Friday morning.  6.30.

Dearest:

This is man’s paradise indeed – for all men – lazy beasts – delight in a loungeful three quarters of an hour between breakfast & work.  That’s what we have

.                       This is to serve two purposes.  To send my morning love & to ask you to post my sweaters – white & coloured,-in with the towels when you send them, as asked for in last night’s letter, now sitting in the post box.  For after square & for morning P.E.  Only if its not too much of a pest.

Oh, please send me Arthur’s address & number.  I’ll send another card.  I’ll have to rescue him, but it docks ops. don’t do much rescuing.

Do manage a month of honeymoon in Welsh Wales.

It would have been an oak tree that Charles II hid in.

A glorious morning, & P.T. was very good this morning.  I’m doing all I can to conserve my fitness.  Even a two mile canter over the heath after P.T.

Southampton on Wednesday.  I’ll see if I can get the evening off & sleep at Romsey.  A good idea.  We spend two days in the docks.

All my love.

            Dearest one:

                        A little letter sending my love for Monday in case tomorrow’s letter doesn’t make it.  A little one because I’m spending the evening on Anne’s History series, drawing up the idea & a synopsis.  So the cause is good.

                        The other parcel came Friday, the blazer & all the ” Old School Ties”.  I should have specified which blazer but it doesn’t matter.

                        A nice day.  Messing & field cookery all morning, & boat construction all afternoon.  The then some violent squash, dinner and here I am, fed, bathed & clean in my best clothes.  I’ll telephone on Sunday evening, as usual.  I’m incarcerated in the Orderly Room except for meals.  I’ll stay in tomorrow I expect.  And Wimbledon next weekend.  Shall we meet in London the weekend after ?  The only snag is my tardy arrival, mid evening.  But 24 hours is a lot, for me.  But we can have Saturday afternoon as well at Romsey, on August 22^nd.

                        But you’ve got the date to hand.

                        Pardon brevity, work calls.  All my love, dearest.

R.E.MESS
LONGMOOR
HANTS
—
July 30th. 1942

My Dearest,
Postie has worked it out, nicely and two letters nestled in my pigeon hole this morning at half past eight, with one from Rolf, and another this afternoon, and a slip saying “Will 2/Lt. Scott Daniell ring for wine waiter and ask for his parcel, signing for same”. So 2/Lt S.D. did and there was and it is. It is very nice, all soft and ironed and beautiful. But could you send, sometime, a couple of towels, or even my two army towels and one other one ? I only brought one, your remember, and this weather, and this dressy life, I wash harshly in the morning, and again for lunch and bath in the evening before dinner, The airing cupboard is efficient and hot but the towel will wear thin in due course.

Your letters were dear letters, although I have to pardon your quite madness in your unreal estimation of me. As your husband I’m a whale of a fellow, but on my own merits, no more than worthy and well meaning, I think. Howsoever, its nice to be foolishly thought of.

A silly day. A nice Captain Blundell of Railway Ops. talked to us all the morning, apart  from our forty minutes break, of his reminiscences of the French campaign, with lots of anecdotes about fifth columnists and things, and then about the Subalterns troubles on detachment, billeting worries, marriage problems of sappers, censorship and so on. And this afternoon we played with a six foot model of a cargo ship, with real derricks worked with string pulling wooden cases, barrels, and timber from her holds with the Union Purchase and swing tackle and so on.  Great fun and the small boy’s delight.

Letter from Rolf enthusing charmingly over my going over on Sunday. I telephoned them this evening that I was watching men eat meals all day and marching to church behind the band, and as they are busy on Saturday I’ve moved my visit to the next Sunday, maybe I’ll slope off on Saturday and sleep there. It seems that one cannot get official permission for forty eight hours, but that everyone takes them and officialdom winks the eye.    Certainly the Mess was empty on Sunday last ! I’11 know more of that later. I’ll go for Sunday anyhow. Romsey is ungetatable from here, I’ve tried trains and busses, apart from sleeping there it can’t be done, as one has to leave so early to get any transport back. Maybe a full Sunday will be worth it in due course, but now I’ve started the Unwins, and all six of them are expecting me I can’t confuse the issue by putting it too far forward. The Youngunwins remember me, it seems. D’you think you could get down for next week-end or shall we be patient and have a week-end in London in two week-ends time ? I can’t get up there until seven thirtyish in the evening, we work until four when the course begins. But the Bournemouth recce trip is the time as we can get away from Bournemouth at nine in the morning. We can be together at London, (Auntie Edies) or Romsey, whichever you like best. So lets make plans.

London August 15th. Saturday night till Sunday 9.25 at Waterloo.

London or Romsey, August 22nd. Saturday lunch time till Sunday evening.

Then we shall have a week-end together on August 29th. when I get an official 48 hours, and then Wales. Say what you fancy, and we’ll work it out and I’ll get passes done. I think the most sensible and practical is the 22nd. from Bournemouth. If you go to Romsey I’ll go to London for the day alone to see Uncle and Auntie the other Sunday.

