Arthur & Stella

Saturday
R.N. Transit Camp, HMS Lynx, Dover
Dearest,
First of all, an alibi! Letters are not likely to be as frequent from here as they have been in the past. For one thing they’re censored, which must slow things down a good deal, and for another collections are obviously not à la Leicester Square. I know what you are thinking about – leave! Well I’ll put you out of your agony. We’ve had it. And that is that. Jackie nearly had a fit when we even mentioned it!
Since we have been here our time has been taken up with routine things so there’s no point in going over all of those. Tom and I met the officer under whom we will work and he seems quite a good sort – rather on the lines of Jock Grossett – and he’s an ex-newshound. Funny that, isn’t it?
There’s nothing else to tell except this: don’t worry. It looks as if our luck has held good and this may turn out to be a very good thing indeed. Beyond that I can’t go at the moment, but I’m not just being bright and cheerful. I hated leaving the other place to go anywhere but we might have gone to much worse places than this, after 18 months. We have been utterly and completely ruined and any place must seem a bit grim after what we have been used to, but I’ve no doubt that when we settle down we shall be OK here.
There is some lovely country round about and we are hoping to get out a good deal on our off days, for Tom and I have managed to arrange that we get into the same 24 so that we will have our spare time together, which is a help.
Well, love, that’s all about this business. How are the children behaving? Hope that Michael’s head is alright now. He seems to be in the wars lately. From the little I have seen of the countryside – mostly from the train – you’d like it round here and the miles and miles of orchards would certainly make the children’s mouths water. Incidentally, the famous cliffs of Dover do, unlike most famous places, live up to their name for they really are white. So far I haven’t seen any bluebirds over them!
I’m sorry I missed the opening of the Children’s Zoo today, for I should have been interested and could have written the children at some length on it. Still, it can’t be helped.
I must try to drop a line to Mother and Dot some time over the weekend. Meantime, give them my love if you should see them in the next day or two.
Write by return, won’t you? It seems ages since I had a letter and I don’t suppose I can hope to hear before Wednesday at the earliest. I won’t promise to write every day but I’ll write as often as I can. By the way, any news from the BBC yet?
Bye for now, love, and take good care of yourself. Hope the cold is better. All my love to you and the children.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Dover
Dearest,
It was good to see your writing again. A few days seem to stretch out to such a long time when I don’t hear from you. I am glad I can look forward to regular letters again. I’ll just run through it again to see if there are any points to answer.
Yes, there are two other fellows beside Tom and I, but I have never been particularly friendly with them as they were always on the other 24 hours to us. I’m sorry you didn’t send the other letter on – “Chatter about home”, as you call it, never grows out of date, you know. Still, never mind.
Like you, we had a gloriously hot spell but as you will have seen from the papers, it has broken now. It took the M.O.I. long enough to realise that Jerry knew what the weather was like in the Straits, didn’t it?
Glad to hear Wendy and Michael had such a nice weekend and that Michael has taken to roving a bit on his own. It will do him good to learn to find his way about while he is so young, though no doubt you’ll soon be having anxious moments about him! Still, don’t encourage that 8 o’clock at night stunt, even in the summer. You know what he is like for his sleep.
The change will do May the world of good and I’m glad to hear she is getting so much fun out of it. Sorry if the uncertainty of my movements spoiled your night at Limedale, but you would have been mad – and so should I – if I had come home and you were up there, especially as I might not have been able to get over.
Don’t forget to let me know where you get to this week with the children, and also be sure to let me know if you do change the date of your holiday. How will you be fixed for money in July?
It’s hard to know what the return of the sketches means. ‘Housewife’ seem to have some funny rules, don’t they? Are there any pencil marks on them where they may have been squared off for blocks to be made? Although inward letters are not censored, I don’t think it would be wise to send carbons of articles or stories here as they may get lost. Still, I shall miss them. In one of the canteens here – they are pretty putrid, by the way – I saw a copy of ’Modern Woman’ which looks like a possible market for your longer stories, though they are rather “sobby” I think. What does the ‘Writers & Artists Yearbook’ say about them?
Thanks for the news of the garden. Keep that long grass well back from the rhubarb and that might help to keep the slugs at bay.
Don’t worry about me down here. I’m OK except that my tummy is out of order. When you read in the papers that the south coast was rocked by explosions, believe them. It certainly is rocked – quite literally. Jerry and the Froggies must be getting hell just now.
Sounds as if Gardner is going to be a paratrooper, eh? With that knee he might not be able to stand up to it.
No, don’t worry about keeping letters short. Ramble on to your heart’s content – and mine! The restriction is on me, not on you, and I’ll be dependent on your letters chiefly for material for mine for I have so little news now. I won’t dwell on the place at the moment, but remind me to make a comparison between this and Rotten Row when I’m home.
Tom took me over to his mother’s place between Hythe and Folkestone on Tuesday and we had a very pleasant day. They have a lovely home – I reckon the house is worth £5000 – and as she runs a very successful pawnbroker’s in London she has some very nice stuff. She and her daughter, a spinster of 40 odd, live alone and they are a peculiar pair. I’ll tell you about them when I come home. They have both embraced Catholicism, to Tom’s disgust! Delicate ground for me!
Today the weather is not so hot so we won’t go far afield. And that is all the news for today. Bye for now, sweetheart, and look after yourself. I’ll be looking for a letter tomorrow. My love to the brats. They both owe me letters and they have a holiday! All my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Monday
Dover
Dearest,
We’ve had a fairly quiet time over the weekend, though Tom and I spent a very pleasant day on Saturday. We got out on the first liberty boat (1.30) and walked and hitched our way into Deal. This part of the country just now does not lend itself very well to wandering over the fields by footpaths because one always has the feeling that one will sooner or later come to some military obstruction and have to turn back. Some of the paths looked most enticing, too. However, we stuck more or less to the main road and got a couple of lifts, one of them in a jeep. We had to sit high up on the back and though we did a steady 55 the wind was quite warm and helped to blow the cobwebs away nicely. We wandered about the front at Deal as much as we could and found that there are some places where bathing is still permitted. On our way back we found a pleasant little service club which we have marked down for future reference if we are that direction again. Today we’ll probably strike out in a new line, most probably inland. We don’t cover a lot of ground in these outings, largely because we are out at the hottest part of the day, but the evenings are really glorious now and it’s delightful just to be able to stroll along.
I meant to tell you before, by the way, that when we come off, or go on, watch in the early hours of the morning, we pass through a thicket where a nightingale greets us with a burst of song each night. Soon, when the eggs are hatched, he will cease to sing and we will miss him. At least I will, for I always look forward to his greeting.
Have the children been too “busy” on their holiday to write? They both owe me a letter! I hope you had more settled weather than we have had this week, for after a brilliant beginning it has been very unsettled.
Bye, sweetheart, and look after yourself. My love to the children, whom I hope to see as brown as berries when I come home. Without wishing to break any spells, they have had a good run of health lately, haven’t they? Now I must be off. All my love to you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Friday
Dover
Dearest,
I think I’m up to date with your correspondence except for your letter which was waiting for me when I came in on Wednesday night and which I didn’t have time to answer before going on watch yesterday. Did you get Jane’s letter back, by the way?
I’m glad you changed your mind and were considerate in that letter, by the way, for like you I don’t think I could stand a great deal of tantalisation just now. Looking through that letter there are a few points to answer, one of them being that, as I’ve already told you, I do write at least every other day, but the watches here are rather different from what we have been used to and though they are not difficult to keep they seem to leave less time for things like letter writing, especially as there are not the facilities we had in London, of course! Still, you’ve been in the credit side with letters for a long time, haven’t you? Sorry to hear Michael has broken the spell with a return of his cough, though I must confess I don’t like the idea of him being off every time he coughs. However, as you are on the spot, you know best. The school seems to have done very well with scholarships. Anyone we know? I’ll remember Michael’s enthusiasm for Rupert and if I can get hold of one next year I will do. I feel very helpless not being able to do something about his apparent musical ability and it’s things like that which make me writhe about being away from home, for the next couple of years would be the most important for him in that way. Being away, of course, I should know nothing of these tendencies if it were not for you, because if you ask him to “perform” when I’m home he just gets into that wild mood of his and infects Wendy with it too. Have you any idea about encouraging him to train his memory and ear in that particular direction? If you have, I’ll be interested. But there’s one thing I’ll never suffer for Michael or anyone else and that is bagpipes.
Before you begin your next grand clearance you should bind and gag Wendy or she will never let you throw even an old rag out of the house! I’ve never seen such a little hoarder, have you? And you know she never uses half the things, but just saves them until the next clearance comes along. Mrs Gardner, however, is really wicked to throw away toys many a child would treasure. Why on earth doesn’t she give them to some organisation like the W.V.S.? They could make good use of them for, despite all the government promises, there is no doubt the same old ramp in toys will be allowed this Xmas again.
I have very grave doubts about getting a copy of ‘Housewife’ here. I doubt if 5% of the population of Dover can read! I know what you mean by ‘Modern Woman’. Sorry to jump about like this, but you should have buried the boot well into that insurance bloke, if only to teach him his place where widows of service people are concerned. I wish I had been there!
About my tummy. It’s OK now and I’ll be going to the vet in the course of the next day or two to sign off. When I went to him it was my back which was worrying me most, but he more or less ignored that and concentrated on my tummy, diagnosing gastritis. No, it’s not bad food nor explosions. It’s the logical sequel to a couple of years of irregular meal times. At Whitehall we never had our meals at the same time on two successive days and that is hopeless for lots of people. About 80% of the police force, for instance, suffer in this way at one time or another. As I told you in an earlier letter, the food here is, on the whole, very good, but is not often hot. Don’t worry, I’d drip as only I can drip.
I’m glad to hear that Ernest has at last found use for his talents, for no matter how good you are, there’s always the danger of going rusty these days without practice. One of our blokes at Admiralty was a commercial artist and his ability in this direction saved him from a couple of drafts! It’s surprising really that Ernest has not clicked before, for the RAF seem to go for that sort of thing in a big way.
