GALLOW HILL CAMP.  SUNDAY 25th October 1942

 Dearest heart,

A conveniently wet early Sunday morning so that we could cancel church parade, and the sun has shone ever since, so disappointing for the men.

I went in with the utility yesterday afternoon about four, with Dickie and his luggage, a mountain of it he had, and saw him off for Stromness, that’s where he’s going, shelved in another static group because of his age, hence his change and our young and energetic O.C., and then went to a school where Bertha had left me a set of swagger footlights for the stage, collected them, send the driver off for three hours and met Bertha for tea.  We talked and ate, and then at seven thirty I came back in the utility, dropping the driver in Paisley for the evening.  Back to the friendly Mess and several Guinness and a talk, to bed at ten and read Emma, up betimes this morning as Orderly Officer, to inspect breakfast and here I am, in the office for the day.  If no job comes through from the old man – things are hectic and I may have something to do – I hope to write a couple of scripts for Anne Maxwell and her American children.

How stout are you against possible disappointments ?  Can you hear possible good news but not be too upset if it comes to nowt ?  Promise to pause here and prepare yourself not to count chickens, but consider what for me is a delightful probability ?  Good then read his dialogue.

The scene is the mess at lunch yesterday.  The actors the O.C. warming his behind at the stove, Guinness in hand, swaying from foot-sole to foot-sole.  Mac drinking Guinness by the newspaper table and idly reading, standing up, Harry sitting astride a chair backwards, Guinness in hand, me at the table, one hand on it, the other holding a glass of Guinness.

O.C.    :  Ah, Daniell, there’s a job for you.

Me       :  (Doubtfully) Oh !

O.C.    :  Court Of Inquiry.  Got to find an officer to sit on one for a case of barrack                                    accommodation stores missing.

Me       :  What you say goes.

O.C.    :  Your job.

Me       :  Oh.  Righto. Yours to command, you know.

O.C.    :  There’s a hitch to it.

Me       :  Go on.

O.C.    :  One of the witnesses is in hospital.  You’ll have to go and take his evidence.

Me       :  I’m famed for my bedside manner.

O.C.    :  Thursday.

Me       :  That’s pay day.  Harry will have to do some work.

Harry   :  (Hollowly) Ha !

O.C.    :  I forget where this chap is, where was it Mac ?

Mac     :  some bloody out of the way place, Warwick isn’t it ?

O.C.    :  That’s it, Warwick.  Heard of it ?

Me       :  Warwick ? Warwick ? Yes, I think I have.

O.C.    :  Mean you going there.

Me       :  (drawing myself up) Sir, when you command it is not for me to question, or                                   to complain.  Duty’s duty.

O.C.    :  They told me to send a Captain but I can’t spare them, any work would
shatter them.

Harry   :  You can’t spare “One Dart Daniell” surely, sir.  Think of the entertainments                                   and the education.

Me       :  (Proudly) And the salvage !

O.C.    :  So that’s that.  Better travel down on Wednesday and get yourself put up  somewhere
near on Wednesday night, and go to Warwick on Thursday.  Can you manage that.

Me       :  I’ll try. Er. . .  when do I come back ?  Thursday night ?

O.C.    :  Good Lord no, can’t have my officers getting tired out by night travelling.                                     Come back on Friday.  Any questions ?

Me       :  Will you have a Guinness sir ?

 Curtain to the flipping of Guinness tops
– – – – – – – –

Now you know as much about it as I do.  Bit shattering, isn’t it.  The snags could be (1) Man dies on us, evidence can’t be taken. (2) Man gets better and is discharged from hospital and comes to the Court. (3) Command insist on a Captain going. (4) Some Q comes clean and the courts off (MOST unlikely knowing Q’s) and

So if all goes well you’ll have to turn out the spare room for Wednesday and Thursday, or get me put up at the Harrisons.  Your plans, if it comes off are to go to Birmingham on Wednesday and meet either the 5.10 train, in which case we go out to Great Alne with Eileen, or the 9.3, in which case we either go out with a waiting motorist or stay at the Croft.  I go up with someone on Friday morning to catch the 11 o’clock.  O.K. ?  I do hope this doesn’t upset your arrangements in any way !  (or shall I hope it does)

I’m walking on air and adore my O.C.  He’s delighted, and vast teasing goes on in the Mess.  I look all sunny and fey.  We are all fey in this Mess.  They call me “One Dart Danny” now, whereby hangs a tail, Baaaaaa Baaaaaa Tail.

