1224/5 Shipworking Sections R.E.   C.M.F.

 Dearest,
It would be a sad thing for you to take from Postie an air letter in my writing addressed to your mother and not to have one for yourself by the same post, so, having written to your mama and having it ready for the Post I send this to give you one too and for the ever-fresh pleasure it gives me to write to you. And before I go any further here is a little quote from Cricket Country for you… “… and when the man comes (the ideal as yet unborn artist of cricket who really understands the Mystery) he may even be able to tell us in subtle portraiture what it is that sustains the enthusiasm of the ever unsuccessful player as he comes up afresh for execution, Wednesdays and Saturdays. ”  There, isn’t that someone you clearly know? A juggins. I’m even a rotten umpire. Again he writes…. “I have known cricketers who, as far as my observation went, practically never scored a run, nor were called on to bowl, nor took much part in the rest of the proceedings; and yet they were always present, always eager, Perhaps they were practising some metaphysical subtlety upon the game and the others in it and round it; but they never seemed to speak much so I cannot pretend to have fathomed their ultimate beatitude.” There you are.

It was a lovely book and nicely wandering and personal and vague. I’m getting stuffy. Too much sitting about. I have arranged Bridge for tonight with two hottish players coming in, and tomorrow Johnny and I go to the Colonel’s mess for a Billiards evening, he having a table. But I must plop on page after page at the Glasgow poor children’s play. Hum-drum but guineable, and Up with the Balance. We are clever not buying that silver box.

Just read Silver Spoon again, his dialogue is good, its the best I know, I envy it, a great deal. Today, as Fitz is so nice to Dickie, I wrote a silly letter to his Michael and sent some stamps and lire for him to barter with or stick in a book as he likes. Seemed a good inspiration.

Snow today, Italianate snow, trying to be British but lacking the stamina. The Italians say the English have brought their weather with them!     Rain and snow and sleet and cold winds. They deny having it in other years. I don’t believe them, much.

One feels that the Germans will be out any day now, and then their malevolence will be stopped and we shall all breathe again. It will be no more than that at first, just a cessation of danger and anxiety, for people at home, sailors on the sea and soldiers in the Line. The problems are many and dazing still and the returns of troops from overseas still a remote idea. But it will be wondrous magic when that suspense stops. You people at home have suffered a great deal, little privations we have been spared and sudden death and bereavement the soldier does not get in such inappropriate circumstances. Death will stop for the Germans too which I think a good thing, despite all the arguments.

Often I sit and day dream of my return, and always it becomes fantastic. You and Candy I can imagine, thought what we’ll say and do I don’t know. Richard I shall look at and he’ll probably look at me and then continue with whatever business he has in hand, Candy will have less embarrassment than anyone, I hope I can arrive unheralded and reasonably unexpected and look at  you. Looking will be enough for a long-time. I’ll tend to follow you about looking. I’ll have so much to look at, you and him, the view and the house, the people and everything. If you meet me at a London terminus do not carry a small attache case. No, no meeting save in the hall. Then we can sit and look. Better arrive after He is in bed. Out of the way, then. Study him first. But its all unreal and unlikely, and the fact that it is probable and not too remote is shattering. Hard altogether. Awful if you don’t like me, after conjuring up an imaginary me. Letter people and flesh and blood people aren’t always the  same, Praps I’m fierce now, or soft or military or something.I couldn’t meet you walking down a road! Imagine the approaching, by the railway bridge on the Alcester – Great Alne road!  I was making handkerchief bunny rabbits after lunch and making them jump, and it was observed that if I did that when I got home my son would say “Hum, Nuts!  Worked his ticket I suppose.”

How goes Hengist the Horse? Has he a saddle and a mane? Dappled, is he and a map of Australia on his flank? Whiskers? Kind eyes or ferocious eyes?  Blinkers?  Wheels or legs only? I am intrigued. I am foolish anyhow, and that fond. Its quiet down here, and postie is held up with the snow, but letters will come in a goodly dwollop. I sent off the Q and Mr. S yesterday when it came from Bertha. What next?

What records shall we play on the first evening? You choose.  I’ll wind. Me the winder when I come home. That is the general principle of the whole outfit.  Oh dear, Lets be sane and patient.

Oh brave new world to have such people in it. Ariverdice, beloved. Ever David

No 216…continued letter….

It will be a five guinea job maybe more and a good thing to do. So no Hector. You say not to take any notice of what you say about Hector.  But I have faith in your judgement, really I have. And it is lacking in character as yet.  I feel we must start again and make it less happening in narrative and more in observation. I am toiling mentally over it.  If I can get the right speed and style it will be easy to do if its hard its wrong, see what I mean? Agree? Pause for an orange…

Very good it was too.   So we have £107 – 10 – 7, no, 7/1Od. Good. I wonder if, and I hope not, St. Anthony arranged this war as the only way to get our finances straight? We’ve paid off that overdraft and shall go on building upwards now, for the Captains pay and the War Service Grant the WSG net lump you mentioned of £13-10, will continue and I am drawing very little, one drawal a month of eight pounds for messing, opera and all and shall miss even that some months, and the writing will bring in little oddments as well. And at the end there will be the leave plus a day per month abroad at full Captains pay, and there will be a gratuity I expect. So we shall be able to start off fair and square and feel settled. Then we can write what we think is best and make what we can.  As for the future, it needs faith of course, but maybe my more advanced age and the presence of you and him will stimulate me into making enough.  Into debt we must not go, and live simply we must. Bees to have honey, milk from a good friend nearby, and no frills but honest steak.  I am with you in feeling glad of the bank balance. Let me know how it fares as the months pass, it is one consolation for being away. Its very little but useful.  In November December and January my drawings out have been slight, and I have a made sixteen pounds by not buying that silver box.  Oh dear, hard earned it has been, too.  Your comments about the Boscobel print delighted me, our Skeleton.  Yes, I’m a rotten crook, weak about it.  Lets know about the growth of the balance and about the growth of the son too, his inches upwards, round and across. I do ponder him a lot.  The gracious gay person I am to know, so well I hope.

