Friday 16 March 1945, Marks Hall

Colchester (Wikimedia Commons)

Sweetheart,
                 I have had no letters since I wrote last but your most welcome parcel of books arrived on Wednesday. The wrapping looked as if someone had opened it a little to examine the contents but thanks to the general standard of illiteracy, books never provoke theft. I am delighted with the titles, especially the two Pelicans. I have the time here to do some instructive non-fictional reading and I think it is a good thing to have some books that one must read carefully and slowly, as and antidote for the vertigo which is produced by the too rapid reading of many novels in quick succession.

               I am confidently expecting a letter from you by today's midday post. However, by that time, this will be on its way so that it may arrive at Hyndland Rd. on Monday morning.

               On Wednesday I spent the whole day in Colchester, in the company of another cypher type called Griffiths. The weather was astonishing for this time of year and the town had quite a summer aspect. I saw it more fully this time and formed a different opinion of it. It is very much the county town with fine shops and plenty of elegant cafes and hotels all decorated in the traditional timbered style. Lunch, tea, dinner and several drinks gave me a fair idea of the expensive way in which the average officer passes his time at home. I couldn't afford to do it often, but as a treat it is very pleasant to have different food nicely cooked and served, and above all to get away from the deadly monotony of the Mess for a time.

              We spent the afternoon in a picture house - Carmen Miranda in Greenwich Village. It was appalling. They don't seem to make good films nowadays. Certainly the formula on which this one was made up lost its potency years ago. I envy you all those films you have been seeing at the Cosmo and hope they may come again sometime when we can go together.

           The day's wandering around Colchester and the walk into Coggeshall in the morning to catch the bus to that town together made up the most severe test I have given myself as yet and I am glad to say it did not worry me at all. I am very glad to be rid of that attack [of sciatica] and hope that the next time I see you I won't be a moaning cripple.

            Today our wonderful spell of weather has broken and we are having blustery showers of rain with faint spells of sunshine in between. However it is good March weather and the wind is not at all cold. All I hope is that you get good weather for Fintry. By the way, let me know later the dates of your stay there and I'll send my letters direct.

            I am hoping that your next letter will tell of a continued improvement in your health. I hope your mother is exercising to the full her well-known ability as a boss to make you take things very easy. Tell her she has my full approval and can add the mite of my authority to her own formidable store. I'd love to be fussing around you at present but since that is not possible, all I can do is to repeat my probably tiresome injunctions to take care of yourself. ...

           Regards to everyone. If your Pop wants more fags, you know where they are stored.

....
                  

Saturday 3 March 1945, Marks Hall

My darling,
                The letter that I expected this morning came, rather unusually, by the evening post. I'm glad you have received all the extra coupons and though I understand your diffidence about letting shopkeepers into the secret at such an early date, I hope you won't let anything prevent you from demanding and devouring every extra that you are entitled to. It is really a very good thing that the state should supervise women's nourishment at that time and I hope the plan remains after the war.

                 I didn't really mean to wander from your interesting condition into politics. Excuse the diversion. You have not given me any details of the reservation of a bed and I am thirsty for knowledge. Did you visit the place and pick a particular bed or did they send a prospectus offering different qualities of bed and emphasising the social status of your neighbours on their more select sites? I must know all about it and will not be put off by any wifely secrecy.

                This morning's post brought the bank statement which you forwarded. It makes plaeant reading, for a long-expected adjustment of my F/Lt pay has at last caught me up and the result is a lump sum of £60. Also the balance of my Mediterranean pay book (£140) has at last got into my bank account so that my credit is now £446. This is too hight for a current account so I propose to send a letter to Lloyds instructing them to pay in £200 to your account at the Union Bank. Out of that I want you to take anything you require for your immediate or future needs and put the rest into the bottom compartment of the steel safe. I don't know how many certificates I hold, but in making your calculations don't forget the small number in my old book. These I will definitely cash the next time I'm home on leave.

                I'll write to Lloyds tomorrow and the actual transfer should take about a week. So you can ask at the Union Bank in about 10 days time. When you have completed the business, pleas send me the following data (a) the number of my Savings Cert. Book (b) how many certificates I hold in all (c) how many you hold. I am sorry to worry you with financial business but one's money keeps piling up in the most tiresome way. And once again, don't hesitate to take whatever you want out of the sum I'm transferring. You are such a strangely proud little so-and-so that I have to emphasise this in a most unseemly way.

