No. 8

S.I.F.

Nov 15th 1939.

My Dearest one,

It was so nice to get another letter from you so soon after the other one. Yours of the 6th arrived three days ago since when I have been very lucky, having a letter from Jack and Joan the day before yesterday and last night a parcel, most unexpected, from Edie.

I think you should be getting my letters more quickly now, it naturally takes time to organize things, particularly when you consider the immense number of letters the Army Post Office must handle.

I was amused to hear that my letter to Ash Lodge was, so you believe, censored heavily. The system seems to be that ones letters are censored by ones own unit and then a certain proportion are re-censored by the Army Post Office.

You will remember mentioning in one of your letters…

…that Mrs Ascolie had told you she had received a letter with lots cut out with scissors. I presume that both her letter and also the one of mine to Ash Lodge were un-fortunate ones that came in for re-censoring. I have certainly not written anything that I haven’t also told you about, which reminds me that I have not had any reply.

Actually in theory it is impossible to write a letter home at all if you stick to the book of rules. For instance I might say that yesterday the porridge was lumpy, and the censor would say “Ha, publishing matter likely to bring into disrepute the army of Great Britain and her allies”. Blue pencil and more blue pencil.

As you will know by now I duly received hankies, gloves and of course the papier à écrire.

I have not heard from Mwowlah yet. Jack and Joan in their letters mention that they spent a weekend with her recently.

I am so glad that Jill liked her…

…letter. Perhaps I had best include one each time I write to you, since she will probably be disappointed if I omit hers occasionally. I adored hers to me, I thought it was a very fine effort.

I was sorry to hear that Ellis was unable to come on Saturday, he will however find Portsmouth much more amusing than the dead and alive hole he was at before.

I think I told you in one of my other letters than my “curf” was much better. It is now in fact completely gone. Vic also has been much better lately, although these last two days he has not been so well. The trouble is that any exposure, such as one is bound to get at night on guard, gives him a recurrence of this beastly rheumatism in the head. I don’t personally think he should be out here at all.

Do you think it unwise to tell Tris about it? I am sure you wouldn’t have told her had you not thought it for the best. Vic mentioned to me that you had and he did not seem to mind that…

…she should know.

I was sorry to hear that Iris was feeling so fed up. It is perhaps natural in the circumstances, expecting to lose Eric to the Army at any moment and not having, as most do, the grand preoccupation of arranging her own home.

It was grand news to hear that Hugh has spent a day with you. I’ve always thought that at heart he is an awfully good chap, and that if he had been managed properly things between he and Wyn had never need been as they are. I’m sure you could have done it.

I am afraid this letter is becoming very disjointed. I started it last night in my usual Café, continued it in bed, then again this morning in the Gun Position by candlelight in the dugout. I am now continuing again, in dugout, as I eat my breakfast.

We have got a new game, we have stopped for the moment digging holes in the ground, and are at the moment engaged upon opening petrol tins, with the tin opened on our jack knives, fill em up with mud and build lovely walls with ’em. Actually the opening with a tin opener is the most dangerous operation that we have as yet encountered.

I expect you knew that Edi had sent me a parcel, I will tell her in my letter that you kept the secret. It contained 20 cigarettes, 6 bars of chocolate, a tin of soup, a cake, a tin of fruit and some braised beef and vegetables.

Parcels of grub are of course nice to have, but they aren’t really necessary. I’d much rather have things to wear like my gloves. It’s nice to think that you made them yourself. That somehow they seem a little bit of you.

By the way, you will remember I told you that “neuf heures” is the…

…equivalent of “time gentlemen please”. The day before yesterday they altered it to 8:30 which is ridiculous seeing that, after having tea, it is 7:00 before we leave billets.

Actually “neuf heures” was very elastic, but 8:30 isn’t. Madame is very charming and hates to turn us out. As a matter of fact we rather pull her leg. When she tells us the time, it’s a case of “ne parlez pas Français”. “ne comprend pas”, in spite of having talked our pigeon French to her all the first part of the evening.

We have heard no more rumors of leave as yet. It still seems fairly definite that it should start on Dec 17th. You have no idea how I long to see you both again. It seems untold ages since you came to see me off at Bromley North. I miss you terribly. I think it is the awful monotony of this war that isn’t a war which gets one. Both those over here and…

…those at home, every day is exactly the same as the last.

Still we must be cheerful, it can’t last forever and in the meantime there is leave to look forward to.

LEAVE! What a glorious word.

Well! I must go and do some work now Darling.

Je t’adore.

God Bless you my sweet.

Your own,

Kenneth.