And I think that covers all of yesterday’s letter but, before I forget, many thanks for the bathing costume which arrived yesterday evening. I can’t remember leaving it at home and thought I must have lost it. Just now the weather is certainly not bathing weather! And also while I remember, I want to ask for something I have been going to mention for days – a face flannel. I’m desperate, having lost mine a week ago, and it makes a lot of difference to the colour of one’s towels. Perhaps one of the children could make me a present of one. Failing that, you might get hold of some baby napkin cloth and sew one up for me. In any case, let me have it as soon as you can, please. I’m lost without one.
Just before I push this into the post – I want to catch the “morning” collection if I can – can you tell me if Monty Taylor broadcast from the invasion forces on Wednesday? I heard a radio as I was passing an open window and I should have sworn it was his voice. I see, by the way, that Vernon Brown no longer seems to be the ‘News Chronicle’ alleged naval reporter and is now a Combined Press representative. There’s a daft paragraph from him in the ‘Mail’ this morning. Just the sort of nonsense he used to write in the old days of IRA and Thetis. Happy days – and nights!
Off to the post now, love. Give my love to the children just to remind them that they have a Daddy. And all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Monday
Dover
Dearest,
There’s not a lot of news today and as I haven’t had a letter since Friday there’s nothing of yours to reply to, though I will probably get what should have been Saturday’s letter when I come off watch this afternoon. Mother apparently cabled my address, at Jane’s request, and this morning I got a “good luck” cable from them. Funny how people get in a flap when they have been out of the country for a few years, isn’t it? I’m sure Jane worries much more through being away than she would have done if she had been home when war began.
I wrote Jack Gray and Robin Ever about ten days ago and was wondering why I’d not heard from them. One of the other lads has now heard that they, with George (Custard Powder) Chapman have got sea-going drafts! Poor old Robin. If there is any work to be done he will get the lot. George is one of the laziest and most self-centred devils I know. A typical fat man, if you know what I mean, and he weighs about 18 stone. I’m sorry Robin has gone. He’s not cut out for that sort of life for he has been completely ruined by women ever since he was a child and he has never lost that helplessness. For instance, if there was a shortage of cups for the tea boat he would never think of washing three or four after other people had finished! He was as bad as that, so God knows how he will fare at sea. A few of the other lads, none of whom you know, have got home shore drafts.
Yesterday, Tom and I hitched to Folkestone and walked over towards Dymchurch. We had hoped to reach there but it was raining and traffic on the road was scarce so we made a move back here fairly early. It was as well we did for we were an hour and a half getting a lift, but then we came all the way back in the one lorry so we were home fairly early. I want to see Dymchurch and New Romney, both of which have a smuggling history. From Hythe we walked quite a long way along a pretty little canal, rather like the one at Llangollen, and I believe it’s full of monster carp. I wish I had my fishing gear. I could have made good use of it while I have been wandering round, couldn’t I?
Well, love, there’s not a lot of news beyond these things. Today looks like being a glorious day and I hope it is for it will mean a lot to the lads “over there” if only for the air support they will get. We certainly haven’t had ideal invasion weather, have we? Must be off now. Look after yourself, won’t you? All my love, sweet.
Ever,
Arthur X

Thursday
Dover
Dearest,
I think I was up to date in answering all but your letter which I received on Tuesday, wasn’t I, so I’ll start straight off with that one, if there are any points which need answering. No, I don’t think there are, though it was a very nice letter and, as you say, we will have a real binge on my first birthday at home, unless my interest in beer declines still further, in which case I shall be completely TT. Somehow I find it very difficult these days even to imagine myself back in civvies! But I suppose I shall do one fine day. Fancy being able to think and act independently again! That, perhaps, is a subject best left alone, for the loss of all natural rights is so complete in the forces that it has to be experienced to be believed.
Now for today’s letter. I’m glad you had such a nice day on Sunday. Wendy must have been thrilled at being left alone to look after the baby and I suppose you will have no peace on this subject for some time now. Her maternal instincts are so strong that I don’t think she would ever get over the novelty of having a baby in the house and to her it would remain a baby throughout its life. She’s a second young Molly, isn’t she? The healing of the breach between Jen and Michael is also a good thing, and should take some of the “edge” off these meetings.
The trip to Wales may be better in September for a variety of reasons, some of which you have mentioned. The chance of three days may be better then (always providing we are still fairly close at hand!) and money may be a bit easier too. Also the weather may be more settled, even if the days are not so long.
Thanks for the gardening bulletin. Michael mentioned that the blackcurrants are nearly ready. What sort of a crop is there, and are you pleased with them? I meant to ask about them several times and also to ask what the gooseberries are like, or did you completely de-flower them?
You seem to have struck a rejection patch, but you’ll get over it. I don’t know Wills & Hepworth. Do they concentrate on children’s books? If so, now is the time for Xmas stories, you know. If you could strike something really original for a series of children’s stories, you would do well with any of the good publishers and have a steady income. While I agree that the cat and the rabbit are dreadfully hackneyed, I must confess to complete ignorance of the Rangaroo. What is it and who invented it?
By now you should have had at least one, and possibly two, acknowledgements of my bathing costume. The cake arrived late yesterday; too late to sample it but I’ll let you know what the verdict is in my next letter. Everything else arrived on the 13th. No, love, there was no hidden meaning in any response I may have made to leave, which remains shrouded in the mists of the future.
I’m sorry, by the way, that you had no letter yesterday from me, but it is a bad day for writing – worse even than the fourth day of our watches at Whitehall, for the whole 24 hours seems to be occupied with coming and going and eating and working.
I did intend including this in a parcel I hope to get off today, but as a parcel may take longer to reach you I’m posting this in the ordinary way so that you won’t be two days without a letter.
Tuesday was a very quiet day – by far the quietest “celebration” I have had yet. We went over to Mrs Oliver’s at Sandgate, leaving here in the most foul weather, but while we were there we went for a walk over the hills for about an hour and a half. We got some really marvelous views of the coast as, after the rain, visibility was very good indeed and we could see Dungeness in one direction and Dover in the other. Beyond Hythe the countryside suddenly changes into a great coastal plain, which is as flat as S.W. Lancashire and the Lincolnshire coast. There is a good deal of marshland there, which I hope to see on one of our outings. Another place we saw was Saltwood Castle, where the four knights (spoken of in hushed tones by Tom’s convert sister) slept on their way to Canterbury to see Thomas à Beckett off this earthly globe. This part of the country is crawling with these ancient places and I must get some dope on them from the local library, for it adds interest to our ramblings. We found one old place quite close to here one evening, which has had its old drawbridges replaced by modern ones and the timbers of the old ones are still lying around. They look absolutely colossal when seen apart from their natural settings in the great thick walls. The old kings and local big-wigs certainly knew how to make a good job of their des. mod. res., if they did ignore such trifles as h & c in every room! This one I’m thinking of, I don’t know its name, dominates a big area of country where early invasions might have been expected.
I had a letter from Dave yesterday and, as usual, he sent me £1 which is very useful indeed just now. He was apparently very amused by the Confuscius stories, which were well received at the BS. It seems he had some difficulty in keeping them out of Mrs Perry’s hands and he didn’t want her to see them as she hasn’t got that sort of a sense of humour!
I haven’t heard from Lilian and Eric for ages, but I suppose they are still very unsettled. Have you heard anything of their plans for the future? They should be getting something settled soon.
Well, love, that’s about all today’s news. Hope things are going well at home and that Jen’s cold didn’t prove infectious. I’ve replied to the children’s letters in the parcel and on this point I’ve been going to ask for some time now whether Michael could read a written letter of his own or not. Let me know some time, will you, though it will add a little more time to my writing schedule. Bye for now, and take good care of yourself. All my love to you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Dearest,
Just a very brief note, as I have only just completed your ordinary letter. Tom and I found these pan scourers in an ironmongers here four or five days ago, but this is the first time we have been out at a time when the shop was open. And the steel wool I got, of all places, in a little chemist shop! Let me know if these scourers are as scarce as I think they are, but in any case, these are NOT to be given away. If they really are precious, let me know and if possible I’ll get some more to bring home with me, but I don’t want to waste money on them if you can get them at home. So far I haven’t seen the flat square type which you used to like.
There’s nothing more to add to what I said in my letter except that I hope these things will be useful and that you will enjoy the sweets. Let me know if you would have preferred two or three bars of chocolate so that I will know in future. Bye now. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X
P.S. Save the little wooden wheels. They may be useful at Xmas.

Monday
Dover
Dearest,
Sorry to hear you have been down in the dumps but, as you say, these phases are bound to occur occasionally with this unnatural life we are living and at that time we don’t stop to think how much luckier than many other people we have been. Somehow you can only think of all the loafers cluttering up the face of the earth, can’t you? Anyway, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better now and I only wish I could cheer you up still further with some definite hope of leave, but I honestly can’t, despite an absolute spate of buzzes on the subject. Personally, I’m not taking any notice whatever of wild guesses, for we have been let down too often before and so far as I can see there must be many weeks of hard work ahead of us before the tremendous amount of material necessary for a march to Berlin is assembled on the other side. Well as we are doing – and there’s no doubt the lads are doing a smashing job of work over there – we have still a long way to go.
I often wonder where all the old “night school” are. Vernon Brown, least worthy of all of them and brazen-voiced demagogue that he is, is of course on the hot side of the fence still; I don’t know where Elgar is, for the last I heard of him was that he was somewhere in southern England and I think he had his third pip up. Wonder if Durham has stayed in Italy? He’d have a few blasphemous things to say if he was anywhere near Cassino Monastery, I know. Then there was Don McWhinnie, last heard of doing temporary duty on the ‘Union Jack’ in a sports column. I wonder if he was brought back for this job in view of his Dieppe experience? Little Joe Garrity I haven’t heard of since he surprised everyone by joining up in the first few days. And Vic Hudson, too, seems to have disappeared completely. With a wife such as he has, life is going to be pretty tough for him when this lot is over. I’m very sorry for Vic. I have thought about all the lads a lot lately, but especially about Elgar who seems the most likely, apart from Don McWhinnie, to be mixed up in all this lot. Don’t forget to let me know if there is any news, will you? I’ll try to write Durham in the next few days.
