From Arthur to Stella: ‘I’m going to Devonport for another course’

Jul 031942
 

Friday
On the train
Dearest,
If your experience on the train was anything like this, I’m sorry for you. We’re near Edinburgh at the moment and there are some people who have been standing since we left Aberdeen. In the same compartment as us is a woman with two little girls, one about a year younger than Michael and the other about Wendy’s age.
Saturday
At that point I had to stop for the younger child kept banging my elbow and an hour later I was persuading the other to go to sleep on my knees. This woman had the heart of a lion taking both children on her own to Dover from Aberdeen. Her husband is billeted there and they are staying three months – all the holiday. Not what I would call a health resort and by no means a wise journey these days for some people had to stand all the way from Aberdeen to King’s Cross – just 14 hours! I wired Jack and Dot telling them the time I’d be there but I didn’t see either of them at the station, which was a pity for we were in London from 8am to 1.30 and out of that time I could have wangled a couple of hours.
About this sudden change. Evidently there is a new ruling that unless you are sure to get through in 20 weeks at the most you have to be sent back to your base for re-drafting. I shouldn’t say anything to anyone yet if you can help it because I may be home soon, but if you find things difficult, just say I’m going to Devonport for another course. With anything like luck I should be home by next week, which brings us to an important point – what about vapours? I didn’t receive a letter from you on Friday before I left so there may have been a reference to it in that. Whatever else you do, for God’s sake don’t have vapours while I’m home. That would ruin things.
This, as you will guess, is also being written on the train, this time the 1.30 from Paddington to Plymouth – a mere five-and-a-half hours! Just a few minutes ago, incidentally, we passed through Reading. We did a good wangle at Paddington by getting the R.T.O. to give us labels “Reserved for Naval Party” for two carriages, which was pretty good going as there were originally only seven of us in the party, but a few more sailors came along and were glad of a seat in such crowded trains. One of them is a C.P.O. just back from three-and-a-half years foreign service and he is on his way to Plymouth to be married. He’s what you’d call a real sailor – does he hate the Yanks!

Sunday 5 July
Devonport
Yes, eventually we made it after 26 hours travelling. I had the big thrill (?) of slinging my hammock and sleeping in it for the first time – and was I ready for it! I’m told the barracks gets a bad name, but so far it hasn’t been too bad from the point of view of discipline but comfort is almost non-existent. We sling our hammocks from iron bars in the “mess” and theoretically they are supposed to be lashed and stored by 7am but they are not very keen on that. Breakfast is 8–9, dinner 11.30 to 12.30, and tea 3.30–4.30. Supper at 6.30–7.30. The great snag is that there is nowhere to put your clothes at night, the prevailing custom being to make a pillow of them.
Still, as I suppose this is the general idea on board ship I suppose it’s better to serve an apprenticeship on dry land. Feeding is rather tough and the grub not anything to be compared with Skegness or private billets. Life seems to be taken fairly easily here and I haven’t seen very much of the stern discipline of which we have heard so much.
So far today we have done very little. Breakfast and then into the office to have our particulars taken down, then on to the doctor and the dentist, which meant we missed church. The dentist is sending up to Aberdeen for my dentures which I tried in there on Friday morning just before I came away. They have to be altered because something was wrong with the bite.
We have made inquiries about leave and we are told nothing can be done until after we have seen the Training Commander tomorrow and settled just what course we will have to take now. The odds seem to be all in favour of coding according to several tels who are here and have been fixed up for that course. There is no telling where we will go for training yet so I can’t give you any definite news except that leave in the near future seems pretty certain. It may be in a week, it may be less, it may be in a fortnight, but if it is going to be that long I’ll let you know. My address here is O/Tel AJ O/Jx342517, Mess E100 T.D., R.N. Barracks, Devonport.
I have made arrangements with Percy to forward any letters which may come for me, so will you keep them until I come home? He is also going to send you the towels and serge and one or two small items and also my oscillator.
I think that’s about all the news at the moment, except of course that I’m still in love with you. So get the evidence in good trim for we’ll need it, providing you arrange vapours intelligently, so I’m relying on you.
Somehow this letter “feels” strange but, for that matter so do I! I’m not fully conscious yet, although I may feel better when I get another night’s decent sleep. Bye for now, love.
All my love, angel.
Ever your
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘the Training Commander decided I’m God’s gift to the Coding Dept’

Jul 061942
 

Monday
Devonport
Darling,
We’re back to the good old Skegness days of hanging about. After getting up about 7, we have done nothing but waste an hour or two in the place where they dish out kit to new arrivals and then we went to see the Training Commander who decided that I’m God’s gift to the Coding Dept. So I’m going to be a coder in the near future. The lads here – or at least one of them who has completed the course – says we will probably go to a place near Gloucester, but that we will not be there long as the school there is to be used for another course and the coders are said to be moving – guess where? WARRINGTON! That will be OK if it’s true but, as you know, there is no sense in taking for granted the rumours one hears. For one thing it is not at all certain that we’ll go to Gloucester for the course. We may go to Bristol or even to Lowestoft. So the future is still a matter of speculation. There is no definite news of leave, but there seems little doubt we will get some. The only question is when and for how long, but it should be at least seven days according to all the precedents I can find here.
We spent a very pleasant time exploring the front at Plymouth, which is only a few minutes away from here on the bus. Put Plymouth on the list of “possible” holiday places after the war. It is the best place I have seen for making full use of the natural beauties of the place for creating swimming pools, paddling pools, sunbathing nooks, terraces where tea is served, etc. I’ll tell you about it when I come home (blessed phrase)!
Now if I’m to catch the post I’ll have to close. I’ll be seeing you soon, darling, and do miss your letters. Fancy, I’ve not had one since Thursday! And I don’t suppose I’ll get one for a day or two yet. Bye for now, angel, and take care of yourself. I love you.
All yours,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘we spent the afternoon in traditional naval fashion, hiding in odd corners’