Now Welsh Wales. I’ve pondered a lot, and made an official Appreciation, and arrived at the conclusion that the best thing to do is to live together in bliss for four complete weeks.    Its a terrific opportunity not to be missed. But I’m not going to take you from the safety of your village to a bombable area, I’d never forgive myself if you got into some fireworks. So we’ll have to do the impossible and find a wee cottage, a windmill, a boat, a farm barn or something ten or fifteen miles inland, yet get-at-able for me to the Docks. We can find a farm and board or better still, housekeep in a furnished room, rooms, or attic. You, Candy and me. It’s almost certain I’ll be on the Lodging List of whatever unit I’m attached to, I believe its the Highland Light Infantry at Swansea. Then I can do as I please, dine in Mess once a week and the rest be with you, working in the day time, walking, reading, cuddling, writing, playing the gramophone, in the evenings and week-ends. I’d not go on Saturdays of course. It would be a real holiday, staying together in Wales. I get an allowance of 7/9 a day on the Lodging List, and you get your twenty eight bob and my pay comes as well. So we wouldn’t be out of pocket.

Thinking like this I reviewed the places, and the best for getting inland easily seems to be Swansea. For being near home one chooses Barry or Newport or Cardiff, but we needn’t be near home if we’re together, and the hinterland of the other places is industrial and stuffy, but that of Swansea I find, on questioning Welsh people, is lovely and villagey. What d’you say to all this ? I could go first and you join me, of course. We’d find a place if we want to, Anthony (Saint) would see to that. Its impossible, they say, but . . . . . . We might even find a caravan or a summer house or a lodge or a large tree.

Say what you think! We have our nine days at the end of it as well. All very nice and Docks Operating is quite the best course to have taken ! There are ten of us from 143 in it, Jock Moir, Peter, Arthur Gammons, J.B.Gamble, Woodhouse, Faulconbridge, English, Carmichael, Pat Moore, Bob Poulter and two colonials with direct commissions, forty-five year old engineers, and ten more coming from units on Monday to join us.

Would your mother go to Romsey for the month ?  And Kettering at the end ? Or Gwen ?  She’d understand our desire for a month together I’m sure. We may be separated for a year or two after the winter, who knows, after all I am in the army and must do a job of real work sometime. Apart from you and your sadness and the cruelty to you, and my selfish missing of you, I’m as eager as anyone. We must win this war and I’m lucky enough to be in the game now, actively and with a first class job. So our halcyon Month is sensible The Harvest should be partly done, anyhow . .

If you can’t get away and if the domestic problems are too thick, ignore my bland managing, and I’ll get a place nearer home and have long week-ends at home. But we’d be so gloriously alone together away in rooms or a cottage in the hills. Or, even a moored boat.    September, too. Think round it, I’ve plumped for Swansea now, which is not definite but they’ll try to put us where we choose, Newport is the nearest to home, and Peter’s chosen that because of his Junior who will have made his bow by then.

How’s the Hancox Junior ? Still kicking ? Thanks for the spectator, but we have them here, so save the stamp, I read this one at tea so it was a Good thing, but we have four Times, four Telegraphs and two of every other paper, and Spectator, New Statesmen, Illustrated London News, Punches, and all the whole gamut in the Mess, all up to date and displayed nicely.

I find I’ve got two church parades on Sunday, the 8th Battalion to lead in the Brigade C of E parade with the band at 9.30 and the Brigade Methodists to take to Church all on my own, with a sergeant, at 11 ! Two. What a righteous day. Me in S.D. Sam Browne, brown boots and gloves, very churchy. Two inspections, two marches past the Brigade flag, two services sitting alone in front, and two dismisses, and when do Methodists bend down ?

I’m longing to hear those records, with you, I’ve always associated the nestvi my life with that melody, and wanted the right moment to let you into its loveliness. Lucky girl, with the books coffee pot and money. Why not buy a Henry Heath hat with the money ?  Or use it on our London trip ? Or buy a beehive and whistle for some bees ? I love you.

Your letters are dear letters, I’m re-reading them all this evening, when I go to bed.     Its a gorgeous night, a gorgeous day, and Peter is calling for me at my house (2 Moor Road) and we are taking a walk over the heath and then to the Mess for a pint of beer and then bed.

We went to Petersfield yesterday evening and had a heavenly time. Leslie England handled the Saint-Saëns concerto brilliantly and its an amazingly difficult technical work.    He had seven hands all dashing about often, and played nearly all the time. The concerto was charging and inspiring, and the orchestra, under Sargent, was clean and brisk and very full-hearted. The Fifth was, as usual, almost terrifying in its glory and power. I had you beside me on an empty seat. We walked round charming Petersfield afterwards, balmy with the music, and talked of our wives, Peter and I, and so home by bus.

And what a lot of saluting, the novelty has worn off, and when a Gunner R.S.M.  saluted us we nearly burst into tears and fled.

How I go on. But talking to you is so necessary and easy. Let us try to be together as much as we can these next weeks. Consider the Welsh idea carefully. If we can get a furnished cottage or hut, can you feed us on our ration cards ?  Or shall we stay at a farm ? Couldn’t you paint a bit, or sit and write, your verse is so good. Or just sit, or even stay at a farm and help on the farm.  But not in the week-ends, yes, you could, so long as we have our own sitting and bed room. Anywhere to be with you. Bring the gramophone and the pipes and we’ll be happy.    Candy, too. Its worth having no cinemas for the sake of her. We can walk if we are in a dullish house, for the week-ends.

I must read these history pamphlets. Bless you for your love. The only greatness about me is the love I have for you, and which you have for me. Good night, dear heart….

Ever your . . .

Dear Hen, dreaming arborially. My dog dreamed the same dream in a letter passing yours I believe.