That cottage of your Great Aunt Sarah-Jane sounds very good and proper, and her cottage sounds nice, too.  We could migrate and sink our capital in a wee place of our own, and build out. But is there drainage and light and water? You and I are country dwellers enough to know the value of those!  After I return would be the best time, if ever, to break with Great Alne.  There are good friends there Finnimores and Hansons, Bunting and Jeffs, Hancox’s and Dolbins and all.  But we could break away.   Anywhere with you would be Home for me.  A wee cottage might be more romantic than practicable, but who knows.  I know how to get a first class hot water supply by using water dripping onto dripping waste oil.  Fill a tank in half an hour and the cost the sump oil begged from garages.  We do it here.  I know about  making outdoor latrines, too, so that they are deep and safe and fly-proof. But a water closet with a view beats them really.  And would not the New Forest around be sad in winter?  Dripping of trees? And we are sociable folk really, you and I, I love showing you off to people and watching unlucky males glaring at me! And you are so nice to take out because its lovely going home afterwards. However, we could have pony-parties, fresh hay and apples on the lawn.  Take a villa at Sorrento if you like, suit me. Wherever thou goest. Tell me more of  the New Forest pony-cottage.

I found the Francesco letter the other day and will take it when Allan has the day off and the sun shines.  They needn’t know I have had an opportunity earlier. Oh you mention Greece. I have met several people who were there in Athens. They  say we did the right thing,   the ELAS were good all the  time but  their  leaders saw that after  the war they’d lose  their   jobs unless they insured  them so they formed  a party,  made  normal folk sign on the  dotted line  as  members- else they were traitors at the  time and were so liquidated,   and  then after   the Jerry went they wanted to take  the  high offices  and put  their pals  in power. The normal folk did not want that.  Britain by risking public opinion and interfering only just saved the situation, EAM is the party, ELAS the fighting men. They are all young and unprincipled lads with Tommy guns which they know is their only chance for an easy life. So Churchill, it seems was Right. These are two opinions from thoughtful people, both wounded, who were there.  Dear me, the Gee gee, I don’t know the Grand National entry date,  I suggest you enter him with Jim’s Captain, at the same time, Jim will have the forms.

Lucky Dickie, and kind Uncle Jack and sensible you in Liverpool, was that the prophetic reason you bought the leather?  Blessus, what a prince it is. Two pebbles in an old tin, she   said once. Ha Ha, as sappers say in their letters after jokes. And Eileen reading proofs of the Rome article. Glad its not dull. I sent Ivy ways of cutting the original, Wonder if she did, I mentioned it last letter, odd, Yes they pay for pictures supplied and used, and you can get   them back. Do so. Glad the Pope came out all right in the article. I’ll be interested to see it.
Dear me. I love you very very much.
Ever David XXX

Found Galsworthy’s Silver Spoon today & am reading it. His dialogue is heavenly. He does one good.  I finished Cricket Country this afternoon, having rationed it. I will quote you a piece next letter.

 I’ve got an idea for a somewhat nostalgic book, to be called “One of our Yesterdays”, it’s to be slight and very charming. Its the fruit of my long talks with the Colonel. I’ll write it slowly sometime & right through. Keep me up to it. It’ll sell well for a long time. Do we BBC again after the war? Can we not? I’d like to talk with you AND HOW!
All me is yours to command.

1224/5 Shipworking Sections R.E. CM.F.