The train I catch, either 9.35 or 1 o’clock from Glasgow depends on many things, and only a telegram or a telephone talk on Tuesday night can arrange that.  Don’t get too excited, I’m trying not to, there may be a hitch.  But you know all I know now.  I wanted to keep it to myself and ring you at the last minute, but I couldn’t.  Anyhow this might not get there till Wednesday.  I wonder if I’ll be able to be discreet this evening on the phone.  I’ll try.  But I have to share everything with you, you are the better me.  I’ll telephone on Tuesday anyhow.
(the rest of the letter handwritten at the side…)

If it works we shall have time for two good walks, 2 nights,(early to bed please) & and lots of looking at each other.  Isn’t this a stroke of luck. Oh, St. Anthony.

Your Thursday & Friday letters came in yesterday afternoon.  Bless Candy for her Gun instincts.  I’ll take her shooting, & see what happens.  Oh dear, Wednesday !!!!! XXXXXXXXX

Ever your very unreasonable

 

 

 

 

 

  & Two ships to play with, & having needed to telephone the office I came to the Post Office. And a Post Office gave me the sharp desire to write to you ! For no reason other than association of ideas – Post Office – obliging Postie – my wife. So here I am at 11o/c of a moist but rainless Thursday in the Clyde writing to you. We have a  & a wee coaster side by side & the men are working them with union purchase. Trying out winch drivers & hatchway men.

                        Last night after leaving you I went to the mess to meet the new O/C who had arrived. My intention was to return for a nights work. But things turned out differently. We listened to Smuts, [magnificent] & played darts & talked until 2o/c & the three of us, the O/C, Mac & I drank 28 bottles of Guinness. A charming evening. Grainger – a Major w.c.f. yesterday is beyond my best hopes. Young – 33 – 6 – & like Anthony Eden with more character and toughness. He’s been in Iceland 2½ years – & Norway. Directly we met I was aware of that feeling of mutual liking & respect. He’s my kind as it were. Cultured, quiet, strong character, & a Gentleman. If the W/O are giving men of his stamina commands this war is going to be easy. Of course these are only first impressions. But he was cordial, friendly, pleasant & quietly gay. He has a wife & a boy of two whom he has only seen for 14 days ! I suspect that all the older officers are being moved from our group, young officers of fire and purpose, & not stuffed civvies as majors. It augurs well.

                        Two very light hearted black dogs on this  one a little Scottie, the other a sort of retriever. If you caress or touch the amiable retriever the Scottie also otherwise amiable leaps to defend his pal ! They play round the F’csl head wildly.

22nd.  Oct.  1942
Gallowhill Camp

My Dearest one,
This ought to be brief, because I’ve been yarning with the Old Man – Major Grainger, R.E. – since nine o’clock when we had ham and eggs – the profits of Harry Reed’s   sin – and its eleven twenty and I’ve a bath to have. Grainger is very nice and we are quite   obviously “en accord”, inasmuch  as we were both pleased when Harry went off womanising  and Mac drinking in his room at  half past nine and left us in the mess, drinking Guinness and talking of this and that, shop and non shop, but the non shop shoppy. He’s well mannered, has taste, is the best kind of British officer, keen, idealist, a poet though he’d hate to know I said so, and efficient.

So here I am. We spent the day on the Dutch scoot, working Union, Purchase,  and Harry and I spent an hour having tea with the skipper of the Torch the lighthouse supply ship. He’s been at sea fifty one years and is retiring to one of the Hebridean islands any year now, a real seaman of the grandest sort, courteous, and has a cabin like a miniature of the Victory’s, its right aft, triangular with a great wall settle right round the stern, swinging  lamps and all gleaming mahogany and shining brass.

