Arthur & Stella

Friday
Normandy
Dearest,
There’s not a great deal of news today. I was going to tell you more about the place where we are living and working, but as it is a chateau-cum-farmhouse I thought it would provide material for letters to the children. If I don’t save that I will be sunk, for there is little else here to tell them about. They would love the place.
While I remember, there’s a couple of things I’d like you to send. One of them is my A/M badge. Will you put it in your next letter for me, please? You have probably seen our fellows in khaki and wearing a tiddly cap. On their shoulders they wear a flash, Royal Navy, white letters on a blue background. Will you please try to get two for me? One for each shoulder. I don’t know if there are any local shops which sell service badges, but if not will you get them next time you are in town at Millets or the Army & Navy. They should be supplied, of course, but there are none in stock here and I look a bit of a mongrel without them.
Just to ease your mind a bit, we heard the other day that this is now considered a “safe” area and that Wrens are expected out here soon, but I suppose it will be some time before any of our girls come out to relieve us – of our duties I mean. And thinking on those lines makes me think of a story I’ll tell you when the privilege envelope system comes into force here. I’d hate to corrupt the mind of the censor!
Today has been very much like yesterday – a little work, a pleasant swim in the river, which is alive with elvers, fully grown eels, small pike and, I’m told, fluke which come up from the sea, which is of course quite close. The R.E.’s fixed up a couple of small diving boards and though the river is barely as wide as Morningside, you can dive into over six feet of water, which is quite good. The problem is to keep your feet clean once you get out of the water. Today the meadows were lined with rows of fellows in their birthday suits and it struck me once more how a crowd of grown men let loose like this just becomes great schoolboys. They had a great old time and it was good to see them skylarking. One soldier, a man of about 40, was just learning to swim and he had the heart of a lion the way he struck out into midstream when he could barely swim a yard!
Did I tell you that they showed ‘Millions Like Us’ in one of the marquees here this week, but the weather is too nice for me to be tempted into the cinema, even a canvas one. A couple of weeks ago, George Formby was here, I believe. If we are here for the winter, I’m hoping there will be some improvement for once the novelty has worn off and the bad weather sets in, life will be pretty deadly. Dhobi-ing will be one of the major problems of life then, I’m afraid, for there will be nowhere to dry it.
I’m afraid this is a rather scrappy and domestic letter today but, as is nearly always the case when I’ve just been drafted somewhere, I have not settled down mentally, but I will be much more settled when I begin receiving your letters. Those coming via London take a couple of days longer than those which come through Reading, I believe, so I’m not looking for a letter from you before Monday at the very earliest and possibly not until Wednesday. After that I’ll be watching eagerly.
I’m missing your letters a lot, dearest, so I hope you will try to keep up a fairly steady flow. Let me know if your story was accepted, won’t you? I’ll be interested to hear the fate of all your writings, so keep me informed.
Well, sweet, it’s almost dark and we have no light of any sort in the tent so I’ll have to stop now. Night, love. My love to the children when you get up in the morning. And all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Sunday
Normandy
Dearest,
With no letters from you to answer, and so little of interest happening here, it’s not very easy to write a daily letter. After asking you to send that fishing tackle, I found a bazaar in the town where I could buy tackle quite cheaply. For 15 frs (1/6) I got stuff which would cost about 7/6 at home. The great snag is a rod, for I had to cut a branch from a tree, which is not an ideal solution. All this, of course, is just building up an alibi to tell you that I didn’t catch a single thing last night! I was only there an hour or so and saw very little sign of life in that time, perhaps because the river was so low. Anyway, it was pleasant to see a line in the water again. Perhaps you had better not tell Michael or my stock as an angler may go down! I’ll certainly see Bert about getting my rods back when I get home, for I think the sections are small enough to go into my kit bag, and I could have made good use of them in the last two-and-a-half years.
One of the lads came out with a good crack today in a very ingenuous way. Apparently he went for a swim and in his eagerness to get in took a running dive off the springboard, but unfortunately drove a nail quite deeply into his foot. “When I got back,” he said, “I went to sick bay – and they syringed my ears!” Written down it doesn’t look as funny as it sounded at the time.
Two writers came over here with us and were sharing our tent for the first few days. They were both very decent fellows, though one of them was straight from the cradle! His home is at Southport, by the way. Yesterday it was decided that they never should have been here at all and they have gone a few miles up the coast. If we can hitch there I think I shall go to see them one day when I’m off in the afternoon. In their place we have had a couple of army corporals as temporary lodgers and it’s surprising what a difference there is in the mentality of the army and the navy. As they are only here for a very short time – almost a matter of hours – they were given half a week’s NAAFI rations for the whole crowd. This included ten bottles of beer, which the corporals saw off themselves and left the rest of the lads swinging! I doubt if a killick would have tried it on, even, and if he did he most certainly would never have got away with it.
Today we have done a little work – but not a tremendous amount, though it looks as if things are really beginning to move at last. We are wondering if there is any chance of some of our Wrens being among those who come over with the first lot here. Incidentally, now that Wrens are on the way, lino is being laid, nice doors are being fitted and the place redecorated. As an advocate of sex equality, what do you think of this as one more example of sex privilege? For me, it makes me retch! Bah!
The chief pastime for the lads here, apart from swimming and sunbathing, is football. They play morning, noon and night and thrive on it. I had a game for about an hour last night and thoroughly enjoyed myself, though I managed to knock my thumb up a bit on an awkwardly bouncing ball. It’s OK again now. The weather is still blistering hot and I’m getting quite brown, though I haven’t the energy to go down as far as the beach for a swim. In any case it’s a beach like Southport so that you have to walk half a mile to get any depth for swimming. So I content myself with a dip in the river, despite the attacks of the flies which bite down until they fracture their jaws on my bones!
I’m listening to the BBC broadcast and in it there was reference to our heavy bombing programme today. We’ve been watching hundreds of planes sailing serenely overhead without any opposition.
The doodlebugs are still active, apparently, and we hear that evacuation is still going on. Has your evacuee arrived yet? I’ll be glad to start getting your mail again for I feel more cut off than ever lately. It’s a long time since I was so long without news of home, isn’t it?