Dearest,
Two letters today, making it a Good Sunday, one written- on the sixteenth and one on the seventeenth, which is nearly a letter a day since your mother went away. I say You spoil me.The letters are very good ones. The hens are explained and an odd lot they sound but maybe they think they’re lovely. And Richard in his bunny-rabbit-hood with you feeding them and then being chased around the lawn.  Oh dear. And he likes Mouse-mouse. So do I.  When you sing it. I don’t know the Creep mouse one. And you ask for a plan of my little virginal chamber. There it is, below. Its a small room but there is peace there. Apart from Johnny who is stolid and staid and good, and Ronnie who is North country and often irritatingly so, the other three drive me away by their lack of manners, lack of taste, lack of culture and lack of civilisation. They are so lazy, they think that to be an officer is an excuse for Having A Good Time and Doing As Little as Possible.    They read bad books, talk nonsense, and drink too much.    There has been a vast improvement here but they do get under the skin.    It is a grievous fault of mine that I can suffer fools gladly.  Derek Is superficial and incompetent ruled by bad senior NGOs and despised by his officers who slack as badly as he does. In things affecting both units I get up on my hind legs about this, but on purely No. 1 Company affairs Its not my business.   Derek did pull himself together when I got him frightened over the money racket but now we have got his Staff-sergeant reduced to the ranks and posted away (to 1021, where a note from me to Peter will make him pay for his sins) he thinks he’s all right.    He is either boorish and vainly disagreeable or simperingly ingratiating with feeble jokes and transparent agreeableness.    Johnny and I are steadily on the track of another racket and this time if we prove our facts he will have to take it.    His other officers are Cottis, who is weak and efficient only in fits and starts and Branch who has been Court-martialled once and Dismissed but pulled back through shortage of officers. He is brilliant and was a staff-captain at GHQ, but has a bad streak in him and is now bitter and idle.  So whereas we are keen and lively, as you know we would be, we are harnessed to a lazy lot of incompetents. Hence my love of my room.  But pardon this outburst, it has cleared the air a little. Derek boasts of having been with the First Field Regt, R.A. but was obviously kicked out as incompetent. They dislike my enthusiasm and are a bit scared of my having the Ear of Head Quarters.    They may well be.  I think now that the Colonel sent me here to clean it up. And we will. Mark you all this is done in the best way and apparently all is well. But if our researches into a suspected racket Dereks bounder of a Sergeant Major may be in bear fruit there’ll be much fun, and well deserved dismissals or reducations. Poor you, I am sorry, its not fair and may be exaggerated. But I have such loyal and keen officers, and N.C.O.s. They copy us now in everything and follow our lead. They all hate each other anyhow.  I am getting tired of nursing Derek.

Enough. The room, then is a sanctuary and very cosy. I have the top two shelves of the bookcase well stocked with goodly books, and Things in the other shelf.   My desk is stocked as always is my desk and my pipes lie in a neat row on top of the bookcase with the blue and white woollen twin toy to Dickies, the Bronze Bitch, the book being read, some flowers and some fruit.    Oranges are plentiful and I eat a lot, rows of them. I wish you and He could.

A charming description of R.J.S.D. taking the Listener to Uncle Jack. Bless him if its letters he likes he shall have one. I’ll write one forthwith, I have been Battling With the play for the Glasgow Director of Education, they wanted something for ten to fourteens to do for a contemporary audience, plenty of action and a chance for plenty of them to take part, no moral or education but with my sort of touch as they say.    So I’m doing two RAF chaps parachuted down in Occupied France and incidents of escape and a trial with French civilians being brave and a nazi being nazi and everyone sentenced to death and being brave and a Mosquito
raid at the Right Moment and all escape and there you are. Should be exciting enough and heroic enough and it won’t be signed so don’t, worry.   No need being proud if that’s what the Glasgow slumsters want, poor little devils and if its to beat the films it must be rich. I’ve started and got the first incident done. CONTINUED….

So R.J.S.D. is popular in Alcester, is he. Doed he know Inspector Woods? What about a pony & trap for Alcester & Stratford visits, & Leamington too? Nice, that’d be.

1224/5 Shipworking Sections R.E. C.M.F.
No. 214

Dearest,
I wrote to you yesterday evening and now, having a quiet hour before dinner in my room with my little stove aglow for comfort, and knowing how much I am elevated in spirit by letters from you, I thought I’d give myself the pleasure of writing another one. Today has been a quiet day, first an inspection of the men in rows, and then Johnny did the huts and kit and I had three orderly rooms, and saw two who came out of Field Punishment yesterday and gave them a pep talk to try to dip them from Black to grey sheep, and then some general discussions, letters to write, things to sign and tea to drink and a trip to H/Q, and that was the morning. This afternoon 1 had off, as Johnny had yesterday off. I dozed in front of the fire after lunch until half past two, had tea and a couple of fine oranges, and then fetched the car and went to town and shopped. I was a bit spendy, but reasonably I thought. I went to the Officers Shop and bought a large soft white bath towel, two pair of sheets and a shirt. The sheets and towel will, I expect, be a useful contribution to the household linen when I come home. Towel was seven shillings and the sheets thirteen and six. Then I bought a pair of Field Boots for forty three and six.  They are calf high and heavy with the largest tongue you ever saw and two straps round the top. They are useful for dirty weather here, useful if I go a campaigning again, which is unlikely, and useful afterwards for winter walks, riding if any, and feeding the pigs if we get one which I hope we do because I like pigs but not to eat if they have been our own and get ussish if you see what I mean. So I have a pair of field boots and can go out in any weather and Wellingtons are Bad for the Feet I think.

Then I went and had a hair cut and the Maestro did it and his diminutive eight year old, plump and solemn bambino dashed about fetching and carrying accessories. Then home here and here I am and I met Timmy and took him to his Mess and he says the pictures taken on Monday at his party are good and I shall pick some tomorrow for you and the one taken of me makes me look he says angelic. After such a vast feast I expect.  We’ll see, me tomorrow you a few days later.

In the Diversion JGL sent me Is an enchanting thing called “A kind of Cruelty” translated from Montaigne which you must read when I bring it home, its on handling children. Too long to quote.  My dunhill smokes smoothly and well. Unfortunately I got a supply of John Cotton tobacco and it is so good that it has spoiled me for others. I wonder if you could write, or shall I, yes I will, and ask them to send me a pound and send the bill to you. It will be cheap enough on the Export basis. I find the secret of enjoying a pipe is to have a very good pipe and very good tobacco. Failing Cotton I’ll try Country Life which is comparable.  Don’t you buy it at a shop, its a tenth of the price by export, out of Bond. So I’ll write and maybe they’ll oblige and send you the bill, d’you mind? I don’t buy cigarettes now so its not extravagant, I have my free issue of sixty a week and that suffices easily

If you have an envelope sometime would you pop in my Tristram Shandy please? I’d like to read Tristram again, have an urge. Also a Hardy or two. They don’t take too long, small parcels.