              The war is going beautifully just now and Germany is obviously "ripe for shaking". Monty seems to have brought off another of his classic right hooks with the American 9th Army. The final showdown is going to be terrific and I don't think it will last very long since the Russians will obviously be going again by that time. Germany must crumple up if she has to face two major offensives conducted simultaneously on her own soil while the Allied air forces are wrecking her interior lines of communication.

(Sunday morning)
                  Once again work interfered with my letter-writing last night. This morning it is very cold but beautifully clear. We have had a succession of cold bright days here. Yesterday I went for another walk and went quite a reasonable distance. .....

                I hope you are telling me the absolute truth when you say that you feel fine during the day. I'm glad you say that you are going to throw up your job just as soon as you feel like it, without considering anyone else. I am already looking forward to fussing over you during my next leave - and it's only about eight weeks away now, if all goes well.

                I must write also to the bank before the post goes. Give my regards to everyone at 155 [Hyndland Road] ...

              

                

Tuesday 27 February 1945, Mark's Hall

Thurber drawing

My darling,
                  It is now 11.30am and I have just got out of bed. I was on night watch and had a fair amount to do, so when I came off duty I had a couple of hours' rest. I intend to finish this in time to catch the one o'clock post.

                 We have been quite busy recently and it makes a pleasant change. I hope this continues. Meanwhile the was shows signs of interesting developments. From this morning's news it seems as if the German resistance is rather feeble in some parts and Cologne (or its remains) should be under shellfire soon.

                Your letter of Feb. 24th arrived yesterday. The news of your being sick after getting back from the panto is worrying. I've never heard of anyone being literally sick with laughter before. Also on Sunday you said you were feeling tired o'nights. Both these facts compel me to reiterate that you must give up school at once if these symptoms continue. Why should you struggle with fatigue at night and sickness in the morning, when you could be coddling yourself at home? Of course this may be a mere passing phase and you may enter into a period of blooming health, but darling, please be guided by your own feelings and don't let any ridiculous motives keep dragging you out to school. As I said before, you have done far more than your share of hard work and deserve a little leisure now. I'll be enormously pleased when I get a letter telling me that you have told the Corp. to put their job where the monkey put the nuts.

                 My reading just now - God help me - is Naomi Jacob's Private Gollantz. It's complete rubbish. I can['t] stand her intense, arty and perfectly humourless Jews. I have also been reading Parody Party which contains some clever and cruel parodies of Chas Morgan, Dorothy Sayers, Somerset Maugham and others.

                 Thanks for sending on Blakeney's letter. It was a wild demand for an answer to his previous one. I am now wondering what happened to the previous letter I sent him since it also contained photographs. I think I had better write him an airletter explaining the whole position and asking him to make it clear to the Plumiers why they can't have any photos just now. I certainly don't feel like applying for an exporter's license and or whatever is needed merely to send half-a-dozen snaps.

                 I am having an awful time just now with Gee, the fellow in my hut whom I described before. He is a Thurber fan and when I confessed rashly enough that I don't think Thurber very funny he took my remark as some modern form of blasphemy and has been labouring hard for my conversion ever since. He leeps bringing in Thurber books and shoving them under my nose saying "Look at that - don't you think that's funny" and so on. I have to laugh sometimes - at him, for the drawings invariably throw him into hysterics. Tell me honestly, do you like Thurber's drawing? I'm getting really worried about myself.

               I'll need to stop now if I want to get this letter away today. .... Please look after yourself. Glad to hear you have completed the bed booking arrangements. All my love ...

Saturday 24 February 1945, Marks Hall

My darling spoufe,†
                             Congratulations on having your probable confirmed. I should have been rather surprised if Kate had decided otherwise as your symptoms seemed much too marked to be the product of suggestion only. I hope you are pleased: I know I am, but then my share in the business is short, pleasant and soon over. Probably once the initial malaise goes, you'll have quite a pleasant time being pampered by your mother. I only wish I were there also to make my ineffectual contributions to your wellbeing. I believe a husband always fusses around with cushions at these times.

