1021  Docks Operating Coy.,  R.E.  C.M.F.

Dearest One,
In our school, with a few windows in our classroom-mess as the move to the barracks reserved for us seems to be no nearer.  A fine billet this if only there were some windows, but the sappers are real soldiers now and have improvised doors, shutters and strange window coverings. Nice folk.

I’ve been occupied all day preparing the defence for my nice Sergeant Major who has a Court Martial on Tuesday.    I’m defending him and am determined to spare no pains or effort to get him off.  Its a serious affair, and if I fail its reduction to the ranks at least.  Charged with being unfit for duty through indulgence in alcoholic stimulants.  I’ve been reading the Manual of Military Law all day and have been working out lines for cross-examining witnesses, confounding the prosecution and for making my witnesses say the right thing.    I do hope I get him off , he’s such a splendid bloke, a tower of strength, enthusiasm, technical skill and loyalty. He trusts me implicitly and touchingly so I must wage careful legal war, be intelligent and cautious, and fight hard.   We will, I pray we pull it off.   Eighth Army F.G.C.M.’s are pretty sharp I’m told.  But British Law is the sweetest kindest and fairest law in the world.

Some surface mail has come through, two pairs of papers from you bless you and a Christmas Card from the Thoms.   Do write to them, no send them a card.   Your tinned loot has gone off, the Fascist gold banner braid. In a cigarette tin unwrapped but well stuck down.   Hope its all right.

I did enjoy the Spectators, of October 22 and 29th. Not at all bad.  Uncle Jacks pencilled comments, or Marginal Notes are just as good as Harold Nicholson’s.  Tell him.    And how is my glowing son, for whom I have constantly recurring thoughts of affection, and for whose future I have a steady stream of purpose.    And how are you, busy with the child, with the house with our friends with the choir practises, with your letters to me and your many activities, all charming and made good by and because of you. I am wanting you and your son, this week, maybe because we’re in a betwixt and between state and not yet settled down to work.  Shall do.

This will come for the New Year, or even for Christmas. I’ve tried often to gauge the Christmas post, this may be it.    If it is, my wishes and May Santa Klaus bring you Something Nice.    I wish I could play you’re Santa Klaus as at Scarborough.

We brought a small boy, thirteen year old, with us. He worked in the cookhouse in Napoli and worked so hard and became so fit with our food and smiled so much all the time that when we came to leave and he wept and wept the Sgt. Cook rigged him out in shorts and shirt K.D. and brought him.   He has no parents and just belongs.  One of the Sergeant Majors is going to take him home with him.   All the civvies tried to join our army and implored us to take them with us.    But only the little ragazzo won through.  He cleans dishes and scrubs and peels potatoes and sings Italian opera delightedly.

We get fresh meat this side, beef for dinner, real gravy-y beef, its grand. And the colder weather has brought out our appetites and our sweaters.   We are fattening up again and feeling so very bouncy and fit. That’s one reason Iwannagohome.    But I can bear it, if you can because homecoming will come.

They’ve all gone to an Ensa Show this evening except myself, who preferred the quiet and your company and my defence preparation. Peter stayed too, and is writing to May.  I’m smoking a pipe well now, and have only a few cigarettes a day, only a mood, but a nice one. So that when your Christmas pipe comes I’ll he be ready for it.    I must send you some   more nice things, maybe there are bookshops here to explore. I may send my Voltaire’s home, for safer keeping in the library. Richard shall read them, untold and for pleasure some day. He’s a wicked man, but so shrewd and graceful.    I always refer to our son as Richard in letters to other   people, only Dickie to you.    That is important. How did he fare at the Infant well?

Washbrook brought in some fine coffee and two large sandwiches each.    Then a golden orange, full as only oranges here are with succulence and sweetness, no not sweetness, clean sharpness. Are you getting any or only the bottled? That was good expectant father liked those.

Bless you all, you and Candy, Dickie and Teddy, your Mama and our home, Mrs. Anderton and Uncle Jack, all of you.   And be happy, dearest, therein lies my happiness.

ever your own and only….