Then pay parade, then Guard mounting and a very grand one – I got them to have rehearsals every afternoon for the Guard to make it really slick and now it goes like  a house on fire, the whole ceremony perfect, dignified and impressive I’ve just turned the  Guard out. A nice procedure in the moonlight. I walk down the path and the sentry leaps out and shouts “Halt, who goes there”. Reassuringly I say “Orderly Officer making his Rounds”. “Advance Orderly Officer and be recognised” says the Sentry, and I do and he does.     Then he comes from the On Guard to the order, observing the pauses, slopes arms, salutes, and I salute. Then he shouts out very loud “Guard Stand To”. I say, “Turn out the Guard”. He shouts “GUARD TURN OUT”. From the ‘Guard room comes a clatter and a scurrying,   and in a matter of two minutes out doubles the Guard commander and his three men, buckling  on their harness. I inspect them, say “Dismiss them to the Guard room, Guard Commander” and he does, they salute, I salute and that’s that. Then I go inside, inspect their supper, check the ammunition, ask for reports, sign the Guard Report sheet, inspect their bedding, and bid them good night.

Here is your thirty bob, I wish it were ninety, bless you.

A good letter from Douglas Cleverdon with the final script of The Policeman, which was broadcast yesterday. He has lots of ideas about the series and has set me going,   this week-end I’ll devote a day to writing two more of them and you can get the news dope whenever you like. If its not too much of a pest.

If I should move nearer to you, say to Lancashire, very soon, can you possibly get a week off, or two weeks to stay near by. This is not flippant. These days, things are liable to happen quickly, fairly quickly that is, and I should hate to be whisked away for a year or so without seeing you, and you must agree that embarkation leave is silly – better to be disappointed than torpedoed! Don’t please take this as a way of breaking the news, its just a very good Reason for seeing you as much as possible if the Ministry of Labour won’t jug you for it. I think Embarkation Leave is a thing of the sentimental past, we’re out, to win, this war and we must be realists. Selfishly I regret it but sanity makes me confess that its better not.      You’ve got a hell of a lot of need for Guts my dear, because its easy for me, to be lucky enough to be in the fight the fight which will be parallel with Trafalgar and Blenheim, Gallipoli and Waterloo. But its rotten for you. Yours is the courage, mine the easier happier way. But this is previous. However, think on these things. I’m so proud of you, and proud of your race and the conditions of living, built so carefully through five hundred years, of sincere endeavour which make you and your self possible.

But this is solemn. No need to be solemn. The washing bag shall pass to and fro, and carefully I’ll stitch the corners down.

Peter telephoned this evening, bless the boy. He’s 1oving his C.O. course (Not Conscientious Objectors course.)

Having made forty eight men have a bath today I must have one myself.     Bless you, dearest of all. I am dumb, you know, when, my feelings flow upwards as they do now, and no words could convey them to you. But by the magic of our love words are not needed.

Bless you, and two letters came, dear letters, Mondays and Tuesdays. I too read the scene from Romeo, and I too was moved more than I can admit.

My love, my love,
Ever your

ARROWROOT  HILL Wednesday Trafalgar Day,

Dearest one of all,
Last night’s letter was unsatisfactory, I had had a prancy day, but now I am more settled. The men are happy, twenty of them at dance at Kilmalcolm, (not pronounced as you’d think at all) and the rest in the recreation hut, refreshed by a good game of football, very hot showers, fish Cakes for tea and a blazing fire in there and a new table tennis set I’ve won for them, also Halma, Ludo, another dart board, chess, dominoes and draughts.    Dear things, they’re all sitting round playing with their new toys, so happy.    They are more ours now, three days is thawing them out and making them have our look and attitude.   They’re happier, gayer and better. They were so unkempt and wild and gruff and graceless when they came from Cardiff.   Now they are sleeking over, their arms drill is better, and twenty three came to my first signalling lecture this evening.    One of them wants to learn Lithuanian.    I called for him and, asked him why, and he met a girl, at Cardiff, from Lithuania!    Bless him, a dour tall scruffy docker that he is.    I suggested he went to our German classes and he’s quite content, I told him all Lithuanian girls talk German.    One wanted Gaelic lessons, but we’re having him transferred to another company for insidious tendencies.

A great stir in the camp this evening. A whole batch of promotions, two lance corporals, two corporals, three corporals made lance sergeant, two lance sergeants made full sergeants and three sergeants made W.O. IIs – Company sergeant Majors. A great fluttering, and there will be sounds of revelry by night from the Sergeant’s Mess this evening.

