Capt. A. Scott Daniell R.E. C/O H.Q. No.5 Port 0perating Group R.E. C.M.F.
Dearest….I prepared to write to you an hour ago, with a glass of vino on my desk, chilled in the bottle under the spring tap outside, and with a quiet pottery writery evening before me. But now it is ten to ten! The reason is that I was putting your precious June letters away and found the large envelope of miscellaneous letters and began reading them, they fascinated and enchanted me, and made me all, over affectionate again. The first was written on the tenth of July 1943 and you wondered whether the Sicily affair was anything to do with us. It was, though now it is old history, a forgotten D day. Then there was talk of Dickie and other letters I read. I think its not bad censorship to say now that Sicily was much easier than Salerno, which was a rather tiresome time, but even before Sicily we had an adventurous voyage, lost three good ships and had many visits from curious Jerry aircraft. But that as I say is past and done with, Thank the Lord!
And my poor dear silly Mother has busted her arm! That’s a sad thing, damnably painful and a bad shock to her. She added a note on the letter Danny wrote for her, and was, of course, gallant about it. The only gleam of comfort is that if she gets over the shock all right and if it is not too painful, it may MAKE her rest and go easily, with good to the greater issues. Poor dear. She will dash about. I hope it makes proper progress, I only had the initial news about it.
Two games of cricket, yesterday and today. I now open the batting being promoted to No.1. And quite like it, no fancy scores, but steady fifteens and twelves and stay a nice long time and tame the bowling, its a new approach to the game needing patience and confidence and a peaceful mind- and a straight bat. But I had two good days with five wickets yesterday and three today and a couple of Point catches in each, so for a Daddy in his fortieth year I can hold my head up. Todays match was against some Commandoes and their Colonel was playing- a curly headed fair quiet child of twenty four, with, I am told three MCs and a DSO. We got him out quite quickly anyhow.
Yesterday evening was a Saviozzi evening and very nice too. Apart from the supper- octopus fried in olive oil with spinach the main dish – we did silly things on chairs before supper and afterwards they all did things and Marina went into the Salomé and started playing and singing and I went in quietly too and sat in the dusk on the sofa and listened. She sang for an hour, haunting Neapolitan songs, Core ‘ngrato among others, and it was delicious, and I got all sentimental about you. No one else came in until Giorgio also crept in, not knowing I was there – the only light was at the piano and he curled up in an arm chair and listened, a nice compliment for any Mother. They gave me six bottles- litre bottles- of the vino they use, and I have it in the Mess. They are so attached and I have to go every other night now. I’ve got Lo Zio – her brother – a job as Skipper of a Z craft, he’s delighted.
Johnny Feaver has gone to hospital now, with Fever. So here we are. I’ve won another round and got permission to give our men Naafi issues. Great rejoicing among the contrite. Giorgio was delighted yesterday when in a story about a camel I wrote for my nightly exercise in Italian I got the wrong word and gave the poor animal an elastic tail instead of an embarrassing tail.
A letter from you yesterday about Dickie at the Edkins tea party and he being got fresh at by that forward Edkins minx Susan. After his money I suppose. Time I came home. (Hear hear) There was also that very surprising letter from E. Sackville-West, how unexpected. If we can sell things there it would be very good. I’ve got a thing on the stocks which might do for them, its about voting out here, soldiers doing it and their ways and sayings. I’ll work it out. Mrs. Eastwood sent me Cpl. Himedeh the other day.
A very good letter from Uncle Fred Thirlby, with some charming professions of admiration of love and affection concerning your and my son Richard-Dick. I shall be very anxious until the new pictures come, by t he way.
Careless’ little explanation of our oak chest was interesting too. I get a rise on the 18th, after four years service, long service pay, five and three a week I think it is, it should be automatic. Oh, a letter from Bertha, her Mother has died and she was sad. She had been mental for a long long time, over fond of her husband who died suddenly, but she was sweet and gentle and now Bertha feels lost. I haven’t sent a play either, I must truly I will. You’ve got the Harrap’s parcel ready for when they want it, have you? Yes afterwards we must think out a good plan of campaign. I feel I’d like to not do BBC. But have I the inventiveness to cover the budget with columns here and there if they could be got. We’ll see, RJSD shall have his vote.
Dear you. Dear him, dear all of us. And poor mother with her broken arm. Be happy and enjoy the high summer and the fruits thereof. Thank Uncle Fred for his good letter if you come across him. Bless you…
Ever your David XXXX