Jul 171942
 

Friday
Devonport
Darling,
As you will see from the paper, I haven’t completely lost my touch as a scrounger. I managed to get hold of a couple of pads and a notebook in case we go on this course and find we have to buy our own, which was the case at Aberdeen. On the train journey I was lucky enough to find a carriage where four people and a boy were doing their best to keep a whole compartment to themselves. I settled in there and soon after leaving Liverpool out went the lights and we all managed to get a few hours’ sleep, but sleep in a railway coach is not very refreshing, especially when there’s a draft blowing on one side of your neck! What with just leaving home and having a cold, I must confess I don’t feel quite on top of the world today. Tomorrow I’ll go to sick bay and get some dope inside me. I’ll probably feel a good deal better after a sleep and some treatment.
We got a through train again and got here – in barracks that is – before 12.30 which was quite good. I didn’t find any of the lads on the train but they were all back within an hour of each other and we have spent this afternoon in traditional naval fashion, hiding ourselves in odd corners and getting our gear out of store. I hear, by the way, that two or three more lads have followed the Aberdeen–Devonport trail but they have gone on leave today and apparently left just before we got in. Harry Forman and Ray Greatham [??] (the bloke who went on compassionate leave) have both gone to HMS Caballa, so we are finding our ranks dwindling, especially as some of the lads who came down here with me are going in for different courses and were on draft within a couple of hours of getting here. We will probably be gone before the other lads come back from leave.
Well, darling, there’s not a lot of real news just now but I wanted to drop you a note as soon as I could, because perhaps I didn’t mention the fact that I love you. Oh, precious, I do hope you are feeling less “bluey” by the time you get this. A thousand thanks, darling, for all you did to make the leave worthwhile. It was certainly not your fault that things went awry on occasion and the best times of the leave were spent with you. Many thanks for all the nice things you did and said. It meant everything to me. And don’t forget, there’s only a few weeks to go! And, remembering that, see to it that vapours are right on schedule!
How is Wendy? I do hope she’s better. If she goes on improving as she was doing, she should be alright by the end of the week. Get out all you can, now, and get sunshine stored up in your system for the winter.
Now I must be off to catch the post. My love to Wendy and Michael. I hope he is behaving himself as well as while I was at home. Bye, my precious, I do love you.
All my love, darling. Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘my teeth have not yet arrived’

Jul 181942
 

Saturday
Devonport
My darling,
Things are much better today. I took a couple of aspirins last night and, apart from an abortive siren in the middle of the night, had a long sleep which did me the world of good. This morning I took one look at sick bay and gave it up in despair. I was late getting there and the place was absolutely jammed with fellows. I would have been there all morning. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll make another effort and try to get there early. Anyway, we’ll see. My teeth have not yet arrived and I have to go again on Monday morning at 9.30 so that I can see the Commander. Apparently they cannot write a letter asking Aberdeen to forward my plates without the Commander saying so. As the said gent is away for the weekend, I have to wait until he comes back. Isn’t that bright?
Excuse this crumpled sheet but I had written the first side and put it inside the pad in my respirator and somehow it came out and got all messed up. To hell with poverty, I’ll start another sheet.
I have done a few things today which needed doing. I began by helping scrub out the mess and that finished my “work” for the day so I did some washing before dinner. Then I got a letter off to Dot and an airgraph to Jane. Have you written her lately, by the way? When you do, will you send her a snap? That is, of course, if you write airmail and not airgraph. I’m trying to catch up with some arrears of correspondence and yesterday got a letter away to Percy. The lads will be away from there in about a fortnight so if I’m to write Ralph and Frank I’ll have to be quick. That’s another thing about Cabbala, I should get a bit more time for writing. I love getting letters but can’t hope to receive them if I don’t send them and, apart from Hughie Ross, I’ve no really regular correspondents. I’m not including, of course, a certain young woman who occasionally drops me a line! Bless her. What I’d do without those letters, I don’t know.
I’m still worried about leave being such a flop for you, darling. Although I know it’s silly, I feel I’m responsible. First of all it was my Mother who started the leave off on such a bright note. Friday night was very pleasant and I’m only sorry now we didn’t go out on Thursday night, nice as it was to have a quiet night in the house. When we do get a weekend we will make the most of it and nobody can expect to see very much of us. To me it was a treat to be home. You’ve no idea what a feeling it is to get home, put on those old flannels and gardening shoes and toddle off into the garden. I’m sorry I didn’t get all the potatoes hoed up, which is a perfect disgrace considering I was home for a week. There always seem to be so many things left undone. It’s exactly the same after holidays in peacetime. I find it hard to realise that this is my first summer away from home. The ‘D.P.’ office seems so far behind me now. As I have said before, I often wonder just what I will do when this blinking war is over. I know what the sensible thing to do would be, but I don’t know what mood I will be in at the end of the war and, what’s more, there’s no point in speculating about it just now.
This afternoon I went down to the cricket field for an hour to watch a game between our lads and the Marines. It was too chilly to be comfortable, but while I was there I met a very quiet fellow who was at Skegness with us. He came up to Aberdeen able to do about 18 words a minute and only disclosed this at the last minute because he shied at the idea of a monotonous course. The result was that he was sent to an advanced school at Petersfield near Plymouth and is now here waiting draft. He was amazed when I told him of the Aberdeen stunt. One peculiar thing is that from Petersfield they pass out at the end of the course as full tels and there’s a difference in their pay of about 2/- a day.
We are duty watch today and so cannot go ashore, but I don’t think I’ll bother going out tomorrow unless the weather improves. It’s been really cold today and apart from the pictures there isn’t a great deal to do in Plymouth in rotten weather. If it’s still cold I think I’ll go to the pictures in barracks at a cost of 3d! Quite a good programme, too, lasting nearly three hours.
I wonder if it is the same in all the services? This mess is one everlasting question, “has anyone got so and so?” Since I began writing this letter different people have been for the loan of a knife, brush and comb, pencil and a flint for a lighter. It’s like Gilcomston all over again. The worst feature of this place is that people seldom seem to be in residence for more than a week. On our last night here before leave there were 55 fellows in the mess. When we got back there was a completely new crowd in with the exception of two fellows who work in the divisional office and who seem to have found a nice easy number for themselves. It’s funny the way some fellows seem to drift into quiet little backwaters which have no real connection with their original rating. One of the fellows in the office, for instance, failed a mechanics course, and the other was a tel. Goodness knows how long they will be able to last out here, but at the moment it seems the Chief will hang on to them as long as he can if only because they are so useful to him. If he lets them go he will have to start training someone all over again. One great trouble about this place is that you never really get to know people. They’re here today and gone tomorrow. On the other hand, one is continually on the alert for people one might know, such as the fellow I met today. Did I tell you, by the way, that I saw in the baggage store here, when we were getting our own hammocks out, the gear of three fellows from Aberdeen who must have come down while we were on leave? They have probably gone on leave too.
There’s a middle-aged bloke in the mess just now who comes from Liverpool and was in the naval bomb disposal squad there for a long time. In the December blitz his wife and six-months-old baby were killed. He’s always glad of a chance to talk about Liverpool, but his sense of geography so far as our end of the place is concerned is rather wobbly and he is continually confusing Orrell and Ford with Seaforth and Waterloo.
Well, angel girl, that brings me to an end of gossip and there’s very little of real interest to tell you about this place. It’s dead from the word go and I’m already fed up with doing nothing. Thank goodness we are only here for a week. Actually, only four days after the weekend for we will be away bright and early on Friday morning. Another train journey! Still, it will bring me nearer to you. Even if we don’t go to Warrington, and in view of past experiences I’m certainly not banking on it, I’ll be about five or six hours nearer to you at Gloucester. And six hours means a lot, doesn’t it? A quarter of a day and, who knows? In that quarter of an hour I might even sit down on the settee! I suspect you of making that change-over with malice aforethought. What a thought! Well, precious, I’m leaving you now. Hope you are feeling better now. All my love, angel, for I do love you. Look after yourself.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I’ve now renounced all hope of going to sea’