Ivy Davidson hasn’t paid for Rome yet has she? I am interested to see what she pays us. Should be used soon, Let me know. And while I’m on questions I’d like to revise my wall-marks of Dickie’s Height and breadth and dimensions. Does he wear odd baby clothes of indeterminate design still or is he clad in comprehensible garments, top and bottom, middle and ends?     I mean is he an amorphous cloud of feminine materials or does he have coat, waistcoat and trousers or someway in between.  All helps to complete the picture. Makes islands of his porridge, does he. Whoof.

Poor dear, a few weeks and Spring with its poignancy will be upon you and upon me too, Spring here is not a matter of heart-catching half tones and busy birds, its a flaming colourful Puccini eruption of beauty,   though I would change the quiet certainty and modesty of the English spring. Nesting, timid leaves, Faithful greens and scented evenings.

And I have passed two hours since I left for dinner,  because I took with me the Blunden cricket book, at which I have been sipping to make it last the longer, and got enchanted. Its a very good book, and you will love it. He is a good man. It is a present worthy of being given by you to me. I have not wasted it and have still nearly half of it left. I hope Dickie likes cricket, it has a sobering effect on the young, gives them a channel for their enthusiasm, and a pattern for beauty and rhythm, and is the kindest tutor for self control, good manners and gentleness. It is the best bred form of physical exertion and has the comfort of tradition. Above all, it is native to his blood. And you love it & I you. David.

Just found Francescos letter. Shall cope within the week I hope.   D.

                            A letter today, written on the 15/16 Jan and a very good letter too; also from JGL a charming Oxford U Press anthology called More Diversions, a letter from your mother at Romsey and one from my mother. Jack’s present is a prose and verse anthology and very charming it is. Your mother writes a warm friendly letter full of nice flattering things and saying how she counts every minute for her return to you and Richard, which is inevitable and an unfortunate start to her reconnaasance for a life apart. Its going to be very very difficult for her to really break away, and we shall feel dreadfully cruel, heartless and unkind. Oh dear. Who wouldn’t want to live with people like You and Dickie? Especially someone who is the mother of one of you and the grandmother of the other ! Poor all of us. However.,..

                        I’m glad Guardy likes So and So, I will do you another pair. I’m sorry Postie died. Its sad that, he sounded a niceable man, and was good to you. You sell things I couldn’t, Persnality and charm. As for us making any nich for Things, I wonder. You can pour them out for years and make no mark, yet it may be getting the name known and that may help books. The question of Making a Name is indefineable, some people go on for years and never get known, others get their name seeped into the national consciousness sort of imperceptibly, that is by always doing things which have the same smell to them, and getting them spread around. Your English Digest must be that sort, economical kind of paper to run, but as you say, maybe it helps and there’s no harm done.

                        Richard’s “phase” sounds trying, and your patience and understanding must be above the average not to tire. And he dares to feed Candy at table ? Surely candy would not tolerate such a State of Affairs ? I trust the morals of the house have not been so lowered. When I was at home……Ask Candy, she wouldn’t lie, not with those candid eyes.

I made no joke then which is good of me. So much I am missing, of the rough and the smooth. When he is older and threats are used, promise you won’t ever say that “Daddy would be cross” Perhaps he wouldn’t and if Dickie grew up with the idea that Daddy was a sort of a Wrathful God with a strict moral code it would start me off wrong. Because my code is very flexible. No, of course you wouldn’t. He’d only say, “What, him Gertcher…” and then where would we be.

                        Had some Italian snow these last few days, poor stuff compared with your British snow, goes with a wink of sun on it and no snowballs about it at all. Been cool at nights though. But I have a piccolo oil stove in my room and am cosy up here where I come to read and write or just to sit. Had an off week from the writing point of view, sort of a fallow week, couldn’t Do anything. Sat about, its passing I think.

                        Noon will be leaving the U.K. this week I expect, with my pictures…good. Mother seems to be expecting a sheet, is she ? Or has she got it mixed ? She sounds gay but confesses to a nasty fall again which is dizziness from blood pressure, says she’s all right now

but limps.

                        That far away thing the War seems to be getting towards the end, for this evening they say the Russians are at Frankfurt* and that is terrific. I think their Push took them further than they intended. We are up against fortifications which would take a year to fight through. It will be odd when it does end. Incredible somehow.

                        Went out to dinner on Monday, at another Mess, and a very fine show it was. Just the Mess, seven of them, H/Q, – Colonel, 2 i/c, adjutant and Group Quarter master-captain and myself. Fine table, fine linen fine cutlery, and silver, fine food and vast quantities, with a turkey and Spumante to drink, and after silly games. A nice night out. They had a photographer there so rather obscene pictures of me eating and in various groups may come.

                        I like the sound of Michael Fitz and his hunt for his father. He sounds an agreable young man, be careful or he’ll join the troupe, I felt that years ago when I met him in the Police station. I have avoided him for fear of his joining up with JJH, Chis, Marjorie, Hansons, JGL, Yarnolds us & Co. Put Peter in. Good old Peter one misses him.

