My Release Book has come ! A beautiful document, and so very efficient with its many pages of carefully worked out details. We are expected to start our homeward journey on the 29th of Jan, but if we go direct we’ll go when a suitable ship arrives here round about that time. It’s unbelievable! Yet against all the glorious panoply of my return – a glory I cannot see I have deserved – against all the delights I even now hardly dare contemplate too closely is a streak of regret at leaving this job ! I have at last fulfilled myself & everything seems to quiver with activity & control. I’ve got it all so personally. People come for advice, Ian is fully mine & backs me in everything, & I’ve countless projects & plans in hand. The camp for example, was a dull medley of tents & bad buildings. We’ve already a smart entrance, all white posts & a great RE flag proudly at the head of a schooner mast, a guard resplendent in white equipment, a garden in front of the neatly painted guardroom – white posts & white ropes marking the drives, tents newly aligned, signposts & a “village green” with a rockery, & we are pulling down & rebuilding everywhere. We’ve a new Education centre launched & many things in hand. But we’ve got, Ian & I, a fine new enthusiasm everywhere. We’ve a terrific project of a training Company, for these grand youngsters coming out from England.

                        But this is stupid ! It’s because I put my heart in it. And it is very much for the best to leave with all sizzling with activity & my verve unimpaired than to be cold & unoccupied. It shows I come home in full heart & verve. Every day is so busy & full, letters, interviews, telephonings, conferences, problems to solve & appeals to Caesar to settle. So I’ll be home in full sail & ready for Action.

                        And always you are in my life, and I shall have you in my arms in a measurable number of days. And Richard to bow to. And Candy.

                        You know, just writing is not enough, I must have sundry activities, my peculiar make up demands it. I need affairs & busyness. We’ll lead a busy life, somehow. Oh, it’s all very large & exciting, the glorious years stretching ahead. Full dramatic years, rich & varied, & love & the life of our family in it all. How I’ll wait & gaze in the bow of our ship for the first sign of England. I remember my last, of Ireland, sailing away secretly and a quite High Adventure, & the mixed thoughts I had. Then it was not possible to contemplate a return. So many in that convoy did not ! So we are blessed.

                        And don’t think my streak of regret at leaving is important. It’s no more than a healthy dislike of handing over a job which can never be completed. I disliked leaving 1021 & the S/L unit ! And Alex ! And you in 1943 !

                        Never again do I have to leave you all my work. Oh, I’ll

                        Oh, important. Can you possibly trace my O/R number, when I was a gunner. I need it for my Release Book. Your very good memory may have it or an odd letter or document. It was 111. . . . . . Can you hunt & send it by return, not waiting for a letter to go with it if there’s not time. Can you rescue me please ?
Sent off three tins of crawfish today ! Hope it is needed.
Shall we play a few records when I get home ? Plans are impossible. I feel your a little bit nervous of this rencontre with a man ! Poor you. I’ll be a veritable bumpkin & shy. My monkish life has left me inexpert with ladies I fear. However. . . .

                           And there is Richard. . .

                        So I have my license to the civil life, the life domestic, the life fully individual, to you. Bless you. Live quietly in these last weeks of your three years of fortitude & patience, & of courage. Peace & quiet & then the real peace will come.

HQ 4 Docks Group R.E. M.E.F.

Dearest. . . .
I successfully avoided the temptation of a poker game this evening, after playing last night because there wasn’t four without and making 19/-  and the night before to please Ian and making PT90 which is 19/- and here I am, guinness by my side and you in my mind.  I have laid on a constant supply of Guinness here and feel very fit and lively, Yarahoo.   Tell Jim Jeffs to start hoarding Guinness for me and say I’ve bought a special set of deadly darts and for the Lords sake get a decent dart board, if its the same one he had before I’ll have him called up.   Perhaps I’ll write to him myself.

Your – as always – very nice letter of 1 Jan and later came today bless you. Yes we’ll stay with Auntie Edie the three of us and have ten days in London for the Ballet, any opera there is and the Galleries.   We’ll also call on the Bashfords, maybe HHB will take us to lunch at the Athenaeum from where he always writes, and Jonathan Cape and go to the House and so on.   That leads me to a suggested Rehabilitation plan.

Phase A,  You, Me, Candy, and Richard if he will stay. That can’t be too long because it would be Unkind to Others, say four days.