                      Kate's "sitting up nicely" is an astonishing phrase to use about Caroline Mary who probably has go no very well defined bottom to sit on as yet. However, probably it simply means that the positioning is satisfactory from the medical point of view. And what less can be expected of an infant conceived with such energy and welcomed so promptly with cakes and ale!

                     See that you lead a life of gormandising complacency from now on and give up school whenever you feel like it, irrespective of what Kate says. You deserve a rest and I feel it is time I kept my wife for a change. And just in case your nasty wicked mind is flickering around the previous sentence, the emphasis is on the word "I" and not "wife".

                     How are the rest of the family taking Kate's annunciation? I'm glad Mrs B is pleased. I can imagine Irene giving a slightly scandalised "goodness me". You'll have one helluva time when you tell Bessie and had better be prepared for anything from a battery of short-arm jabs to a flood of tears.

                     After a lot of dull weather, today is fresh and bright. I should go for a walk, but I shall need to visit the library and then do some reading in the sun. If your father has already despatched Merchant Adventures, I'll be pleased to get it. I've been reading some more passages from the other books and they are really very good.

                     I'm sorry to hear Willie Skinner's death confirmed. He was a nice lad though pathetically unsure of himself. I wonder what inner compulsion made him volunteer for that dangerous branch, for he did not seem by nature the type for it. It is hard on his mother for Ian, though pleasant enough, is too lazily self-centred to be a mother's boy.

 ...........

                  It is three weeks tomorrow since I left to go on that lovely leave so by simple arithmetic is'ts only about 9 weeks till I'll be seeing you again(- DV, as Jean used to add). So time is passing quite quickly. Meanwhile the war seems to be slowly coming to a head  and the neutrals like Turkey obviously think the end is near. If by entering the war, *Turkey can open up the Black Sea route to Russia, David [Margaret's brother] may be left with little to do where he is.

                 I have been writing this with rather cold hands so please forgive he bad writing. I'll phone again late tomorrow evening. Meanwhile I must to lunch. ... I am so pleased that our second honeymoon is to be happily commemorated.

*Turkey remained neutral during most of World War II but entered on the side of the Allies on February 23, 1945, a day before this letter was written.
† Written thus to replicate the style of script found here.

Thursday 22 February 1945, Marks Hall

Mark's Hall from the air

My sweetheart
                     I hope I have got the day right this time. It says a good deal for the complete monotony of my life here that even with the assistance of newspapers I never know what day of the week it is.
                  
                    I have two letters of yours to acknowledge, dated 18th and 20th. How dare you develop a stye as soon as my back is turned. The sooner you are out of school and pampering yourself at home, the better. I hope the wretched thing has cleared up now.

                   I have been wondering about your visit to Kate yesterday. I very nearly phoned at night but decided you would not want to shout such intimacies over four hundred miles of wire. So I'll just have to wait patiently for another letter to tell me whether or not we are going into production this time.*

                   Thanks for sending me Annie's letter. Her last letter to me must still be wandering round the Med. She is full of enthusiasm for her job at the Girls' High and judging by the timetable she has been given, they seem to appreciate her value. I contemplate her career with some self-gratulation [sic] rare in me and I'm longing to meet her mother again and recall the embittered fights we had over Annie's future. [This was a former pupil whose mother wanted her to get a job rather than go to University] Genetically speaking that girl is a mystery - unless there was a mute inglorious Jutson among her more remote ancestors.

                 I'm still reading far too much and with a lack of discrimination imposed on me by the library. The founder of this must have been a Compton Mac fan. I have just finished Sinister Street which I liked better than some of his others. It has some rather acute studies of childhood and adolescence but is far too longwinded. I liked Burmese Days - a nice brutal, incisive study. When my head begins to swim with too much fiction I sit down to Fowler's King's English and summarise some parts likely to be useful to me in the future. Occasionally I do some work.

                One of our men here has just got his ticket on medical grounds. I envy him his freedom though not his stomach. Just imagine the joy of leaving the RAF for ever. There have been times in the past when I would have voiced more noble sentiments and begged for the privilege of being allowed to finish the job. But now I just want to settle down with you - and anyone else who happens to come along.

                This released man is from Glasgow, is named Drummond and, as I have just discovered, used to work in the Central Agency. He knows my second cousins Charles and Jo Cassells - in which he has the advantage over me, for I would recognise neither.