Thank your mother for her VERY sweet letter.

R.E.MESS,  LONGMOOR,  HANTS.   29/7/42.   13.15 Hrs.

My Dearest,
Here I am in my room, all cosy and quiet.  We have from 12.15 to 1415 for lunch so I have a nice interval for peaceful writing. There is a blessed absence of scramble here. The Red Tabs have enlarged in number, the Quarter-master General has arrived now and the band plays on the lawn and they have lunch.  I got mine in early. To-day it was  fresh fish, grilled, chips and green peas, and custard and mixed fruit, red and black currants, cherries and raspberries and new apples. A fine array and very much to my taste. I wish you could live here in the mess. Cheese and biscuits afterwards, of course.

How nice to hear your birthday voice yesterday, I had a job getting through, or rather the gentleman did. He had to chase round Coventry and Wolverhampton and took two hours and a half, he only kept on trying because it was your birthday, he’d have given up otherwise, I hope Birmingham wasn’t bashed too badly. One wonders at the news, but I have supreme faith in our destiny and I don’t worry unduly. Beaches sprinkled with H.E. will not affect the fulfilment of our job.

Leave. We can get a forty eight this week-end from Friday but not me because I’m Battalion Orderly Officer on Sunday and have to inspect the whole battalion’s meals, march to church at the head of the brigade, our battalion, the 8th. being the leading one, – and I must not look round to see if they are still with me! – and mount and inspect the Guard and Picket. So no 48 hours for me. But there are things. When the course starts we work on Saturday afternoons until four. But I can get off then. Would you like to meet me in London on Saturday week at about seven thirty or whenever I get in? There is the snag that they might stop me travelling by train, one isn’t supposed to at week-ends, but maybe that’s only next August Bank Holiday week-end, yes that’s what it is, I could get to Town by sevenish, and meet you, and then we could sleep at Auntie Edies, and me come back on Sunday evening, and you go home then or on Monday.

Also, we go to Southampton for a two days tour of the docks next week and I could spend the evening and night at Romsey.  And we go to Pool for three days for a recce in our third week, on the twentieth of August.  One can break off at Poole for a forty eight, and if you were at Romsey that week-end, the 22nd. I could be there Saturday mid-day.    Maybe to sleep as well though I believe we use the evenings pretty well for writing up the report. Its an idea. I can get a Saturday-Sunday pass any time, but its only after duty which is four o’clock.  Think out the best plans. But let me know about the week-end after next pretty pronto because of arranging it this end.

There’s  a Friday evening-Monday at the docks week-end on August 28, of course, and if you have harvested all Arthur’s fields by  then you can live for a month with me in digs or a flat or rooms or a cottage at Barry, and we can walk the mountains with Candy in the week-ends and do what you will. I wear civilian clothes and am my own master, no discipline or parades or anything. Needn’t go near the docks if I don’t want to, only I do, to learn my job. Then after that we have nine days leave. So we can live together for six whole weeks, until you’re sick of the sight and sound and shape of me! I wonder. Lovely to have a holiday with Mother in that time somehow.

This morning we heard all about Tides and Tide tables, and also all about men under detention and, what to do to them. Very good. Also I’ve finished and posted LIVINGSTONE. This afternoon, perhaps, Postie will have got his little system going with our letters.

I knew you’d understand Cesar Franck, he has a special message for me, which you will understand. It will be consolation while, or if, we are apart by any real distance and for any real time. The recorder is just a silly present, and congratulations on the turnip field.     How did you do it? Sounds like a Sapper job. Gelignite or Ammonal?    What a to-do.    Whither did the wind blow the smoke?

I go, to the Brigade office for my identity card.  Fare thee very well, dearest heart ever your.

P.S.  Beethoven’s Fifth tonight in Petersfield, with Peter in fact but with you in spirit.

                                                                David .

R.E. Mess :
Longmoor :
Hants.
28/7/42

Dearest Heart :

                        A real birthday day, a clean nutty mist & sun morning, when I went out to P.T.  at 0655, & now a fine hot day.  Our first lecture is in progress, – this is an interval whilst other people look at a ship plan.  Its a very good lecture on ship construction.  I’m learning such a lot.

                        P.T. was good fun.  14 officers, & I went voluntarily, for your sake. “All officers on courses will attend P.T. at 06.55 every morning, except for those over 35 years of age.” But for your sake, & may be your son’s sake, I am going. “Mens sana in corpore sano.”

                        Tomorrow Peter & I go to the concert at Petersfield.  Yesterday evening I did Livingstone, but as it was only 1500 words I’m doing it again this evening, a final version.  Then Cromwell.

                        I’m thinking of spending Sunday at Wimbledon if I’m not on duty or orderly officer & if Rolf is at home.  Then I’ll try Romsey the week after.  I’m feeling my way for 48 hours. I believe it’s not easy on this course.  But people generally just go, we have no roll call of any sort.  But the illegality of that way seems to be rather uncomfortable.  I’ll get the proper balance of all is in due course.

                        We’re even issued with serviettes !  And rings !!!  But not pillow cases.  Have we plenty ?  2 to spare, or not ?  Be honest.

                        Tomorrow we have the Q.M.G. here for a day or two.  Guards of honour & the Band playing outside the mess at meal times.  The Band, the R.E. Band we have here, is very good. A gala day.

