Scarborough, Sunday afternoon, January 25?th. 1942.
My Dearest,
This is absurd, I wrote yesterday afternoon and I telephoned last night, and I shall telephone tonight and now I’m writing to you this morning. Its just weakmindedness, but there you are.
Your reaction to my announcement, made all coyly, that I had knuckled into the field was deliciously and femininely wrong !! Instead of an awed “My DEAR, how marvellous, because you will be in the genuine regiment, where no conscripts are allowed, where the cream of the offensive arm is nurtured and where the maximum military glory has in the past been won,” I get a sweet and feminine “Oh !” And talk of deep holes beneath large guns ! But you will see my point of view. A.A. And Anti-Tank are ten a penny, a simple OCTU, no R.T.U.’s, and a defensive role to play, whereas the Gunners are cheerful souls with an offensive spirit and delightful twenty five pounders to handle, and with a commission one may have the luck to have a shoot all to oneself ! And think of a satisfaction afterwards, having taken the stiffer course and the stiffer job. And anyhow, its too late now, and it was very very sweet of the Colonel to put me in. I didn’t tell you before but I could have had an immediate commission in the R.E. As Movement Control Officer, like Arthur only up one. Its handling troops at stations and ports, they wanted three and my Gold Coast work might have helped. But its a B2 man’s job, and its so damned easy, a three week’s OCTU and there you are. I knew it was wrong to take it, my instincts rose against the idea, and I told the Colonel so. One wants to have a go at Jerry eventually, and it would be heartbreaking to be sending other blokes overs as all the time. And selfishly one might go to some godforsaken place and sit in a feverish office four years and years – and one wouldn’t be demobbed till all the movements had been controlled back. But there we are, if I can last the course and make the grade I’ll be an Acc C.P.O., then perhaps a G.P.T. I’ll never be a Battery Commander.
(In the R.A. I can wear my riding breeches)
I have found out the pay rates. I get fourteen quid a month as a subaltern, if ever, and you two guineas a week. That will help a bit, won’t it.
How me-ey I am getting. Horrible.
I’ve sold two books towards leave funds this morning, and I’m sure both the Colonels I saw at Caterwick will buy both the last books each, business with pleasure. Yarookadiddle-day.
Oh, leave, leave, leave. Lets have a plan. Certain evenings, in, every other ? Make out a schedule, I’d like to see – Erskines, Bowens, Hansons, Jeavons. Erskines come to us ? Hansons for tea ? others for an evening. ? Uncle Fred and Aunt Jess to or from Kettering and Sadgroves and/or Brookes from or to Kettering ? I think we ought to make the Brookes, after all they are dears and Arnold does guarantee my overdraft ! Its a difficult scheme, but could we have every other evening in ? Alone some, receive no one. I can pop on Beares and so on in the day time. Ask for the rector up for coffee one morning. I thought it would be nice and fair if we went to Kettering on FRIDAY and, as we have ten days -in all- and Mother is so unasking and stupidly devoted, silly as you are. Would you mind ? We are beautifully alone there in a way. On Saturday we can potter about and do the flicks in the evening. Back on Monday, Brookes for lunch ? Sadgroves for tea ? How the Thirlbys ? Work it out. Yarooks-ahoy-ski.
I love you a lot but must stop for dinner. I’m doing this on a blackout board on four chair backs in our barrack room, might write this afternoon if everyone doesn’t want to sleep. Bless you all over a great deal. Telephone you this evening. Heavy snow again, foot deep everywhere, blowing a blizzard. Dear you. Heaven help me at the OCTU. If ever, its too good to be true not official yet, anyhow. I love you and the hens and a dear cuddly Candy.