Jul 191942
 

Sunday
Devonport
My darling,
We have had a nice lazy day today. I mean, an even lazier day! The last Sunday we were here we managed to escape divisions and church, but could not avoid it this week and dropped in for an inspection by the Commander but got through without any trouble. He took so long over it that we didn’t get into the cinema for the Meth service until nearly five to eleven and, as dinner is at 11.30 on Sunday, you can imagine the service was badly “butchered”. But even so, they didn’t forget to come round with the collection plate! I’m told they tried the experiment here of making church voluntary, but the church couldn’t take it as the attendance out of many hundreds of men dropped to 25. I thought of what Harold used to say about spud peeling on Sunday mornings. One of the P.O.s said “all denominations but C of E fall out on the roadway”. Off we went and found two notice boards for Church of Scotland and the Meths and United Board. When it was found there was quite a number of R.C.s in with the latter, they were told to fall in on the left and one said “Oh hell, that means more work for the poor R.C.s”, which tickled me in view of what Harold used to say.
We were free to go ashore at one o’clock and for a time toyed with the idea of trying to get in to one of the Plymouth cinemas to try to get in to see ‘How Green Was My Valley’, but after hearing of people waiting two hours or more we decided against it and were feeling that we were doomed to a dull day when I suddenly recalled that Bartlett, who used to work on the ‘B.T.’, lived originally at Saltash. We made inquiries and found it is only a couple of miles away. We walked there and found a funny old chain ferry so we crossed to the other side of the river and there found Saltash to be a weird combination of the ancient and the modern. The old part of the village – a real Elizabethan place – is a typical old fishing village with incredibly narrow streets, some of them with a gradient of one in four or five. A bit further away from the river are several typical Corporation estates. There’s a good deal of semi-tropical flora (de dah!) here and I saw bamboo growing in one garden. A very popular flower is hydrangea, which grows in huge bunches.
After walking for a couple of hours and not being able to find a place where we could get a cup of tea – the pubs were shut – we lay and slept in the sun for an hour before getting back to barracks in time for supper. A much more pleasant day than we expected.

Monday
It was good to have a letter from you again. Although I had made up my mind it was quite out of the question to expect one before today, it seems ages since I saw the familiar writing. I think you have struck the right line about leave. It is, most unfortunately, only an interlude and has to be regarded in that light. To think of it as a permanent state is just madness, for it only invites disaster in the form of reaction. Still, I was really glad to know that you got almost back to normal so quickly. It is very satisfying to my ego to know that I really am missed a lot, but it is also very worrying because nothing upsets me more than to think that you are at all unhappy or unwell. It’s good, too, to know that Wendy is improving so quickly and that the good behaviour of Michael has lasted beyond my actual leave. I do hope he keeps it up. If there’s a chance of my coming home fairly often, he may be better. I know just what you mean about the “unsatisfied” feeling after leave. I had it, too, but don’t forget that had Wendy not “gone sick” on us, we would have had two pleasant evenings on Wednesday and Thursday which would have made an enormous difference. On the subject of possessiveness during leave, you should talk to Mrs Reid – she said exactly the same thing to me while I was home.
Thanks, by the way, for the reminder about the pint! I had a couple with Dave before I got the train and he palmed 10/- on me. I wonder if you realise that I got more from him and Mrs Russel than I did from my own family? Don’t hint at all, but it hurt a bit. Not merely from the financial point of view, but also from the spirit of the thing. Ah, well. We get over these small things.
The letter you enclosed, and which I take it Percy sent on, was a very cheery note from Insp. [??] Howell of the G.E.O. written, by a coincidence, on the day I began my leave. He was one of the fellows I missed when I called in there on the Tuesday night I was in Liverpool. His letter was quite unexpected and, being full of wisecracks, provided a good laugh even though quite a few of the “cracks” were aimed at me. I must write him a note when I get to Cabbala.
I wrote that last sentence an hour ago. Now I may not go to Cabbala! When we got back from leave one of the fellows just down from Aberdeen was going on leave and we heard he had been put into a new branch of the signals – automatic Morse operators. Apparently it is a brand new idea and John Gray and I went gunning for the Chief here as soon as we heard about it. We have no idea where the course will be but I went for it chiefly for a reason which will appeal to you – it means shore station work permanently. How do you like that? Does it compensate for the knowledge that I won’t be home in the next two or three months? I hope so. Anyway, our names are going forward and we will have to wait a few days to hear whether we have been accepted and, if so, where the course is. As soon as I know anything definite I’ll let you know. We may, of course, be sent anywhere at all. Knowing my luck, I have no doubt it will be in some out of the way spot! The part that appeals to me is that I’ll feel my hard work up at Aberdeen has not been completely wasted. Anyway, I have told you all I know, but I want to know if you feel I have done the right thing. I felt that as it is a new branch, there may be a chance of making a good thing of it. Let me know what you think.
Your enclosure from HM Collector of Taxes was an unpleasant surprise. He is demanding £11-19 which was due on July 1st. What a hope he has got! I think I sent you a form from Aberdeen and asked you to put it away for me. Can you let me have it by return of post? It is only a small piece of paper but it may have some useful information on it. I don’t want that shadow hanging over my head all the time. It will have to be paid some time, of course, but I’m not at all keen on the idea of it being deducted from my already meagre pay.
Well, sweetheart, this is all the news at the moment. Things are still pretty dull here and this new business may mean that that we will be in Devonport a bit longer, so perhaps you had better keep writing to this address until I drop you a line with my new address. For the moment don’t say anything to anyone, until I know the full strength of the job. Tell Mother I won’t write her until I know my new address.
Oh, my darling, I still love you, as you can guess from the fact that I’ve now renounced all hope of going to sea. And do you remember what we used to call Dobell for being a “dry land sailor”? Well, well! With my proverbial luck, this is too much to hope for, but after all there IS a shore station at Seaforth. But what a hope.
Bye for now, angel girl. Give my love to the children. All my love, sweet.
Ever your,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I find this air of uncertainty rather stimulating’