I’ve wandered off the subject a lot so I’d better get back to answering your letter. Your cake has already been acknowledged, I think, and also I gave my “permission” (haw haw!) for Wendy to join the Brownies. What is the peculiar attraction about St Andrews Church, which is a long way off? I could understand Michael wanting to join the Scouts there for they are, as far as I know, the only Scottish troop of Scouts on our side of the river and, in addition to kilts, they have a bagpipe band. To revert to the subject of the Brownies, I’d far sooner she had joined – or been able to join – something not connected with any religious body at all, for there’s only one logical end to all that sort of thing and I’d like to be home for the showdown. Even if it isn’t a condition for joining the troop, sooner or later pressure will be exerted on them to attend first one service and then another. It’s difficult to discuss this in a letter of this type, but I know you will get the drift of my thoughts when I say I would oppose it if I was home and there was any religious pressure from either side. It’s these problems which make me feel impotent at this range and you seem to be bearing the brunt of all these “battles”. Like you, I don’t want her to grow up with a frustrated feeling but, at the same time, I don’t want her to be pumped full of fine ideals which will suddenly be shattered. I had that experience and I know how much it can hurt.
Wendy will probably be like most little girls – full of enthusiasm for the Brownies for six months and then she will find there are other things that she will want to do on Brownie night and gradually she will drift away from it. I too hope to be at home as the more serious side of religion crops up, for the normal conversation between us – if I can hold a “normal” conversation on the subject – will be a big guide to them. At least it will teach them to examine all sides of these questions without accepting them blindly. If in face of that they still “have faith”, good luck to them, for they are entitled to their own views providing they are their own and not a parrot-like repetition of the sayings of someone else. I’ve got a feeling, as I know you have, that if either of them does come to have any religious faith they’ll take it up professionally and the only comfort in that is that it is a comfortable and safe profession! Now skip it.
Thanks for the news of various people who may be involved in the cross-channel “party”. And many thanks, too, for the blacks of your poems, both of which I like and especially, as you say, the last verse of each. Let me know if you have any luck with John of Londons. That would be a very useful market to break into. What is it like in wartime?
And I think I have now answered your letter pretty fully. There is very little news from here except on subjects which are best left alone. On Saturday, Tom and I had with us one of the more sensible young lads here – one Ken Collins. I’m not very keen on going out three-handed really, because if you do decide to hitch anywhere it makes things much more difficult, but as he is on Tom’s watch and is his permanent “pupil” it’s rather difficult. Still, we had made up our minds to a quiet day so we got up on to the hills at the back of the camp and tried to sleep in the sun, but there was a cold high wind so we crossed over to the other side of the valley and in the shelter of the hill and a little copse, found the real heat of “flaming June”. The difference was amazing for the sun was really scorching hot and we slept there for an hour or two, after which we went back into Dover for egg and chips, then on up the hill towards Dover Castle to discover Connaught Park – a pleasant little place with a lily pond crammed with three-quarter grown tadpoles still millions strong despite daily depredations of children. Michael and Wendy would have been thrilled with them. Back to camp, as usual, by about 9.30 and so to bed. Nothing exciting, but very pleasant. One night we must go to the local theatre, which runs shows by 20th-rate companies apparently, and from scraps I heard from one of the lads today they must stage the most blue shows in the country.
Well, love, that’s all the news except to say that I have caught your current attack of dreams! Nuff said, but I don’t think they can be attributed to big suppers!
Look after yourself, sweetheart, and don’t worry about me. We jog along quite well here and if we could get some leave I’d be quite happy to stay here until September or October and then go back to London for “the season”! Hope the children are fit. Give them my love, and all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Wednesday
Dover
Dearest,
The days are fairly slipping by, aren’t they? D-Day is more than a fortnight behind us now and it only seems as if it were a couple of days ago. It doesn’t seem possible, especially with weather such as we are enjoying (?) at the moment, that it is just about high summer and that from now on there will be a slow drift back to earlier “black-out” times. I have quoted “black-out” because I’m hoping that we will have seen the end of it by the time next autumn comes along. You may be having your eagerly awaited black-out bonfire sooner than we thought a few months ago, for I never expected to see such a note of general optimism everywhere.
Late last night I was listening in to the Calais radio, which broadcasts an Invasion programme in English, when the programme was rudely interrupted by “Achtung Luftwaffe” and there followed a voluble gabble of German. It wasn’t this that struck me, nor yet the fact that the call to the Luftwaffe came right on top of the words “Do you realize that you are making all your sacrifices for Jewish interests in Washington and Moscow” (in itself a funny combination), but the note in the announcer’s voice. You could almost hear him damning the RAF to all eternity. No panic, mind you, but that indefinable something which creeps into the voice of raid-weary people and which it is almost impossible to control.
There is one of our announcers whom I never ceased to admire (but whose name I can’t for the life of me remember) for the way he used to come on the air with the midnight news and finish up with his “Goodnight everybody – and good luck”. One of the most human things the BBC have ever done.
Well, love, it’s a bit of a struggle to eke out a letter today for so far I haven’t done anything startling – and I haven’t had a letter either yesterday or today yet, though one may still come before I go out.
Give the Yanks credit, they seem to be doing very well at Cherbourg, don’t they? But to ride my old hobby-horse, I’ve been trying to find people willing to make a bet with me. I know now that the Yanks will be the first troops in Paris and Berlin! The Russians, however, may yet dispute the latter honour with them and I hope to God they win. Incidentally, did you notice last night’s war commentary contained an account “How we protect the convoys to France” by a Yank; and “How we shoot down Doodlebugs over the English Channel” by a Yank. You know, I had an idea that a few British sailors, soldiers and airmen were doing a few odd jobs in this racket somewhere. Surely they can’t all be in the Quartermaster’s Stores!
Proper broadminded, aren’t I? But it is sickening and why our people do it I don’t know. This false modesty and silent service stunt can be carried too far, especially when you remember the Dunkirk Trot gibe with which the Yanks were so ready before they had ever seen North Africa. I remember a first-class riot in Glasgow Central station! One day the collection of ex-fossil guardians who comprise the M.O.I. may get back to their fossils and then perhaps we’ll get a bit of realism in the picture presented to our own people and the rest of the world as to the share various people have taken in the running of this war. Oh, what the hell’s the use of worrying? Bye now and all my love, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Sunday
Dover
Dearest,
Thank goodness! A letter from you at last. Written on the 22nd, it reached me on the 24th, which means that there are probably letters which you wrote on the 18th, 19th, 20th and 21st skulking round loose somewhere. The post seems all haywire at the moment for I also got, late on the 23rd, a letter which you had written on the 9th! That means I got, on successive days, letters which were each a fortnight old. Anyway, it’s good to know that things are evidently normal at home for I was getting quite worried. Did you notice a par in the papers the other day saying that the P.M.G. reminded the public that no claim could be entertained for registered letters burned by enemy action? I took this as a hint that one of the big London post offices must have been hit. If there are any special points in your last few letters which need an answer, perhaps you’d better repeat them in your next letter to be sure of a reply. And will you please let me know if my little parcel arrived and if there’s any news about my things from Jack? I’ll be glad of an answer on these two points.
I liked the casual way you said how Percy, who was probably being pounded to hell, had no time to write in the first five days! What did he expect? A second Beaver Club on the Normandy beaches? His remark about his boots gives you a good idea of what things must be like there. Worrying as it must be for people on this side, I think they are very lucky to hear so quickly. It’s not like it was going to France at the beginning of the war. A complete field post office has had to be carried over there you know, and the mere finding of time by the men themselves is in itself pretty difficult, for their minds and bodies must be in a whirl. What is Percy, by the way?
What was the ‘Housewife’ article you were working on? And when, by the way, is the new ‘Housewife’ published? You possibly made mention of this date in one of your wandering letters. This is the only town I’ve seen, by the way, where there doesn’t appear to be a WHS shop or stall. What have you sent to ‘Good Housekeeping’? It’s funny you should mention a new winter coat, for I was thinking you were just about due for one. The other one, I take it, is OK for knocking about in. Will it dye at all?
I know how you feel about these women whose husbands have been so lucky and sometimes I get very bitter, but generally that is only when I hear people safe and comfortable at home talking about all the privileges the servicemen get or else being condescending about sailors and soldiers who cannot afford this and that! My general outlook on life has been sufficiently warped already that I don’t want to get too bitter about things
You most certainly are not blithering for we have not “digs” at all and if we had they couldn’t be nice in Dover! I’ll tell you some stories of this place when I come home, and somehow I have the feeling, though I may be wrong, that we won’t be here very much longer, but how long we will reign at Admiralty once we get back there I’d hate to say. However, we’ll let that take care of itself. Incidentally, your letter of June 9th (proper business college touch about that phrase, isn’t there?) is one of those written when you were without letters from me for a few days and I hope you have got over that phase now. Let me know if there has been a break in my letters, won’t you? I’m just glancing through that letter to see if there’s anything to be answered. On the point about Jane worrying about me being in this lot, I doubt if she will for she has the sort of mind that takes it for granted that men will fight for King and Country! Anyway, I think she takes as poor a view of me as a sailor as May does! What’s this about my rum ration leading me into trouble? Dim view of that, young woman. Do you realise there’s at least two parts of water to each part of rum, though I sometimes manage it a bit better than that. We have our grog about lunchtime and what with that and quite a substantial lunch it’s sometimes quite a struggle to keep awake on the dog watch. In that letter you said you would be glad to have me back in London. Had I gone then I should have now been dodging doodlebugs! Another instance of our luck working out right, isn’t it? So no more grumbles from you no matter where I may go in the future. And now I think I am up to date with your letters so I’ll see what news there is.