                        Dickie walks on tip-toe and can nearly jump ! Jump ! Bless us all. Can Candy jump still ? Candy must have become reconciled to having Dickie there or does she live her own usual delicate life and accept him into the scheme of things. She ought to read the Ulysses tales so she can do the same act when I come home.

                        We must remember always that when it comes to novel writing, one doesn’t have to make it a terrific hair raising or nerve shattering affair, but take simple things and tell the tale simply. I tend to formidibilse everything. I must untend, Untend me, thee.

                        All goes quietly here, we have our domestic upheavals when naughty boys are naughty and our good moments when all goes well and we keep on top of everything and I am training up my orderly room sergeant for when the established one goes on Python. A young lad who is conscinetious and enthusiastic and learns quickly. Johnny is a tower of comforting strength and Ronnie Channon lets himself be handled all right, and we are taming the devils in the other outfit and have got one sent off to 1021, he was a Staff sergeant now he’s a sapper. One by one the rackets are purged. I love love you and haven’t left much room
*

*

1224/5 Shipworking Sections R.E.  C.M.F.
No 212

Dearest Heart,
You can never know how I hold on to you, you make it possible to be   steadfast when life is artificial and steadfastness seems to many to be too impossible to bother about. The thought of you and that child, wonder-child as he would be to us, and is also in his own right it seems, is often with me consciously and is always with me as the basis of living. Its more than the need of your company and all the rational love thereto attached, Its the need of having you, even apart. Really I am happy and busy about my affairs, and not often melancholy; but you are of greater value to my living than you can know. I am a fond fool, maybe, but proud of the foolishness of being so fond. And that babe of ours seems to be a gift from God beyond our expectations and, as far as we can reckon it, beyond our deserts. Lovely to look upon and with a sweet disposition. Your last letter came yesterday, never has there been such a week for letters, and it took only five days, and in it you say he is talking well and quickly. There is no problem, Daddy must miss what he misses and see the result whatever it is.  He does seem to be expressing himself well for one who has been here only a year and a half. It is nice for him to be quick to learn, because we can always balance it by letting him run wild now and again among natural things. So long as we don’t force him to read or talk too quickly, but let his natural desire to learn always lead, and we only make available what we know and have, then he should be all right. It will be great fun showing him History and books, lives and ideas, as his mind develops. I’ll try always to give him afair picture and let him decide what was right and what was wrong.

He will find me a stranger for a long time I fear, but perhaps as I shall be willing to be friends and won’t be a distant and clever person we may get over that. Dear me, I do think about it all.

Today I am in Service Dress and very pretty. I had to take the Group Church Parade this morning, “Parade will March Past in Column of Route from the Right of Sections, No.1 Section Leading….” and all that. Rather fun, though we all pretend to hate it, yet in our secret hearts we all of us, me and the Sappers, thought we were rather good. Sun shone and it is a sign of the end of the war, all this. Otherwise its been an ordinary day, office after parade, Docks and to see JAG (Law) and a sleep till half past two because it is Sunday and then office and a quiet time with the In tray to the Out tray, and some telephoning and then here and awaiting dinner time. I shall write a Thing maybe this evening or some novel. I’m thinking of the new format. You were right, more people’s observations and observations of people and less just saying. Did you see Compton Mackenzie’s answer to Churchill’s “Democracy is not a harlot to be picked up by anyone with a tommy gun….””Neither is Democracy a Rich Man’s Kept Woman”. Neat I feel.

The New Statesman came from JGL today with a terrific article on the Greek affair, and one in the Times, too. I dont know. But from my observations whichever side you back in there foreign states its wrong, even apart from the hell of a time they’ve been having. They’re a feckless lot and bribery and bullying is in them all. That was a delicious little sketch you did of R.J.S.D. lying on his tummy, Shepherd’s Milne drawings aren’t nearly as good. It gives his proport­ions so clearly and his air. What are his tip-of-nose-to-tip-of-tail dimensions now?  Can I alter the marks on the office wall?

Intercepted a letter from one of my men telling his father to buy a dead body, put it in his bed, call in the police and get him cabled for on compassionate grounds. Naughty boy. An idea though. Costing him 28 days Field Punishment tomorrow I fear.

I’m sending a picture of some of our blokes with Johnny Feaver in it. The crosses on the back mean the other company’s men, of mine I give the names. Sam Bebbington  (next Johnny)  is  a good man and so is Johnny. He (Johnny) has two sons, 9 and 7 and they call him Beetle and he has droll comments on them. Lives at Epsom he does and is sound and reliable and sober and decent. Cottis, next to him is breezy and has been a rip but although he’s in 1222/3 I’m reforming him. He works quite well now.