Jul 211942
 

Tuesday
Devonport
Sweetheart,
I was surprised, but glad, that my letter reached you on Saturday. Somehow I never thought it would make it because usually it takes two days from here. Things have been fairly quiet here until today, when we have done a real day’s work for a change. Still, I would sooner have it that way for the time goes much more quickly, and in the previous couple of days I wrote you fairly long letters which you will have had by now. We are still waiting for news of just where and when we are going on this course. Rather surprisingly I find this air of uncertainty rather stimulating instead of unsettling. Previously everything was pretty well mapped out up to a point. That condition of affairs has its advantages, but there are drawbacks in that life is “set”.
We keep hoping from day to day to hear something definite but there’s no news yet. What will happen, I suppose, is that we’ll be given the usual couple of hours’ notice that we are on draft to some godforsaken spot. I’ll probably wire you when I know.
The children are continual prize packets, aren’t they? Fancy Wendy recovering as quickly as that. Tell Rees I’ll take out a slander action against him! I’ve never heard him in that fractious mood and, when I spoke to him on the phone on Thursday, thought he had some grouch against me for going to the surgery after hours. He seemed quite peeved, but so long as he is civil with you, that’s the main thing.
I’m writing this in my dinner hour because we are watch ashore tonight and are thinking of making a dash for Plymouth to see if we can scrape in to see ‘How Green Was My Valley’. It’s one of the few films I have really wanted to see for a long time. It will pass the evening away but will be rather stuffy as the weather is very close today. We may be feeling it more through pushing a cart laden with parcels up hill and down dale. After that we had to set to and wash out the room where fellows get their new equipment – a huge barn of a place – and then, just to round the morning off, helped two new fellows, who had to hurry to catch a draft, to get dressed. All in all, the busiest morning we have spent here and, as it’s so sultry, we are feeling really sticky. A bath is definitely indicated.
One thing about a big depot like this is that one continually meets a different crowd of fellows and the different types are interesting. You get them all. The dull steady plodders; the lazy ones, last up in the mornings and first at meals; the law-abiding ones; the lads who make it a point of honour to be adrift after every leave. These and many more, you get. We saw one lad, only a kid, under escort and were told the tradition is that of the two years he has been in the Navy, all but two months have been spent in chink! Some of these lads are apt to become little heroes and, to give them their due, some of them can certainly take it.
Just now some of the lads are waiting to go on draft and, incredible as it may seem, they have not been there before. I thought the whole blinkin’ Navy had been there, but apparently I’m wrong. You can imagine the clamour in the mess as everyone tells them all about it and, peculiarly enough, they are all telling these lads that they will really enjoy Royal Arthur! Distance, it seems, lends enchantment to the view. And I have no need to tell you that these lads are already making plans as to how they will get home from Skegness. As they are only going for a six-week course, I wish them luck!
Well, sweetheart, this is about all the news for today. I love you, pet, and always will. Look after yourself for me and as soon as I know anything about this move I’ll let you know. My love to the children.
All my love, darling. Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I should so love a day at the seaside. To see you in the water again would be so good’

Jul 221942
 

Wednesday
Devonport
Angel,
I’m miffed! I can’t get on to my usual seat outside the mess because a fellow, so overcome by a dinner of corned beef (jealous?), new potatoes, salad and apple pie, is full length there, fast asleep. It’s annoying because I like sitting in the open air writing to you. The mess is apt to be a bit stuffy this weather and, at the best, it’s far from being inspiring.
No, we didn’t get to the pictures last night. To go to a cinema would have been criminal, so we went down to the front and tried in vain to hire a swimming costume and towel. John Gray, the bloke I was with, even went so far as to ask some other matelots who were just coming out of the baths for the loan of theirs, but they all declined. So we sat for a couple of hours watching other people bathe while we sweltered. A refined form of torture. For nearly half an hour I watched a girl sporting in the water with a fellow she had obviously marked as her man! He kept swimming between her legs and coming up so that both of her legs were around his neck. I did think a lot of you just then and I was really jealous of him. Oh darling, I should so love a day at the seaside – in bathing costumes of course – with you. What a time we’d have. Remember the days at Hoylake and Freshfield? To see you in the water again would be so good. I’d imagine the war was already over.
At that point I had to break off and get back to work. Yes, we really are working just now because so many fellows are on the move. Altogether we have been kept busy this week and the time has gone much more quickly, as it always does when there’s plenty to do. The work isn’t killing – lashing hammocks ready for incoming drafts and taking parcels containing civvy clothes to the station for despatch. I never do the latter without wondering what emotions they will raise in the breast of the woman to whom they are addressed. You will notice that I say “woman”. So far I have only seen about half a dozen addressed to men. But then, I suppose that’s natural, isn’t it?
I have just been reading Jack’s letter. He’s still quite a boy in his enthusiasms, isn’t he? And he never seems to have had any real political sense at all. With his God Save the King attitude, and the “British can beat the Germans with beer bottles” ideas, he’s living right away in the past, but I never regard him as one of the vicious, selfish, right-wing thinkers. I’d like to see him in all his regalia. He certainly looks well in his photograph and I’ll bet he’s proud of his three “pips” as a captain, although by now he’s probably carrying a major’s crown on his shoulder. He’s a good lad and one of the things I’m sorry I’m not going to sea for is that there would have been a good chance of calling at Karachi on my travels and, if nothing else, I might have spoken to him on the phone. That would have given him a real thrill! At the back of my mind I’ve had the hope that if we were in an Indian port for any length of time he might have run down to see me. What a night we’d have had. Can you imagine it?
I suppose that with this war on it will be some years before we can hope to see either of them. Still for all the threat to the Far East, in India they seem largely to be playing at war.
Without being unkind, I was rather amused at Jane’s violent occupations. Still, they are typical. She did much the same in the last war, trying to entertain troops and I know many a soldier – but never a sailor! – spent a happy time at our house. When you are away from home you’re glad of somewhere to go, as I know.
It’s now nearly nine o’clock and I’m finishing this before turning in. We went to the pictures inside the barracks tonight and when we got there found that there was a concert on. We were a bit disappointed as we had hoped to see the Marx Brothers, whom I’ve never seen yet. Pictures or a concert means going without supper but we decided to try it and, for all that it was local talent, it was quite good.
I’m enclosing Howell’s letter because I thought you might be interested, even though you don’t know many of the people mentioned. And while on the subject of letters, yes I did get both of yours when I got here. I think I have asked you before, have you written Jane recently? Try to remember to answer the point, love, as I really must write them a decent airmail letter soon. Airgraphs are alright in their way, but are very brief and a bit too “public”. Will you, at the same time, let me know if you have sent them any snaps? Don’t forget, will you?
Well, sweet, this is about all tonight. All my love, angel. I still love you.
All your very own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘The game’s not straight! I’m having to work for my keep these days’