               Don't bother to send on Merchant Adventurers. Good books are apt to get damaged in the post, so just lay it aside for our new book case. I shall however be delighted to receive any Penguins which your good taste selects. They will make a happy addition to the library here when I have read them.

                There is quite a stir in Parliament just now about teachers' salaries. In one way this levelling process is a good thing: it may make for unity and concerted action in the future. If however the slight differentiation in salaries leads to a falling off in the numbers of graduates and honours graduates, then changes will have to be made. Naturally I feel some financial reward is due to the more highly qualified teacher but quite honestly I think few secondary teachers would exchange their jobs with the slum school elementary teachers, even on level salaries.

                 I didn't realise G_____ was growing to such enormous breadths. Poor George will need a rope and a set of climbing irons before he can get busy - with the ever-present danger of breaking his neck if he falls off. I wonder how she would get on with her 'stoutness' on North Goatfell now? As for "nappy talk", if the future brings what we hope, I can see you having to snibben G_____ pretty sharply for the nones. Otherwise you'll be overwhelmed. I'm afraid maternity went with a rush to G____'s humourless head. Your friend Eden T. sounds as if she has a more detached viewpoint on the subject.

               Nothing of note has happened with me. I have been definitely posted here and look like staying for some time, though of course appearances of permanence don't count for much in the service. My general health is excellent. I hope you have not more of these little physical ills which are so damned annoying when you have to teach. I'm looking forward with great eagerness to your next letter ........

*Presumably the news awaited was confirmation of the already suspected pregnancy. 

Tuesday 20 February 1945, Colchester

My dear
             This is my morning off so for a change I am writing in my own time. I am looking forward to receiving a letter from you today but if I wait till it arrives before finishing this I'll miss today's outgoing mail. So perhaps you'll excuse another letter with very little "substance" in it.

             I was sorry to be so late phoning last Sunday. I was on duty during the evening and got involved in some work just as I was leaving. The line was very good and I heard your voice better tan ever. It is painful news that you are still feeling bad in the mornings though I don't suppose that we could reasonably expect you to be exempt from a universal complaint. Perhaps Kate [Dr Kate Harrower] will be able to indicate the time when you can expect relief from that uncomfortable phase of your present enterprise. I feel it is all wrong that I should not be enduring some pain or discomfort also. But short of inducing a series of regular hangovers I am afraid I can only offer you sincere but ignorant and helpless sympathy.

           ....The milder weather [has come] and it is most pleasant just now and quite unseasonably warm. I sat yesterday evening at the door of my hut and watched a lovely delicate sunset while he birds were shouting their heads off. We cannot hope that this is spring just yet by it is very pleasant after the horrors of January.

             The more I think of my last two leaves the more do I realise how marvellous it will be to come home for good. The bondage of Glasgow Corporation may be chafing at times but at least it does not lie on one day and night, and it leaves home life unaffected. I'm longing to get back to an orgy of domesticity - painting, whitewashing, refurnishing and generally making a new start in our life together. I am sorry we won't be able to move at once to the kind of house you would like* but we'll have lots of fun refurbishing our present home. This second start is going to be even more exciting and enjoyable than the first.

            Meanwhile I am patiently enduring a life of matchless dullness and monotony. It is really worse than the desert where there was always a war at hand and the exigencies of mere existence. However I count the weeks - only ten of them now till my next leave and a good prospect that Germany many be smashed during that time.

           I've at last written to Blakeney. I'm afraid my letter was too facetious to be of much help in his moral dilemma but probably the latter has resolved itself one way or the other. His next letter should be rather amusing.

          I'm dipping into the Impressions of Engl. Lit. with great enjoyment. It's a grand book for odd minutes. Some of the writers are violently prejudiced (eg Graham Greene dismisses Shaw in one slighting sentence) but interesting for all that. And the pictures are lovely.

          Lunch is beginning to call me insistently and with it the prospect of your letter. Receiving one means as much to me as ever it did in foreign parts. I'll be very interested to hear at the end of this week what Kate's verdict is. Meanwhile continue to keep a very watchful eye on your own health and comfort. Give my regards to all at 155 [Hyndland Road, home of his in-laws] and take a big hug (administered with due regard to your condition) to your own sweet self. ...

*It was in fact ten years after the war that they bought their own house in Broomhill, in which Margaret Findlay lived till the age of 92. Until then, they continued to rent a top flat in Novar Drive, Hyndland.