Bowens jealous! Of course they will be, always you will have to be forbearing in life and very kind because people will always envy you and your happy charming son will make it worse. You are like a Princess, in gifts and manner and colour, and always the drab ones will be jealous. At public places with you I always feel so sorry for other men and want to be nice to them to compensate for my fortune in having your love. You will need to develop a seventh sense of charity to other people always because it is inevitable that you are envied. I don’t let on about it but I wonder and admire always. We both shall, Dickie and I, and we’ll jostle each other to be with you. I can jostle a damn sight better than he can, for a decade and more anyhow. Fond I am, proud to be fond I am.     Bless you and thankyou f or this spate of grand letters.  Ever your…  David  XXXX

 Yes. I hope your Mama’s visit to Romsey will facilitate & not impede her projected sojourn there. For me, life with anyone in addition to you & RJSD &Etc (if any) is impossible, as it is for you. Have you had yourself properly pictured yet?
Dear you –

1224/5 Ship-working Sections R.E.  C.M.F.
No. 211

Dearest
Two letters this morning, came half an hour ago!  And one yesterday and two the day before.  I didn’t expect any at all, and everything shines aura anew because of your generosity. You have no idea how richly rewarded is the effort it must be in the midst of the hurly burly of domestic life for you to write a letter to me. They were of the 11th. and 12th.  They told of many things, Dickie lying on the hearth rug kissing the picture of Chris, and a nice little drawing, the sketch you have sent to Noon, the way he looks, the bunny hat on the stocks, and your Frank the Italian.  Yes, thank him for the wishes for a happy Easter.  But you have brilliantly put your finger on what is worrying me about Hector.  It tells too much fact which is dull and is not alive, because there is no characterisation. I think I see the light.  Forget what you have. We will get over what happens through people it happens to.  Not a sick parade but how certain people behave on sick parade, not marching, but how certain people march. I think we can bring it off now.  I am going to start again, or reshape the three chapters I have done in those lines.  And as for G & S it provides a nice title for Chapter l….”When I first put this Uniform on….” (I said as I looked in the glass, Its one to a million that any civilian my figure and form will surpass”)  But as for the general idea, I think you have lit the lamp.  I’ll puzzle away again and see if we can get started and then ripple it on. Hot like essays, but with characters in it all the way through, cake of happenings with plums of people things happening too.

A parcel from Mama with a nice pipe and a lighter too from Auntie Edie.  And a letter from D Sadgrove and the Observer, most regular of arrivals, from JGL, whom the Lord and Allah combine in preserving.  Your description of Dickie’s smile, and not being too smiley and being shatteringly so to people he really likes is very brilliant and charming and touching.  I am eager for the return of Noon, (poor man) with his despatches.  He’s a worthy soul, is Noon. Your description of the smile of our son is indeed good.  I can sort of feel one of the difficulties of parenthood, from a remark of yours, daring to think of twenty years ahead.  It must be difficult to hold back open love from a male child when he reaches the age when his own freedom of soul means so much to him, when he starts to be conscious of his individuality. When parents try to be fond then, he is resentful, all unknowing, and puts up defences against it, that he can be free.  The parents think he is graceless and unfeeling, and loving deeply, superficially sour.  They drift apart, child and parent, father especially.  The secret would be to hold back love until the child, with his gossamer feelings and sensitiveness, is free enough to show affection himself, and then, always with restraint, understanding and respecting his deep shyness which is an integral part of his growing selfullness, to pay back only what is called forth.  The undercurrents, unknown and yet felt, will be there and a rare and rich relationship could develop.  But it means much self-abjugation by the father, and the mother, the prize being rich enough to make it worth while.  I put the danger period, when affection must be delicately shown and confidence not spoiled, the age of ten onwards, getting more vital at fourteen.  One must respect shyness and be shy in return.   But at this stage, everyone is frank and uncomplicated, and I envy you and all his friends their joyously natural affection; I feel it, and am dumb.

As Dickie increases in awareness he will need a double dose of Faith, Belief in Our Father Which Art in Heaven and belief in His father which is in Italy. Its a bit hard on the boy. Will there be any chance of gladdening Granny Rose by taking him there for a week later on when the weather is better? It would be a great thrill for her, and Mother would have Auntie Edie down to see him that way. I know the journey would be a hell of a sweat, but the gesture would have great rewards in happiness given.  She is saving up balls now for when he goes, she’ll be getting a cricket bat oiled soon. I don’t know. She thinks a hell of a lot of you, being a shrewd judge of people.

And Dickie means a lot to her.  I won’t say any more because its a bit unfair for me to talk of it when you have the labour entailed.

I must write you a Thing about Italian Mommas, they are a formidable race, and would make a goodly column.  I went to tea today at the house of the owners of the villa we have as a Mess, in town, and there are two quite dull daughters and Momma, complete with the badge  of rank,  i.e.  a whiskery wart  on the left side of her chin, sat very  much alert  and careful  of any risk her young ran with Ronnie Channon and I. The risk was negligible, but she didn’t know that.

 What a day with two letters, you are a dear one. Thanks, and that drawing of Him lying on his tummy is very very good and improves with looking at. The more I look the better I like it. I shall continue looking.  Speed Noon with his sketch.

1224/5 Shipworking Secs R.E.
No.  210

Dearest,
Well, you shouldn’t really ask if things are true. But the man might easily have asked the General about the fish and if he had… You see, Truth has to be more than truth to be True truth. Or as a cynic observed at dinner at Cliff’s on Sunday, “There’s always something wrong with everything, and if there isn’t you can be damned sure there’s something very wrong somewhere”. Your very nice letter of the eleventh came today and two yesterday, a great day indeed. Your Mamahad gone off to Romsey and you were coping, the son and heir had a chill in the beginning, the doctor hadn’t come in the middle because he was better and at the end the doctor had come and Dickie was quite all right,   and you sent Fitz’s kind comments on his intelligence, and he had said Bye bye Doctor from the window. If he said that to me I’d have had to come back again. It was bad enough going leaving you with two great eyes at the door and Candy in your arms with great eyes and ears, with him as well I’d have to creep away secretly. Bless us, he does look the sort of young person I have dreamed of and always known, from his little picture through Lanave’s glass. I hope the others hurry, even though it means the end of Noon’s leave. Noon may be pinched for bring­ing them but I doubt it somehow.