Jul 231942
 

Thursday
Devonport
Dearest,
The game’s not straight! I’m having to work for my keep these days. We were so busy this morning – we are now waiting for dinner – that nobody noticed it was stand-easy time and we missed our cup of tea. The result is that we are now all famished. For the first hour or so we were busy initiating rookies into the gentle art of slinging and lashing a hammock. I felt sorry for them. They were all between 35 and 39 years of age and one said plaintively that war was hellish! He added he had never had to do a thing for himself before. He’ll learn, of course, and will probably shake down quite well, but it’s funny to be called “sir” by these blokes. There was a bit of a rush to get them kitted up as they are going to HMS Caballa tomorrow, as I should have done, of course, if it had not been for this other change-over. In some ways I’m beginning to regret not going through as a coder. I should have been going from here tomorrow. While life is not really hard, it’s a bit depressing in barracks. After helping with the hammocks I got the job of punching 20 fellows’ names on three brushes and two pairs of boots. By the time I got to the 72nd boot I was fed to the teeth, as you may well imagine. Still, it’s not hard work – just boring.
I have just had word that I have to report to the dentist at 9.30 tomorrow morning so it looks as if my teeth have arrived. I suppose they will be carried a stage further here and then I’ll go on draft again, with the result that I’ll have to wait again while they chase me all over the country again. What a life!
By the way, have you been catching a later post with your letters lately, because now I get them on the evening delivery whereas I used to get them on the mid-day delivery. Not that it matters a great deal so long as I do get them, but the first day that happened I thought you had forgotten me!
So you have turned tailoress? Nice work, love. What a pity you were never able to get the shuttle for that other machine. It looks almost as if you had bought a pig-in-a-poke, doesn’t it? How would I go about replacing it for you? Would I have to have the number and make of the machine, or the old shuttle, or what? God knows where I will get to in the course of my travels about the country and there is always just the chance I might drop across the sort of place where I could pick one up for you. I intended mentioning it when I was at home and it slipped my memory. You could save such a lot of work and money if that was in full running order. Where you probably jib now at the thought of sewing things by hand, you would probably get them done in no time on a machine. Anyway, let me know what you think the chances are and I’ll see if I can do anything.
How are the children behaving, and has Michael fully recovered from his spell of “sickening for something”? I hope for your sake that the improvement in his temper has been maintained. It’s such a strain to be continually battling with the two of them. Nothing wears you out more quickly.
I knew I meant to tell you something. I am doing my best to get hold of a second-hand hammock for the garden. Don’t rely on it, but if I can get one I’ll either send it on or bring it with me when I come home. The trouble is that they are such bulky things to pack in the post. Anyway, it will probably be some time before I can get hold of one and they are rather short in supply just now.
About my cold – no, I didn’t bother going to the sick bay. That’s a full day’s job just now, from what I can see, but my cold has gone now. So much so that I only took two of those aspirins I brought away with me. Cigarettes no longer have that horrible taste and my cough has disappeared. So everything’s Jake.
I’ll look through the papers I brought from Aberdeen and see if I have that tax paper, but I thought I sent it home with some other papers. Perhaps I’m wrong. I’ll certainly not get out of paying it, even if it is left until after the war. The government has too good a memory!
Hope you have a nice weekend at Limedale. My love to May and the family. I’ll answer the other points in your letter tomorrow as I’m in a hurry to catch the evening post.
Sorry to be so abrupt in ending, but if I don’t get this away now it will never get the post. Bye angel. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘it’s degrading not to have a permanent job – like being a casual labourer’

Jul 241942
 

Friday
Devonport
Darling,
Tragedy! I have lost my lighter, the one I got when I left the ‘B.T.’. Somehow or other I must have put it into the flap of my trousers without putting it into the pocket. Only now that it has gone do I realise how attached I was to it. I have made enquiries everywhere but there is no trace of it and although I have reported its loss I’m not very optimistic about getting it back.
Another disappointment is that my teeth have not come. The dental people say they only sent for me to tell me that they have written but nothing has arrived yet! Fancy getting me all that way when I call in every day to see if there’s any news. Talk about muddling. Bah! That’s the mood I’m in since I lost that lighter. Apart from those two things there’s little that’s new here.
We are still without news of this course. I had a word with our Chief about it only last night, but he says he knows nothing at all. Not even when the course starts, where or how long it will last. If barrack rumour be true then I will be sorry I didn’t stick to coding. One or two fellows with pals on the course tell us that it is at Glasgow and lasts three months. To think I’ve given up prospects of Warrington for the possibility of Glasgow, even if it does mean a permanent shore base. Again I say Bah! I’m in that frame of mind when I feel that I will never get beyond the trainee stage, and being a trainee has a psychological side. So far there have been some advantages here such as not having to do guards or fire-watching, but the continual hanging about is rather wearing, even though we have been fairly busy lately. Somehow it’s degrading not to have a permanent job – like being a casual labourer.
Don’t forget to let me have all the news of the weekend. You said something about going to a fair. Does that include the circus or is it something quite apart from it? If it is a straightforward fair, I’ll be interested to know if Michael conquers any of his prejudices about things that go round and up and down – now, now! Not that!
Last night we went ashore and managed to get in to see ‘How Green Was My Valley’. It certainly is a fine film and sticks faithfully to the book, while necessarily missing quite big parts from it. The acting is excellent and my only criticism of it is that it’s far from being a film to cheer you up if you are feeling at all down in the mouth. Still, I suppose it is one of those films you ought to see, especially having read the book. You know I’m no good at remembering the names of actors, but I was a bit disappointed to find Mr Gruffydd, the Welsh preacher, speaking with a decided American accent! After all, nowhere is there a country able to produce the fanaticism of a Welsh preacher. Remember Pastor Jeffries and all his satellites? They were all, or nearly all, Welsh. Still, if you can possibly get to see the film I should do, for I know you will enjoy it. Huw’s sister and sister-in-law are both very well played.
Well, darling, this is about all. I’m trying to get this into the 3.15 post so as to make sure it reaches Limedale in time. My love to May and the family. Hope Jennifer is OK and be sure to let me know which one of the family comes home ill!
Goodbye, angel. Take care of yourself and no eloping with common matelots at that fair. I know what sailors are!
Bye, sweet. I love you.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I wanted you so much that at times I was positively indecent’

