Friday
Cookham
Darling,
Being very superstitious, all the lads here have their fingers crossed, for drafts at any time are not too popular, but on Friday 13th they are even less popular. There is absolutely no news of any move for us yet and the feeling is growing that we will be here for weeks yet.
Last night, as you know by now, I went to London and eventually did find Dot and Jack, but even after I found the house – after going all round the world to get there – I very nearly came away. I rang and rang the only bell on the door and it was only the fact that I set the dog barking that I eventually did get an answer. They were very glad to see me for they had been expecting me for the past fortnight. With messing about, as I did, it was eight o’clock when I got there and we did not get to bed until one o’clock. As I had to be up at 4.45 to catch the first train, we didn’t get too much sleep.
Saturday
That was the most I could get done yesterday, for I was on duty from 8.30am until well after 8 at night, half the crowd having gone on long weekend. As we are watch aboard this weekend it looks like being a fairly tough time. Still, next weekend we will finish at 1 o’clock on Friday until 8.15 Monday!
Sweetheart,
After several attempts I’m trying once more to write you. As you will see from the enclosed pencil note [above, dated Friday 13th], I have made more than one effort. Just as I was in the middle of today’s pencil note I got an urgent summons for a draft to WHITEHALL! We go on Monday and will wait there until we get another draft. In some ways I’m glad, for it means we will be doing something definite and I must confess that I have had enough washing up to last me a lifetime. A thousand knives, forks and spoons at every big meal is enough for anyone! Tomorrow I will ring Jack and see if it will be alright with them if I request to billet out with them. That would be very pleasant – much more so than taking a chance on official naval digs. We don’t know, of course, whether we will actually be at Whitehall or at one of the outside stations. If we do go to the latter then we will be well outside London.
While I remember, will you ring Hughie Ross as soon as you get this and tell him not to write me at this address but to hold on until he hears from me? I’ll drop Mother a line tonight and perhaps she will let Bert know. All who did not volunteer for foreign service are going there, by the way, and the other A.M.s who have been here for months are still hanging on. That’s the way things seem to go in this service – and in the others, I suppose. Life has been fairly pleasant while we have been here, despite the long hours of this job, for the weather has been beautiful – ideal autumn weather, with bright days and nice clear starry nights when it would have been delightful to walk for miles, setting the world to rights and winning the war en route, with a pint or two before returning home. And by home I mean home and not a service camp.
Now, many thanks for your two letters which seem to have taken 36 hours to reach here. I suppose that with the big gap between my first letter and this one, you will have been on tenterhooks to know what has happened, but I suddenly realised on Friday that you wouldn’t get my letter until Monday so I hung on to it until I could get down to it seriously. This duty I’m on makes it awkward for writing because even when I have a spare hour I’m so covered in grease from the pantry work that it takes 20 minutes to get cleaned up. From the appearance of the paper you will appreciate that point and I only hope the pencil is legible.
I’m so glad to see by your letters that you are feeling so much more cheerful, but you are still far from feeling strong and I’m glad you are husbanding your strength to the best of your ability. What about seeing Dr Rees again? He might be able to tell you about vapours, or is it too early yet to decide if the miss is only due to the state of your health? I am, of course, presuming that they have failed to materialise yet as there has been no mention of them in your letters. I forgot to say “thank you” for your thought in writing me for Thursday, and even though it didn’t arrive until Friday I liked the thought very much indeed. You are an angel, darling, and you were braver when I came away this time than ever before. You have no idea what that means to me.
Well, darling, I don’t think there is a great deal more to be said except of course, that I’m still crazy about you. Every time I come home you mean more and more to me and I think I appreciate that much more when you are off colour than at any other time. And that is saying something!
Give my love to the children and let Michael know that I do appreciate that he is doing his best to help you. By the way, he promised to get coal in every night for you and Wendy promised to get the chips each day in her dinner hour or as soon as she came home from school in the afternoon. Try to keep them up to it because it will make them feel they are doing something really concrete to help and, if possible, don’t give them another job to do until they have done that.
Now darling, I’m off. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright in London, or even if we go outside the city. As soon as possible I’ll let you know all the news but there may be an interval of a day or two in my letters because goodness knows how we will be messed about on Monday. The thing to remember is that they evidently think we will be in this country long enough to make it worth while sending us down to the Admiralty. The only fellow I have met here who was at Whitehall was there for over two months waiting for draft and never got one because he went into hospital. He has been here for many weeks – they seem to have forgotten about him. So you see there’s nothing to worry about.
Bye for now, sweetheart. I hope you will be heaps better by the time you get this. Do take care of yourself. All my love, angel. I do love you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X