There are indications that the privilege envelopes will soon be allowed here and then I’ll be able to write you more normal letters. Meantime, I hope you are keeping fit and taking proper care of yourself. Have you been to see about your teeth yet? Don’t let it drag on until the winter, will you? One thing you had better do in your next letter to me is let me have your holiday address in North Wales. Don’t forget, because if you leave it any longer you will be without letters from me there. And there is, of course, always the chance that we may get some leave from here and if by any miracle it fell in that period I wouldn’t know where to find you! Horrible thought! How are the children? Hope neither of them develop anything between now and then. Well, sweetheart, that’s all the news for today. I’m expecting long newsy letters from you any day now. No alibis accepted! All my love, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Normandy
Dear Michael,
Now we are properly settled down I have got time to write to you. Since I came here I have been thinking a lot about you all at home. School holidays must be nearly over now and I hope you have had a nice time. Did you ever go for a full day on the beach? I hope you did if the weather had been as nice at home as it is here. You would have liked to be in the ship we came here in. She was not one of the very big ones we see in the docks at home, but she was very comfortable and we had a very nice trip. When we got here we put our bags and hammocks [sic] and drove through dusty lanes past a lot or orchards. Once we stopped for a time and some of the sailors went and got some little apples, which we really enjoyed because we were hungry and thirsty. There is also a big orchard at the back of our office here, but I think all the apples will have been eaten before they get very big! Not very far away there is a little river where I go for a swim when I am not working and I also go there for a bath. You have never had a bath in a river yet, have you? The other day I went into the town and bought some fishing lines and hooks and I dug up some worms for bait. I have caught some eels and a plaice, but I gave them away. There are lots of pets in the camp. Some of the marines and sailors have got dogs and one has a rabbit very like Judy in a hutch by his tent. There is also a white cat which the men feed every mealtime. Now I must go for supper. Write soon, son, and tell me all you have been doing.
Lots of love to you from
Daddy X

Dearest,
I’m afraid there is not much time for more than a note today as I have written to both of the children and, for this occasion at any rate, I have sent each separately as I thought they would like to open their own envelopes. The mere fact that they are being posted simultaneously is no guarantee that they will arrive together, so if one should arrive before the other will you please explain to the one that is disappointed. So far I have not seen anything which might do for Michael’s birthday, but tomorrow I will have a good look round here if I can and then I’ll try to get to a town about ten miles away to see what there is there, but my great difficulty is that I’m never free now for more than a few hours at a time, which makes it difficult to travel any distance and get back in time to be on watch. We are not really mad busy, though there is now enough to keep us more or less interested. But busy or not we have to be here.
I haven’t had a letter from you today so there’s nothing to answer! However, there may be one from you in the morning. If you have passed on the address c/o GPO London to anyone, will you give them the present full Reading address, as it makes a difference in delivery here. I have written, by the way, to Mother and Dot and I’ll find out if there’s any airmail from here and write to Jack. Did I tell you I had a letter from him when I got back to Admiralty last Monday? There’s no real news in it – there seldom is in his letters! Next I must write to Eric and reply to Bert’s letter, though there was no point in doing that while they were on holiday and I think Hughie will have gone away, too.
Well, sweetheart, there really is no news. I’ll have to start getting further afield if only to get material for letters! Take good care of yourself. All my love, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. Will you tell me if there are any difficult words in the children’s letters, so I’ll know what to avoid in future?
If you can “flannel” anyone for magazines or Penguins or anything like that we’ll always be glad of them. I’m reading a cheap Edgar Wallace just now! None will be returned, of course!

Thursday
Normandy
Dearest,
It’s hot today. Damned hot and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we had a thunderstorm in the very near future. We had a lovely display of lightning the other night, but it seemed to blow away from us. This is a great place for sunsets, by the way. Reminds me of home for that reason except that the sky colours are sometimes apt to be almost bizarre. About a week ago, for instance, there was a solid bank of angry-looking deep orange–red – absolutely unreal in its colouring so that it was almost frightening. The atmosphere was heavy and humid with never a breath of wind. As I got to the top of a small rise leading to our camp, I looked back at the now historic beaches of Normandy. There, low on the skyline, you could see a frieze of ships of all sorts and sizes etched jet black against that weird backcloth Nature had provided. Almost it looked like the crazy creation of a madman. Certainly if you saw such a pigment on a canvas you would dismiss it as unreal. Another night – the night of thunder and lightning – it seemed as if Mars, mocking at man’s puny efforts, was striking with his own gigantic forces just to show what power could be harnessed. All very fanciful, perhaps, but you do think that way sometimes.
About the only item of news today is that yesterday I put in a request to start a “wall newspaper” in the camp and, having had an interview with our own officer, I’m due to see the camp commandant in the morning. Funnily enough, since I put my request in about this the powers that be have been issuing fairly long bulletins on the war situation and a copy is pinned up for everyone to read next to a map of northern France on which daily changes are marked. All this may go against my project but, if it does, I shan’t worry. I’ve got beyond that a long time ago, but it could help me keep my hand in and would be doing some good at the same time. If by any chance it should be approved – and I’ve grave doubts – I’m afraid letters may suffer a little for a few days, but I hope you won’t mind until I get into my stride. It’s unlikely I’ll hand this letter in for censoring before I know how I stand, so I’ll add a line at the bottom to let you know how I have fared if there is time. I’m in no mood to argue with him about it!
Since we began watch-keeping there seems nothing but bed and work for, except around bedtime, we never have more than four hours off and in that time we have to get two meals, clear up after one of them, peel spuds and wash and shave! I haven’t been fishing or for a swim since we went into watches. All of which accounts for the dearth of news. There is a good Ensa show here with Alice Delysia, but we can never go because our watches clash with both showings! I’m not keen on the cinema, but I would like to see the show. The lads who were in North Africa think the sun shines out of Delysia. They say she gave shows in towns Jerry was still shelling there. What might a great chance Gracie missed there and here at home during the blitzes!
Well, love, that’s the lot for today. Bye for now and all my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X
P.S. That request was granted so I’ll let you know how it goes.