Two 406’s this morning, that is the monthly inspection of vehicles. A great to-do.  Me in denims with the M.T. Corporal and the driver and the vehicles all furbished up and cleaned and jacked up, and a searching and thorough inspection of every part, and a road test.    Took me all the morning, and the writing of the new Standing Orders for P.A.D. and some interviews with new men, and the getting of a pair of trousers from Q.,  and the next step in the Savings scheme.   This afternoon I took the football and made them all have a hot shower. This evening, signalling, then general welfare in the rec. hut, then darts with Reed, then here to my room, with a fire to remove the film of moisture there is on everything, and to write to you and whoever there is. I hope for a quiet evening.  A Major comes from H.Q. this evening and our new O.C., so I hope they will be talking with the Old Man in the Mess and I can stay quietly here. Reed has a girl friend coming up and like a juggins he’s entertaining her in his room.

I’ve got the length of Reed and Mac now, they’re both very adult and I had to get the right poise.    They’re seasoned not trainees as I have been with always.  I’ve got it now and we are all equal and give and take tough jesting and rugged rudeness of the nicest sort.   Not our wit, not vulgar wit, a sort of a desperate he-man wit. I think they respect me now and don’t think me an amiable enthusiast with no backing. One can’t tell, I’m certainly settled with the men and can handle Sergeant Majors and even the R.S.M. as to the manner born and not as a coy subaltern

I took the motor bike on test this morning, the officer’s one, not the Don R’s, and its a beauty, a new Ariel.  It was grand swooping along these little ancient mountain roads, switchback with mighty scenery on either hand and an occasional white farm as the only human work in sight.

Emma improves a lot, bless her.  I’m looking forward to you reading her.   Get the one from the Croft when you are there.

The concert party last night was exceedingly good, a little girl of thirteen of great charm and lightness who danced with no gawkiness of the prodigy, but with grace, and enjoyment, even a Russian dance really well.    Two sisters, grown up, who danced and sang in close harmony, and miscellaneous turns all very slick and professional. A good show, the men were delighted with it.

Reed is thirty four, a good looking, jaunty confident chap, with a charming smile and good figure, athletic and sure of himself.   He’s a Captain, was a Sergeant at St. Nazaire, and is a life-long docks man.   He’s a splendid officer, within sharp limitations.    Good with the men, good at his job but not conscientious.   Good, I imagine, at working ships. Not responsible enough for commanding a company though.  Pleasant if you can talk his language.

MacGuire is a character, 57, served as an officer in the Lancashire Regiment throughout the last war, commanding a battalion with the rank of Major.   A tough character, or he would have you think so.  Good looking, short wiry, well made, well dressed, a fine devil may care air in his walk and carriage. Outspoken and vehement to make you realise how tough he is, but beneath the crust he’s soft hearted.  Fierce with the men, but moves heaven and earth for their comfort.   Knows the Kings Regs, and army customs pat, has no time for knowledgless subaltern officers who call themselves officers. Majors and superiors who have not his experience.  He is too old for promotion, but resents the younger men of – according to him – no ability who get promoted.  Too tactless to have a staff or an H.Q. job, excellent 2 i/c and regimental book-keeper.   Always spruce and well groomed.   Not a gentleman but a gentleman in the wider sense.    I tease him. and he loves it.   Always help you out and advise you well, whereas Reed would, not be reliable.

The Old man is quiet, simple, not an intellectual, but good in command, though too lax.   Mac. makes him.

There we are. The new 0/C arrives this  evening,  not come yet,  maybe having an evening  in Glasgow with the Old Man who went to meet him.
Mac. by the way has been every-.  thing,  poultry farmed,  sailed the  seas, had a Masters ticket, been a docks man,  owned fishing boats. Likes women, in conversation, – a real devil he is, he  says. I like him.

You and your striped Emily Mittens I’m thrilled about them and what  a charming pair they’ll be, and Emily will be so jealous.

Today the sun shone  for three hours thougn it rained the rest of the time. No letter from you which may mean two tomorrow. Do you really want another picture of me  ?  You shall hnve It,  but…..

Bless you-  dear one,  I wish you could share this exciting  life,
All my love,
ever your  own,

                         Letters from Scotland are sometimes censored, so the alarums and excursions cannot be explained. But it has been a day of telegrams. Nothing startling really, just a shuffle round. The effect is that my address may change soon, and be nearer home. We shall live in dry houses and have better quarters if it comes off. We’ll leave it at that. Directly there is any news I’ll telegraph to hold the mail and send the new address. It won’t be very sudden, anyhow. So in the name of Security we’ll leave it at saying “Don’t envisage me as living here always”. You shall be posted with any change of address.