No coral necklaces are about, let me see, six or seven shillings. The Godmamas are Gwenny and Honor I think.  I’ll send two very nice ones for you to send, or send them myself, from Richard Pere.

What is this Talk on Further Education, or was it Farther Education or even Father Education? Ideal theme for a W.I. that! But of course anything you do will startle people, because you are a wise person and like your son, your intelligence   is above normal, always I said so and great is my respect, partly the reason I was coy about you when I was smitten, head and thigh, in 1936-7-8. But you are unique in combining intelligence, which Eileenish people have, with charm and lovableness and cuddleableness and gaiety, which such people don’t have.    You’re cleverer than I, with your instincts and your native wit and wisdom. You had a wise grandfather and you have inherited a shrewd judgement and a fine critical faculty. You are formidable if you didn’t undo the formidableness by being pick-up-and-cuddle-me as well. No wonder I pinch myself to see if you are true,     AND now there is Richard, I can see me of the future as a humble timid man who tries to Say The Right Thing and to be gentle about the playful and affectionate mockery of clever son and wife. Poor old Father! Him and his Salerno. WHOOF I’ll show you if you try that stuff, clever pair that you be. If Dickie can move his ears I’ll just leave home, because that would be the last straw in my being clever-beaten.

I’ll never lavish our fortune on trinkets for other women, not much, a few pearls for the secretary and a few diamonds for leading ladies in my plays, but not much, no I promise not.

I had not sent any more novel because I was worrying about it, like you do with a picture you have started, Last night I worried for hours and maybe I’ve got it a bit better. I have a new first two or three pages, a new first few pages for chapter 2 and am rewriting 3 and then I’ll send them through. When I get the “feel” of it it should flow quite well. We’ll see. I’m glad the So and So one came through, it went a different course, through the Base Press Censor, he sent it on, I must keep those up, you have so many rejects now. You must have some gooder ones, Let me see, lately I’ve sent only the soandso, the opera one which didn’t seem very good and the one about poor Genarro. More?

Vic Alder home from Burma, and Chip coming. I say, what a good thing. My regards to them. Yes, we’ll have our own company after the war and work the Mill docks for them. Shall we make Richard a miller if he doesn’t mind? Or will he want to be a doctor or something expensive. Or just stay about being amusing at home.

What AM I to do with the little bowls Lanave gave me? They are a responsibility.

Felix wouldn’t steal, he reads Baudelaire and Maupassant and speaks elegant and fluent French and puts flowers in my room and considers himself my bodyguard and servant and thereby superior to all others.  But he is liable to buy things for me out of his own money and will never take anything for his pains. He scorns other lesser officer’s servants and Takes Some Living Up To. He presses my trousers daily and even puts artistic creases splaying upwards in my BD blouse and I haven’t the heart to tell him not to and I go about looking like a Tailor’s dummy. Felix, – El Mulla in full, is a very superior and French Arab. He doesn’t smell of garlic either. I’ve got an oil stove in my room which purrs like a Julian and he lights it early in the morning and at four o’clock to warm the room for the evening.

I say, that Basic conservation was marvellous, “Oh…Jujun…pin…cratch!” that   is a full sequence of ideas and has the double advantage of being dramatic and economical in words. He should write. (Oh no, never mention that to him) He can sculpt,and have a clayey room, but let them be like lifey things and not grotesque. Did you get the two Michelangelo cards? The two Pieta sculpts? The one done young the other when mature? I feel there is an interesting moral in the comparison of those, Hell the end…I love you…David XXX

Your letter of 4 Jan came today & two days ago two others. Bless you. I’ve  allowed three days to pass without writing but days have been hectic & trouble. But now it’s a fine cosy Sunday evening & your letter awaited me when I returned just now, at 9o/c from an outing. I had a staff -sergeant to get away on special leave to Cairo, where he is getting married, so I took him to Taranto myself with Allan. We deposited the passenger, lunched at the Officers Club & drove back via Brindisi, exploring en route an enchanting & unspoiled little town innocent of war & the allied army ! I dined at the Dock superintendents mess & here I am. In answer to an earlier question, yes, Cliff is still a Major. Did you mean to imply that he should be a Lt. Col. by now or that you’d be surprised to hear that he has retained his rank ? I gave him your love & he sends you his. Motoring with Allan was fun. I told him of our joyous motoring, our picnics & games, our jokes & meals at the wheel. We liked the change. And Missed Peter.

                        The troublesomeness has followed the Audit I’ve carried out. Derek & my predecessor had let things slide & not only was everything in a parlous pickle but Derek’s orderly room Sergeant had I’m sure been making a lot on the side. So I had to be fierce & neutral & ended with rather startling results & a Court of Inquiry. It caused a flutter in the dovecot, but all papers have been passed to H.Q. & we sit back & wait. Had to be. Meant long as of closest accountancy though. Hence tired to bed & no letters, & hence todays day off.