Jul 261942
 

Sunday
Devonport
Dearest,
First of all, about letters. I have forgotten two or three times to let you know the time taken for them to reach here. The postmark on your Saturday letter is not legible, but one of them recently was postmarked 4.45pm one day and I received it at 4.30 the following day. Answering that little point gets a load off my mind! Funny how little things like that worry you.
Sorry to hear that you have been having a bad time with the plot. Do you think all the onions will go? It’s a pity if they do, although we did not do so remarkably well with them last year, did we? I had hoped for better results from both the onions and the leeks. Every year there seems to be something which goes wrong. Look at our experiences with cauliflower last year. At any rate it’s a comfort that the tomatoes stood up to the high wind. If I were you I’d hunt out that other glass jar because last year it took quite a long time to get the old sweets out of the other one. To hark back to the onions, one cause of the trouble may be that someone along the row of plots has had trouble with onion fly but has not tackled it properly, with the result that everyone is having trouble with that particular pest. That does happen where you have a lot of gardens running cheek by jowl and is one of the main reasons why each person should be careful to burn all diseased plants instead of just leaving them to rot and breed further disease. But apart from your troubles, I’m glad you are getting out into the plot more. The fresh air does you good. Have you picked any of the raspberries? In spite of all the rain you should find a good crop ripe now because once they begin to ripen they come along very quickly and you’ll probably find a lot well hidden away. On the subject of fruit, I should pluck the few blackcurrants from the bushes if I were you. It may harm your trees to let the currants run to seed. Even though you don’t use them, take them off.
Possibly I am to blame for Mother’s mood because I haven’t written to her yet as I was waiting for some definite move. She is probably annoyed at my neglect and is taking it out on you. I’ll write her today. These incidents between you and Mother worry me when I’m away from home. When I’m there I can deal with them myself. I’m not at all surprised at the line she has taken over Jane’s letter. It’s the obvious way for her to get her own back, and I’ll bet that, if the truth were known, there are several messages in it for us.
Back to gardening again, following the general lines of your letter! One of these days you will have a nasty accident with that fork. For cryin’ out loud, be more careful with it. It’s not the first time you have done that. I’ll have to give you lessons when I come home! One thing you have always been inclined to do is get hold of the fork too far down the handle, which throws it out of control. I’ll tell you off good and proper if you hurt yourself with it. With all the digging I have given you I’ve never hurt you yet – or have I? Perhaps I have sometimes, but not seriously.
You will still be at Limedale while I’m writing this and it’s just after our dinner hour (11.30 on Sundays), which probably means that you will either be helping May with dinner or else perhaps visiting Milly. I wonder just what you are doing? And I wonder, too, if the family is avoiding the usual “Limedale scourge”! Hope so, for your sake. I’m going to be interested to hear your account of what has happened during the weekend. I’ll bet the children have enjoyed it, especially the fair. I only hope that the weather has been decent. Here we have no complaints about the weather until today when we stood for three-quarters of an hour in the rain waiting to get into the pictures inside the barracks. My usual luck held and when I was within arm’s length of the pay box, all ready to slam my threepence down, the P.O. came along with the joyful news that the hall was full. You should have heard the Bronx cheer he got when he advised us to get there early tonight! From this, of course, you will gather we are watch aboard and I’m trying to write intelligently in a mess where, a few yards from me, a young fellow who has been in the Navy for over two years has found a new victim to bore. We are now hearing the whole of his naval career for at least the tenth time in the last week. This involves a full description of his “peculiar” rupture – a very, very special one – and just what he said to the doctor here, and what the doctor said to him and just why he should be a writer, and just why he does not want to go to Cabbala etc etc. There seems to be no end to his ability to recite this piece word for word, day after day, and we have learned that he has turned down an operation because he is afraid it might spoil him for married life. “And I’m courting back home!” he adds naively, from which I gather that the very special rupture, without an operation, has not spoiled his ability in that direction! Shall I develop a very special one? Let me know, pal.
I’m afraid I will have to keep away from the baths, darling. I went for a swim and sunbathe to the pool down by the Hoe yesterday and it played hell with me. I kept looking round at all the fellows with all their girls, frisking in the water, lying out in the sun together and, sweetheart, I thought of you. Precious, I did want you. I wanted you so much that at times I was positively indecent and had to get into the water again! Then, going from the baths to the YMCA for tea, we were surrounded by family parties, man, wife and children, lying basking on the Hoe. I never miss you so much as when I see other people leading quite normal lives. Still, I suppose that’s not for us for a time yet, but I do begrudge having to snatch a week from the war with a feeling that we must cram as much as possible into a few precious days, including oats, and, just as I felt it wrong to rush individual lots of oats, so I felt, in one way, under a sense of compulsion not to miss a single opportunity. I know you’ll understand what I mean. Fancy having the whole of one’s life in front of one, stretching away like a long road to be trodden at an easy, leisurely pace, with time to linger by the way to pluck the delights as one came to them. No sense of hurry, no slight sense of the need to be intoxicated with those delights as quickly as possible, lovely as that intoxication can be. And it can be lovely. Just now, at the mere thought of sitting down on that settee, with you insinuating yourself on the edge, there is a stirring deep down in me. And, by the way, I’m rather worried in case that settee should supplant the armchair in our affections. We can’t allow that, you know. With all due respect to the settee, it’s an interloper. And, while I remember, when are vapours due? I make it about August 5th. Am I right? I’ll be interested, you know!
My God! This lad is starting his naval story all over again, because someone new has come in! Heaven preserve me.
Oh, while I remember, will you try to build up a little store of cigarette papers for me? They are very hard to get hold of here. If you can get some I’ll be glad, but keep them for me until I ask for them.
Well, darling, this is all for today I’m afraid. I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s letter. All my love, angel. I do love you. Look after yourself for me. My love to the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I’m excused all duties except keeping the mess clean and tidy’