                        Peter has gone off with his band, and I’ve spent the afternoon interviewing men. Good stuff, though rough as regards poise and manners.

                        Three letters this fine day, from dearest you. One with Harraps, Cox’s and Kings, and L. Gilliam’s, one about your day in Birmingham, and one this afternoon with a lighter in it, a loveley slick efficient working lighter. Thanks so very much for that, or thank Ronnie, to whom I will write again via Sutton Coldfield. Dear Ronnie, engaged. And 3 pair of stockings for your nicest legs of all legs. I wish I could stroke them. Yes I do.

                        Yes, that daft minutes on the smooth shining sand, with us prancing and Candy frisking and the Heart there for the world and heaven too, and, soon, the fishes to see. Great days.

                        Don’t be disturbed by my semi-information up above, its only a matter of a change of accomodation and various administrative changes within the Group.

                        There’s so much silly internal news, with new men, men going, and this that and the other that there seems to be no news. You on the telephone were magnificent last night, so gay, fey and right. I’d like to telephone every evening, yet afterwards my satisfaction and pleasure is tinged with a sharper wistfulness at the distance between us.

                        Of course Arthur wants you, everyone does, in their senses. I do.

                        A littleish letter, longer one tomorrow. Guiness is doing us a lot of good in the mess, we all take it, except Allan who sensibly – he’s but two and twenty – takes only an occasional glass of beer now and again. I miss Peter here, feel verylonely. He’s such a familiar ass.

                        My love to you, dearest heart, and to Candy and my good mother-in-law. Ever your own husband, and lover . . .

                         Two letters from you, one sad, one brave again. Poor darling, of course I don’t mind, except to be sorry for your sake. But is it not that a child is a blessing, to be received and not obtained by will ? God-sent is surely the description of such an achievment. There is no blame, there can be no self-reproach. We are us; we did not command our love for each other, it came, it is there, a blessing from those sources which the most scientific and sceptical of us cannot deny. We have cared for that love, cherished it, but we did not command or order it. So with a child, which we both desire for the sake of the other, and for a claim on immortality. We cannot, we must not, dare to command it. Let us desire it, and leave the rest to the magic of life. If it comes we shall be the proudest parents, in Christendom, and Ismail too. If not, then we must not deplore our fate, it is somehow unmannerly of us, like being hurt because we don’t get a birthday present. But dearest do not think that you are at fault; maybe I am at fault, maybe the gift will come, and if so, we  can rejoice. As you say, for now, it is us, and for that blessing I shall never cease to be thankful. So take heart poor darling, how I would travel overnight twice for the sake of ten minutes with you. I’d cross the world for two minutes. Whatever I am, that I owe to you; you can never know how you have given me my manhood, given me my strength and that small grace which any healthy proud male must have.

                        I’ll see if I can get a call through to you. Back soon. Back, after fighting my way thirty yards from this office to the Orderly room through a hurricane alive with stinging rain. It bellows and billows and drives. I looked in our little recreation hut, so modest and humble a hut, and saw what the men were doing. If they get bored I’m putting on an  impromptu show later on. They’re happy now, writing letters on my patent stage quiet-room, playing cards, darts, reading and crowding round the stove chatting with a poker in the hand. Grand crowd, away up here in leaking huts while Americans have the best billets, and not a grumble, just keen to back you up when you give them a job. Dear chaps.

                        Pay Parade again, my section and Peter’s. Its a great business, a ceremony. C. S. M. Stone by my side with the money, Pay-corporal at the other with the Quittance rolls. The men come up, salute, pace forward, sign the roll, hand me their book, I sign and the C.S.M. hands me the money, which I give to them, repeating the amount. They take it, pace to the rear, salute, about turn and off, this one hundred and twenty times, and a signature for each. Very solemn and British and traditional.