                        Opera last night with the Col. again (O. B. E. now, he’s so pleased) Cavallera R & Pagliacci. Very Very good. Very good. Dear me, how I’m going to love bringing you to Italy for the Opera. Remind me.

                        Your talk of the new hut idea. I have in mind a wooden one, double skin, on bricks, brick fireplace & simple furniture. Yes, we must have a fire to poke. Pick of the books of course, & state visits for you & Him. When he’s old enough I’d dearly like half an hour a day in the evening, for a tête a tête, tales & talks & discussions. I wonder if he’d play ? Probably think me stuffy.

                        That single polyphoto was delicious. I look at it so very often. Pin a few more onto air letters if you’ve not sent them to  He’s a good lad & I’ll be glad to have him back.
Nelson was 2nd officer on the Prometheus , the ship that took me safely to Sicily ! I doubt if I’ve his address. I’ll look see, a nice lad indeed he was. Good that the Erskines are friendly & like Dickie. Eating bowl indeed. His possessions. And a J.J.H. horse !! I say. dear J.J.H.

                        When you have all the plays complete, write a bold “The KINGS MESSENGER   AND OTHER PLAYS FOR CHILDRENS THEATRE”on a blank page, & put them in order, with For my son Richard John on another blank, & post them to J.C. with a little letter & cross your fingers. On the introduction put an arrow pushing THE K’s M. up to No. 1 &ecco !

                        Rugs. I’ll see: Difficult here. No one has anything hereabouts, Eyties or S/L. £92 – ? & ? !!! I say.  doing well. I’ll write plenty this week. Ideas flow for the book & the Colonel is sending little  bits repeatedly for his book !! And Bertha has asked, per pro the Director of Edn. Glasgow, for a 20 minute play for slow children, so my Job list is full.!!

                        Nice letter from Margaret Young this week. Love to your Mama, no longer Poorly Bad I hope.

                        Dear I do love you. And your so very grand & sweet. A phrase for you “To live is to beloved”.

Your letter of 4 Jan came today & two days ago two others. Bless you. I’ve  allowed three days to pass without writing but days have been hectic & trouble. But now it’s a fine cosy Sunday evening & your letter awaited me when I returned just now, at 9o/c from an outing. I had a staff -sergeant to get away on special leave to Cairo, where he is getting married, so I took him to Taranto myself with Allan. We deposited the passenger, lunched at the Officers Club & drove back via Brindisi, exploring en route an enchanting & unspoiled little town innocent of war & the allied army ! I dined at the Dock superintendents mess & here I am. In answer to an earlier question, yes, Cliff is still a Major. Did you mean to imply that he should be a Lt. Col. by now or that you’d be surprised to hear that he has retained his rank ? I gave him your love & he sends you his. Motoring with Allan was fun. I told him of our joyous motoring, our picnics & games, our jokes & meals at the wheel. We liked the change. And Missed Peter.

                        The troublesomeness has followed the Audit I’ve carried out. Derek & my predecessor had let things slide & not only was everything in a parlous pickle but Derek’s orderly room Sergeant had I’m sure been making a lot on the side. So I had to be fierce & neutral & ended with rather startling results & a Court of Inquiry. It caused a flutter in the dovecot, but all papers have been passed to H.Q. & we sit back & wait. Had to be. Meant long as of closest accountancy though. Hence tired to bed & no letters, & hence todays day off.

                        Opera last night with the Col. again (O. B. E. now, he’s so pleased) Cavallera R & Pagliacci. Very Very good. Very good. Dear me, how I’m going to love bringing you to Italy for the Opera. Remind me.

                        Your talk of the new hut idea. I have in mind a wooden one, double skin, on bricks, brick fireplace & simple furniture. Yes, we must have a fire to poke. Pick of the books of course, & state visits for you & Him. When he’s old enough I’d dearly like half an hour a day in the evening, for a tête a tête, tales & talks & discussions. I wonder if he’d play ? Probably think me stuffy.

                        That single polyphoto was delicious. I look at it so very often. Pin a few more onto air letters if you’ve not sent them to  He’s a good lad & I’ll be glad to have him back.
Nelson was 2nd officer on the Prometheus , the ship that took me safely to Sicily ! I doubt if I’ve his address. I’ll look see, a nice lad indeed he was. Good that the Erskines are friendly & like Dickie. Eating bowl indeed. His possessions. And a J.J.H. horse !! I say. dear J.J.H.

                        When you have all the plays complete, write a bold “The KINGS MESSENGER   AND OTHER PLAYS FOR CHILDRENS THEATRE”on a blank page, & put them in order, with for my son Richard John on another blank, & post them to J.C. with a little letter &  On the introduction put an arrow pushing THE K’s M. up to No. 1 &ecco !

                        Rugs. I’ll see: Difficult here. No one has anything hereabouts, Eyties or S/L. £92 – ? & ? !!! I say.  doing well. I’ll write plenty this week. Ideas flow for the book & the Colonel is sending little  bits repeatedly for his book !! And Bertha has asked, per pro the Director of Edn. Glasgow, for a 20 minute play for slow children, so my Job list is full.!!

                        Nice letter from Margaret Young this week. Love to your Mama, no longer Poorly Bad I hope.

                        Dear I do love you. And your so very grand & sweet. A phrase for you “To live is to be beloved”.