On Friday we found that once again our luck was out. The weather here has been most consistent. Each day we are on duty there is a lovely clear day and even though it is not warm, the weather is at least settled. But each morning when we come off watch the sky is heavily overcast and there’s a cold wind blowing, conditions which obtain until evening when the sky clears once more for our “friends” of the opposite 24 to be sure of a fine day on their watch ashore. This was again the case on Friday and despite this we went into Folkestone, where we had a wander round and discovered some new parks, in one of which there were a lot of youngsters fishing for roach and carp. It made my fingers itch for the feel of a good rod once more. We hitched both ways – going there with a Canadian who gave me one of their anti-VD packets (do I look that sort of a lad?) from which I gathered that they are left without protection but given an immediate antidote in case they click! I should have thought it a better plan to give them some sort of actual protection, wouldn’t you? When I saw the packet, that’s what I thought it was.
Did I tell you that the other day Tom and I went over to St Margaret’s Bay and had a very pleasant day there? Although it’s a small place, quite a lot of the houses seem to be falling to pieces either through enemy action or plain neglect through being empty and I was saying to Tom that we could have built up lovely gardens had we been able to send home roots and cuttings from all the derelict gardens we have seen in our travels. St Margaret’s is a nice country-cum-seaside place which should make a big appeal in peacetime for it hasn’t been spoiled. We found a W.V.S. canteen tucked away in a really quaint old house furnished with the dilapidated chairs etc common to British service clubs, but the women folk were very nice and evidently did all they could to put variety into their menus. One thing which tickled me was that instead of serving tea in cups, they used pint basins for it! And it was really good tea, too.
Well, sweetheart, that’s all the news at the moment. I’m missing you a lot these days and nights! My gawd, wait until I get home and if it’s not at a propitious moment I give you due warning I’ll go straight over the road and give Mrs G the thrill of her life! Oh, sweetheart, I’d go crackers if that did happen so, in case there should be any option as to the date of this chimerical leave, you’d better put me wise. I know it is somewhere about July 1st but don’t know at which end of the business that comes – early or later, so will you let me know in your next letter, please. This is just in case and it would be as well to let me know approx the next date as this is more likely to be about the time. Now I must go, sweetheart. Take good care of yourself for you mean such a lot to me. I wouldn’t try to tell you how much – yet! How are Wendy and Michael? Give them both a hug for me. All my love to you, dearest. I’m missing you a lot lately.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Dover
Dear Wendy,
Here is some chocolate for you. There is not as much as I generally send, but I cannot get as much as I did in London and this, apart from the chewing gum, is two weeks’ ration for me. Perhaps you will be able to spare a bit for Michael, even if he has not got the mumps!
I hope you did not get the mumps through writing to me. Poor old Wend. I hope your throat is better now. When I was a little boy and had mumps, Nanna wrapped a stocking round my neck and everyone laughed at me! It rained nearly all the time I was home from school and I did get miserable sitting in the window watching the rain come down. I can remember it quite well, but Auntie Jane was very good and used to read stories to me when she came home from work.
And by the way, young woman, you had better get well quickly. What would you do if I suddenly came home on leave? I could very easily deal with you while you were in bed, you know. Besides, I have been looking forward for a long time to you running down the road with Michael to meet me. So hurry up and get properly well again, won’t you, just in case I can come home.
Thank you for your letter and for the picture of you with your skipping rope. I am glad you enjoyed the Brownies and that you found there so many girls you know.
How is Judy now? I have not heard anything about her for a long time. Has she grown too big for her hutch yet?
Now I must wrap your parcel up and post it when I go for a walk. Bye for now, sweetheart, and I hope your throat is better by the time you get this letter.
Lots of love from your
Daddy X
P.S. I am sorry, love, but I cannot send you any chocolate because one of the sailors has stolen it out of my case.

Dearest,
Talk about a feast and a famine! First of all I go about a week without a letter and then, today, I get three letters and a wire from you and a letter from Jack and Dot, about whom I worry every time I hear the doodlebugs go sailing over our heads in the dark. I know what it can be like where they are! Apparently, they have not said anything to Mother about these raids, so don’t mention as there’s no need to set her worrying if she doesn’t realise – as apparently she doesn’t – what is happening. Still, it can’t be nice in London these nights and I believe Dot when she says they will just about be ready for a holiday by the time July 15th comes along! Like so many other Londoners, they’ve had a pretty tough time since the war started. Let’s hope things will improve in the next few days, as I think they will.
Now before I do anything else I’d better begin to answer your letters in chronological order, but just before I do so, I hope you won’t mind the brief note I rushed off yesterday but that fourth day of the watches is pretty hectic and leaves very little spare time. Now about your letters, replies to which I’ll date with the date of writing:
19th. I’m glad that you do like the pan cleaners (what prosaic little things people can rhapsodise over these days) and I was relieved to know they had reached you. I should have been very wild if they had gone astray. Thanks for the gardening bulletin and I’m glad to hear that the tommies are doing so well after what I take to be a not too promising start. Tom Oliver said he had some Stonor’s (but not bushes) which did very well indeed last year, though they can usually get them in very much earlier here than you can. About ‘Heartless Little Beggar’, do you know what I think is the explanation? I think that in “normal” times it would have clicked at once, but these days people are not very keen to publish anything that is not fairly bright and cheerful. Well written as it is, it tells of what is, to a child, a major tragedy and just now the number of adults with concrete major tragedies such as killed or maimed menfolk is liable to mount rather quickly! If I were you I should be inclined to store ‘H.L.B.’ in ice for a time and though you may find this disappointing just now, it is better finally than sending it out to return continually. There’s nothing wrong with the construction that I can see, but you have timed it badly from a national psychological point of view. Think it over and let me know if you think I’m right. The comments it has drawn from the people to whom you have submitted it prove my contention, I think. See if you can turn out something of the same standard with less of the Poe atmosphere and then bung it off to Collins and I think you will click alright. Again, let me know if you think I’m right. I’ll be interested to hear what happens to all the things you have simmering in your brain.
22nd. This is the “German measles” letter, and I’m sorry that your first diagnosis wasn’t correct! A lot of this letter is outdated by the following one so all I’ll say now is that I hope poor old Wendy is making good progress and that the attack will, as you hope, prove to be a fairly light one. What a ghoul you are, sitting watching Michael and almost willing him into having a sore throat! Poor kid, I’ve a good mind to have him sent to an orphanage. Seriously, love, if he is going to develop mumps, I hope he will do so soon for many reasons. They would both have company during isolation then; they could, I presume, play out in the garden and the plot if the weather was really nice; and, of course, there would be less restriction on your movements than if they followed one another. Anyway, I’m glad you had not booked for July 1st.
This could only be ONE of the days I have followed you round the home tantalising you. Don’t worry, I’d be insistent all right! You tantalising X.X.X.! I’ve only got to mention the nape of your neck and John plays hell. Sweetheart, in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I’m still crazy about you – so much so that I am continually battling to banish you from my mind, an almost impossible job. Get all the early nights and all the rest you can – you’ll need a good reserve when I come home. Remember my bright idea for my homecoming last time? Well it’s your turn to think up something new this time. What about it?
24th. This contains chiefly news to which I have already replied except to say I do hope that you are not having too many broken nights and that you are making up all you can for whatever sleep you may lose. On the ‘Good Housekeeping’ subject, by the way, I think I’m entitled to a bit more than a pint – say 50–50. After all, if I hadn’t come into the Navy you would not have had the subject matter and, secondly, I got the copies of ‘G.H.’ for you, as you rightly point out. So if we split it – 25%–75% – we’ll call the matter closed. What do you say to that? All right, love, don’t tell me! I’ll just have a pony! You say you wish I was home because you want someone to gloat to. My sweet, if I was home I’d do all the gloating over you – and not only in the way you mean, either. Sweetheart, I am having a bad time today. One of the young lads here had ‘Sex In Married Life’ and I have just been reading it. Do you know who I met in it? My old friend clit! Oh, darling, alas I am undone. It can be hellish, can’t it? I’m in a revengeful mood in which I could deliberately write pages and pages, each line of which would make you wiggle yourself to death. Oh, angel, if only I could make love to you in the flesh now it would be so nice, wouldn’t it? It’s a long time since I let what you would call my sexual “armour” down, but today’s been pretty bad. Now I’ll buckle up my armour again and gird up my loins and be a good lad! But you really started all this with your talk of me following you about the house. You devil – but you’re a loveable little devil, aren’t you?
Now I think I have answered pretty well all that letter except to say I’m glad that Gardner is out of the paratroop stunt; and I hope Percy’s wound is a superficial “blighty”. If I can manage it I’ll write Wendy today and send her a couple of bars of chocolate I’ve got binned and also some Beech-Nut chewing gum. If she can’t eat the latter you can give Michael some and put the rest away for when Wendy’s throat is better.
Just while I remember – this is a bit like Mother’s stunt of flying off at a tangent, isn’t it? – have you thought of trying ‘The Strand Magazine’ with ‘Heartless Little Beggar’, just as a final fling? I saw a copy on a Wren officer’s desk just now and thought of you at once.