Saturday
Normandy
Dearest,
First of all, all libels on Limedale are withdrawn for I did receive letters today, two of them, after I had handed in my letter for censorship. One of them was the letter you wrote from Limedale and posted on the 15th, so that even though it came via London it only took three days, which is an improvement on what mail used to be like. The other one, posted on the 16th to Reading, took only two days, which is very good. Your trip to Limedale seems to have been very enjoyable, even if you did have so much trouble in getting a drink, but even in peacetime it’s a godforsaken hole from that point of view, as I pointed out to you the first time we were there. Anyway, you seem to have managed to see quite a few people while you were home. It must be some time since you saw Violet, isn’t it? Where is her husband now, and how is he faring? I was amused by your reaction to the little summer house! Tut-tut, love, a respectable married woman thinking on those lines. Come, come! You’ll be developing kleptomania next. I’d like to see Michael being avuncular at the ripe age of five! Wendy is as crazy as ever about the baby, I take it?
It never occurred to me that you might have connected our move with the invasion of Southern France, particularly as you have been hearing from me so regularly. Had we been on that stunt you would have been without news for some time. Incidentally, it is 100–1 that Dougie Milne and Charlie Mitchell are on that stunt and I’m wondering if Tom or Jack Gray got any sudden drafts after I left. There was just about time for someone to drop in for a Bulolo draft there.
So “Christian” has become “Smudge”? Much more human and likely to stick, I should think. How is Mrs Garner, now?
I’m sorry that you won’t be able to get over to see Lilian and Eric, but I wondered why you did not go there on Friday instead of to New Brighton. I know you must be feeling a bit dizzy just now, with one thing and another, and I only hope you have come out lucky in the “draw” so far as evacuees are concerned. Let me know, won’t you? I’m wondering which you have got, a boy or a girl. Anyway, one or other of our children is bound to be disappointed I suppose. By the time you get this letter, school holidays will be over and I expect you will be more or less back to normal.
Even though I doubt whether we will be here for many months – I haven’t got that settled feeling at all, perhaps because we are under canvas – I’m training myself to think of leave as falling somewhere about Xmas time. That is the only safe way, I think.
Let me know if you hear anything from John Lehman [??] or ‘Woman & Beauty’, won’t you? Both of those things have certainly been out long enough for there to have been a decision as to whether or not they have been accepted. Don’t leave Xmas stuff any later than this month or you will miss the market, if you have not done so already.
I know you have something else on your mind, so let me know about that as soon as it is resolved, one way or the other, won’t you?
Thanks for the badge. I’ll get it sewn on as soon as I can now. Don’t worry about the other things unless you are passing a shop. Certainly don’t go into town specially for them. No. We are not the only sailors here! In fact, we are the newcomers, all the other having been here ages. No thanks, love, don’t send food even if it is permissible. I’ve always made a point of getting along on what is dished out wherever I am and I don’t want to depart from that here. The only thing I can think of is reading material, not so much for myself as for other people. With work, letter writing and this wall newspaper, small though it is, I find my time fairly fully occupied most days.
Once more, don’t worry about me. I’m fine and enjoying this weather lots. After that we will have to adjust ourselves again then we’ll settle down into a nest for the winter if we are still here. As you know, I usually manage to shift quite well for myself in a quiet way. I’d be a lot happier without Dalton. He’s a fairly helpless sort of merchant, as I’ve told you before.
This afternoon we had an Ensa show in the open air. Forsythe, Seamon & Farrell and Lyle Evans. Remember him? On the Luxembourg radio on Sunday afternoon, “This is your old friend Dan”! I used to call him a sanctimonious old sod and he sounded it too, but in this show he’s quite different and went down quite well with the lads. Only really great stage personalities can get away with open air shows, however, and while this was quite good and a welcome change, there is no doubt they would have put it over in a bigger way indoors. Still, I must say I enjoyed it for it was a change even from the West End shows we had been seeing in London!
Well, love, that is all for today. Take good care of yourself and let me know how you are. Understand? My love to the children and tell them to write soon. Don’t start that business of putting them off for various reasons or I’ll have your life!
All my love to you, dear.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Monday
Normandy
Dearest,
There was no letter from you yesterday (Sunday) and as there is unlikely to be one today I’m afraid this will be more or less a note just to say “how do?” as there is very little in the way of news from here.
I haven’t been outside the camp for a couple of days and there has been no excitement inside it! The most exciting news is that it really has rained fairly heavily for the first time for weeks. So long as it doesn’t get any worse it won’t be so bad, but from the little I have seen of the Norman roads everything will be held up if we get heavy and persistent rain.
I don’t know why France with her lousy roads and her foul system of open drains (where there are any drains at all) should ever consider herself to be entitled to be classed as a first power nation. Personally I’d put her in the same category as Abyssinia! Or maybe I’m biased?
I was talking to one of the lads in our mess the other day and he tells me he comes from Birkenhead. Before he joined up he was in the Home Guard and when they were on duty there used to be a great argument as to who should be on watch at 3a.m. because about that time one of our comps used to cycle home and he always gave them a copy of the Welsh edition of the ‘D.P.’. I can’t for the life of me think who it could be, but it was funny meeting somebody like that.
I’m managing to keep my correspondence down these days and wrote to Frank last night. That will shake him, getting a letter within about ten days of writing! I really must write Eric today.
The first lot of Wrens have arrived and are already making their presence felt. Watches have been changed to suit their convenience (fortunately, we are not affected) and I’m told one of the senior Wren officers has reported some of the lads for not saluting her! Seems she’s got something to learn. My gawd, fancy having to salute some of the little nit-wits who wear Wren uniform! I’m getting choleric. I’d better stop, but I would give anything to hear Jimmy Morris murmur sweet nothings in the burr-hole of that woman. It would be a classic, believe me.
Well, love, that is all the “news” for today. Sorry this letter is so scrappy but there is literally nothing doing. Believe it or not life is so ’um drum now we have settled down here that I’m waiting with bated breath for slops to open so that I can buy some gear! Big day, that!