                        The deck chairs are littered about the lawns & the sun shines down.  There’s a zephyr breeze blowing & a blue sky. I’ve analysed the men of & I find that it’s so successful because its a man’s living designed by men for men.  Hence the thick carpeted comfort of it all, all the newspapers, Spectator as well, laid out on the large round table, the Waiters at the ends of bells.

                                                            Pause –
Contd. after dinner on the lawn.

                        Peter & are in garden chairs in this lovely summer sunshine, he reading Churchill’s Marlborough, me doing this.  Our R.E. band is playing exceedingly well in honour of our visiting Generals. The ante room of our mess is full of Lt. Colonels & demure Majors while a group of red tabbed great ones drink coffee & Brandy.  Your call is put down & I am due to take it at 8.40.  Its very lovely here, spacious lawn & warm soft air.

                        This afternoon we went on board S.S. Apple Pie !!  Now are we really sappers.  We watched steam winches at work & had a great time.  All very pleasant.  Peter & I messed about with a boat !

                        Never have I lived so well as now.  Dinner tonight was a superb soup, lamb & mint sauce, green peas & new potatoes, a very handsome & succulent red currant pie & cream, a kipper savoury, biscuits & cheese & coffee.  The only consolation is that we shall all be living very hard in due course & we can’t be accused of not knowing there’s a war on.

                        Which is the best for me to choose, Barry Island or Cardiff ?  Nice for you at Barry doubtless, in the daytime.  We would have lots of spare time & opportunities for walks, all day & night walks, & sailing maybe.  On these jobs one is one’s own master entirely.  If you get the harvest done with, the 4 weeks plus my 9 days leave would be nearly 6 weeks entirely together !  What do you think of that ?  The harvest is the only snag.

Soon I’ll be talking to you.
Dear you.
All my love.
Ever your devoted & very luxurious

Oh, I’m Battalion Orderly Officer on Sunday !  So I can’t go to Wimbledon.  Rather posh things, Battalion Orderly Officers.

Letter from you tomorrow ?

R.E.  MESS
LONGMOOR.
HANTS
July 27th. 1942

Dearest Heart,
Muffins ! Hooray, Just What I wanted. But actually the food is very good here, still, you know best, and your loving tributes will be dutifully toasted and relished. Or was it buckets ? Buckets of what ? Spades as well ? Dear you.

Nice to hear you, if only faintly. It was so very you. The telephone box here is even luxurious to a degree, an oak panelled affair with two telephones, a modern armchair, a table, pencil and pad and rows of directories. And I got through in ten minutes. I was late as I’d been playing Squash, had bathed and dressed and dinner was on. And what a dinner. We have two hot meals a day, and as many helpings as you like to fetch from the sideboard, and to-days lunch was custard with apples, cherries, prunes, figs and damsons. The soup is always dreamlike and very hot and biscuits and a choice of three cheeses follow. No wonder civilians go short. Also fresh green peas. Also a savoury always. Also coffee ad lib in the ante room. This is a Brigade Mess, and we have Brigadier Joly de la Lobiniere in command, and five Lt, Colonels and Majors thick as thieves. Most of the other subalterns are in Mess No. 2 another neo-Georgian red brick and white faced windows and doors, with five gables and wide latticed windows, alongside No. 1. Why, I’m in No. 1 I don’t know but its a shade better, thicker carpeted, deeper chaired, and more thickly populated with Senior Officers. Our Mess Waiters are sergeants. Pints of beer brought by polite and deferential sergeants. All very tasty. The ATS serve the meals and some French wizard is Chef.

To-Day we filled in forms this morning and had an interview in turn with Joly de la Lobiniere. Three Lt. Colonels and one Major sat at the side. Twenty minutes mine lasted and we were soon all laughing happily. The Brigadier asked me about Bedford Grammar being Bedford School and I told him the history of the schools since 1566 and the change over. We decided that the Grammar were snobs and he said he rowed against the Modern in 1911 at Henley and was beaten. Bedford Modern is a touchstone to people like Brigadiers. The War office selection Board wallah was the same. Then we discussed the reason of me, a Gunner being in the Sappers. Also my beach work at Accra. He kept me in Docks and shifted three of the others to I.W.T. He also talked about the BBC and asked me if I knew his brother, Guy de la Lobiniere, and I said I’d lunched with him at Bristol when he was Western Regional Director. We discussed the BBC at length. A happy twenty minutes.

Then after lunch – steak and kidney, stewed apples and custard, soup and cheese, we went to the 8th Battalion, to which we are attached for discipline and duty, and interviewed the C.O., a mere Colonel. Then to a class room and our Instructor of Officers chatted to us and told us what was happening. It was a nice room, garden chairs like we’ve got at home and comfortable and pleasant.

The scheme is that the Course starts on Monday next when a dozen other new officers join us, making twenty four in all. This week we have lectures on administrative work, charge sheets, messing and so on. Times at 08.45 to 1000, 1045 to 1215. 1345 – 1600, 1700 to 1745, and that’s all. Then next week we go to Southampton on Tuesday and Wednesday to go round the docks, to see docks before the course. Then four weeks, with three days at Poole, staying at the Branksome Towers Hotel. Then after the four weeks we have forty eight hours leave, and go to a Port, chosen by us more or less, either Liverpool, Hull, Hartlepool, Cardiff, Swansea or Barry. Barry seems the best. You can stay with me there for the month if you can get away. Then after that seven or nine days leave and off to a Unit. So the prospect is quite bright. Forty eight hours in five weeks, then four more weeks and a long week ! Bless us all and both. What’s more I’ll try to get a forty eight, unofficial is the custom, to London and meet you there.