Thursday 25 January 1945, Earl's Colne

My Margaret
                     No Keatsian hare ever limped more tremblingly over more frozen grass than did I coming on duty this evening. As for the limping, I am glad to say my rheumatism is considerably improved; hours spent massaging my leg in front of a red-hot stove are at last having their effect. But I can truthfully say I never saw grass more frozen or trees more heavily coated with hoar frost than what we have here. As a winter landscape it is all rather fine but we live too near the margin of discomfort here to be able to appreciate fully he beauties of the frost. I hope you are not having the same kind of weather in Glasgow: if you are, you had better leave several fires burning at 66*, day and night.

                      Your letter of 22 Jan arrived yesterday. Like you I am not yet entirely accustomed to the surprise and delight of getting letters so quickly and frequently. Please get rid of that sore throat at once and don't hesitate to stay off school if necessary. You know perfectly well that you get little thanks for struggling out to school when you are not really fit. Sorry to hear about your aunt's death. I knew she was not well but did not realise just how serious her illness was. I hope it has not upset your mother too much. How is her cold? She can't be anticipating a very lengthy convalescence when she has chosen such a small book as Pride and Prejudice for sick reading.

                     I've been talking to some people who have spent the whole war dodging around home stations and am astonished at their querulous attitude. One complains because he has been posted 50 miles away from home after being billeted on his wife for over a year. Another moans because his leave is two months overdue. For myself, I am so glad to be relatively near you, to get letters every other day, and to hear you once a week, that I keep my fingers crossed to preserve this happy state of affairs. People at home haven't got the same philosophy as those poor wretches overseas who simply had to make the best of service life or go completely round the bend.

                    That sounds a perfectly bloody tea-party that you are going to on Sunday.  It's hard to imagine a more deadly combination unless perhaps M_______  could be added to the brew. I'm glad you can use my phone call as an excuse for getting away.

                    Your description of your own soul as being a vacant lot ready for possession by several hundred devils is extremely alarming - that is if I am meant to take it seriously. Also, it is disturbing to be told that I am responsible for this dangerous state. I can't help you with my own "convictions" because convictions are emotional things and I feel it rather presumptuous for anyone to be convinced about religious truths. All one can do is to suggest modestly that certain things seem reasonable while others are an affront to reason.

                    Someone has been inconsiderate enough to bring in some work so I'll have to stop. I keep hoping I may see you again in the not too distant future, so keep me au fait with the painters. Look after yourself, darling.

...

*66 Novar Drive, where their flat was. The letters are all addressed c/o Stewart, 155 Hyndland Road, where his wife stayed with her parents for much of the time when DF was away.

Tuesday 23rd January 1945, Earl's Colne

My dear,
               Again I have allowed a longer time than usual to come between my letters. The reason as I said on Sunday night is a recurrence of my rheumatism ... I went to the M.O. yesterday and he gave me lots of Veganin tablets and a good embrocation but he says if it remains stubborn I must go into sick bay for rest and radiant heat treatment. Evidently the notion that one should exercise rheumaticky muscles has been displaced by the idea of complete rest. ....

              I heard you perfectly on Sunday night thought the line didn't seem to be so good from my end. I enjoy these brief spells of contact very much but my thrift revolted at the idea of having a double spell. You see I have given up the attempt to phone you during the cheap period which I believe ends at 9.30p.m. During that time there is always a long delay which means hanging about in a cold hall near the telephone. So I wait till everyone else has finished phoning and then I get through without difficulty. I hope you don't consider this horribly extravagant.

              Your letter posted Friday reached here yesterday. I'm sorry to hear that the cold weather has reached Glasgow and brought to you all the usual worries about freezing pipes. If it gets really bad you can leave the lamp box* on the bathroom switched on all the time: I don't think it will set fire to anything. Also, one bar left on in the dining room day and night would help to heat the loft. [of their top floor flat] However I don't believe that the cold at present is anything like as severe as it was in these dreadful winters early in the war.

                Thanks for your graceful little exposition on the Brueghel family. If you prefer the Winter Scene for the dining room we'll have it by all means. At any rate a Brueghel on the wall will enable you to dispense as a careless trifle all you know about that artistic family to our open-mouthed guests.