I’m looking forward to hearing from the children soon. Tell them there will be blood on the moon if I don’t. That will shake them – like hell!
I knew I meant to ask you to do something. Could you make a folding photo wallet for me out of that stuff I brought home and some leather mounted on board? You know how I mean, don’t you? It’s possible you’ll get a wallet big enough to take postcard size (not the bastard size Dave made those others) and another to take snaps. Will you try, please?
Now I’m off, love. All my love to you and take good care of yourself, sweetheart.
Ever your
Arthur X

Tuesday
Normandy
Dearest,
If I decide, at the last minute, to send this in a privilege envelope, will you be sure to let me know how long it takes?
Poor old girl! I’m sorry to hear about your wasp sting. They certainly seem to pick you out, don’t they? I don’t want to be wise after the event, but the danger of slapping them while they are on your body is that the sting often continues to work convulsively after they are dead. I do hope it is better now. I know how painful they can be.
It looks as if you won’t get to Southport, after all, and I’m sorry because I think you would have all enjoyed the trip. Yesterday I had a brief letter from Eric, enclosing a quid, and he said they were expecting to hear from you. Incidentally, he said “we felt like a couple of hogs driving off in the car and leaving you to say goodbye to the family before setting off for Normandy”. When I read that I almost felt I was “in” this war, a feeling I’ve never had yet. I always seem to be kept at arm’s length somehow. Perhaps one day I will catch up with it. Sometimes I get completely browned off just hovering on the edge! But don’t worry, love, I’m not going to do any silly volunteering.
I more or less “wrote myself out” last night in answer to Eric as he had asked for my impressions after I’d had time to formulate a considered opinion. And he is one of the very few people outside yourself to whom I really do enjoy writing when I have time.
Thanks for fixing up Michael’s birthday present for me and I hope he will like it. I very nearly made a crane for him for Xmas, you know, instead of that railway station, which I sometimes wonder if he really plays with – though this is not quite the time of the year for indoor games, is it? I have already got a postcard of this place for each of them but cannot, of course, send it through the post. Don’t tell them, will you? I have also wondered about a birthday card, but the censors are funny in their likes and dislikes. You are a bad lass, breaking all the family rules by giving birthday presents before the date! Still, I’ll let you off this time. Soon it will be time to be getting odds and ends together for Xmas, won’t it? What sort of a doll are you getting for Wendy?
You seem to be making an early start on the winter clothes problem and I’m very glad, for that is always a worry, isn’t it? I’m glad, too, to hear that you have taken steps to improve the condition of Wendy’s knickers. They nearly drove us crackers when I was home! Will you be using the navy blue stuff for one of her kilts?
I had no idea that Mrs Gardner was keen on increasing the family. I wonder how many men are influenced by the same argument? Hundreds of thousands, I’ll bet. Fancy their imagination not rising above common or garden evidence! Poor as!
Just before I go on to the other subject, no longer banned, I’d better say that there is good reason for your sensing a different atmosphere in these letters, though I can’t tell you why now.
You’ll probably be annoyed when I tell you that I laughed when I read some of your remarks about your suspected “condition”! The part that amused me was your plan not to be worried about the expense because you’d work hard! By the time the money for your articles comes through you’ll be drawing Wendy’s first week’s wages – or that is about how it seems to me. I always feel that you have spent your money about six times over before you ever receive it. Anyway, don’t take any notice of me, I’m only joking. Actually, I felt a little glow go through me when I read your tacit confession that something has happened. I’m glad, love, really glad for your sake, as I could show you if only I were home. I shall miss not being with you at a time like this just to keep an eye on you and to watch you don’t overdo things. You won’t have me to pull your big toe back for you, will you? Poor old girl. I shall miss you and think of you more than ever. What I hate about being away is that I shall miss that intimacy which even we only enjoy during that period and for that reason I shall feel, perhaps for a short time, that I don’t know this one as well as I knew Wendy and Michael in their pre-natal tempers!
And don’t go laying down alternatives. I’m the one to do that! Maybe you are going to keep on with the plot – we’ll see. In any case, most of your time will occur when there’s not a lot of heavy work to be done in the plot and as soon as you have been delivered you can spring from bed and start delving into Mother Earth like hell!
However, we’ll see what Doc Rees has to say about that. Will you also promise me that you will ask for his opinion, without making any effort to bias his reply, as to which he thinks is best – a baby at home or a baby in a nursing home? Promise?
Now, it is no good me saying that I’m not going to worry, is it? You know as well as I do that as time goes on I will worry both about you and about the financial side of things, for all your airy dismissal of items like a pram. What chance of Chris’s? This and a lot of other things, such as sleeping arrangements, you can answer in detail when things are more definite. I take it you will be going to see Rees either just before or just after holidays?
Anyway, the last thing you have got to worry about is working like hell to cover expenses. I don’t want you in a mental turmoil over things like that. We have been in bad jams before and I’ve no doubt we shall get over this one. How will you be fixed for warm clothing that will mask your figure sufficiently in the winter? Once you are certain about things you’ll have to write and let me know all you have on your mind and what your plans are for various things.
I’d already made mental plans about writing to Wales and as it is in such an out-of-the-way spot I’ll have a margin of five days to make sure, especially with Michael’s birthday. If I didn’t acknowledge receipt of that address I do so now with apologies. Perhaps you, too, will apologise and let me know if that ration card turned up? Only about the 1000th query!
Well, sweetheart, that’s about all the news today except that I love you tremendously and I’ll be thinking of you more than ever. More than ever I’ll mean it when I say “take care of yourself”. Please do take care, and, for the love of Mike, no more falling down stairs. I’ll be scared stiff about that now! You are an awkward devil, you know, and Wendy takes after you!
More Wrens take up duty here tomorrow so this place will start going to the dogs and I shall be glad if we move on elsewhere, as I’ve no doubt we will sooner or later. I hadn’t realised until the first of them came that this was one of the reasons why I’ve quite enjoyed the working atmosphere here, which has been quite good. In fact nobody bothers us at all, which is always an asset.
