Mrs Kenneth Penman
MAYCOT
12 COMMONSIDE
KESTON
KENT

No. 24.

B.E.F. S.I.F.

Feb 4th 1940.

My Darling,

Thank you so much for No, 17 which I received last night; and I was overjoyed tonight when I came in to get another (No 18). I’m so sorry about my Nos 16 & 17 but don’t give up hope, we have had cases of letters arriving recently dated Nov! It’s a pity you haven’t received them yet because they were both long ones.

I am glad to say that our thaw is now complete, the snow having quite vanished. There are however oceans of mud, and the water is lying on the Gun Position in the form of large ponds, some of them 20 or 30 yards across. Still it is grand to have the weather warmer.

I quite enjoyed a ride into X (our nearest large town) yesterday in our open lorry. I bought a rush mat, a front door mat, and a tablecloth for our billets. They were a bit rude in the billet about the latter, it is blue and orange. We all subscribe a few francs each week out of which we buy extra coal and any other billet (I nearly said home) comforts we can afford and that are necessary.

I was so glad about the water; we have had ( I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before) similar difficulties. At one time we were reduced to bailing out of our river. It shows how necessary were our injections.

I was very amused, by the way, at the “Arthur” cutting, it is remarkably true to life, it went all round.

I must really try to enclose a note to Wyn in this letter. I always knew of course that you and she would get on well together, so I was all the more glad to know that she manages to get in some what earlier these evening. I hope it doesn’t mean though that her romance at the office is waning.

You will be glad to hear that the results of the recent postponement of our leave owning to weather has meant a delay of only one day. The three that should have left yesterday went off today. By the way, I expect one of them, Teddie Wellsford, will ring you up to ask Vic’s address. He promised to go down and see him. I am wondering if Sergeant Ascolie has managed to pop up and see you. He is due back tomorrow.

I had a letter last night seem one of the lads who left at the same time, our cook, addressed to Gnr. Penny Penman, he…

wanted to know if I was getting enough to eat! I’ve still got my appetite so you may imagine it was necessary that he should be my very good friend. Actually that’s not quite fair, he’s an extremely nice chap.

When I was in X yesterday I had my photograph taken. Three of us went in together. 6 for 20 francs, ready next Saturday. The other two insisted on my going down in the books as Gnr. Deux sous, the idiots. Everybody calls me Penny, in fact when Sgt A said he would run up and see you; he said “Would you like me to pop in and see Mrs Penny for you?”

Mrs. Chapple has left us for ten days an acting Captain, whilst Capt. Lindiary goes on leave. We shall all miss him. The Colonel returned from leave the other day, one piece of news he brought back (it is alleged) was to the effect that it is unwise to wear civvies whilst on leave (as is allowed). 60% of those who did spent half of their leave in bed with flu and chills owing to the difference in weight of the clothes.

When we first arrived in this village, Remi, Mme. Gaudefroy’s son—dash it, it’s terribly difficult to remember whether all this was in Nos 16+17 or not. Perhaps I’d better introduce a bit.

Our farm is owned by Mme. Gaudefroy Snr.,…

…a dear old patriarch of a lady about 75’ish. Remember “Vintage Wine”; then another Mme Gaudefroy her daughter in-law, 45 shall we say, she is the real madame that I talk about in my letters. Terribly kind, always trying to do something for us or give us something. Her one failing, she’s rather like a female French Jim, she’s always interrupting you in a job with a better way of doing it. Then there’s Madelin, her daughter, 26 (I haven’t asked her), very large, very muscular, vivid complexion, curly dark hair, quite pretty, unattached, you could imagine her affairs being over 20 rounds with Marquess of Queensbury rules, and then there’s Remi her brother. Younger, smaller built, very dashing, talks very fast, laughs very loud, French Artilleryman (note the capital) home on leave for two days.

Forged, so he said, his CO’s signature to a pass he found, brought us “dairty pectewres”, a trifle bombastic, served in Morocco, been to Berlin. For the two days he was home insisted that the 14 of us should come in each evening and spend our time talking politics in French and drinking red ink (vin ordinaire) whilst the old lady sat in her corner in her large upright chais, shaking her head occasionally. Never saying anything. Just sitting, perhaps thinking of her…

…son Remi’s and Madelin’s father who was killed in the last war.

It has been brought home to me recently how terrible was the fate of the French people in the areas during the last war. So rapid was the German advance that many of the remained in their homes, either from choice or because they hadn’t time to retreat with the French armies. Imagine their plight, their farms were occupied, they were oppressed, but worst of all I think, must have been that most of them having either husbands or sons serving in the army, they were cut off from them completely. The soldiers couldn’t write or receive letters, nor could he of course go on leave, and if he were to see his family again he knew it must mean shelling his village in order to recapture it.

We are very lucky, don’t you think, to have our strip of water, even though, with bombing airplanes it’s isn’t as wide as it used to be.

I forgot to mention, I’m on ammunition guard this evening. It just consists of sitting on several hundred rounds of ammo just to see no-one walks off with any of it. Can you imagine a more wasteful way of spending 24 hours? As usual the conversation of my two…

…fellow guards is about, what do you think? LEAVE.

How I ache to hold you tightly in my arms darling once more. You’ve always been very close to me. I think of you whenever I do think, which I try not to do. I’ve just re-read that bit, it sounds all wrong but you know what I mean.

If it weren’t for the inflammable material about I’d write some more but I haven’t a safety catch Darling on the pen, so sweetheart I’m going to kiss you goodnight with my eyes shut just to make it more real.

I love you, O I love you so.

Your Kenneth.