                        Peter goes to Bishopton, five miles away, to be Master of his section in a church hall, half a convent and two huts. He has everything to see to, discipline, training, feeding, warmth, food, the whole lot. He’s staggered but he’ll make a job of it. I stay here, with my irons in the fire. The back of this is yesterday’s Part 1 Orders. You’ll see how busy your Man is. Clauses 6 and 7 are mine. Tomorrow I’ve the day off, with a car to myself, the morning to Paiseley Town Council and Greenoc.k ditto to find out about educational courses, the” afternoon at Bertha’s show. I miss a six hour voyage in the Torch, the wonderful life-buoy boat we use. But I can do that next time. Orderly officer to-day, a happy tour, our very impressing guard mouthing, lot of bayonet flashing, inspecting, champing here and there, and what have you. Got to turn the poor devils out at eleven or thereabouts, but they’d hate it if I didn’t because of the weather. They take the toughness of this place as something to be proud of’, and we’re proud of them. Got hold of a pingpong table and outfit from Lady Semphill !!! Whooppee, telephoned the sweet old puss.

                        Here are today’s orders. Now you’ll know all about us and the awful secret about the rabbit snaring ! Even our model unit has its little weaknesses.

                        The telephone lassie said an hour delay. The night clerk is going to dash for me when it comes through. Hope it does.

                        How I do love you.

Nice letter from Anne Maxwell saying its no necessary to go to London, that’s better. She’s coming to Glasgow next month, and will see me here, better still. Darling I do miss you. Oh

                        I wrote another Picture of  Britain last night and shall now do another. Address Evans as Lieutenant Evans, I should, but sign it Betty Scott Daniell. My love to him,

                            Good about Ronnie, I write at once this minute.

                        A picture of you, I prithee, in something. I’ll see if mother’s got that double leather frame at home, If so she’ll send it and you’ll fill it.

                         My dearest love, and, bless you. Don’t fret If you can help it. We are us, and I am sure we shall be blessed later. I wish I could sooth you.
An orderly dashed in, rain streaming, “Your call, sir,” he said, all breathless, I snatched a torch and flew out and there you were, sweet, soft voiced, gay, lovable, kind, inimitable. What a darling you are to be sure. Do I telephone you at Sutton on Sunday ? I’ll check up with your letter . . .No, its Friday you go, good.

                        Its all so different from being a gunner, even a lance bombadier. I want to go to see the County Education officer and a show, so I have a utility to myself with a driver, sandwiches made up for nine o’clock, all just like that. “James, the car !”

                         But I want you.

                        Plan of the camp enclosed, also I’ll try a shot at a panorama.

                        Blessings, dearest heart.

                             It does not rain ! Ever since ten this morning its been not raining ! A hell of a gale but that’s normal here. Bayonet fighting this morning, then after break I stood by in the Major’s office while he went out for a hair cut and I studied Command Orders re Education. This afternoon I had football, Sections A & B v C & D, while Peter and Alan built two fires at different sides of the camp, a hush-hush game for tonight. We light one at eight, see what happens and when everyone is rushing about finding stirrup pumps light a much larger one the other side. It’ll be amusing. A test of fire fighting system here.

                        Also numerous little jobs, improving the stage, getting table tennis things, scrounging a radio loud speaker from Lady Semphill, concert part for the week after next and what have you. Busy little day. This evening the men go to a dance, at Kilmalcom, so no entertainments and if the Maj or doesn’t insist on us all going out somewhere we can have a quiet evening off, writing here. I hope to have it, hence this letter writing before tea.

                        Your letter with the hankies came this morning. Very cunning and nice. Brown hankies are a good idea I think, I’m set up now.

                        Oh, in Scottish Command Orders I found this, which is nice, I think:-

             “Lost-
Red Corgi Dog without collar at Carstairs Railway Junction on 31st. August 1942, The property of Brigadier E.E.G.L.Searight, C.B.E., D.S.O., M.C.. The Dog is identifiable by the fact that one of its ears is never fully erect, while the other is always carried erect.

            Any information to Head Quarters, 3A.A. Corps, (Sc C. C.R. 4/33844/10 (A.2)”

                        Nice, isn’t it. Poor dog, poor Brigadier.

                        Yes, I’m going to the show on Friday, in the Utility.  Old Man ‘thinks it a good idea for me to go to see a show of some friends of mine, might get some ideas. Also Back cloth. Naughty, but I couldn’t say I wanted to see a play of my own. Glad Jenny got through to you, I hated leaving the place with the call unanswered, No hurry with the sleeping bag, I have five blankets and the dressing gown to lay on, or lie on.