Dearest, I must leave you. Write soon and put me out of my agony, won’t you? I’ll settle down better when I have some definite news. When will you tell the children? Not before you tell me, I hope. I wouldn’t stand for that! Look after yourself properly, angel, and see what Rees thinks about another course of anaemia injections. All my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Normandy
Dearest,
I’m finding it rather difficult to write letters just now as I have had no letters from you since Monday so that I cannot fill up my letters by answering yours. And to make things still more difficult there is no news, at least none that would pass the censor! We get so little chance to get away from this dump that I see little, if anything, that is new. Twice in the last couple of days I’ve asked about us getting a stand-off, but nothing has happened yet. If we can get an afternoon watch washed out some time, we will have from noon until ten o’clock free which will give us a chance to get to one or two places along the coast, which will be a great help. There’s one town I particularly want to see. And on this topic, the lads have had one thought since the liberation of Paris – how long before we get a weekend off or a chance to go there for a few hours. Short of leave, that seems to be the ruling idea in the heads of almost everyone, from officers down to all the ratings. It certainly would be a good stunt if we can manage it, though I have no doubt that it would cost us a bit.
One thing I have meant to tell you before is that there is plenty of fresh butter here and just before we got here the lads used to send tins of it home, but that has all been stopped now. Funny how things always seem to come unstuck as soon as I arrive at a place. They have also stopped the lads sending chocolate and sweets home, largely because they were sending home the vitamin chocolate and glucose sweets out of their “compo” rations! However, I’m going to pay a visit to the fleet mail office as soon as I get a chance and I will let you know then what, if anything, I can send. Just in case there is anything useful which can be sent – I suspect officialdom will come down heavily on anything that is in short supply at home – you had better let me know what you want – cosmetics, ribbons, elastic (for God’s sake don’t ask for stockings) and anything else you can think may be useful. Now don’t forget – let me know soon so I can keep my eyes open! I have only suggested these things because they are all I can think of off hand. With an eye to Xmas I’ve had a look round the few shops here, but there is nothing at all that is suitable in the way of toys. Now I must be away. All my love, dear.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Saturday
Normandy
Dearest,
How now, love? Yesterday I went down to the beach for a couple of hours and after a swim lay in my birthday suit daydreaming of you and of home and how nice it would be to lounge in the Freshfield sandhills with you in this glorious scorching sunshine. There are no sandhills here worth the name, just a faint rise in the land behind which is a light single line railway – like all French things, PAP – and between the railway and the sea all kinds of Jerry posts which must have made landing a bit sticky. Now our lads are living in them. This place must look funny to the French who knew it in peacetime. It’s littered with pill boxes, rusty barbed wire so familiar at home, a rough road along the beach itself, and dozens of amphibious craft of all kinds so that the whole place looks like some Wellsian phantasy as all kinds of vehicles you have never seen come rolling down the roads, straight on to the beach and into the water. Michael would love it! The lads are saved the trouble of wading out in search of deep water if they feel like climbing on one of these and then diving off. Here and there on the beach, but surprisingly few here, you’ll find a wrecked landing craft, more of them victims of the big storm than enemy fire and on each of them you’ll find a little crowd of fellows sunbathing. The water is glorious. Sand-coloured near the beach where it is shallow, and deep Mediterranean blue out where the bigger ships are. Up above a deep blue sky, white flecked and patrolled by our own planes. Despite war-wrecked buildings and craft it is a lovely sight and a real treat after Trafalgar Square, the Strand, Whitehall and the Waterloo area near the Union Jack Club! After being uncertain for a few days, in which time we had heavy rain, the weather seems settled again and since we came here I have fairly soaked up the sunshine which will, I hope, stand me in good stead during the winter.
When we were being kitted up here I could not get any boots small enough for me from the Marines store, but had to wait until our own opened. I got a pair of sevens today and I’ll have to go three miles with them to see if I can get them changed! I’ll need something heavier if we get any bad weather for I’m ruining these lighter ones on these hard roads.
While I was in “town” this afternoon I got some of those 3d air letters so I’ll write Jane and incidentally did you see a note in the Press this week saying that this airmail facility is to be extended to civvies in the UK and that airgraphs are coming down to 3d instead of 8d? That will make a big difference.
A Royal Marine band has arrived here and is to give a concert in the camp tonight, but I’ll be on watch. There was a hell of a drip when they arrived, for they were served out with camp beds. You should have heard the lads who have been here since D-Day and still have no beds despite repeated applications! Did somebody’s ears burn? Ah well…
I didn’t tell you, did I, that I went to one of the French classes here, but it was a bit advanced for me. It is taken by a woman who looks like the village school teacher. She’s probably in her late thirties and she is very patient. As her English is a wee bit shaky she is getting some benefit from it herself. Once more I found that I could read most of the stuff she put on the board though, as usual, I was a bit shaky on tense of verbs. That is where I’d benefit from it though I feel what I really want is practice in conversational French with someone really patient. I’ll have to find me a cow-like m’selle! But not too cow-like, eh? Perhaps when we get our move, which everyone is convinced is in the offing, we’ll find ourselves somewhere where we can get a bit more practice. I wish they’d choose somewhere like the recently captured Deauville, but I suppose it would never do to have common sailors wintering in the playgrounds of the rich! However, we’ll see. And on this subject of moves, the buzz that there was about leave and which at the time seemed genuine enough has now given way to another – that there’s to be no leave for weeks and weeks yet! So that is definitely that.
If you find a smudge on one of these pages it will be the death mark of a fly. They are an absolute plague and I wish I had a tail!
One thing I meant to ask you was whether or not we had a French grammar book. I know I had a part one or part two Heath’s. Will you look through the bookcase and if there is one will you send it on, please? Failing that, you might get one at that second-hand shop of yours in Mount Pleasant. I’d be glad if you could try for me. I can get an occasional French newspaper and can read a good deal of it to my own satisfaction – which means I can make out the sense of things – but I could do with something more constructional such as a part one grammar or one of the phrase books. If you can’t find anything, will you mention it to Eric as he asked me to let him know if there was anything I needed!