Jul 271942
 

Monday
Devonport
Darling,
We seem to have inherited your ”summer” weather, for it rained all day yesterday and all through the night and then, when we had thought we were in for a pleasant week’s work in the open, working on the small boats, we got a morning of rain. It was that fine drizzling rain and we were baling out boats at the time. Still, I enjoyed it and was looking forward to a full week of it but at dinner-time the fellow who was acting “skipper” of our mess got his discharge from the Navy so I got the job, which means that I’m excused all duties except keeping the mess clean and tidy, a task which occupies in all perhaps an hour-and-a-half each day. It is alright in some ways, but it means one is largely tied to the mess all day and I was hoping to learn a bit of practical seamanship. The chief over at the boats is a decent fellow who never expects too much and, in addition, there was a chance of a bit of fishing, but that chance has now gone, more’s the pity. Anyway, I hope you are now getting some of the decent weather we have had because it would give you a good chance at the plot.
I’m sorry you missed the apricots for I love apricot jam. Still, I’ll look forward to sampling your raspberry and rhubarb, a new combination on me. But I thought you were going to leave the rhubarb! How are the tomatoes coming along? I hope the rain has helped them to push on a bit, but if the weather has been cold that’s hardly likely.
Mrs Swift’s experiences in Germany were interesting. You know my views on individual cases of illegitimacy, but I have never been able to make up my mind about it as a national policy. Even when Russia was credited with fostering wholesale illegitimacy and abortion (at one and the same time by clumsy British propagandists) and easy divorce, it was one of the sides of social legislation on which I could never reach a definite decision – and never have done. It’s too far-reaching to be decided in a minute.
Now, following the course of your letter, from babies to raspberries! I mentioned them in my last letter, but now you ought to look at them often. You should get a plate or two from them every second or third day. Don’t forget there are some canes at the opposite end of the bank to the elderberry. Did you know? If you can strike that bargain with Mrs Reid, it seems a sound scheme to me, for then you’d be able to use your own bits of sugar for any other jam you could make. Will this business of putting syrup on points make any difference to you?
I was interested to hear the insurance man’s explanation, which sounds very plausible to me. I can quite imagine Mother forgetting she had had an increase although I have an idea that she once told me about it. But I couldn’t swear to it. You know what my memory is on these things.
If you had sent me an evidence – used I take it – in a letter I might have taken it as a hint that you were finding a cure for your spotty face elsewhere. What a thrill for, say, Mother or perhaps Lilian if either of them had received it! Whoopee!
I won’t be at all surprised if I don’t get a letter from you at the beginning of the week. I know what you are once you get to Limedale. Out drinking with THAT one, and forgetting all about your poor husband who is eating his heart out for you. And I suppose I can say goodbye to the two pints you owe me! Seriously, I hope you do get to the Rose for a drink while you are there. If you do, I’ll bet you come home all giggly. That’s OK so long as you don’t gamble the rent away! Now that, I think, answers your letter.
Last night I repented and, although I had stood for three-quarters of an hour in a vain effort to get into the pictures, I made another effort in the evening, this time with success. And I was really glad I had done for I felt I had had a good threepenny worth. We saw two full-length films, lasting three hours. One which I think you would have liked, for there were some good laughs in it, was ‘I Love You Again’ with William Powell and Myrna Loy. I suppose it’s far from new now, but if you get a chance to see it, don’t miss it. The sentiment is not too heavy and, as I have said already, there are some good laughs. The other film was one which would not have interested you, for it was a wild western which I thoroughly enjoyed. So did all the lads.
We are still waiting to hear news of our course. Two other lads who are going on the same course leave here for Glasgow tomorrow, so it looks like the north for us again. But when we will move on we don’t know. It may be any day. It may not be for a week, but as soon as I know anything I’ll be sure to let you know. As there is such a short time between posting and delivery, not many letters can go astray and I’ll fix it with one of the lads in the office here to forward my mail for me. If there are any letters from other people for me, send them on and take the chance of my getting them. If you enclose them in your letter they should be safe enough.
I seem to have covered pretty well all the news by now, for yesterday was pretty quiet, as you will see and Saturday was filled in with the baths.
Some of the lads who left Aberdeen after us have come back from leave today and two of them are already on their way to Warrington to become mechanics in the Fleet Air Arm. Another is in hospital with a recurrence of a septic leg which he developed at Aberdeen nearly four months ago. The fourth is adrift, having failed to arrive by noon today. Knowing him I should say he has a sound alibi – probably a friendly doctor. But that is getting very risky these days.
Well, love, it’s nine o’clock now and rounds are due any minute. When they are over I must get a letter off to Mother. And I haven’t written Eric yet, which is not fair for he was the only one to go out of his way to do anything to brighten up the leave.
Night, night, my angel girl. Take care of yourself. My love to the children. All my love, precious.
Ever your
Arthur X

P.S. I suppose you have told Dave what the position is. Will you tell him I’ll write when I get to the new place and give him all the news from there.

From Arthur to Stella: ‘See you Saturday unless we are drafted!’

Jul 281942
 

Tuesday
Devonport
Dearest,
By now you will have had my wire. I thought I’d better let you know at once because of Chris coming. It is, of course, only a weekend and normally I doubt whether I would have used one of my free vouchers on it, but as we don’t know when we may get another chance I thought we’d grab at this. I don’t think there is any chance of getting away early on Friday, so it will be Saturday when I get home and I will have to be away on Monday afternoon or evening, but at least I’ll have Saturday and Sunday nights at home. What a pity you fixed this particular weekend for Chris. I didn’t really think we had much chance of a weekend so soon, but put in on the off-chance because of the Bank Holiday. Normally weekend leave is from Friday afternoon – they won’t let us get the noon train – until 7.30 Monday morning, so you can see that apart from this week it’s not worth bothering with because it means getting home Saturday and leaving Sunday.
Well, angel, this is the big news of the day. There is nothing fresh to tell you so, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you now and get some of the other letters off. Don’t mention this leave to Mother and, for that reason, it might be as well not to mention it to the children, unless you have already done so. If so, it can’t be helped. I haven’t yet written to Mother but will do so now, without mentioning the leave and I won’t tell Eric about it either.
Bye for now, sweet. See you Saturday unless we are drafted! That, of course, is most unlikely now, for we haven’t heard anything of the new course. All my love, sweet.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: Telegram ‘LEAVE CANCELLED GLASGOW = ARTHUR’

Jul 291942
 

Wednesday
Telegram to Stella
LEAVE CANCELLED GLASGOW = ARTHUR
Wednesday
Devonport
Angel,
Well, it would happen to me, wouldn’t it? At 10 o’clock we were gloating over the fact that there were only two more nights here and I discovered that, as I was in the mess all day, there was a good chance that I would be able to get away at noon on Friday! Then at 10.30 the bombshell fell. Four of us were called in to the Divisional Office and within ten minutes we were cursing heartily and deeply immersed in the throes of draft routine. Doctor, dentist (my teeth arrived yesterday!), kit muster etc etc. Before we got through the kit muster it was dinner time and we had to wait. We are going back after dinner and then we might have some idea of just where and when we are going.
At the moment all we know is that we are going to Glasgow and that we have to be there on Saturday which, I imagine, means that we will travel on Friday afternoon. So don’t send any more letters here. As soon as I can I will drop you my address but I don’t think you can hope to hear from me before Monday, apart from any letter I write from here. I asked if I could call home and report at Glasgow but they say there won’t be time. I’m sorry to have buoyed you up with false hopes and more so if I have caused you to put Chris off. There seems to be as big a curse on Chris’s visits as there is on my teeth. I’m beginning to dread the sight of them now. Every time I see them something seems to happen.
A thing which has just occurred to me is that as there is no August holiday in Scotland they have not thought of that side of things. There is no doubt we will begin our course on Monday. John Gray, one of the fellows with whom I’m going, is tickled pink because all his relatives are there and for years he spent his holidays at a little place about two hours from Glasgow. A thing which is worrying me is that there may be no naval establishment at the place we are going to, which would mean we would get no tobacco. Imagine that on my money! What an existence. Still, that may not be the case. It may just be that I’m disappointed and depressed. Anyway, I’ll leave it at that for the moment and perhaps I’ll know more this afternoon. If I do I’ll let you know before I post this letter. Bye for now.
We have just finished the finicky business of kit muster – everything has to be laid out on my oilskin, all neatly folded, a full kit to be shown with my name on every damn thing uppermost. Some of the P.O.s who take the muster are mustard and search for everything, right down to a lanyard, while others just glance over the kit. We got off lightly. We had a full kit, fortunately, and the P.O. ticked our names off and passed on. One of the dopey lads out of the mess, however, looks as if he is going to be in the soup. He left his overcoat at home when on leave, gave his knife to his kid brother, and left something else at home. He is likely to be supplied with all those things and the money stopped out of his pay, without having an opportunity to get his stuff from home. The collar of one of his suits is all torn and he may have another 29/- to pay for that! So altogether he’s in the soup.
All that, however, is a digression. We went to the drafting office again but could gain no real information. For one thing the P.O. there has got it into his head that we have to be at Glasgow on Sunday 1st August and that we travel on Saturday. But Sunday is the 2nd August so that if we have to report on the 1st we will have to travel on Friday! It’s a bit muddling to you I dare say and no wonder for we have not been able to make him see that Saturday is the first and that we are not likely expected on Saturday. As the Yanks would say, “Aw shucks!” I did ask about tobacco and he said we would be able to take it with us which means that we must be going to a naval establishment of some sort. We have heard that fellows doing the ord. tel. course are in a big hotel, but we don’t know if that is where we are going or not. It looks as if that is all the information we are likely to get here.
Many thanks for your letter posted on Tuesday. I felt very guilty when I read the postscript because by then I had sent the second wire off. It is the very last time I’ll wire you about leave and, as I said, I only did so because of your arrangement with Chris. If Harold is looking for odd jobs to do, you want to take full advantage of the chance. I have got the hammock so do you think you could get a couple of posts, about 5ft high, and ten feet apart, driven into the ground? If you can, I’ll try to get this thing off from Glasgow. We’ll have to wait until we get there to see what the chances are. Don’t make any promises to the children until it actually arrives! For one thing I don’t want them talking about it too much.
What a pity the long planned treat fell through! Children are like that, though, and I’m sorry the children draw disparaging comparisons! Milly’s garden seems to have been a source of delight. I should have liked to have been with you and I hope the promised cuttings materialise. They will give you the basis of a good fruit garden, but beware the loganberries. They spread like raspberries unless you are ruthless with them, I believe.
Well, sweet, I must bung this in the post if it is to catch the 6 o’clock collection. I should think you are safe to post letters so that they are delivered here by noon Friday. Anything after that is problematical.
Bye, sweetheart. I’m bitterly sorry to have raised vain hopes but I’ll never do it again. I’ve learned that lesson. All my love, angel. I adore you.
Ever,
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘This draft was like a kick in the face’