Phase B.   Mother Anne joins us for one day and us four or three go to Kettering for five days.

Phase C.   Take Mother Rose back to Great Alne and have a family Reunion (we owe it to them) with the two grannies; you and I, Candy and Richard.   That for three to four days.

Phase D.   Deposit Mother Rose at Kettering stay the week-end and off to London for say ten days.

Phase E;    Back To the New and Delightful Normal.

How does that seem to you? We ought to haw a quiet sherry party. I’ll bring two more sherries with me, and have already sent one home.   Chittery things to nibble and the Hancoxs, Erskines, Beares, Spencers, Hanson, Edkins, Baileys, Hector and whatever you think right, or perhaps that can be missed out, yes, we can have three or four little evenings instead. How does that programme seem to you?    Amend and adjust as you like, I’ll be very pliant.

That Camel made good time, and I am glad he is liked. That saddlery is pretty true to type, and the chain is jolly.  I’m glad its a good listener.   Today I have got the journey home arranged inasmuch as we can go direct from here, with permission of a branch of GHQ which is very friendly and well-known to us; the Colonel is fixing it. We’ll take a Union Castle or a Polish liner and get the Bridal suite or somesuch.   Why not.    The journey out was anything but luxurious.   We will arrive in the UK and have to go home to await our release I expect, Details later. It may be at the end of the month. Leaving time that is. Oh dear oh dear oh dear!

I’ll send the keys of the boxes to you in a registered envelope.    The stationery box I think we can use in in my study for MSS. Its fireproof and burglar proof, a Useful Box indeed.    There will be one final box to come by MFO with all but a gripful of things as I intend travelling fairly light.

So you went to a New Years Dance!    Good.   We must have a little Gay Time in London for a few days. I am glad about staying at Southgate, I’ll write to Auntie Edie and promise and ask for the visit. Richard would be all right there? We could contact the BBC if we need them. We must remember that about ninety days after I arrive home the army stop sending Mr. Careless thirty odd pounds a month.

 So you think you’ve grown up! I wonder. I haven’t, and I am not at all sure that I can imagine any improvement on the gudewife I knew.  But maybe we shall need to get to know each other, a very nice sounding prospect.  I don’t know.

Mother’s letters are constantly cheerful and assuring and she seems to be quite pleased at the prospect of the Return of the Prodigal.   You would be about Richard after all.

My love to the good man and say I’ll be seeing him.

Bless you.   Time Marches proudly and gaily Onwards.

Ever your. . . .

Food parcels arrived yet?

I think I’ll choose London for demobbing, it’s easier than Hereford for getting to Great Alne.  Paddington – Leamington – Bearly Junction & Mr. Tombs.
Or Paddington- Birmingham – Alcester – Great Alne
I don’t know.  O dear.

Postie is trying so hard to get himself strangled & today brought me a letter written by you on the day Candy went away, over which the last two have leap frogged, now, three ! It sorts many minor points, & was a very nice letter. You comment on Richard & say, of his loveliness, “there is some pure beauty of spiritual things in it.” That is very profound & true. So he has again expressed a wish for my return ! And promises to be kindly. Good indeed. We shall learn to handle each other. He & Candy are friends now then. Candy will be a charming guest. I suppose she will remember me after this very long dog-time absence ! I think some scent or chord will vibrate. I’ll have my trousers dhobied before I come home so that Otto’s scent will be removed. I’ve been completely faithful to Candy all the time & don’t want her to think I’ve been guilty of fraternisation or disloyalty. Here’s Alan on the phone (I’m in the office – excuse me). A quite lively talk to Alan & here we are. Cairo could be next & then Haifa. As I was saying, I’ll get myself de-Ottoed. He’s getting so affectionate. At first he was full, every standard inch of him, of dignity & now is developing a sense of humour & is quite chatty & plays puppy like. Ian loves him & is taking him but to, of all places, Scotland !

                        A charming little card from Franco in your letter, do thank him & give him the enclosed little message. Today also came a long friendly letter from Bashford, I’ll send it on when I’ve answered it. Hutching is in India, & off to Tokyo.  Susan has 2 sons & so on. He was lunching with the Dean of St Paul’s (! – limerick) & found the Dean sympathetic. Even a professing Jew has written to him over that letter.

                        Table tennis is popular here & to my disgust I’ve found two people I can’t beat ! My sole vanity, table tennis.