Its all very jolly and interesting.

After that we handed in our Other Ranks kit and then J.B. and I played violent Squash, then a bath and change and dinner, a naughty hour in the Ante Room with Churchill’s Marlborough instead of working and here I am in our room. Bless us all.

Now I must away to the scripts, not away, change of theme. Can you send my blazer and silk scarf with the parcel ?  You’re sending shorts and cricket shirts ?  Good.    Also, the Kingham P.T. vest.

Bye bye, sweetheart. I feel guilty at not roughing it. We are all so genteel and treated so deferentially and lavishly. There’s a first rate film every evening, a dance hall,  cricket most evenings, and even a symphony concert tomorrow doing the Fifth and some Saint Saens. Peter and I were going but I’ll stay behind A, to write and B to telephone dear you. Better than any symphony, your voice.

Blessings on you, dear heart,
ever. . . .

R.E.MESS
LONGMOOR, HANTS.
—
Sunday 26th. 1942, – July the month.

My Dearest,
A letter sits in the collection box in the Mess already and this will go with it.    Its another day, so another letter. Also this little bit of heather with my birthday love, its gorgeous, and surrounds me here. Also oak trees, handsome, but of an inferior type in character to a tree I know.

Its half past two in the afternoon and I’m sitting in my room at No. 2 Moor Road, the others are out, or sleeping in the Mess. I was tempted to take the train for Wimbledon to see Rolf, but chose writing instead. I think I’ll have peaceful evenings this week as the course proper doesn’t start until next Monday. So I’ll try to get something done. The Library in the Mess has the Britannica, also Winstone’s Marlborough, also Scott’s voyage, also Buchan’s Montrose and lots of books like that ! The Times Atlas, for example. So everything conspires to be easy. I’ll hammer away at a couple of Uruguayan talks and then do Anne’s scheme for History scripts.

This morning Robinson called us with tea at half past seven and whisked away shoes, sam browns and tunics. They came back glistening and gleaming. He is a nice man and deft and discreet. After breakfast, three rashers of good bacon and scrambled eggs,  porridge  or cornflakes  first,  and toast  and butter and marmalade ad lib, with tea or coffee,  all done with silver and roses and good tablecloths, after that we went to the Brigade  office and  filled in more  forms,  and that was that. I spent the morning in the Mess reading, and drinking half a pint of beer in a handsome regimental tankard, and then had dinner, roast beef, peas, potatoes boiled and baked, rice pudding and preserved fruit, cheese and biscuits and coffee. No, it was lunch.

Then I looked up Wimbledonian trains and then came here, booking the  Squash Court for  five  o’clock en route, Peter  and I  are playing,  to get  hot  for  a bath and a change for dinner at seven.  I shall read in a large chair this evening if, I work well this afternoon.

I feel rather a beast living so very well, apart from you.

Officers on a course are supposed to remain within the Brigade area, but people do wander off. I’ll try for a permit for Wimbledon, though.  I’m attached to the eighth battalion for duties and discipline and shall have a section for parade purposes. They’re intake and new, so I shall be happier, rookie officer among rookie men. The rest of our time is lectures, administrative this week.  Next week we start docks work which will mean some trips to Southampton and Portsmouth.

After four weeks here we go to docks, and we can more or less choose them.  I think Liverpool would be the best, don’t you ? We can get together then, somehow. Hope it isn’t the middle of the harvest. But I’m only beginning to find out details of our doings here. More news as it is discovered.

Squash at five, after tea, and a good deep bath and then dinner will be nice. A sybaritic life. Different on detachment or with a unit, though.

How is my Candy ? And my Mother-Anne ? She was a dear, contriving entirely for the benefit of our few days together. I hope she knows that we appreciate it.

If I revel in writing to you nothing about Livingstone will be done and it must, so fare thee well, dear heart. My thoughts are with you and I shall be in the fullness of time. Until then, fortitude and faith in each other is necessary.

God bless you, and a happy birthday,

ever your own . . .

                                                                                          July 25th. 1942

My Dearest,
Here I am, newest of the new boys, in new surroundings, a vast place with a secluded area with neat houses, suburban houses picked up from some neat suburb and placed in the midst of a great heath, with two vast country club buildings, surrounded by trim lawns all polished oak and elegant proportions, wherein one lounges in deep chairs, has beer, whisky, cigarettes and tobacco on tap for the signature of a chit to an obliging At, where one dines in a long panelled room with leather covered chairs, with silver goblets full of roses, helping oneself from plentifully charged dishes and hot plates on polished sideboards, where officers abound and all is breadth, quiet, plenty and elegance.

I am writing this at nine o’clock in my room, I share it with Tiny Robinson, the kindly giant, and Jock Moir, the dour brilliant Scotsman. Our room is upstairs, and has windows each end, overlooking virgin heath. There are three beds, two dressing tables a wardrobe, three chairs, a table, a washbasin with water laid on, and distempered walls, cream and white, bed lights and a fat chubby Batman. Our house is No. 2 something road and is at the end of everything, so we are open and fresh. The bathroom is nice and the lavatory long and narrow. For writing it is ideal if Tiny and Jock spend their evenings in the Mess, as I expect they will. It is a private room with a neat table and I can write well, as write I must, and as write I shall, but more of that anon.

