Brum

Sept. 9^th 1940

Terry Darling,

Well, I arrived safely, just a wee bit late, chiefly because a lorry driver, who said he was going to St. Albans, took me out on the Bromley road by mistake, and I had to wend my way back across country. My first lift was only as far as Watford, by an awfully nice fellow driving a big Vauxhall car who lived at Stanmore. I don’t know whether he thought my morale was low, perhaps I was looking a bit lowly; anyway, he proceeded to tell me he was more optimistic today than he had been at any time so far. He intimated that he was convinced we should be well on the way to winning by Christmas and we should see the finish about next summer, and he talked the old…

…economic argument; Jerry would never be able to stand the cost, etc. My next chauffeur was a doctor, about forty-fiveish, served in the Navy during the last war—a very typical navy man; he was very interesting, had travelled extensively in Germany prior to the war, and had apparently been very downright in putting the British point of view to any and every Nazi he met!

He had recently had the unusual experience of having a German sympathizer shot from the window of his home in Birmingham; apparently, he had spotted him flashing a torch from an attic window during an air raid. He informed the military authorities, and the next night, when the raiders went, they came up with rifles and winged him in the shoulder and then went and collected the evidence. He was Irish!

I had to leave him (the doctor, I mean) just the London side of Coventry as he was turning off. I had succeeded in…

…picking up with somebody who was bound as far as Coventry. When we were passed by an Austin 7, being driven by one of the men stationed here at Brigade HQ, he stopped and pulled us up, and on my joining him, we were able to be mutually helpful, as he did not know the road; he has promised to bring me home next weekend.

I was very worried to hear that London had had yet another awful raid again last night. All the Londoners, amongst us, had different experiences to recount. Darling, I feel an awful rotten to have been so depressed when I left you; its usually beastly enough leaving you, but it was worse this time.

I think all the time I was in France and up to last week, I had pictured you and Jill at home in our own little cottage, and I know it sounds bosh, but one likes to feel we are fighting (when we are) for our homes. I rather feel now that we’ve lost…

…ours. I realize of course that it’s ’cos I’m an incurable sentimentalist. I think next weekend I shall sleep at Maycot and go down to Hayes for my meals.

I fully realize that in leaving Keston when you did, you only did the only thing possible in the circumstances, but I personally think that Jerry seems to intend bombing London with precision, and I’m terribly afraid that you might get two basinsful; one thing is certain: your peril is no less intense where you are now than at Keston; there you did at least have an air raid shelter. The terrible part about it is I have no constructive suggestion at all. I was thinking about it (in between making polite conversation) all the way back last night.

I want to say something, Darling, about last weekend. I hardly know what; I’m afraid I behave very badly sometimes when I’m with you. When I’m away, I realize what a chump I am. I set such store by the…

…short time I get with you. I’ve no right to expect to have a fuss made of me, especially since being evacuated here. Taken together with the awful time you have been through with Jill to look after as well as yourself. I beg you darling never to stop loving me; please believe that I do love you, in ALL the ways it’s possible.

Cheerie-bye, for a little while.

Kenneth

P.S. Who has the key of Maycot, has Wyn got both?