               I am now embarked on Kristin Lavransdatter and wallowing in its high-souled melancholy.  It seems to be well done though it is not exactly my type of poison. I don't greatly care for such thundering long books.

               You don't need to worry about my laundry. There is a weekly collection of stuff for a laundry in Colchester and I've sent my things there. Anyway, I wouldn't dream of sending stuff home to you as you have quite enough to do as it is.

               Once again the evening news bulletin is very exciting. If the Germans are going to stop the Russians and gain a few months' respite they'll have to do it in the next few days. Otherwise I think all organised German resistance will collapse and the Russians will be all over the Reich. Opinion seems to be evenly divided between those who think that the Germans will halt the Russians in time to make another spring or summer offensive necessary, and those who believe that the end is now in sight. Personally I don't know what to think but the truth should be clear in a day or two.

               I'm sorry to hear about your mother's cold. Tell her I was asking for her and make her drink a third of a tumbler of neat whisky. I hope you are not being overworked at present. Please keep well and look after yourself...


*Lamp box: to the best of my recollection this was a square biscuit tin with four holes drilled into it, into which fitted the fixings of four light bulbs, thereby producing a primitive low-wattage heater. It was still in use in my childhood.

Tuesday 16 January, 1945, Earls Colne:evening

Dearest,
             Your letter of last Friday came on Monday just after I had posted a letter to you. I was delighted to get it and hear of all the interesting things you are doing. My life here is very dull and uneventful. At its best it produces a kind of boring calm, but that is poor matter for letter writing. I eat, sleep, work and read and absolutely nothing else. I have not been out of the camp with the exception of that one visit to Coggeshall. But I am quite contented to contemplate the passing of time and hope that it won't be too long before I see you.

              One of the officers in my hut is turning out quite an interesting character. He is just home from Canada and has brought home many interesting things including an edition of the 'Moon and Sixpence' illustrated, or rather adorned, with thirty of Gaugin's pictures. He also brought back many fine prints of old masters including a gigantic one over six feet hight of Peter Brughel's* famous winter scene. The latter he carried all over Canada in a huge cardboard container but now that he has got it safely home, he wonders where he can find a wall to sustain it. Incidentally, how would you like a print of Brueghel's* harvest scene in our dining room? The jolly little man (in the bottom right corner if I remember correctly) lying sound asleep with his mouth open would be a grand inspiration for me after one of your excellent meals. We must inquire with Mr Annan next time I'm home.

              * How do you spell the bastard's name?  

              And talking of home, I want you to keep me accurately informed of the goings and comings of the  painters. If I should get the chance in the future of a brief spell at home I want to have up-to-date information about the decorators so that my visit does not clash with theirs. So let me have the information for my tablets please.

              From the news tonight, it really looks as if the Russians are putting on another major offensive. It is possible that the war might finish sooner that we thought at one time. It can't be too soon for me.

              A very senior officer here who was in the Western Desert at one time came up to me in the bar and wanted to know where he had met me before. As I had very little contact with him in the old days this is an awful tribute to my pan's unforgettable qualities.

              Dearest, when I began this letter I hoped to be free from interruption for a time but people have kept bobbing in every few lines with the result, I fear, that the whole thing is completely disjointed. So I am going to give it up, as I feel it will never make a decent letter anyway. However I'll post it tomorrow morning and hope you will read it with a charitable eye.  ...

              Goodnight, darling.


      

Sunday 14 January 1945, Earls Colne

My darling Margaret,
                                  I have just left the telephone on which I heard your sweet voice, have walked a few hundred yards across the park to the Hall (there really is a Hall) and am now writing this in our comfortable office. The wireless has just uttered the good news of the latest Russian successes and has now relapsed into chamber music. Probably you are listening to the same programme - that is if the family are sufficiently quiescent to permit it. Though I'd much prefer to be regarding you by our own fireside ... I feel the present circumstances are a great deal better than those of recent years when I was cut off by space and time. It is very comforting indeed to talk to you for a few minutes.