This will not get there before Tuesday your birthday. Bless you and Many Happy Returns, with us together on them all. A happy day, my dear, I shall be thinking of you and wishing you well. Oliver was commissioned to make my purchases for you this morning, there was not time for me to do it. The present is with my love and love and my love again. If he does get Variations Symphoniques I want you to play them over in the evening, and to find in them all the yearning for the unknown happiness I found in them. My yearning has been answered, by your utter marrying of me. I used to sit, alone with this concerto, and weave dreams in the fabric of the melody, and all I ached for a wanted and needed to set me free and to make my manhood real and true was brought to me by you. So this music, which you may have today, and which you will have soon if he couldn’t get it, is an epitome of us. I think, I know, that it will give you the same deep pleasure.

He had substitutes to get if the Cortot was not obtainable. They are with my love, and my wishes for a happy day.

How lovely was my leave, dear you in the midst of that dear village. Bless you and thank you. No one has had a more home-ful leave. I miss you a great deal and shall continue to miss you. But we shall be together and our relationship will be ever sharper and cleaner for this testing period.

Now my news to-date. I left you with Eileen and arrived in good order at New Street. After a while Oliver and Flossie came and we stood, in my queue until I got my ticket and then went into the buffet and had coffees. And talked and they undertook my birthday commissions for you. Then the train came, I got a corner seat and Bob Faulconbridge came along and sat with me, his whispish little wife sad at his parting, and Bob sad too. Me sad too. But we were brave. At Euston I bagged a taxi and went to 200 Oxford Street, parked my luggage and met Anne in the canteen where we had lunch. She told me about the Uruguayan work, and then about her own. Hers is a grand job, broadcasts to British evacuated children in America and Canada, New Zealand and Australia. She is starting a weekly childrens hour for them, consisting of birthday greetings, relays of mother’s messages, a serial story and topical talks. She asked me what I thought and I thought topical talks sounded dull. She said they were worried because the children only got American history in their schools. I got a buzzing in the brain and worked out a lightening idea which she liked, that we should do a series of ten minute historical incidents, each a tiny dramatisation of a situation famous in history with its story told briefly and succinctly. She said all sorts of nice things and I’m to make out a synopsis of the scheme and send a sample script, and she’ll get it approved and the jobs mine, either six, one a fortnight for twelve weeks, her unit of working time, or if I can do them, a dozen, Yeo heave ho ! who says I’m a dud business man.  I’ll be sending for details soon. But for now, can you seek out the British History pamphlets we used to have, Gawd knows where they are but in the cupboard I think, and send them ? Full of historical dope. I’ll ask you in our phone conversation tomorrow. There’s a luxury phone box in the Mess, of course. All is like a cross between a swagger country club, first class on a luxury liner, and a very grand hotel, with a country mansion background thrown in.

But I was lunching with Anne, who asked after you and was proud of your war work. After parted I had a taxi to Waterloo and there met various other officers, and we had a compartment down to Liss. We arrived, via Godalming, Petersfield and places, at ten past five. Deposited our bags and walked in the town, found a post office and Peter and I sent letter cards to our dear ones, and then we went into our private military train and came here. Its a free army railway, and we got to our army station, left our luggage and walked to the Brigade H/Q where we got our names entered as arriving. Then to our Mess, there are two, No. 1 and No. 2. I’m in No. 1 and Peter is in No. 2. That’s hard and we are trying to change it, but I don’t know if we can. But we can visit each other. Then we saw the Mess Secretary and got our official chits, and then went to our homes, all in different little houses. I’ve described ours, a neat suburban house, transplanted magically here. The men, a Brigade of them, live in Nissen huts, but this is an aloof area for officers only, and me. (That’s how I feel) Tony Robinson and Jock are excellent companions but I miss Peter. He’ll miss me. At our house our batman saw to us, brought hot water and unpacked for us. Then to the Mess for dinner.    A long panelled room, five tables and one in the bay. Clean cloths, good silver, and flowers.    Soup from a hot plate tureen, cold meat of three kinds, salad, potato, beetroot, tomatoes and salad dressing, then a savoury on toast brought by the superior kind of At kept at the Mess,  then biscuits and cheese. Then to the lounge where deep chairs abound and up-to-date papers and magazines, for excellent coffee, on a side table, black and white, hot sweet and good, and help yourself as much as you like. Ats with chits at hand to bring drinks. A billiards room, writing room, library with the Britannica, and a squash court. Now back here and here I am.    Its a grand life, for the start.

Tomorrow we meet the Brigade Major and on Monday the Commandant. Then we will know what our fate is. I gather from stray conversation that its an eight weeks course, four here and four at docks, as near your home as they can make it. A lot of getting about, to Southampton and so on, for recces, and lectures from 9 to 6. Then free, but as one dresses for dinner you can’t get far as its out of the way. Week-end leaves not easy, discouraged in fact while on a course. The docks I might go to would be Liverpool or Hull, where you would come. But its early days for all that. The posh notepaper is just swank for your sweet sake. Address to me is R.E. Mess No. 1, Longmoor, Hants. The No. 1 is not necessary but may help.

