Dearest,

I received your recent letter of today on parade this evening and just managed to get to the shop before it closed. It was very sweet of you to enclose the extra for “cigs”. I am trying very hard to cut them out entirely. I was paid the princely emolument of 5/- again this week and I think I prefer to spend it on eats (not chocolate dates, I’m afraid). I find the gap between tea at 4:30 and breakfast at 7:45 very emaciating!

In France, the question of food and cigarettes didn’t worry us to anything like the same extent. The former, as you know, we cooked ourselves; raw materials being ridiculously cheap by our standards, and the latter were an issue and those we bought cost us almost exactly a third of what they do now. However, I don’t expect we shall continue at the standard of living the army at present enjoys.

Whatever privations are necessary, I think we shall stick it; it’s the winning that matters. Meanwhile, you mustn’t again send me money from the very little you get; it wasn’t necessary to send me any for the week. I could have managed 8/-. I was ashamed to cash the postal order!

I’m not going to say very much about the last part of your letter, especially as you seem to have confirmed what I’m afraid I had to say in the first script of this letter.

I am going to pop out and post this now and then I propose to retire to bed with a book. Eric is working late tonight, lathing, I hear. I had a lovely dream the other night. I dreamt that they were breaking up the 60th and they gave me a Big gun and said, “Go and find yourself a position somewhere in England, get dug in and report when you’re ready for action.” I dug a beautifully sandbagged pit on the piece of green outside the cottage and took up residence. The…

…RASC used to bring along my rations in a lorry every day, which I handed over to you. The first day. I brought down two Dorniers and had the crew of one of them all neatly tied and gagged and laid out on the common, ready for the Colonel when he came round for his inspection. Edie wanted to give them a cup of tea, I remember, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I was just handing over the prisoners and receiving the DSM or something when I woke up.

I’ll write to you again very soon, my darling. I hope I’m forgiven.

Your Kenneth