Only one or two more letters and then – silence – while I sail away on business which you & I, & Dickie Anne must approve. My trade is writing, yet I cannot write as I would. But I have the consolation that you, of all people, will understand what lies behind the mundane things my feelings make me write.
Confidence, the pride of our race, the past & the future, all this drives me jubilantly forward.
You, who need the fortitude, stay behind. But my love for you, my deep devotion to all that to us makes life, is the epitome of what we fight for. We have a resilient pride & glee, a fund of fierce nonchalance, which is born & bred of our history. And in everything, personnel, equipment, all is quality. The quality of the materials marks the otherwise indefinable quality of our men.
Through some vagary of the postal authorities there was no letter this afternoon, maybe two tomorrow.
The dear telephone talk. I’m not really Tight, just a victim of professional hospitality, the Chief served one & his Lieutenant deemed it proper to regale one with a few pints of Bitter. Very regimental & gentle really. Peter is telephoning May. Then we have sandwiches & take the ferry home & so to bed.
I’d love to see the cot in your room, our room. That is perfect.
For heaven’s sake let the child realise that it has the most ordinary of fathers, a dull witted dog, but blessed with much human kindness, & affection. I’ll have the wits and not to let him or her down.
If by any mischance this child dies, & such a consideration must not be ignored, remember that for me you are everything, & your health & happiness is the lode star of my life. I should be sad for you, but otherwise not unduly disturbed. I’d hate to have you fret if the unlikely mischance occurred. You are my love, & the child is valued only because of you, as yet. So if that happens, don’t worry. So long as you are safe & well I’ll be grateful. Its you I cherish. You & you alone.
We have a carpet today, & three chairs, one Lloyd Loom, one wheelback armchair, & one carpet seated one, & three bunks, one for Capt. Child, one for a pink young RN Sub Lieutenant & one for me. Also a dressing table the top drawer of which draws out to make a bureau, & five different lights. Also a jar which fairly swings round the room.* Very cosy. And I bought 50 Gray’s cigarettes today for 1/- !!! Only cigarettes available as yet the bar is not open yet.
I have a memory you haven’t got. Monday week, the village street, winding away past the Jeavons wall, & you, in the road, waving, so alone, so much one of the individuals which is you & I. You looked young & lovely & fond & in every inch, English. But it is not on visual memories I rely, but on a general universal & all important awareness of the essence of you. Blind, dumb, deaf, I’d know when you were present. You have an aura, a spiritual grace & a character which is unique, & which is, for me, the mainspring of life. And in the happy humdrum existence of afterwards, always there’ll be the snatches of the Halcyon days to make me marvel & wonder, at your goodness & my good fortune.
When the letters cease to come, you’ll feel lost and alone, & you’ll fret for me. Do remember that I’ll be all right, that I’m in splendid company, and that were you able to be with me you’d revel in it all. So do not fret, & do not worry when the evening comes when I don’t telephone. Be busy & occupied on Saturday, in the garden if you like. Or disconnect the telephone. Do not expect me to telephone
Of my love for you I can say nothing. A love story shall be my proof, & the growing face of Dickie Anne. We’ll be together, never fear.
Bless you, my dearest, & be happy, brave & reserve all your nervous energy for the ordeal ahead of you, the happy ordeal.
*