                        No news about the detached section yet and who takes it. I’d  quite  like  the  job,  splendid  experience. But this work here would  have to go. Still if theW/O sends me  overseas it’ll have to. I think I’m settling in all right and being  the real busy little David. Our R.S.M. has come back from leave, Mr. Marsh, a very nice bloke,  quiet and cultured and helpful. Glad about the signalling, he is.
Only entertain the idea if that quilt can be used. I think our valises are coming through and oddments.

Orderly Officer tomorrow, which is quite fun.  Lot of halahala, Saluting and attention standing and all that is quite smart here. First class lot of N.C.O’s.

                        I hope to write something BBC tonight, perhaps something tomorrow, Friday is no good, film and show, Thursday I’ll go out, Sunday I hope to stay in all day and achieve some thing.

                        Great is my love for you, and I do hope I have left you happy  ind content. Did trhe thirty bob come all right ? No cheques yet,  blast them;  I’ll woffle them round when they do.

                        Emma  is delightful, not quite up to Cranford yet,  the heroine is such a cat, but I beleive she mellows.  Nice situations.

                          You shall have it in due course.

                          A beautiful letter from you and the precious tie. I relished the wit of the clauses for getting out of the tie if it were the usual female to male tie. But the answer is in none of those, the tie is round my neck where it immediately went, and grand it is. Peter admires the work, envies the skill and love, but hates the tie. I love it. The O.C. has made no comment. He’s chatty and friendly and seems to like “Little Talks” with me in the Mess when we have it to ourselves as we did this evening for half an hour. We are agaitated, us subalterns, as seventy men come this week, and a section is to be detached to Bishopton, six miles away, to live in the Village Hall and what have you, and that means one subaltern goes to take command. Who is it to be ? Eastwood, (Alan) is efficient and busy as M.T. officer, Peter is useful and up to the enthusiastic ears in P.A.D. and lectures and I am extremely busy and rushing round with Entertainments and education and signalling. I expect it will be Spelling, the new man, coming back from leave soon. I’d like the job, but I’d hate to leave my company work, which takes shape. The old man said this evening, “You do get things moving, don’t you, no need to overdo it you know.” But he’s so helpful and enthusiastic and encouraging and passes everything. Busy Entertainments committee this evening, and then a Darts match and open competition. Assault course this afternoon for the men and they were so keen, especially section D, bless them.

                        We start interviews tomorrow, every man in our sections and I’ve a book ruled off for rank. War Substantive rank, date of promotion, age, service, religion, married or single, children, civilian trade, army trade and remarks.

                        Orderly officer on Thursday and on Friday I’ve got the Old Man’s permission to go to Greenock to see Berths’s show, ostensibly to chase round a back cloth for our stage, actually to see the shows, one show at 1.30 with THE JESTER in it and one at 3.30 with The ADVENTURE in it. I’ve written to Anne asking if the BBC think it worth the first class fare for me to go to Scotland, and if she says yes I’ll tackle the old man and get the day off. Travel one night, see the BBC and back the next night.

My detailed Education scheme is passed lock stock and barrell. The thing about this place is the enthusiasm and excellence of the N.C.O.’s, I’ve a sergeant for Ed. who is mustard, and the R.S.M. himself, nice Mr. Marsh, is keen on the signalling.

                        Lovely day today.

                        Oh, we have a company cat. Black, with saucy manners and four white socks, tennis socks. He comes to all parades ! The first few days he walked up and down the lines with the men and settled with D section, the next day he was with the Sgts. behind them, and today he came along us three grand ones out in front, and roosted with the R.S.M. rubbing round his legs familiarly and sitting beside him and gazing superior like at the parade.! We want a dog. The Old Man wans one for the camp.

                        Our office has been painted a good new green half way up the walls and the old man came to see us this morning, in here. We had a fire, our own brickets, to dry the papers and things, its damp else.

                        Thanks for the books and socks and what have you, a dear parcel. I must write to :- Mother, J.G.L., Mrs. Dent – book – Scrutons to thank them, Kenneth Hudson and others. So bless you, dearest wife that ever was. Have a picture made of you, please do, and get it framed, please. I so often want you, and you and Candy have both changed on my wall by the bed.