Oh, I’d better warn you that you may find a gap in your letters occasionally as we have managed to get some time off. Twice a week we will be free from about noon until 10pm which will give us a chance to float about a bit. Though I won’t be able to tell you where I go, of course, I should find a few things of interest in my travels. Of course, it all depends on where I can get to. My first jaunt will be on Sunday, but even if I can get into one of the towns I suppose most of the shops will be shut, though I am hoping to get Michael’s birthday card.
While I remember, my inward mail is NOT censored.
And now my pen has run out and that is all the news there is for today, so bye for now and look after yourself properly. All my love to you and the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Sunday
Normandy
Poor Old Girl!
You are in the wars lately, aren’t you? First stagnant, then stung by a wasp and now dragged all over the place by the dentist. And no-one to comfort you! I’m so sorry, love, but was glad to see from your footnote that you are feeling better. Has all the soreness gone from your jaw now? I hope it has and that you are really feeling better now. I know I’m making my appeal at what is, to say the least, a rather difficult time, but is there any chance of you reconsidering your decision and having the others out a couple at a time? Rutter wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t think they should come out, I’m sure, and in the long run I think you will find it easier to get used to a full plate than one that is just anchored to the others. Most people seem to find a full plate easier than a half plate, because with the latter it is so fatally easy to manage with your own few teeth. You leave them out for a couple of hours, that develops into a day or two, then a week and finally they finish up in the bathroom cabinet or a dressing table drawer along with other things! If you feel you possibly could manage it, I should have them done now and finished with because if, due to your “condition”, the others suddenly go you won’t be in anything like the state to stand up to it for at least another year or eighteen months. Your teeth undoubtedly began to break up from the time Wendy was on the way, didn’t they? I’d like you to get this cleared up now, but I’ll leave it with you and, in any case, you have no idea what a relief it is to me to know that you have tackled this matter and your eyes. Already this little beggar has developed a virtuous halo for his/her persuasive powers. I’ve no violent likes and dislikes on the subject, but I hope this is a boy, if only because he may tend to “spoil” Wendy instead of plaguing her as Michael does, the young devil! Please, love, promise now not to let Wendy develop into a “little Mother”! I’ve strong feelings on the subject though I, personally, have every reason to be very grateful to Jane for all she did for me as a child. Still, I often think her own life was more than a little cramped through me, you know.
A page a tooth. Couldn’t do better if I was free-lancing, could I? By the way, my usual warning. If you are going in for multiple births, please do the job in a big way and let’s have quins. They’d make a film of you at Walton Hospital. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Before I forget, I think Rutter is very reasonable indeed. When you get the bill paid it might be worth ringing Hughie to ask if the office scheme covers any of that expense.
This letter came in two days and is numbered 10. If that number is right, then there’s still a letter missing. I’ll let you know if it turns up in the next day or two, as it might easily do.
By the same post as your letter I had one from Jack Gray, who has news of several of the lads. Tom and George (custard powder) got a sudden draft and are either in France or on their way. Jack didn’t see Tom before he left so could not be very explicit. Robin Ever and Mic[??] Carthy are loafing in Chatham though two drafts for Gib have gone in the many weeks they have been there. Alex Stevens, who was with me in Dover, has gone to Murmansk! Tom and George, by the way, had to go to barracks so that does not sound like a loan draft! Still, it probably means they are safe for the duration. What I can’t understand is where they found the other A/Ms for the Gib drafts, for neither Robin nor Mic[??] has had a foreign draft yet and Robin’s been in over three years. He was at Whitehall before me and before becoming an A/M he did a year’s training as a sparker! Still, he’s one of the fellows you don’t begrudge having a lucky break. He would have been very useful here because he knows French well and is too shy to speak to foreigners at home, but we could soon have had him at it here, if only to help us out of difficulties. For all that, I wish now that Tom had swapped with Dalton. We would have done some deals here, but Dalton’s dead from the knees up. He had a day off today, but wouldn’t go further than the NAAFI pictures because he doesn’t like going out on his own! He used to follow me round like a lamb when we were both off and even came to the lavatory every time I went!
Now I think that’s all for today and I’m in rather a rush to get out for the day. Cheers, and all my love to you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Wednesday
Normandy
Dearest,
I think I answered all your points in letter no. 9, but what I didn’t say was “congrats” on the 5 guineas from Hulton’s. Nice going, love. I was sorry H.L.B. came home to roost again after being away so long and I only hope you hadn’t begun to bank on the money from it. I’m sorry to say I can’t remember what it was you sent to ‘Woman & Beauty’, nor how long ago. Do you think you have “clicked” there, too? I hope so.
I didn’t notice that Michael’s letter was particularly dirty – in fact I don’t think it is, for I never expect to see paper a child has used really spotless. I thought his writing still very good, even if his spelling is a bit shaky. I had hoped my letters to him would have made him take an interest in his reading. Do you think it would shake him up if I began sending his letters for you to read again? They would lose the feeling of being his letters, I think. Let me know what you think about this idea. You won’t be able to do so in your next letter or rather before his birthday, so I’ll send that one as usual and then make a reversion to the old idea of writing them for you to read to him. I’m not going to waste my time on that laborious script if he is too lazy to learn to read. I’m convinced it IS only mental laziness with him and NOT mental incapacity. He is one of the laziest little beggars I know and Wendy, in her open handed way, has helped to spoil him. She does far too much for him, you know. Michael has the ability to absorb detail, as is shown by his drawings, some of which are very good indeed. If he doesn’t buck up soon I’ll have a go at him and then he will wonder just what has happened! You will be too busy this coming winter to want to spend a lot of time on things like that.
Letter 11. Your weather seems much more unsettled than ours. We had three days of broken weather including really heavy rain, and then things settled down again. I’d just written that when I looked out of the window and found it’s raining now! I wonder what sort of weather you are having on holiday? And what the digs are like. I am looking forward to hearing about it all, and to hearing that you are enjoying the change. You are almost certain to find it cooler there, if only because of the hills. The children will probably be astounded by the hills. Your hopes that I’ll be home while you are still “respectable” are hardly likely to be realised, from what we hear, though again we don’t know if leave will affect us, as we don’t know whether or not we are here permanently or on loan. However, when I do come home, get a couple of pairs of kippers and we’ll develop a thirst together which we will satisfy whether you are “respectable” or not, even if we have to get some beer in. That, of course, is providing you don’t become allergic to drink as you did before.
