we do. Yesterday,  ­“the rains came”, I suppose it should have been expected, but it completely surprised us all. Soon after lunch yesterday, a couple of windows were blown in, and a violent thunderstorm came on. Hailstones as big as apples, honestly, small apples, which lay about outside for quite a while after the sun broke through. Thank goodness it is cooler at last, one definitely feels better when it’s not so hot. Today, apart from some heavy showers the temperature is going up again and probably by the time this reaches you, we shall be feeling proverbially like “galley” slaves.

That word reminds me, coming over by ship; a pal and I volunteered to work in the galley with the crew. Eight of us on night duty to cook for 4,500, there was no delicate handling of food in those days. It was quite an experience, one of the many I shall remember all my life, besides being interesting, the change was stimulating, there was an element of danger too, for at night subs usually lurk about, our life jackets were pretty handy, and we knew the short cut to the top decks! I think the worst night was whilst in harbour at Algiers, we were dive-bombed, and I was traying herrings, they were probably a little overcooked that night, and miscounted, but I didn’t notice. We promised to write to the two chaps, however, we never did, on their next passage over, she was sunk, but expect they were OK, some nursing sisters were aboard, and they arrived in battle dress, in an awful state! Worse than you feel, don’t know about look, after a late shift! We’ve been very fortunate since, once across to Italy by hospital ship, and a perfect crossing it was, there were two dolphins playing aft of the bows, a good omen no doubt. In fact, although the war took greater dimensions and fiercer intensity after ‘42, for myself and probably a few of my pals too, Dunkirk was the worst time of all. Perhaps you don’t want to hear any more of the war, and usually it’s just boasting makes people gossip about their “tough” experiences, nothing really to be proud of, because it makes people who haven’t been blitzed, as in the battles over here, tend to become reserved, totally unjustified.

I have enclosed a few snaps which I obtained from one of our “camera” fans. We haven’t all cameras, so get extra prints from the chaps who have. They are not really bad, the snaps, but don’t convey a fraction of the real view, in proper colours. I’m trying to get one of the hospital too, late on, which gives a finer impression.

About twenty of the chaps went on ‘liap’ yesterday, blighty leave. (remember BDST). All very excited, naturally, for 28 days home. Monday evening went shopping with a friend and bought him some useful gifts, that’s the one I told you about. He seemed very shy about buying a few things for his wife, that’s only a minor detail isn’t it, when one has sufficient cash? Did you find a suitable dress eventually? Poor René, no coupons now? I know it’s an awful job. Dad sent me out some slippers last year, and thinking of my friend, I wrote for another pair, was very surprised to hear “You can’t have all my coupons”! Must be a terrible place to live in now, England.

Coming up from South by train, 12 houses, or 20 men, we were very surprised, amongst the many stragglers who try to barter from the troops, to hear an English voice, the owner turned out to be an English woman who, rather shamefacedly I thought, or at least a little sadly, told us that she had lived in Italy for 20 years after marrying an Italian soldier from the last war, she spoke Italian too of course, but undoubtedly she had felt the wake of the wars up & down the villages and towns. Gosh! René you should see the terrible destruction, no wonder there are conferences to end wars. The damage is bad enough, it’s all the little crosses along the roads, which mark someone’s journey’s end, and such beautiful country too, where vines grow, green fields are, and the sun beats down all day long.

We’re getting no end of tomatoes now, no, very little macaroni, and not many like macaroni & tomatoes, tho’ I do for a change. You’ve heard about Italians & their ice cream? Well it’s quite true, they sit outside, and sip wine and ice cream. Outside of cafés, with dozens of rows of sparkling bottles, probably empty now, for jerry spoilt production up north. All ages, all classes, tho’ it’s easy to spot the good, or higher class. Bologna is a town of colonnades, covered pavements, useful in summer to keep the sun off, as in winter, the rain (& hailstones). It’s hot so late, that about eleven & twelve (curfew at 12) everybody comes out of doors, sit outside their homes. We never could understand it at first, but we do now the summer is here.

Saw “The Barbury Coast Gent” Wallace Beery, on Monday. Don’t think you’d like it much, rather a rough type of film. Some time ago we saw Charles Boyer in “Murder in Thornton Square” perhaps that’s more in your line, I enjoyed it very much, but don’t usually go for horrors, or murders.

Oh dear! I start night duty tomorrow. If there’s anything I loathe more than working a week on nights, it’s working a fortnight. One gets all the scroungers, odd cases, admittances, and any spare work the day cooks can’t get through, or don’t want to. The present fellow on this job, just completed his fortnight is terribly fed up, he says you can’t sleep during the day time, because the Italian women, who clean the hospital, gossip and shout all day long in the corridors, and Italian women are worse than English women for gossip, oh yes, it is possible! So René, if you receive letters full of big yawns during the next two weeks you can guess why.

I’ve been doing a little studying this afternoon, had tea with the patients, interesting to watch the Indians, Moslems especially, who won’t eat meat, won’t even let you touch their food with the meat fork; rotten to see chaps eating with one arm all tied up, or an eye; legs don’t affect meals so much. I’m rather glad that they get such good meals; it’s darned hard work, but the effort is worth the satisfaction, they have tablecloths now, they should have flowers too, but the Scotsman mess orderly says “Och, I’m not going to get blown up by mines picking flowers for patients”, you can’t beat the female touch where etiquette matters. I tried to tell Jock to get a long piece of wood with appropriate nails so that he wouldn’t have to step on the mines, but he looked quizzically at me as thou’ he didn’t believe me! The countryside is full of shells etc, proper battlefields. In one place where two tanks were knocked out, the Eyeties pinched everything leaving only some wheels, they do move around.

I can’t think of anything more just now to say, I hate writing letters full of “I” all the time, which is a very common habit, I hope you don’t get too bored, but to continue in that style, I’ll probably go for a stroll along a path I’ve seen towards the mountains, carefully avoiding any mines and any Italians who take me for a tobacconist’s, presently, fill my pipe, and try to get a few cheering thoughts about Italy, accent on try.

Hoping this finds you very well, looking forward to hearing from you when not too busy weeding.

I expect Dad & Pat are with you about now. Give my best wishes to Auntie please. Look after yourself René,

Best of everything

With fondest wishes,

Eric

Love to Dad & Pat if this in time

Cheerio for now