Now, having got more or less up to date with your letters I’ll see what news there is. Did I tell you that on Sunday we went to St Margaret’s Bay again and for once had lovely weather with a breeze to keep the temperature down? Instead of going straight in to St Margaret’s we turned off along some footpaths through the cornfields and found a place so deserted that I lay sunbathing in my underpants. I didn’t overdo it so am not paying any penalty in the way of a sore body, but our faces were really tanned. Inevitably I thought of you and the children a lot during the day, but most of all when I was lying with the wind and sun on my body. What a sweet con sigh there would have been could you have been with me at my side and with your lap under my head. For all the explosions across the Channel, we could have forgotten the war. There are some lovely houses and hotels there, but at least 95% of them are empty and I think this is one of the compulsorily evacuated coast towns. There is something unreal and eerie in walking through these completely deserted places where the uncurtained houses stand like a guard of blind men keeping watch and ward over the beloved gardens of departed families. But they are blind men for they cannot see and cannot mend the ravages of neglect in those gardens which in yesteryear must have been lovely places where unmatched English flowers bloomed. Oh, darling, it would break your heart to see grass and weed and creeping vine strangling the life out of once lovely flowers. Roses resist longest and in one place they tumbled over the fence, a solid wall of virginal white at variance with the bloody red murder which is in the air all over the world today. Had it been practicable I should have liked to collect specimens of plants from many of these gardens and send them home for you to care for until the war is over. This was not wholly prompted by the knock-off urge, but also as a gesture to protect and cherish some of the lovely things life does hold. As it is, weed and neglect will kill them off more certainly than the physical impact of war.
At that point I decided I was wasting my time writing all this to you so I got some more paper and wrote it to Prince! I’m sending it off to him by this post with the request that if he can’t find space he will hand it on to the ‘D.P.’, so will you keep an eye on the latter for me, please? It may just click. I’ve asked Prince to write me at home, not here, with this post being so uncertain. So if a fairly heavy envelope comes back you can open it and then give me your impression of what I’ve written. If anything other than an obvious manuscript comes back, perhaps you’ll enclose it in one of your letters, will you. Incidentally, I have not been paid for the last one yet. Hope he doesn’t think that was a gift! What’s more, I’ve given him a rub about me not being made the official naval correspondent! Anyway, even if he doesn’t use it, I’ve reminded him of my existence once more and it’s done me good to get it off my chest. If the ‘Echo’ use it, try to arrange a cutting for me, will you? I’ll write Hughie in the next day or so as well.
Well, sweetheart, a nine-page letter to you, a two-page one to Prince and four pages of article has run away with a good deal of time so I must away. Do my children know I write for the papers yet, by the way?
Look after yourself, sweetheart. You mean a lot, you know. There’s a steady buzz round here that one of two things is going to happen soon – either we’ll go back or else we’ll get leave. “Soon” means in a few weeks’ time, by the way, but personally I think something like that will happen in the next three or four weeks. Bye for now and all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Dover
Dearest,
I had to finish off your letter yesterday in such a hurry, because of Captain’s rounds, that I’ve got into a muddle as to which of your letters I have acknowledged, so I’ll tell you now that I’ve had letters dated 25th, another of the same date marked Letter No. 1, another of the 27th marked No. 2 and also one of the missing letters dated the 17th. This latter one I think I did acknowledge, for I seem to remember thanking you for letting me know about the ‘Housewife’ article and sketches.
Thanks for all the news of the children (in the first of the 25th letters) and, though all this news means a lot to me, I don’t think there is anything which calls for a definite reply, except to say I knew you’d approve my offer to pay for Wendy’s uniform as I had much the same point in mind as you mentioned. Please let me know how much it is and I’ll let you have it out of my birthday presents. Don’t forget, love, will you? Incidentally, I’m going to be more than interested to see you in your Welsh mountaineering outfit. Don’t forget to put plenty of zips in the right places, will you?
Many thanks for the outline of the ‘Dear Daddy’ article, which sounds good to me but on which there’s no need to comment seeing that it’s sold! By the way, “my” Wren pupil here tells me her mother writes short stories for ‘Harpers Digest’ so I’ll ask her what pen-name she uses. Your childhood article also sounds good and I’m pleased to hear your note of confidence about your writing. It’s one of the things I have always lacked; either that or else I’m too critical, for unless I write a thing and post it without re-reading it, it’s a 100-to-1 I’ll bung it in the fire as I have so often done! It’s either lack of confidence or lack of patience to write, rewrite, and write again, by which time a subject becomes stale to me and consequently I feel it must be the same to any prospective reader. Still, if my latest effort clicks in the ‘Post’ or ‘Echo’ I may look round and do more of them. The idea behind ‘English Story’ sounds good to me and looks as if it should provide a really good market when the war is over. You are most certainly right to try to get contacts with people like them and ‘New Writing’ NOW. This is the whole point I have always hammered home to you – that now, and not the month after the war ends, is the time to get your feet in. And, of course, a lot of these “regulars” will die off between now and the end of the war because, generally speaking, to be regulars they cannot be youngsters. That is where you will have the pull on them. Sweetheart, never apologise for writing at length on something which is doing you so much good – I was glad to hear Rees’s opinion that you are looking so well – for we’d natter for hours on things like this if I was home, wouldn’t we? And though I may sometimes regard your typewriter as my hated rival, I’m deeply grateful you have turned to it for solace and not to one of the neighbours or The Endbutt! Darling, we have been lucky in so many ways in this war, haven’t we?
And, by the way, it’s funny you should have mentioned the change in your handwriting because during the letterless period I began re-reading some of your specially nice letters which I have saved and was struck at once by the difference. Incidentally, I had to give up those letters for the first one I picked up was the one you sent me following my brief “anniversary” trip from Glasgow. The memories it brought back were almost too much for me.
I like your matronly reaction against the poor teacher who has replaced the behaloed Miss Ellis. She talks posh and has red fingernails! Well, well, the fast hussy. Gercha!
Letter No. 1. I’m glad first that you have dished your glasses, and secondly that you can afford new ones, though I doubt if you will find my frames much help for I think your face is broader than mine. (My writing’s lousy, too, isn’t it.) I’d like you to end your sterility(!) by having your teeth attended to. Alternatively you could come down to Dover where the air seems good for that sort of thing. Every cat on the station and in the camp is pregnant!
I’m glad to hear that you have such a long list of ideas for that is the beauty of writing – the more you write the more ideas you seem to get and I think you have done well to get them sorted out in seasons and broad categories. Half the battle is topicality if you ever think of breaking into daily or weekly publications, though the snag about purely topical stuff is that it is so highly “perishable” and cannot be sent the rounds. You have some good ideas among your other articles and I’m going to be interested to hear what happens to them all. I wouldn’t say your ‘Dear Daddy’ acceptance was merely good luck – ‘G.H.’ don’t take rubbish, do they? And, as you say, it may have quite a bearing on acceptances elsewhere. I don’t know the contents of the other mags you mention very well, but would, off hand, place ‘Britannia and Eve’ and ‘House and Gardens’ fairly high. ‘B&E’ used to be a very good production, typographically. Rather on the American style of make-up.
Letter No. 2. Yes, love, I’m glad you did send that wire for it might have arrived on my fifth letterless day, by which time I should have begun to imagine things, though what I still can’t make out is that the letters which went astray are reaching me in dribs and drabs and not in one bunch. No need to worry about my Wren, love – nobody could ever have your touch, I’m convinced of that and just thinking of you like that has made John nod his head most enthusiastically. But that’s a banned subject on which I’m very touchy indeed these days. Oh, sweetheart … ! I’m answering your questions as I come to them, so beware. Sorry if my mention of liberty boats and going ashore shook you. To go ashore means we walk through the gate and the liberty boat is our own two feet! But these phrases are not consciously adopted. We use them so often here that they are natural. For your delectation I sleep in two separate places – at the camp when we are off and at the station when we are on. At both I sleep in a wire double tier bunk. On the bottom at work and on top at camp. In the latter place we have no mattress but sleep on the bed from our hammocks covered with our own personal blanket. In addition I put my spare hammock over me and, if I’m cold, (and our room must be an ice box in winter!) my overcoat on top of that. If the shelling siren goes, we nip down to the caves and most of us carry our bedding and grab one of the bunks there so we don’t lose any sleep. Proper to-do it is! Now you can get a mental picture of me doing a midnight flit!
Thanks for the warning about what is in store for me when I do get home. Sometimes I cogitate on just what time I’ll get there and what we will do, especially as at least Wendy is likely to be there for it MUST be that one of them will be at least technically “ill”. At the moment I simply dare not dwell on what would be the ideal circumstances, but when it gets nearer the time will you make a detailed plan and write me a vision-producing letter on the subject – pages and pages of it! Behind me, Satan!
Yes, many thanks, I did get the ‘Journalist’. About the naval increase, it has just occurred to me that they may be making their adjustment to you as they so often do to us, at the end of the quarter, which is either the first or second pay day in July. I hope some of your “extras” arrive soon for I was a bit disturbed at your statement that you live above your income! That’s pretty deadly. So long as you don’t begrudge my grog issue, I’ll forgive your remark on the subject!
I’m glad to hear that Wendy is making such good progress and I’m still jumping wild about the petty meanness of anyone pinching that chocolate, but I hope you have explained it to Wendy. You’ll be glad Rees is back, I know, and I must say I’m glad to hear that he has stopped laying hands on your body. I take a dim view of that nonsense! From what you say, both Wendy and Michael will have grown a lot. I often look at your photographs, you know, and talk to you all. What a boon the camera has been. I’d like to see this game of bedroom rounders, for I’d bet it’s pretty hectic!
Now I think I’m up to date with your letters and I’ll see what news there is. On Tuesday we went over to see Mrs Oliver again and guess what we had for tea? Lovely, sweet fresh garden peas taken while they were very young. With them went new potatoes and very nice rabbit, part stewed and then baked. It was lovely and not the least enjoyable part of these meals is the really nice silver, linen and glass. The old girl must be worth a bit of money. The weather was far too windy (a half gale) to be really enjoyable though we were not out for very long. However, it was a cheap and enjoyable day for we hitched both ways and our total outlay for the day was 4d each on cups of tea. You can’t beat that, can you? I don’t know what I’ll do when I get back in civvies and have to pay fares for four of us!