From what you say in this letter I take it that Mrs Gardner knows all about your “hopes”! If Mrs Smith gets to know, you may find half the road knows before another week or two has gone. What about Chris’s pram? Christian will be in a small pram by then, won’t he? If you do have a woman in, what will you do about sleeping accommodation? If you can get a small electric fire, get hold of it and get a two-way plug for the lamp in Wendy’s room and then one of the children could go back in there with the fire on for half an hour every day in the winter and a hot water bottle in the bed at night. Then the woman could go into the back room with the other child, Wendy or Michael, as the case may be.
Reverting to the pram question for just a moment, if for some reason or other Chris’s is out of the question, why not ask Harry Steele to keep his ears open for you? He is just the sort of lad to hear of something to suit you and he has always been very good, hasn’t he? Failing that, would the bloke in the road who is in the trade get one at cost for you? Vic Slack might know someone in the trade, too. They may even have Muriel’s.
What a pity you didn’t ask Rees in while he was on the spot! It would have saved you a journey and he probably would have been able to tell you just as much now as he will in a week or ten days.
By the way, I see the envelope you used to me was one Lilian had sent you. What happened about the Southport trip? I know you didn’t go, but what was the explanation about the phone and have you made any definite arrangement about going later?
This ink, by the way, is some left behind by Jerry and it’s deadly stuff for writing with as it clogs up a pen very quickly indeed. I’ll go back to good old Stephens when my pen is empty again.
As I told you, I went to a neighbouring town on Sunday, hitch-hiking the 19 miles quite easily. This place is, probably, about the size of Crosby excluding Seaforth – perhaps not quite so big. It’s difficult to tell, really. It’s a funny place, with a big square in one corner of which are sheep and pig pens. All the roads are narrow and some of the buildings are a bit like those in Chester or Shrewsbury. The place was alive with Allied troops but so far as I was able to discover there was no service canteen open when I got here soon after three and, of course, no pub so I had to be content with an apology for lemonade at 5 francs a bottle. Sheer robbery, for it was only coloured water. Everything is “interdit” (forbidden) to the troops – the purchase of butter, meat, cheese, eggs, bread, flour, clothes, materials, shoes, everything. It was interdit for cafe and restaurant owners to sell meals to us and hours for drinking were restricted to 12 to 2 and 6 to 9. I wasn’t there during permitted hours, having got browned off long before then, so I don’t know what drink, if any, there is on sale these days. Personally I think it will all have disappeared – certainly the cognac and decent wines have – though there may be a little local cider still to be had at absurd prices. Local wines are still to be had, I think, if you are known in the local black market. However, I was telling you about this town. Here and there you’d see refugees returning on foot and carrying, or wheeling in a pram, their pathetic little parcels of family treasures and every member of the family would have some bundle or case. There were not may of these refugees, for so far as I could see there had been little need to evacuate it. I couldn’t see any evidence of any shelling or bombing. Incidentally, I was able to read a notice from the Mayor of Caen appealing to refugees from there to return as quickly as possible. “We can do nothing without you,” he said. I was very proud of that achievement! I wandered about the place a bit and one thing that struck me was how dark the homes of the workers are. You step from the street into a low square kitchen and even with the door open it seems impossible to see in the place. And all the houses seem grossly over-populated! Here, as in Scotland, even though this is by no means a big town, the French seen very keen on living in flats, even quite small blocks of them. In one place there was quite a solid block of big tenements marked with the Red Cross and presumably used by Jerry as a hospital. There were concierges in several parts of the building and a tablet in the entrance arch in memory of some famous doctor. In the courtyard were groups of depressed women of the Liverpool Mary Ellen type! The funny thing is that behind ordinary streets of houses you will see quite nice smart villas which looked really inviting. I have noticed them here tucked away behind rows of houses and small shops and yet there is no apparent method of approach! It’s most mystifying!
The streets of this mysterious town which must remain nameless are, as I say, quite narrow, much narrower than you would meet in any but the oldest towns in England. Even the main street, which was jammed with Allied soldiers of all nations. I found some humour in watching an American negro struggling with a French phrase book as he eyed the French girls up and down hopefully. Most of the houses and shops had the tricolour hanging out so, looking down the long narrow main street you saw thousands of servicemen walking under a gaily coloured arch. The people here seemed a little more friendly and it was an American negro who struck the first real response from them I have seen. He began to strum a huge guitar and immediately hands popped out of windows, doors opened and there were broad smiles everywhere. It was only then that it struck me that we are probably far too solemn for these volatile people. They may consider us surly, just as 95% of our fellows seem to consider them unfriendly.
I paid a visit to the cathedral, a really lovely place where I should have liked a guide, but there was no sign whatever of one, though lots of soldiers were wandering about inside. Again I had a sort of mental shock for there was nothing in the way of a porch. You step through the door and you are right in the body of the cathedral. There is some lovely stained glass and, of course, quite a lot of altars bearing jewels etc, though I expect the majority of the most valuable have, like the tapestry, been moved for safety. (That is better, I’ve got some Christian ink in my pen now.) I was sorry the tapestry was missing for I would have liked to see it. I remember seeing some lovely tapestries at Hampton Court. With all these places, however, you need a local guide who knows the history of the places. This is undoubtedly a glorious place, but beyond the fact that there was one tablet to a bishop of the middle 12th century there was no indication of historical connections at all. There was, of course, a chapel to St Jeanne d’Arc. But whether she had any real local associations (I won’t say connections!) I don’t know and the only shop which might have helped (a book shop) was closed, of course. However, if I go down there again I’ll try to do so when the shops are open.
Well, love, this isn’t a very coherent account of the place, I’m afraid. There is quite a good shopping centre there and some of the shops still have lovely women’s clothes, but these would have been taboo even if the shops had been open. And things like silk stockings, even if there were any, would have been absolutely prohibitive. I should have loved to get hold of a roll of silk I saw which looked a bit like wedding dress material. It would have made a lovely evening gown for when we get back to civilised times again. I could just see you in it. You did look nice, sweetheart!