                        We all drink Guiness here, I’ve had seven this evening, in the Recreation Room, while the Darts match was on.

                        Oh, obverse of the stolen independence I felt for the men at Kit Inspection, having them all in that smoky hut, with a show on last night, all signing C.R.E. was grand. A corporate body, training together to go through whatever we must go through for the good of squashing these bastard Nazi’s. All friendly, laughing together, happy, warm, brother-in-arms. There are two sides to it.

                        So we will see it through. Wasn’t Chruchill his best self at Edinburgh. Grand man. We’ll see him through. We’ll get our blokes fighting fit and nothing will stop us. Speed the day.

                        How I do go on. How I do miss you, and need you, best and warmest and sweetest of women.

ARROWROOT HILL
SCOTLAND
_ _ _
Monday  12/10/42

Dearest  Heart,

Two lovely letters from you today, with the J.G.L., the odd BBC one about me and my brother, and the tie (?)  I’ll experiment with it. The crochetted one sounds terrific, love in every stitch I shall flaunt it. The parcel also came, yes the windjammer sweater can be worn under the tie but only on biting days of a very shrewd wind to excuse the obviousness of my chest protector. Too cissy for this weather which is just normally freezing. The School sweater can be worn under battledress as the V is low.

The apples came well and thanks very much indeed for the signalling books, clever CLEVER lass, I’d never have found them. They’re going to be mighty useful. One of the drivers has rigged up a buzzer for me.

Show tonight, band from 999 Company, our neighbours, and then turns from the unit ending with community singing. Darts tomorrow, nothing on Wednesday as there is a dance at Kilmalcolm, nothing on Thursday because its Pay Day, and films and an ENSA show on Friday, so I’ve got this week taped.  My secretary on the Entertainments Committee is Lance Corporal Gould, son of Nat Gould, the famous racing novelist of the last generation!  He’s good at the job.

Busy day today. Kit inspection of some new arrivals in my section, which plunged me into melancholia, and showed me the war as a bad thing.  Such honest simple unda da table souls, with homes and possessions and lives of their own, standing beside board beds with their few uniform possessions all laid out for the Q and me to look at, standing to attention and answering demurely and hopelessly. It was a sudden revelation.  The answer is twofold, to make them as happy as possible, to develop their individuality through education and intelligent sympathetic handling, to get them easy off parade, to make them full of zeal for the cause, and to make them proud soldiers. It was sad to see them, upset me.  Peter and I and such were better in the ranks, we were more flexible-minded and we have an easy time, but sleeping fourteen in a draughty hut, eating in rows, marching and counter-marching, and having only one hut to rest in is a raw deal. I’ve got them a fire there and we’ve made the stage into a quiet room. Now I’m going to see the Mistress of Semphill, who is the local W.V.S. head and beg some carpet, some easy chairs and some general comforts. We’ve got three easy chairs in the Mess. They have forms only. I hope they will thaw and let me give them a purpose in all this.

Excuse me, shop should be barred.

Your mother sent me a so charming letter for which please thank her. We are agreed emphatically on one point, the wonderfulness of you. Lucky us.

Battle with her furniture if you can, my dear, make it a day’s job and find somewhere. Then get on to Pickfords for her. She does need help in things practical.

I put the call down last night and sat hopefully at the phone until I had to go, at nine, to get back here, no mean journey. I left Bertha to cope if you got through so that it wouldn’t be a wasted evening for you. You one end, me the other, and not connected, oh dear oh dear.

How are the hens, any eggs? How is Klaus ? My greetings to him.  Have Jack out if you can on his holiday. He’d love it so and be so good for you, too.

I must away, dearest heart, never have I been so naturally, sublimely and smoothly happy as those five weeks with you. Sleeping and waking, talking and looking,   touching and holding you was all a different ecstasy, quiet sometimes, always touching the innermost chords of my being.

So be happy, and think of me, and believe that always I’m thinking of you.

Ever your own. . .
No, Moir was taken from a company like this. The longer we stay here the safer it is. We are meant to stay unless urgent gap-filling in the First Army is necessary, then they have to take subalterns from other units. We are building up and if no unexpected calls arise, we’ll be here for mobilisation of the group, say six months. But nothing is certain. Only my love for you.