Now I’ve carefully saved this news to the last in case, despite all my warnings, you go into a coma. Once more DON’T build up hopes of anything because we may be in London again before this regulation lets us off. An order has been circulated saying that people who live in a certain fairly prescribed area can put in for periodic leave. The area concerned is within a fairly close radius of here and doesn’t even reach London, but though it affects very few people on the station we are all bucked because we feel it is a step in the right direction. Personally I think it will be a little time before leave is given generally, but in any case it’s a bit too close to July 1st, isn’t it? Three or four weeks would be better for us, wouldn’t it? Anyway, love, it looks far less black so far as leave is concerned than it did do earlier and all I hope is that we are here long enough to get our leave from here, because Jackie is always the last to institute anything like that. Anyway, don’t build too much on it but it looks as if there may be a chance in a month or two.
Well, angel, on that brighter note I’ll leave you. Take good care of yourself just a little longer and then we can begin planning or at least dreaming. My love to the children and all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Friday
Dover
Dear Wendy and Michael,
I am writing this in a hurry because I want to catch the post so I cannot write a lot. I will be leaving here on Monday to go back to London and perhaps in a couple of weeks after that we may get some leave. I hope that Wendy is feeling better now and that Michael will not catch the mumps.
Bye for now. Lots of love from
Daddy X

Sunday
Dover
Dearest,
In very great haste, this. There’s been a last minute hitch and it is now very uncertain as to whether or not we will be going back to Whitehall tomorrow. In fact there is some doubt as to whether we will ever go back there, for there is talk now of us staying here permanently! As I see it, there may be considerable advantages in that and the possibilities are almost innumerable. There’s rum, the chance of you coming here with the children for a holiday, earlier and more regular leave, and cheap tobacco and lots of fresh air (if not sunshine) and lots and lots of other things. All of which I should be able to sort out if we knew where we stood, but at the moment we don’t! And I don’t know when I will be able to get a line on it at all.
Like a good matelot I went to church this morning, but I was a traitor and went to C of E because it entails a lot less trouble and was well rewarded for my perfidy. The three ringer who took divisions mounted the rostrum after prayers and prattled gaily on the subject of leave. He pointed out something which is very true – the Admiral commanding Dover is all for helping the lads on this matter. And, though there is no promise as to actual dates, he voiced the opinion that long distance travel may be possible in no more than a fortnight. Now if that is so we have only to hope that we’ll stay here for a fortnight! But we don’t know and so I’m leaving you as much in the air as I am myself, but if you can sort it out you’re better than me. Anyway, the prospects are tantalising for me and I can see no reason why you, too, should not be tantalised. As soon as I know anything definite I’ll let you know. Meantime, all my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Dover
Dearest,
This is, strictly speaking, a non-letter day for you as it’s my three-watch day, but as I’ve two letters to answer (both numbered five, by the way) I’m making an effort to do them now on watch so I’ll bust straight off on them. The letter you enclosed was from Prince sending a few cuttings so I’ve done well for copies of this, probably due to the fact that I wrote to Hughie and asked him to get some for me. I’m glad you liked it. I think I can write quite a bit of stuff like this providing I do what I did with this one – write it, bung it in an envelope and send it off without re-reading it. Had I stopped to re-read that, I’d have begun tinkering with it and it would have met the fate of all the others – the W.P.B. All I’ll say about alleged war correspondents is that I feel instinctively that I could write the head off some of them if I had the chance, but I haven’t. That sounds bombastic but I don’t give two hoots.
I’m glad to hear that Wendy is so much better and is eating so well and that you are not only getting a little fresh air but also some early nights in bed. Do take care, won’t you? About taking the children to the office, I really think they are too young yet to understand anything about it. I know I went to Bibby’s when I was about nine and do you know what stuck in my mind most? The smell of floor polish and the fact that rooms and corridors could be so high! I was also impressed by the fact that there could be so many rooms in one building and that one man could have a room all to himself. Somehow I had thought of office buildings as being one big shell! Anyway, we can see about it when I come home.
You can wriggle out of it as much as you like. Some sexual novelty for my homecoming, please, if it’s only masturbation in the bus! I’d thought of the children being home, though not that they would be on holiday.
I hope you have clicked with ‘H.L.B.’ and ‘Cabbage’. What a funny girl you are! The title of a thing never occurs to me, though I must admit that you usually get some really good ones.
Sorry the children were so disappointed about the “nutty” – chocolate to you – but perhaps this week’s sweet ration has arrived by now. It’s only a bit but it helps, doesn’t it?
Your mention of Mrs Gardner reminds me that you never told me the mystery of her weeping fit, and I’m intrigued! No holding out, love. Come clean – or dirty if it is dirty!
What does this crazy relation of the Russells mean by saying Kent is worse than London? It’s like saying Lancashire is worse than Liverpool when all you have seen of Liverpool is the stretch between Exchange and Lime Street. Kent is a county! Latest reports, by the way, are that the centre of London and the West End are getting it hot. I’m glad you have written Jack and Dot. Don’t worry about me, I’ve told you before I’m OK. I hadn’t thought of the change from “pilotless plane” to “flying bomb” until you mentioned it, but it’s a good point. What price the next war? It will be all machines and no men.
There is still no news of our return to London so, in the absence of a wire, you might as well start writing here again. I’ve had a letter today from one of the stanchions of Whitehall who is now at Burnham, so it looks as if they are all on the move. He enclosed a letter from Dougie (the lazy devil writes us joint letters these days) and it seems they were in the fun on D-Day. In many ways I’m sorry I missed that show, you know. Talk about a front seat, these lads had a running commentary on it – literally! And don’t forget that had I got that draft I’d have been at home while she was refitting at least every other night and had two lots of leave as well! Oh well, we’ll see what happens in the future.
There’s nothing new today, love. Yesterday, Tom and I went out for a walk in the rain and it turned out warm and sticky. We found more empty and abandoned houses out on the Downs with their gardens running wild but, at Kingsdown, which is between Deal and Dover, we found a pleasant trim little village of lovely modern and old houses all occupied, many newly painted and their gardens spick and span. What a contrast it was! They looked really lovely. One had a fine show of the biggest double campanulas I’ve ever seen, with blooms bigger than egg cups.
Well, love, I must be off. If there’s no footnote to this you’ll know there’s no news about us going and if there’s no news today we may not hear for some time as our officer leaves us today and we will probably be forgotten. Bye now, angel girl – all my love to you.
Ever,
Arthur X

Thursday
Dover
Sweetheart,
I want to make violent love to you today, but I mustn’t, must I? If this goes on much longer I will desert and then they will put me in the glasshouse and stop all your allowances and my children will roam the streets crying bitterly for bread. So you had better get cracking and get a few hundred articles accepted so that you will have enough to keep you while I’m doing my 90 days cells! It’s getting terrible lately for I can’t escape you. You follow me all over the place, driving me nearly to distraction. You’ll pay for this when I do get home, young woman. I’ll do what I’ve threatened to do before – stand in a corner and masturbate while you writhe on the bed!
Like you, I’m very susceptible to the sun and yesterday was quite nice, but today is what one of the minor poets called a stinker. I can’t recall, off hand, which poet it was. And, glory be, the lads are pounding hell out of the other side if the noises we can hear are anything to judge by. Incidentally, it seems as if Jerry was trying to get more of his doodlebugs through just at the time when Churchill was speaking, but I don’t know whether or not they succeeded, though there was a racket going on here.
Thank you very much, love, for a very nice letter today which was all the nicer because I had quite made up my mind that I couldn’t possibly get one before tomorrow. I won’t try to answer all of it because I haven’t time now, but the first part of it, about the ’sprise, has me greatly intrigued. Whatever it is, I’m glad to hear you have devised something which is amusing and occupying the minds of the children during their enforced incarceration. Apart from any enjoyment it will give me, I’m glad to see you all getting down to some team effort, for lessons in co-operation will do them good. I’m dying to know what it is all about.
I’m glad you acknowledged that little parcel in this letter because, as you will know, I haven’t received your other letters, of course.
Sorry this is so brief a note, love, but I must fly. I’ll answer the rest of your letter tomorrow. Bye for now, sweetheart. My love to the children and all my love to you, dearest.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Sunday
Dover
Dearest,
I too have had the feeling of you walking with me through my day, a feeling which produces a calmness of spirit which somehow puts a protection barrier between me and the petty restrictions and irritations of life.
Sorry you had news of two rejections but, as you say, neither of them will “date” and may come in useful. If I were you, I should build up a stock of little verse, writing them as they occur to you, for once you let an idea slip by it’s never reborn. A stock of these written now, even if they never see publication, will keep your mind fresh during lulls between writing articles and may, on being re-read at some time in the future, start up a train of thought at some time when you may be devoid of ideas. See what I mean? It’s almost like a diary in verse. Keep them dated. Do this, love, for I think you’ll find it will yield all sorts of results.
Yes, I had thought of your holiday for this year. My idea – very nebulous, of course – was that if I was posted here for a definite period you could perhaps transfer your Wales date to someone else to avoid letting anyone down, and then I could fix up for you to come here for a week or so. Not actually to Dover, but to somewhere close by. It was, as I say, just an idea, but quite honestly I don’t think there’s any chance of it now.
I’m glad to hear of your onslaught on the garden. Down here there’s quite a lot of rockery stuff grows wild on the shingle behind breakwaters and I’ll try to collect some and send it home. Another garden novelty I’m trying to get for you is the everlasting spring onion. One of the lads had some sent from home and they are nice. He said they grow in clumps and the idea is that you dig up a complete clump, break one or two off, stick them back in the hole from which they came, cover them up with earth and you get another clump all over again! Sounds a good stunt to me for they are lovely spring onions.
Any more news of the “schoolboard”. If he does come again, I should ask for a written instruction from the school medical officer to the effect that a mumps contact has to attend school. Didn’t you send a note in the first place explaining why Michael was away? Incidentally, Michael, at the age of five, seems to have dealt very sensibly with the visitor. I’d love to see him in a black moustache!