I must stop now, because I’d go on for ever if I didn’t and I want to write to your mother, the dear one and my mother.  This is collected on Sunday at 6 in the evening so ought to be there on Tuesday. I hope it will. I may write again tomorrow. We shan’t know where we are until Monday. It sounds fun, anyhow, and I’m so proud of two things, of you and your love and of being an officer in the British Army.

The gorse is flourishing, and I have a well wooded heath with woods on the sky line around me. Getting in to Romsey is not easy but how or if it can be done I can’t tell yet. Or to London, but we’ll see. I shall have to spend much spare time, an unknown quantity as yet, writing for the BBC with the Uruguayan and the American work to hand, but it is a Good Thing and will lead to other Good Things. Dear Anne.

Now my love, my love and thankyou for your devotion which I would be proud to half deserve. I am yours, yours truly, faithfully, sincerely and devotedly, all, always, yours.

                        Ever your own….

Never have I behaved so badly !  It is Friday & I last wrote to you on Tuesday.  But the past two days have just overflowed with activity !  Work,, The Forced March & above all, the dance.  On Wednesday I went to Caldergrove in the evening, feeling perky after the successful & record breaking march, and then instead of writing  I worked out a new play with Bertha & then fell asleep by the fire !  So no letter.  Then last night was all dance organisation & here I am, at 9^o/_c just free from a committee meeting which wound up the dance finances -takings £22-12-6, expenses £16-5- profit towards the dinner – £6-7-6.  Before that we were inspected & scrutinised minutely by the Adjutant in our S.D.  Is a charming man & brilliant at tailoring.  He spotted an unevenness in my pockets & a slight fullness in the skirts.  That will be altered by Friday.  All day we’ve had law lectures, & has nearly everyone was tiddly last night, & everyone very late to bed, it was a sleepy class.  I wasn’t tiddly & Noon was more than pleasantly so.  It was a good do, a happy party, & by dint of my hard work, it was O.C.T.U. only & 208 people there.  The C.O.  came & he hadn’t been to either the 8 or 9 class dances.  A gesture we appreciated.  But I’ll tell you all about it.  You were sadly missed by me though I was hopping about seeing to send most of the time.  But it was voted a success by everyone.

                        Yes, as I’ll say to you in a few minutes when the phone call comes through -I’ve put the call through & I’m waiting to hear the bell ringing –  –  –  –  –

                        And there it rang.  I had a lovely long talk & four pips.  Then Sgt Ingram, the merry spirit of the review met me outside the Green Room & we drank coffee in the Naafi & talked programme until now – 11.15 !!  I got him to cut two amateur items, rewrite the end of one & have his sketches to  tomorrow !  So this day ends, & no peace for poor David.  Everyone else is resting & in bed & I’ve been at it all the while !  Poor David, it’s always the same.  I need you to protect me.  Yes I do.

                        Funny you hearing officially that and commissioned before I do !  I’ll telephone tomorrow, & write .  This note must suffice for now.  Bless you & care for that cough.

                        Bye bye dearest.  One week hence I’ll be in the train.

                This is a different sort of picture !  A passport picture !  We dashed to the photographers, sat down & he did it & we left!  Hence this horror.  Its for identity card purposes, ni moins.  Keep this carefully & hand it back, or better or send it back next letter.  We have to have four & now I’ve only got 3, till this returns.  Perhaps I shant send it, you’ll have an idea of a different kind of person !  You’ll have an ideea of a very different kind of person. !

                        An evening in this evening, I was going to Caldergrove but I’ve too much to do.  We got back from the convoy at  6o/c & had to change, tea & parade by 6.30 for a Pass – off rehearsal, & then a long committee and & then the  & then it was half past 8.  So I’ve been doing dance jobs & now your letter & J.G.L.  Lunch at that nice canteen place ?  Where we went last time.  Telephone J.G.L.  & confirm that.  2o/c, or 1.45.

                        The convoy was a pleasant picnic.  Up Loch Lomond & down Clydeside.  I slept all the afternoon on the floor of the six wheel Morris !  A sweet sleep.  Forced march tomorrow.

                        Look here, darling, if its inconvenient for you to come to B’ham, I shall quite understand & can meet you in the Queens.  Then I’ll come on the later train. You say.  I’m so dumbly happy at the prospect of seeing you that any plan suits me.  But the earlier the better.

                        For will there be a damson tree in the garden, all leafy & shady ?  And fruit, & our warm or cool sitting room, & the fresh brown & cream china ?  And those inviting stairs & the lavatory with a view ?  And the tiny dining room & the clock ?  All the little things of our home which are so exceedingly valuable for us.  And what do we buy for you ?  A hat ?  A handbag and an RE brooch definitely.  Me, an officer in the sappers !!!  Does this photo look too hopelessly unofficerish ?

Now, my precious, it’s early to bed.

A little letter, but a loving one.  Hooray for us music soon.

CALDERGROVE HOUSE
SUNDAY 5/7/42

My Dearest,
Your registered letter with the Marriage Lines, – dear blessed document, so dry and matter of fact, so rich and essentially poetic in effect – and the Birth Certificate, the Insurance Receipt and the letter from Mrs. Matthews. Yes, that is a nice letter the neatest little thirty two guineas I’ve ever seen. Eight scripts of 800 words at four guineas each is a wow, higher rate than the swagger short story papers, and fun to do.  You can certainly help a great deal with dope. I’ve got the Livingstone stuff all ready and directly this ADVENTURE is done – I hope it will be this evening, I’ll get that one done. But as in all these things, the celebrated meeting with Stanley is of infinitesimal importance and can get ho mention.