                      The weather has been much kindlier for the last two days. Our muscles are beginning to unwrap them selves and it is possible to sit either in our hut or in the mess without being conscious of the meanest wind that blows. I am doing regular spells of duty now. There is very little to do: in fact we of the Africa Korps are convinced that these home keeping youths have little idea what work means. One advantage here is that there are no women in our department. The boss is a F/Lt who was rather reserved till he found out what attitude was going to be taken up by three ex-acting Fl/Lts of wide experience. However, when he found us philosophical and in no way inclined to resent his acting rank, he opened out and has proved quite a pleasant and friendly cove. It is perfectly clear to me that my acting rank can only be recovered by going overseas and I'm certainly not going to seek it in that way. All the F/Lt post at home are quite properly filled by those who are medically unfit for overseas service.

                      One of the men who came here with me has already been posted - the melancholy Welshman whom I spoke of in my last letter. He has gone to a station nearer his home. The remaining three of us new arrivals are still surplus to requirements but there is no word of our going yet. The boss here has already made it clear to his superiors that we can't go overseas for a long time, since we have just been repatriated. this representation may not do any good but it can't harm us in any way. One thing is certain - I got a temporary reprieve when I left Chigwell, because most people there were on their way.

                     I'm still wallowing in Bleak House. It's a colossal book and I think very badly written. I find the heavy irony very monotonous and am going to finish the tome only to find out what possible connection all these unpleasant people can have with each other. Esther is however rather a surprise and seemed to me to have a touch of Thackeray about her - a kind of female Esmond.

                     The sergeant who is on duty with me has just made a cup of tea so I'll need to stop. In another half hour I'll be in my prosaic bed ...

Friday 12 January 1945, Earls Colne

R.A.F. Officers' Mess

Marks Hall

Colchester

Essex

Dearest,

             Note firstly the variation in the address. We have been told to use the simpler form omitting "Earls Colne".

             Your comforting letter arrived two days ago. The enclosed which must have tried your curiosity severely was simply a Christmas postal order from Albert. [Not a person - the name of the Glasgow school in which DF had taught English before joining up] This I am returning to you as it will complete the payment of the book which M. Meikle has promised to get for us.

             For several days past we have been floundering in deep snow but today a wild rainy wind is dissolving the whole landscape in glaur and glabber. I've been here a week now and the weather has been continuously grim but I'm beginning to see that in milder conditions the countryside could be attractive. It is undulating parkland with some fine old trees and astonishingly rural to be so near London (in a direct line, though not by railway time). After what you said last Sunday I had a look at the map and found that Ipswich would be accessible from this place. The snag is that we have a fairly long walk before we can contact a bus going either to Colchester (which is on the Ipswich line)  or to the London train. In the present weather the idea of walking anywhere is completely repugnant but if I'm here to enjoy finer weather and longer daylight I may attempt a little travelling. But at present we are almost completely isolated.

...

            I said I might phone every Sunday evening but I find now that it will not always be possible. For one thing I am sometimes on duty then and again, I believe there is sometimes a three hours' delay in calls to Scotland from here. However I'll try to make it Saturday or Sunday but if I don't phone at all you'll know it is because I can't get through. 

             I have not given Lloyd's Bank my new address so please forward any letters from them.

I have made several pleasant acquaintances here. One is a man who was at Torquay with me and went overseas on the same boat. He however has been home for over a year because of peritonitis. Two of the men in the hut live near London so they are always running up and down to see their families. The fourth occupant is a rather melancholy Welshman who pines daily for his release from the RAF and generally makes himself miserable. He only becomes human after three or four whiskies. On the whole, social life in a home station seems to be rather tame and stereotyped compared to our Roman nights abroad. No shots in the night: no boon companions tearing round the camp at three in the morning. Just a quiet evening in the mess and to bed at ten o'clock.

            I am glad school wasn't too unpleasant for you to go back to but I'm still looking forward to the time when you leave it for good and I take your place in the profession*. Thanks for the assurance that you will cook fine dinners for me then. I still remember fragrantly the steak and kidney pie which used to add additional blessedness to Friday evenings.

          And now I must shave before going to lunch. Give my regards to the family and thank your pa for re-addressing the church magazine. I hope he will not cease writing to me because I have left the overseas brigade. Take care of yourself, avoid colds, eat halibut oil capsules and generally prepare yourself for [the next leave] ...

             

 *Before the war, women in teaching had to give up their jobs when they married. This changed when the male teachers were called up.           

Tuesday 9 January, 1945, Earls Colne

My sweetheart,
                         Your letter has not yet arrived: I don't suppose that in this outlandish spot I can reasonably expect it before tomorrow evening. However I'll send off this letter without waiting for yours.