Your mention of the “lawn” is very depressing for it is something that is permanently hiding at the back of my mind. It’s never been a posh lawn, but when I think of the first year when we had those lovely tulips and then think of the mess that damned shelter has made, I could weep. One thing we do need is a decent lawn and a decent mower! Poor old girl. I feel sorry for you, but please don’t introduce pictures of you in the bath. I nearly leapt on a Wren cook and raped her on the spot after reading that part of your letter. It’s premeditated torture, that’s what it is. To be severely practical, I hope you put all the leaves and grass on the compost. I’m glad the children are getting out so much and was amused by their private garden. It certainly does them good to have a spell on their own and they seem to be getting along together much more amicably these days, perhaps because they have more ideas they can share now.
Household expenses seem to have eaten a hole in your newly acquired wealth. Did you ever think you’d buy coal with your first free-lance money? Still, it’s a good buy, for you may find it very short next winter. The coal problem is by no means settled yet. The children are getting well off for books now, aren’t they? From what you say of the money you have spent in advance and currently, you’ll be lucky if you get a winter coat out of it, never mind a holiday as well. Try not to spend your money before you get it, love, or you will find you’ll fritter it away on odds and ends and never really feel the benefit of it. Can’t you manage at all these days on your normal income? I get very worried when I know you are having such a struggle as you must have had for the past few weeks. What if I’d written home for some money for a new suit? You’d have been right in the cart then! And I very nearly did do.
I’m glad you have got over that feeling of being housebound (that word always reminds me of a hen with excessive ovular ability!) now that Wendy is up and I only hope Michael won’t go down with the mumps too, for he is not bound to do. With leave somewhere in the offing I’m jittery about this and about vapours. And talking of vapours, wot the ’ell, love, wot the ’ell? You know the cause of these stoppages, don’t you? And me away nearly five months. Complete explanation please! While on the subject of vapours and positions, and kindred subjects, shall I bring some hygeolene home? I’m serious, love, so let me know, won’t you? And, between now and leave, whenever it may be, don’t completely banish the question of positions from your mind, will you? Variety, you know, is the spice of life. Incidentally, that book, poor as it was, backed up my theory that a change of position may procure pregnancy.
This surprise has intrigued me greatly, though I’d hate to know anything of it for it adds still a little more spice to the anticipation of coming home. But I’m delighted to know the children have entered into it so wholeheartedly.
I’m sorry, love, but I still can’t give you any definite information about our movements. Yesterday I went in and tackled this new officer, who also seems very decent, to see if I could find out our prospects. He has only been here two or three days and is obviously not properly settled in yet, but he said he was attending to the matter and would definitely be able to give us some information by last night or this morning, but he hadn’t arrived when I left at 8am so I can’t carry it any further. The leave problem is no nearer solution either, as there are so many different theories as to how it will work out – even if we are still here – that it is quite impossible to make any forecast as to when I’m likely to be home. All I can really say is that by Monday, anyway, we should know roughly how long we are to be here and that the leave business will also be settled by next Friday (that’s the 14th), so the coming week should resolve some of our problems for us. The nearer you get to these dates, the more impatient you get and the more time seems to drag, doesn’t it? It was the same at Admiralty with leave. I’m always afraid I’ll touch for the last lot, which would be some time in August, which seems ages off. Oh, sweetheart, won’t it be nice when we don’t have to wish our lives away in this stupid fashion? But that, too, is a day which I can’t even visualize. Darling, I do hope all your forecasts about me being home in time to get the raspberries and lots of other things will prove correct. Two things I want. For all the family to be well and for you to have had vapours over by just a nice period – though even 48 hours will do – I never trust it in less time than that.
I do want you sexually, darling, it would be crazy to think anything else, but I also want just to hold you, and look at you, and put my hand out at any time of the day or night and feel you there. Stell, I’m not writing this to make you squirm, honestly, but just to tell you I love you deeply. You know the way I’ve often said I can’t kiss you often enough, or satisfactorily enough? Well, it’s true and I’m in that insatiable mood today. I just feel I couldn’t possibly have you in enough different ways, nor have enough of you in any one way, visually, sexually, tenderly or any other way. My darling, I’m lost without you and I’m yearning for you with every fibre of my body and every sense of my intellect. ‘Bye for now, my own girl. Quite simply, I love you and will always be
Your own
Arthur XXX
P.S. Tell me if Michael can read any of his letter himself. Can you afford to have your teeth done now?

Dear Wendy,
Thank you for your letter which I got yesterday after Uncle Jack posted it to me from London. I laughed when I saw your picture of you in bed with the mumps, but it was a very good picture. Poor old girl. Did your face really swell up like that? Anyway, I am glad to hear you are so much better now and able to play in the garden such a lot. Mummy has told me how much you and Michael have been helping her. Can I see your private garden when I come home, and will you let me go in, or will I have to pay a penny as I have to do at Kew? If you make me pay I will want to see the goldfish pond and the banana tree and the orange tree. But perhaps you have not got any. Have you got a greenhouse in your garden? I wish you could be with Mr Oliver and me when we go for a walk because we see such a lot of pretty wild flowers growing in the paths through the cornfields. There are lots of wild roses and blackberries, too. I often think what a nice bunch of flowers you would be able to pick for Mummy and for your bedroom if you were here.
Just to show you that all the sailors are not the same, one of them has given me his chocolate ration to send to you this week. Isn’t he good? Sailors do not call it chocolate, you know, they always say “nutty”. Did you like the chewing gum?
I have lots of letters to write yet so I must say goodbye now. I am glad to know that you have been such a good girl while you have been ill and to know you are so much better now. Tickle Judy’s ears and stroke Tiger for me, please. Tiger will have forgotten me again, won’t he? Bye now, sweetheart.
Lots of love,
Daddy X

Tuesday
Dover
Dear Wendy and Michael,
Just a little note with some chocolate which I hope you will enjoy. Two of the Mars bars were given to me by one of the sailors when he heard the others had been stolen. Wasn’t that good of him? He said he hopes Wendy is better now. Will you please give these pan cleaners to Mummy and will you ask her to plant these flowers in the rockery in gravel if she can, or sand.
Lots of love,
Daddy XXX

Dearest,
Thanks for your letter of the 8th and I’m glad to know that you received the ‘D.P.’ cheque safely and also that it arrived at an opportune moment. Your purchases for Wendy sound very nice and I’m looking forward to seeing what sort of a hash you have made of her nighties. Wendy in nighties and Michael in pyjamas are pictures which set me longing for home. I can just see the two of them skylarking about as they always do in that ten minutes between bath and bedtime, playing hell in general and stridently demanding to be dealt with. Happy thought, for they ARE good kids, aren’t they? It isn’t just distance lending enchantment to the view, is it? Somehow I don’t think it can be, for there are none of those complaints which filled your letters for about six months at one period and which nearly drove me scatty! No doubt they will have “difficult” periods again, but I’ll try not to let it worry me as it used to do. All of which began with Wendy in a nightie!
I’m glad you are able to plan their winter clothes ahead of time this year. As you say, it’s a load off your mind, but I should have thought the blue coats would have lasted this year too. Wasn’t last year their first full winter? How has Michael’s gabardine lasted? It wasn’t looking too healthy when I last saw it. You won’t let your own winter coat slide past, will you? If you do as well as you did with your blue one, you will not be able to grumble. How many years is it? However long it is, you always looked snug and warm in it, which was a great thing to me. And talking of coats, though I know it must be about on its last legs, did you ever sew up the shoulder seam of that brown one? You could do with something to replace that one, too, couldn’t you? I wish I could get something for you from the same source!
Thanks for all the gardening news, love. You must have been working hard to get the plot filled up so well and I hope it will be a really good year for you. I wish I had done more of the preparatory work in January. Seems years ago, doesn’t it? Without criticising the nursery, I have wondered several times why you don’t get more of your greens from the Corpn park. We’ve never had anything in that line to equal those colossal cabbage we had in that first season, have we? They really were amazing. I wonder if we will ever have narks about the plot when I come home? So many people do, you know. By the way, do you like runner beans? Tom Oliver told me a good stunt yesterday when I said I could never be bothered with all the trouble of the stakes. He says that one year he had great success by knocking some nails into a fairly solid pole which he drove into the ground. From the nails he ran pieces of strong string (the twine they use for wrapping newspaper bundles should be ideal, I think) to tent pegs driven firmly into the ground. When the beans were in flower it looked most effective – like a red streamered maypole – and he had a good crop of beans which hung on the centre of the area covered by the strings so that they grew long and straight. Quite a stunt, wasn’t it? As you say, the plot seems full of utility stuff this year, for I always look upon marrow and celery and red cabbage and lots of other things as being interesting but rather in the nature of luxuries for the amount of ground they occupy. One thing I should like to try my hand at, wherever we settle when the war’s over, is a fruit garden. I doubt if an allotment is worth while in normal times, but I’d like to try to get a house with a fair sized garden and try to grow just ordinary eating apples and some lovely, luscious dessert pears – you know, the sort that weigh over a pound each and reach their best about November or December. Ooh! I can feel the juice running down my chin. Lovely.
I meant to tell you before of an interesting evening we had recently when, while waiting to go on watch, we wandered round the grounds of Dover Castle. I haven’t been able to get the dope on the castle itself, but inside the grounds is a garrison church, St Mary in Dover Castle, and for this is made the claim of standing on the site which is the oldest site devoted to Christianity in the world. Records go back to 161 though there has not been continuous Christian worship all that time, there having been one or two pagan lapses. They can, however, trace the chaplains to the forces back to the early 13th century for it has apparently been a garrison continuously from Saxon times and perhaps even earlier. The castle is right on top of the cliff and must have seen a few invasion fleets! Some coming and some going. I should like to know a bit more about it, as we are so closely connected with it, but none of our lads seem interested in the least. I find it most fascinating and there’s an ancient set of bye-laws as to how the watch shall be kept each night of which I should like to get a copy. I suppose a job in the Castle was looked upon much in the same way as a job in Whitehall in those days!