                        It’s a difficult situation, I feel peculiar churlish, over Mama Anne, referred to in your letter. So the Crofters have cooperated & have a room ready. It seems awful, the picture of devoted Annie flying out of the Back Door with her basket when I enter in the front ! But, what can we do ! But the alternation of us alone & us Not alone, when considered, almost justifies the heartlessness.

                        The Ataka mountains are fascinating. They come, I’m told, for a great distance, turbulant bare rock towards the sea, over the desert & 3 miles short of here stop abruptly. They present a dry ruggeder Malvern line & have slabs of light & shade on the sharp face.

                        There’s a famous St. Anthony in the Desert Monastery 20 miles away I must visit for our sakes. I will.

                        Now my In tray has been filled, so, fare thee well. Time marches gaily on, pennants flying.

Two letters yesterday, one of the 23^rd  the other the 27 of December, started on Christmas evening.  Dear letters much loved by me.  And please, an it not be too troublesome, send me a little colour picture of our son Richard in red shorts, red shoes & cream shirt.  The vision is delightful.  Oh dear & I shall be seeing him !  If you don’t do the picture very soon it’ll be too late.  All very odd. “23” officers go in the next two weeks.

So you liked your Christmas. The appreciation of the powder box is very sweet of you.  I am glad you noticed the engraving.  It was done by a most pleasant little elderly Italian in a minute shop with no front in a side street off Rue Sherif Pascha in Alex.  He is so confident.  Just cuts into the silver while you watch.  We thought a plain E  better than a lot of initials.

[My writing maybe even worse than usual as Otto has pleaded a cuddle & he is all curled up in my left arm, head on my shoulder smiling in his doze.  He is getting very unpompous & unpriggish].

Richard’s Christmas sounds fairy like, & I was misty eyed at your report of the awakening duologue about Father Christmas !  And a wheelbarrow !  Did he truly & honest Injun like the blue elephant ?

I had letters from the two little Mothers yesterday as well, bless em both.  Also today one from D Saddy.  But some Turkish Delight I had sent hasn’t arrived, hope it does.  A good person.

Yesterday I got busy on the play, & revised Act I & little Anne Cheviot in the Colonel’s Dock Office is typing it.  So soon I can send it.  I also finished off Act II Scene (i).  We progress.

Peter Redgrove goes up to Alex tomorrow for a week to have a look around & see that half of the job, & on his return I might take a spot of leave.  Then I sit back & wait. – and wait.  Surely no journey could be as joyous as the voyage hence !  With you at the other end.

Clark is a very sober & careful Historian & although he lacks Trevelyan’s charm of style he is somehow a shade more solid & restrained.  A good book.  A good present.

Poor dears who look Doggy at you, I do sympathise with them.  And the Cousin Party, bless you.  I’ll smuggle some Sherry home if I can.  One bottle is in the Uniform case & some special brandy.  For parties, I’m indifferent to drinks except fine vino rosso.  You’ll love that in Italy.  You wait.

All those lucky Romseyites know Richard & I don’t !  It is a lot of lee-way I have to make up.  He does sound extremely pleasant as an individual.

Uncle Dunhill is mending a pipe & says the bill goes to you, yet he seemed to send it to me as well, so I send it to you; if it is already paid destroy, if not please pay.  He’s a nice man.

The folk here are so very nice.  The subalterns & young captains all choicely respectful, the Majors sort of affectionate.  Ian is quite devoted now & has found out about TToTS¹ & reads it hard.

Did your good Mama make any further arrangements about her new home while she was at Romsey.  Its dreadful of me, but sweet though she undoubtedly is, it wouldn’t work, a menage à trois.  I feel tempted to insist on her staying & would be easily persuaded, but my lamented good sense cries out against it.

Please don’t let it get too cold in February & March.  I suppose Egypt here now is a normal English heat wave yet we grumble at the cold.  Oh dear!  But the bed will be warm.  Have you the “deer” curtains still for the study ?  Maybe I shall have many evenings there.