That’s the difference between the Peaches of this world and us. We must keep little things like this contract ticking happily over if we can.

Kathleen has bought the three nursery rhyme scripts, and only wants the bedtime one changing from verse to prose, with which I don’t agree but say nothing about that. So that is  that.

I chose a pair of shoes yesterday in Glasgow, after all your trouble and kindness in posting shoe parcel after shoe parcel. The brogues are too patterned and too light for Square work, the town shoes too thin and ladylike and the old brogues too battered. The brogues and the light shoes will do for social occasions but I chose a pair of really grand thick storm-welted grained leather shoes from Scotts yesterday and I’ll buy them next Saturday.    You want weight and strength for parading. You’ll agree.

I’ve found some thing out. The 10.10 from Glasgow gets in at seven thirty or something, but I can catch a train at Motherwell at 6.10 which changes me at Crewe. It will get me to Birmingham either at 3.05 or at 520 in the morning, which would mean the best part of another night in bed, with you. Therefore, though this train will be crowded and even Firsts may have to stand, even though we fight again at Crewe and even though I walk up from New Street, I’m catching it. I shall therefore be there in the early hours, in time to go to bed, and to wake and dress with you, bath, breakfast and idle and make love. Its an exhilarating thought, that extra batch of precious hours. If its inconvenient to go to D’s you could take a room at the Queens Hotel and I’d join you in it. Expensive, but nice.

At D’s we’d have to make an  appearance at a reasonable hour I suppose, to see Frank before he went off,  though D wouldn’t mind us not turning up until ten or so. What d’you think ? We shan’t have to be too late because of our shopping, your shopping, rather, in Birmingham. I expect D’s would be the more sensible. Double beds, there anyhow. You’d have to leave the key in a prearranged place for me to get. You couldn’t wait up, its not certain whether we let the connection at Crewe there’s only twelve minutes between the trains and mine may run late, it being the crowdest time of all and the crowdest train.  Unless you came up to Crewe and stayed at the station hotel there. We could book a room and meet in it. I get to Crewe about half past twelve I think.  You could meet the train then. What’s the fare to Crewe ? Could you find out ? Praps its silly and wiser to go to D’s, leave a key hidden, and go to bed and know I’ll be there before you wake up.  Only explain which is your room    or leave a trail to it, bits of white string on the door knob or something. The Crewe idea is a nice one though. Still, the other’s more sensible. I may have to walk up from the station, but its not much of a walk. Time marches on anyhow.

Now as for doings, my doings. It is now half past two and I’m here for the afternoon and evening, dear folk that they are.  This morning I got up at 8 and had a shower, and after breakfast, worked at dinner-dance arrangements and did my laundry and some cleaning, had a hair cut, too. Then at eleven we rehearsed the show and the scripts I wrote on Thursday went off well, and the show will be all right.  I’ll be rehearsing it all next Sunday I fear. Telephoning may be difficult, maybe I’ll ring on Monday instead, yes, no ?  You can go to Church, then. Yesterday morning was restful and lectury, and in the afternoon Peter and I went to Hamilton, I left the Samuel to be altered, and we had our photographs taken for our identity cards. Then down to Glasgow and booked seats at the Theatre Royal, 2/- ones, and I chose shoes, and Peter bought pants and things, and then I went, no, a cup of tea next, then I went to the station and train hunted to get to you earlier and was lucky, I hope, dear you, and then to the, North British Hotel and arranged with the Manager for the seating and the drinks and the menu and so on. Then to the Strand and steak and chips and coffee, then to the theatre for Humperdinck at his most charming, Hansel and Gretel was delicious, shattering in its effect on me. I had you in mind, and visions and sensations crossed and recrossed my enchanted mind. You must see it with me, it is so very naive and lovely and delicate.

Then to Wendey’s for coffee and chocolate biscuits and home and here I am.    What about Friday I didn’t write then or did I ?  No I came here and wrote violently for the revue, various twiddly things and two major ones. They seem to go all right.

Why this yearning for Clopton Tower ? Are you overcrowded at Great Alne ? It could be loveley, there, and I too would like to be alone more with you, but for now we’ll just play with the idea. Anywhere is heaven, to my way of thinking, in your company. I do have my feelings, and I have my thoughts, and I know how the very look of you makes my blood race and my self ache. That tilted nose, your gay zestful glance, and the scent of your hair, smoothness of your arms and soft lovingness of your body, it all makes up that Nameless Essence which all music, all poetry, all art and all human spirit seeks to express. This war brings us separation which is bitter, and our separation may in the fullness of time be wide and long, but I shall be able to do my job the better for knowing that you are there, courageously patient, with the more difficult of the two jobs to do, and you stand for everything that we fight for, for, despite all the clever sayings about economic wars, political wars and Industrial wars, these are mere labels, and for us simpler folk it is a fight that everything which you typify for me shall live on.

So although I am dumb when I am with you, and although I’m an ordinary sort of a fellow, I am a poet and a dreamer and a creator when I think, as I constantly do think, of you.

And in a handful of days we shall be together, and for part of that time alone together. You, and I.

Bless you, dearest, and speed the day of our reunion. Ever your own . . .

Ever your own . .