                         It is still most stringently cold here. Last night we had a heavy fall of snow; today the temperature is very low with alternating showers of snow and glimpses of anaemic sunlight. I seem to be getting used to the cold however and we have learned how to make the stove in our billet burn most of the night so that getting up in the morning is no longer completely petrifying as Jean [his youngest sister-in-law] would say. I am rejoicing in the hirsute warmth of the heavy underwear I have been carrying around for so long, and am using my new scarf constantly.

                           It was lovely to hear your voice on Sunday night even though the line was not too good. I suppose that in such bad weather I was lucky to get through at all. It is a week today since I left you and I am beginning to settle down again to the silly futile routine of the services. It's a good thing that a little work, a little drink and a little stereotyped Service conversation can help to distract me from the heartache of leaving home again. I've been getting to know a few folks, principally other Africa starred veterans. We stand round the stove at night bewailing our lost acting ranks and reviling everyone who has been lucky enough to stay at home.

                         Yesterday morning two of us walked to the nearest village - a place called Coggeshall, nearly 3 miles away. It is a nice little place with some beamed gable ends and old red roofs sagging with age. It has a plenitude of pubs with all the usual picturesque names and signs but yesterday our refreshment was a cup of tea and two buns at the local baker's. It would be quite pleasant to stroll down there on a summer evening for a pint of "old and bitter", but at present the landscape is so parched by icy winds that walking is not really pleasant.

                         I don't know yet if I am staying here. There certainly doesn't seem work for us all. I don't bother to speculate on the future. There's a fairly good library and really excellent food so I can satisfy mind and body without any trouble. Meanwhile the news from France is better and Monty seems to have done a good job recently as he has frankly confessed.

I'll write again as soon as I get your letter. If I get this little note away tonight, it may reach you on Thursday when you come home from school. Meanwhile cheerio ...
            

Early January, 1945, Earls Colne - leave over

F/O D.H.G.Findlay 105428

R.A.F. Officers Mess

Marks Hall

Earls Colne

Colchester

Essex

My darling,

                   I am convinced that my address should really read "Starkadder Farm, Little Howling" but I'll deal with that aspect of my present surroundings later on.

                   As I told you in a postcard, I had quite a pleasant journey [from Glasgow]to London. After breakfast in Euston I meandered through suburban Essex and landed at Chigwell about 10am. I soon found to my surprise that it was full of people in my racket [ciphers] all being trained to go to Northern Europe, which of course is not "overseas" nowadays. I reported to dozens of people and then had a full medical examination including three inoculations in quick succession. ...

... I was just settling down to compose a very dismal letter to you when a phone message came in from the Adjutant saying that myself and another officer called Davies were to leave first thing in the morning for a unit near Colchester. This involved returning to London where we passed the time between trains in a News Theatre and in the Regent Palace Hotel. Then a very slow and tortuous journey brought us here.

                   And 'here' is almost off the map. We are right in the heart of rural Essex and I was certain that old Adam Lambsbreath would be awaiting us at the station. Actually there was nobody, since the unit did not know we were coming. However after an icy wait of half an hour a car arrived to take us to Marks Hall.

                 I should think this must be one of the most primitive of home stations. Four of us are billeted in a large Nissen hut containing one stove which scorches one side of those who huddle round it and leaves the other side to be fanned by the icy gales. The temperature when we got up this morning was something awful as there had been a fall of snow during the night. However the country is quite pretty and I think I could enjoy it here in milder weather.

               However, anything like permanence is not yet in sight. Nobody knows why we are here and I'm afraid we will be on our way soon. The vast majority of those who preceded us home from the Mediterranean have been sent to Northern Europe and I fear that I may make that journey soon too. I must say that from first impressions I'd be quite happy to stay here.   

                I felt very dismal after leaving you. Life is so flat .... and the contrast between [the time spent on leave] and this semi-convict life is heartbreaking. However I suppose I'll soon settle down to the dull routine of passing time and it won't be long before I can give myself the pleasure of anticipation again. ...

... The Mars Bar I intend to eat luxuriously in bed some afternoon. If I stay here, I can see me getting in lots of bed-pressing hours.

[This letter ends with the expression of hope that the future - ie after the war ends - is perhaps "a bit nearer and more distinct than it used to be in the past."]