Another night, on one of our off days, we were wandering round some property on a hill at the back of our camp and “discovered” the site of the smallest Roman church in this country. Built in 1227 as a replica of the church of the Holy Sepulchra in Jerusalem, it is no bigger, if as big, as our house and 47 together. It’s certainly narrower though it may just be as long. What with these two churches and Canterbury Cathedral, you’d think I’d gone all religious, wouldn’t you? But not if you heard what I said on Sunday morning when they decided that instead of ordinary divisions we all had to go to church! I was livid and poured out a string of blasphemy to the great dismay of all the very conventional people. I don’t remember feeling so livid for ages, more especially as Tom escaped being included by one. If one of the young lads hadn’t been picked out at divisions for having a dirty jean or dirty boots or something, I shouldn’t have had to go. What I called that lad was nobody’s business!
It’s funny you should say I’ve been following you round, for I have – on several occasions and the oven featured in one or two of them, and so did the children in the bath. Do they wash themselves entirely now or do you have to bend over to see that their feet are clean? Oh, sweetheart, such little tiny things remind me of you. And you’re such a nice person to be reminded of, even if your vapours are suspiciously unreliable! Dearest I’m getting proper chokka, as the lads say. As you know, Jackie is keeping us hanging on with no definite information; there’s still no official news of leave here; and we heard a little whisper which, if true, may delay leave still further, though not for long. Still, every little delay is becoming more and more welcome these days. I’m getting just about to the end of my tether! However, I’m not quite as badly off as one of the seamen ratings I was talking to today. He’s a northerner and hasn’t been home since November and he says he has got to the stage where he’s almost afraid to go to bed because of the dreams he has every night! Anyway, we’ll possess our souls in patience until the end of the week, by which time all our doubts about leave starting will be resolved one way or the other.
I don’t think there’s any further news to give you. Oh, one thing struck me. I wonder if it would be a good idea to leave those things from London in that box? Do you think it might be more moth-proof than the drawers in our room? I thought it might be, though I haven’t seen the box, of course. Another thing – will you try to find out how much it cost to send, as I’d like to pay Jack for it.
As there will be two sets of pyjamas in that box and I also have two sets with me, would you be able to make any use of all the other pyjama coats and trousers of mine that are all at home? If you can use them for yourself or Michael, do so by all means, love. You might be able to make a blouse for Michael out of the green silk ones. Would the colour suit him or would it be too eloquent? Anyway, have a look at them sometime and let me know if you can make use of any of them. If I remember rightly there were, for some peculiar reason, several pair of trousers, scarcely worn!
Thanks for the cutting, love, but I can’t place who it might be other than Shaw, the London editor. I can’t say I think it brilliant, do you? Yet Shaw used to get a good name in the office.
Well, love, that’s all for now as it is almost post time. Bye for now and keep your pecker up. All my love to you, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Dover
Dearest,
While I remember I’d better tell you that I have written to the L.M.S. [London, Midland & Scottish Railway] to try to get a refund of the money I spent on the last three days I had. Remember? I didn’t use the return half so I’ve written off asking for a rebate. I don’t know how I’ll get on, but if a letter comes from the L.M.S. perhaps you will open it in case it is a voucher to be cashed in Liverpool, as may be the case. If I remember, I’ll enclose a rough draft of the letter I’ve written them so you will understand what it is all about, though if there are any inquiries made, you know nothing of it except that I got a lift to London. Nothing more. If a voucher does come, will you cash it for me if it is on one of the local stations? It will help towards that other suit I’ll have to get.
Well, sweetheart, I answered all your letters yesterday, and so far there isn’t one today so I’ll tell you about these ‘ere Doodlebugs that we see, chiefly at night. From our side it seems that they run parallel with the French coast for some distance, but this is an illusion, really. They are aimed at London and cross the coast at an oblique angle some miles away from us so that we are more or less in the same position to them, relatively, as people in, say, Ainsdale were to us when we were being blitzed. In other words, we can watch the fireworks without a great deal of danger to ourselves, except when an occasional one comes over our area. And then, believe me, we don’t wait to see if the engine cuts out but nip smartly out of harm’s way. They make a really frightening roar for they are quite low and have a deep boom to the exhaust, though nearly all Londoners agree that this is a big help in that it gives you warning of their approach as well as an indication of their direction. If the engine cuts out you get as much protection as you can and hope for the best. That seems to be the technique, in cold blood, though so far we have not needed to put the last part into practice. We have a natural grandstand view of the Channel when we are on duty and it really is a thrilling sight, at night, to see these things being shot down. At the start they look like Tinker Bell in ‘Peter Pan’. Just a very small light moving across the sky rather inexorably. Slowly at first, then faster so that by the time they cross the coast they are moving at a bit of a rate. Sometimes the fighters start on them quite early on in their flight and it’s most tantalizing to watch tracer bullets passing what looks to be a fraction of an inch above or below the light. If the fighters leave them to the A.A. guns, as they sometimes do for some reason, you get a marvelous shooting exhibition with all kinds of coloured tracers. Suddenly there’s a huge orange glow where the little Tinker Bell was and one more Machiavellian “fairy” has failed to reach London. From our own observation, Churchill was quite right when he said that fighters and Ack Ack, as well as other defensive measures, are destroying a good percentage before they reach London. In the very early stages we were enthralled one night watching one gun battery, which seemed to be in remarkably good form for they scored 100% successes while we were watching.
On another day we had a “thrill” of a different kind. We were hitching to Deal and while waiting for a car to come along stood watching a convoy sailing by a few hundred feet below the road on which we were standing. The French coast was remarkably clear and suddenly the cliffs on that side stabbed forth what looked for all the world like giant headlamps, for they could be seen in broad daylight. There was a battery of three and then two of four each. Thin spirals of dark smoke went up from the cliff in the still air. Jerry was shelling the convoy, which was clouded in smoke screens. We waited what seemed ages and then got the crash of the shells and following them the boom of the guns. Although we could see quite clearly, we were too far from it to be in any danger – though shelling is not one of the things you go out of your way to see. Once you know there is a shelling warning, you duck to safety.
One of the great sights in the Channel is to see the little ships getting a convoy safely through. First you get a line of sweepers going ahead to make a safe channel and behind them come more fast little ships with white smoke streaming from their sterns. It is behind this curtain that the other ships sail in safety. These little beggars do wonderfully good work and get very little credit indeed for it. I’ve seen them, in that spell of dirty weather we had soon after D-Day, bouncing – literally bouncing – from wave to wave with about a third of their hull out of the water all the time, but they still went on with the job. They certainly are tough, both boats and men, for they are fast and light which means that in dirty weather they are absolute devils. In a millpond sea they must be very pleasant to man, but otherwise I’m all for battlewagons! To complete the picture of the convoy, there are destroyers in attendance and, beating along overhead, searching ahead and to each side, are the planes ready if necessary to “patch” the smoke screen by making smoke from above. Then, with the sun shining on it, it looks like distant snow-capped mountain ranges.
Well, love, there you have a fairly full picture of some of the highlights in normal life here. It’s all very new and interesting at first, but people soon take it all for granted, diving into shelter when it’s necessary but otherwise carrying on with their normal lives so far as possible. Somehow I find it difficult to believe anyone ever lived a “normal” life in this hole, even in peacetime!
Just to give you a more complete picture of life here, I will add that when we are “on” we go to Dover Castle where the W/T station is situated. As some of the lads are billeted there – I wish we were – and have their mail addresses there I can see no reason why you shouldn’t know it. I’ll try to get a picture postcard of it. Our Naafi is on the cliff face and while we are having a cup of tea we can stand outside and look over to France. At night you can often see, as well as feel and hear, our heavy bombers pounding hell out of Jerry. Once the battle moves here it will be a grand sight to watch them putting up their land bombardments. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to leave here, for it will be a tremendous sight. No doubt there will be more gruesome sides to it, too, such as the landing of wounded, but that is inescapable in war, and at least there will be some comfort in the thought that here they will have the shortest possible sea crossing and the lads will be back in Blighty in record time – if that is any comfort. But there’s no point in dwelling on that as it’s quite likely we shan’t be here, though I hope we are.
Dover Castle is a remarkable place and I think it could rival the famous Cassino monastery in the length of time it could hold out against shelling and bombing. We have rambled round it a bit, but I’m annoyed that I cannot find anyone who knows anything about it. It’s everything a kid dreams a castle should be. Old and grey with massive buttressed walls and look-out towers all round it and it has been kept in surprisingly good condition, too. Set on a hill, it is impregnable from the land, I should say, though its very deep moat is now grass-grown and shrub-covered, the home of rabbit and fox. Last night I spent half an hour on one of the watchtowers with a pair of glasses glued on a fox lair, but the vixen didn’t bring her cubs out to play. I believe they romp about all day long in sunny weather on a sheltered little platform outside the ramparts but just inside the moat, where they can be seen but not reached. I’m certainly going to keep an eye open for them. The children would love this place and would be thrilled to death with being able to see all the ships, the coast of France, the MTBs trying their guns out each night, and climbing up on to the broad walls where watch was kept against invasion perhaps a thousand years ago. One day in town – shops are closed on Thursday – I’ll try to get a postcard of it for them.
Well, love, I think that’s all the news for today except to say I got the usual office circular today and an item there has set me off in a bad temper. Twin brothers who used to be kids in the phone room are both out in Italy – both are on the staff of the army paper ‘Union Jack’ and one of them writes glowing accounts home of himself as Sports Editor. It makes me writhe. Why, oh why, did I ever join this blasted navy? Tell me that! Sorry, love, but it hurts. I like to see kids get on (though to be honest I didn’t like one of those two at all) but when you see some people getting all the lucky breaks and you are not merely standing still but going backwards, it’s riling.
Now I must be off or I’ll drip all day long. God help Tom Oliver today! All my love, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X