¹ The Time of the Singing

SUEZ

Dearest.
The first day of 1946, the year when the old order of separation and temporary soldiering will cease and the new life, the sane and natural one, of living with my wife and child in my home, and daring to live by my chosen craft, without the security and safety of a monthly cheque will begin.   You asked in the last letter, written on the 20th, when you had arrived at Romsey, “But you know, you are going to miss your job, the restrictions of your new life will be difficult”.  I wonder. Certainly there is a necessary breadth of view here, in being the focus of two thousand soldiers and having to deal constantly with the problems inevitable to this work. But I think we need not worry. Our interests at home must broaden, and by doing more and better work I intend to be in the centre of much more activity than before the war.  By writing several reasonably good books and perhaps one very good book, and by striding out more boldly in many new directions I think we can promise ourselves a busier, livelier and more important life than the mere country mouse life, sweet though it was, of my pre-army days. I have more energy now, better ideas, a lot more to say and with you by my side there is no reason why we shouldn’t develop. This is not prompted by unreasonable ambition or small minded desire for some kind of “fame”. Years pass and if we are to justify our course of living we must now broaden out properly. So with the start we shall have financially of a couple of hundred pounds to live on and three months at full pay, and with the freshness which should follow this holiday of four or five years it is now or never. So set up the desk in the study and keep it cleared for action. Bless us all. Richard shall have a lively and a hopeful childhood.

My Ian is sweet.  This evening, to avoid being churlish by having to leave the crowd and to get a quiet evening in my tent I slipped quietly into the Mess from the office at half past seven, ignoring the merry backs at the bar, ate my dinner and slipped out again as quietly and came here and started this.  Just now the Mess Sergeant arrived in the tent with a double whisky with the Colonel’s compliments and was I all right and did I want anything? Dear Ian.   He is the most unvicious hard drinker I have ever met. He drinks deeply through sheer kindness, he likes being generous and he can’t give people money, he gets boyisher and boyisher but never does he do anything or say anything out of his dignity, he gets kindlier and kindlier and never lets it interfere with his work.  Yesterday was his great evening, he being true Scottish.   We went to the HQ Sappers Mess for drinks at seven, and then dined well at eight in Mess.    Then we all sat at the bar, sat in the ante-room, received visitors, played games and sang songs and drank and drank, me drinking very modestly and always only enough to save other people feeling uncomfortable as I dislike excessive alcohol, its taste, its effect and its  after-effect. At midnight we toasted each other and sang songs and then Ian begged me – ready for bed, to go with him over to movements Mess on a visit. So arm in arm we went over half a mile of desert under glorious stars and drank more whiskies and he obligingly came back after half an hour.  Redder in the face, quite truly funny and full of joie-de-vivre we played table tennis (he very good at it, i can only just beat him!) and then three more Majors arrived so at half past one I left and went to bed.   The others kept it up, PT, dancing, poker, sing songs, until five.  At seven thirty he came to my tent to see if I was up.   He was fresh and gay and had breakfasted, He had a second breakfast with me and we went down to the 8.30 conference and no one else turned up. We had a conference ourselves and made a lot of quite serious decisions and plans and his brain was keen and sharp. The rest got up palely between ten and twelve!!! He is a strange, silly but very likeable man, is Ian Knight.  He is getting so fond of me. Otto is still his, or rather he is Otto’s. The lady has renounced all claims as Otto sees no one but him, or when Ian is not there, me. He is getting less solemn and German, is getting a sense of humour and ussish.   He’s a silly little dog. Very affectionate now and snuggles up as only Dachshunds can. Loves motoring and is hurt because we won’t let him drive.

I live in one square tent where I have Peter Redgrove, the Adjutant Elect, in with me, and this tent is one of sixteen in a square area of four by four. After dark the little canvas windows peep cosily and redly over the earthworks around them.  There are lines of tents around us in all directions.

What kind fairy suggested to you that Clark’s Later Stuarts would be Just What I Wanted?   It was a brilliant choice, it is very good and a sane contrast to Trevelyan. Of course, we shall go on now and envy the lot! I don’t know.

Have we too many Things in our little house? There were many before I left, I have added to them and Richard will be getting his store as well? It must be a problem. Discard things of mine as you deem fit.

I feel that the little Thing I sent you was not really a fair token of what I feel for you.    It was difficult, as it had to be small and I couldn’t get what I really wanted, a gold pencil. However, you shall have nice things, tributes to a person for whom the rarest things would be inadequate.

Harry Reed case. His wife left him when he was arrested, which is rather a poor kind of action I should think.

A nice card from Leonard –proudly bought in Paris!