Jul 301942
 

Thursday
Devonport
Sweetheart,
Well this is just about the last letter I will write you from here and I’m afraid there will be no Saturday letter for you this week. We have at last finished running from place to place today and have completed everything fairly satisfactorily with the exception of pay. As we are birds of passage here nobody takes the slightest interest in us from a financial point of view. The Navy owes me three-and-a-half weeks’ wages but we have not had a sausage from them today. As I have two bob in my pocket I’m hoping we will get something in the morning. I rather think we will and in any case I should be able to borrow a few bob from one of the lads going up with us. If I am short I’ll let you know and you can send me something on to Glasgow, but don’t send anything until I let you know. So far as we can gather at the moment we are likely to be away from here by noon tomorrow so that we can catch the 10 o’clock train, arriving in Glasgow somewhere about 8am. Happy thought! That means we should be finished new entry routine about dinner time and free then until Monday or even Tuesday morning, depending of course on whether or not the Bank Holiday is observed. I still can’t see why we could not have done our draft routine, got our weekend leave and reported to Glasgow on Tuesday morning. But the mere suggestion horrified the naval mind! One grain of comfort from the day is that we have got our tobacco – a great help, although I doubt if the one lot will see me through the month.
I have been hanging on until the last minute hoping to get a letter from you on the last delivery but none came. I was wondering if there was any point you needed answering but if there is, then I’m afraid it will have to wait now for there will be very little time tomorrow for letter-writing. After breakfast we have to parade for final instructions, try to squeeze some cash from an unwilling pay office and I also want to get to the dentist because he is going to rush my teeth for me so that they reach the final fitting stage before I leave here. So you’ll see there won’t be a great deal of spare time, especially as we will probably be going to dinner at 11.15. Anyway, I’ll hope to get a letter from you by the morning post. Remember? I missed your letter at Aberdeen, too. I tell you, there’s a curse on me in this service racket.
Well, love, this is all for now. You’ve no idea how disappointed I am. This draft was like a kick in the face. Damn the Navy and the war.
If you can manage it, I’d like a letter on Monday. The address at the moment is O/Coder AJohnson, D/Jx 342517, c/o C.O.R.N., 41 Rottenrow, Glasgow. I’ll let you know at once if there’s any change in that address.
Rushing for the post now. All my love, angel. I love you such a lot. Bye for now.
Ever your
Arthur X

From Arthur to Stella: ‘I’m developing into a “scouse”, the Navy name for everyone from Liverpool’

Jul 311942
 

Friday
Devonport
Sweetheart,
As you will see from the heading, we are still messing about here waiting to see what has to be done. Our latest instructions are to report at 8.30 in the morning. Goodness knows what time we will get away from here, but in my case I can see us running into the thick of the holiday traffic and then landing in Glasgow in the early hours of Sunday. Organisers! I’ve met ’em! I’m not keen to go to Glasgow, but after the disappointment of the weekend and all the messing around we have had, I’ll be glad to be away from here now. We have high hopes of being paid this afternoon and, after that, we cannot be off too soon. If we do get paid I will go and have a few beers in Plymouth, for the first time since I came back from leave. I feel completely and thoroughly fed to the back teeth just at the moment. And, talking of teeth, I had my final fitting today. In the time I have been going up there I have got quite friendly with some of the lads, and the dentist, too. The result was that they pushed my job to the front of the list and they are going to send them on to me at Glasgow.
Now I’m off to see if there’s any money for me. I won’t post this today unless I have some more definite news. No letters yesterday, none today so far! Oh whacker! You’ve no idea – or perhaps you have! – what an empty feeling it gives to the day when each post comes and goes without mail. The last one I had from you was written Monday night with a postscript added on Tuesday.
This depot is crowded with Liverpool fellows, but so far I’ve not met anyone from our district. The nearest was a fellow who lived off Sefton Road and he had just come back from five weeks’ leave after doing two years and nine months in torpedo boats in the Med. Not a happy life from what I can gather. He certainly seemed pretty fed up with it and was glad to be back home. Gradually I’m developing into a “scouse”, the Navy name for everyone from Liverpool. I had hoped to avoid it but I’m afraid that once I’m away in a naval establishment I’ll be “scouse” to everyone. This is, of course, the main base for Lancashire lads and people from the West Country so it is only natural that there should be so many Liverpool lads here, but it was funny in the NAAFI at stand-easy today for when somebody shouted “Eh, Scouse”, half the canteen turned round in reply!

Sunday
Yes, believe it or not, we have arrived. I’ll tell you all about it in a later letter. It’s just turned dinner time and as I don’t know what time the post collection is I’m going to rush and get out to the post. It doesn’t look too hot here but, thank goodness, there is plenty of really good grub here. From that point of view I don’t think this place can be beaten. The full address here is
O/Coder AJ, Jx 342517, c/o R.N. Hostel, Room 4, 41 Rottenrow, Glasgow C4.
Off we go to the post. Bye for now. All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X