Well, now I really must leave you. Once more, have a nice holiday and loaf all you can for you won’t have a lot of chance to loaf this time next year!
All my love to you, angel, and tell the children I hope they have a nice holiday.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Normandy
Dearest,
Today I’m going on a jaunt to see if I can find a pair of boots that will fit me and at the same time find a postcard for Michael, so I’m making an early start on this letter so you won’t be entirely without. Today I searched every shop in this place, but without luck, saying “Avez vous un carte de naissance (or anniversaire) s’il vous plait”, but always the reply was “Les cartes finis completement” and that was that! By the way, while I remember, if you have not already sent it off, don’t send me that French book or any other parcel until I tell you, as our future seems a bit uncertain at the moment and while our mail will probably catch us up, parcels are better not floating about if it can be avoided. I know nothing definite, but I have a feeling we will move.
I was surprised to find your letter no. 8 (21st Aug) had not been replied to. It was the one the day the children went back to school – the start of another school year. Which reminds me. When Michael says he is in class three, does that mean he has skipped a class? And what class is Wendy in?
It would be Mrs Townsend who discovered about the plot, wouldn’t it? I don’t like the idea of Littlewoods coal! Even though it will keep down the weeds and provide shelter from the wind, a coal dump is not ideal, is it? If they do decide on it, however, will you try bribing some of their labourers to see if they will move our bank by the fence and bury it or just scatter it on the coal site? If they will, just lift two or three of the rasps and cut the old wood out, then when the bank has gone, replant them. If you get a fence along that side it will save you moving the rhubarb, for your friends the slugs will have departed then. I’d like to be home when that is being done. Has it occurred to you that with two fences like that we would only have to make a front and one side as well as a roof for a green house, the snag being, of course, that the wooden sides would be just the sunniest sides! Actually, the best thing along the top bank would be a hen run! Now that would appeal to you, wouldn’t it? Those are all the points I needed to answer, I think, so now I’ll answer your last letter (no. 12). No letter today, by the way, but I’m getting used to odd days missing, for the post has gone funny again and this took four days to come.
Thanks for telling me about Lilian’s letter and about Michael’s fondness for the station. Hope these little inquiries of mine don’t irritate you, but with being away I don’t know quite what their reactions are. In view of impending events, I think the idea of a long-clothes doll would be very popular with Wendy! I had a look at some French dolls today in my travels and found them pretty dull at 10/– each. Jointed shoulders but stiff legs and paper clothes as well as paper “hair”. They had some quite big sailing boats, properly rigged and a good job altogether for 15/–, but the trouble would be to get it home safely, especially if I had to carry it about with me very much. What I’m really looking for are small easily transportable things.
Dearest, if I should be home again I should, you know, still be very rude about the covered wagon and would have the advantage of training the children up, too! I’d have you on the spot alright.
I’m sorry about the pram, but you are wise in getting in early about Mrs Harley’s, if it is a good one. You can tell me about the other some time. Our ideas evidently tally about the use of the little front room, so tap Eric, innocently, some time to see if he has a spare electric fire anywhere. All you need for that room is quite a small bowl fire. I don’t think they are dear new, even now.
No, love, no cot in the bedroom. If it is a girl, Wendy and baby in back room, as they will be able to continue. If it is a boy, Michael’s there for the same reason. Later we’ll get another utility bed and whoever has the front room has the “odd” single bed. We really must get those bedrooms furnished. The very first thing I will try to make is a big ottoman to fit under the window in their room.
I was glad to have your ideas about clothes and I agree about the brown coat, providing you have warm – really warm – clothes underneath it. As you say, the brown coat doesn’t owe us anything! It’s probably the best buy I ever made. How many years is it now? Four? It will be nice to see you in smocks again. Quite a familiar sight! And I always have an affection for those smocks. I really have.
Be careful about what you eat now, sweetheart, for there’s no point in tempting fate you know. I thought of you yesterday. One of the lads came off the field rolling in agony. Cramp! We got his boot off and I pulled his toe as near to his knee as I could get it. The cure worked and I walked nonchalantly off amid the admiring glances of the crowd! They didn’t know how near I came to throwing a blanket over my head to complete the illusion!
Does May know anything yet, by the way? Let me know when it is general knowledge, won’t you? May was absolutely “solid” not to have claimed from the Corporation, though your account of a piece of iron flying from a tramcar is not very clear. How did it happen and where was the piece of iron from?
I don’t know how to explain our “success” really. The Dover air explanation is probably that there I got a bit of fairly regular exercise after sitting for so long in the dungeons of Whitehall which is sufficient to make a rabbit sterile!
Now I have answered your letters pretty fully and there is little other news. Last night we went out trying to get a drink of milk, but soon gathered that it is all reserved for the babies. So we set out to find some cognac, only to discover that it is was too late but that we could purchase tonight, as a very great favour, three bottles of cognac at 700 francs a bottle (£3-10!). At first I thought he meant 700 francs for the lot, which would still have been well above pre-war price. I must tell Jack Haslett about that in a letter I’m writing to him, for he’ll be interested to hear of the modern serviceman’s reactions to the France he knew in the last war. Though I doubt if many British soldiers knew much of Normandy. Flanders was more their stamping ground and the international atmosphere was very different, too.
Well, sweetheart, I think that’s about all the news except that in support of your statement about France being primitive, we saw a bullock hauling a cart through the streets today! If ever we get to Belgium, I expect we will still find dogs used as light beasts of burden. It seemed so odd seeing this almost biblical beast ambling through the narrow street, shoulders down and a thick leather harness pad on its head. Incidentally, it had on light metal “shoes”, a thing I never thought of. And that, love, is another sidelight on life in Normandy for you.
Now I think I have exhausted all my news. I may see something new later when I go in search of boots, but as I believe it is another small town not unlike this one, I doubt it. I’ll let you know how I fare tomorrow.
Now I must be off. All my love to you, dearest. Hope you are OK.
Ever your own,
Arthur X