Wartime Brothers 1944

You should by now have got the letter I sent you from Moncton. We have moved from there now, and are at an E.F.T.S. at a place called De Winton, about 25 miles from Calgary, in Alberta. When I say we are at De Winton, I mean that we are about 9 miles away, actually, but it’s the nearest town. At least that’s probably flattering it. I haven’t been there, but understand it consists of a few houses, a village hall, two grain elevators and a place where trains stop every now and again. Calgary, however, is a different proposition. This city boasts about 85 or 90 thousand inhabitants, as well as lots of shops, cinemas and bright lights. And the street cars are the oldest and most rickety you ever saw. When we first got here I felt that they were going to fall to bits every time I rode in one.

While we were in Moncton I took a weekend off to look up some relatives in Nova Scotia. I hitch hiked there - about 250 miles - and when I arrived found that there had been a telegram telling me to return at once as our draft was leaving that afternoon. As it was then about 4 o’clock and I had, owing to a combination of circumstances, omitted the formality of getting a pass, this news rather shook me, to put it mildly. However, by travelling half the night and half the next day, I got back to Moncton on the next afternoon. Choosing my words very carefully at the orderly room I found that the draft had been postponed for 24 hours and I had just ten minutes to catch it. And that’s about as close as I want to cut anything like that again.

The trip out to Calgary helps one to realise that Canada is a pretty fair sized sort of country, taking as it did four nights and three days by train. And its another 24 hours to Vancouver.

Incidentally, as our course here was delayed, we had five days leave at Christmas and some of the boys went to Vancouver and had a grand time ... for my leave I stayed in Calgary and had a pretty good time. Despite three dances and a couple of parties, it was the driest Christmas I have spent since I left school, my total consumption being one glass of debatable wine and a cocktail that was just like syrup. And even on New Year’s Eve I remained disappointingly sober. The main trouble, of course, seems to be that they don’t brew beer in this country, they manufacture it. And the licensing laws are about the most ridiculous you ever came across, far worse than England could ever be.

The country around here is very flat and visibility generally very good. We are in sight of the Rocky Mountains although the nearest of them must be about 50 miles away. When I say it’s flat, though, I don’t mean its low. This aerodrome is actually 3300 feet odd above sea level.

As for the weather here, well its’ by no means as bad as we had been warned to expect by people in New Brunswick, who cheerfully told us that the average winter temperature was about 40º below zero, or 72º of frost. That has proved to be an exaggeration so far, the lowest being about 26º below. There is comparatively little snow here, although I believe it can do pretty well when it tries ...

Today has been very warm and sunny, and the only time we wear greatcoats is when we go into town. Don’t get the idea that it’s always like that, though. When its cold and windy, you know it, and some of the fellows have found out how painful a touch of frostbite in the ears can be.I don’t think I have mentioned the dancing over here. It shook me, especially at Moncton. Even here you wouldn’t recognise much of it, although the many British airmen here have managed to get things their own way now and again. You can do practically any steps you like, as long as you keep more or less in time.

One of the things that strikes you, metaphorically, are the cars, which are a couple of years ahead of anything at home and, despite prejudices, some of them are really smashing jobs. taxi’s are just the same as any private car and the drivers are some of the fastest on the road. One put us upside down in a ditch after skidding off the road at 65, but nobody was hurt much, and it gave us something to talk about for a day or two. Now that we have at long last actually started flying, there are terrific arguments about what happens if one does so and so and everybody is shooting a hell of a line about their achievements. Incidentally, I have now learned the true significance of the third word in the expression “circuits and bumps”. Still it’s grand fun and I’m thoroughly enjoying it so far, despite the fact that about half the previous course failed. i just hope that I’m in the right half ... ...

Canadians are grand people and so is their food. I hope this won’t make your mouth water too much, but as one example, two of us went in a restaurant and thought we’d have a mixed grill. starting off with soup and biscuits, & salad, we pass on the the grill itself. This consisted of three good sized chops - one pork, one veal and on lamb - sausage together with trimmings ( french fried potatoes, tomatoes etc etc). We finished off with a smashing apple pie smothered in whipped cream. And the damage was 55 cents, or about 2/6d. Not at all bad... (The postage on the letter back to England was 30 cents)

I rather feel that I shan’t be able to invite you to my 21st after all. Not at the rate things are moving at present, anyway. But if I’m back by September and can get any leave, I’m going to hold you to your promise to invite me to yours ...

Hugh

Dear Joan -
Many thanks for your letter dated 3rd January with all the news...

Re your remarks and questions about Canadian girls, I can only think that your friend Philip (who I still haven’t met) must be horribly handsome or something if the girls ask him for dates. Anyway that hasn’t happened to me yet.

Congratulations on your rise, although you’ll probably have forgotten all about it by the time you receive this. I hope that the grasping hand of the Inland Revenue doesn’t grab too much. We pay British income tax out here, and they rook me at the rate of nine dollars a month. I’m afraid I (as well as most of the others) take a rather dim view of it. Although I don’t suppose that will make much difference. You mention the possibility of your being called up. I should have thought that your present job would be of sufficient importance, although I think you’d look pretty good in uniform. And I don’t suppose you’d mind the life at all after the first week of two. I had a letter from a cousin of mine the other day, and I gather that the life of a good looking W.A.A.F. certainly has many advantages in social life. To put it mildly. ...

By the way, I’m frightfully sorry that I haven’t written you before - it (your letter) came about four weeks ago - but I’ve been extremely busy enjoying myself on leave, and since then we have been playing around and are now finally settled, I think, at out S.F.T.S., where we are due to stay for about sixteen weeks altogether. I may be home for Christmas at this rate ...

We had ten days leave at the end of our course at E.F.T.S. as they weren’t ready for us here, so four of us went to Vancouver, which was twenty four hours away by rail. We all had a marvellous time there and met some of the grandest people. The trip through the Rockies was very nearly worth the fare for the scenery we saw. In Vancouver we saw real green grass - the first for months - and the weather was very mild. Especially as, just before, the temperature at Calgary had been around 30º below. While we were there we dissipated our health with bags of riotous living, signing our illustrious names on the membership books of all sorts of “supper clubs” etc.

We also popped down to Seattle, just to look at the States, and were such a rarity that we all had our pictures in the paper, together with the report of our interview in which - if one believes the reporter - we had shot a most horrible line. It gave me a great laugh when we read it.

No 39 S.F.T.S., where we are now is so-so, The planes being single engined. They look terrifyingly big after our little Tiger Moths, The cockpits seeming to be crammed with a large and varied assortment of instruments, dials, switches and levers, so that ones first impression is that the only person who could play the thing would be someone like Reginald Forte [Foort?]. Even the idea of taxying them almost sent me into a cold sweat. However, I think I see glimmerings of light, but still wonder sometimes if I have forgotten anything. The “town” here is pretty dead, by all accounts, although I haven’t investigated it myself. despite the fact that we have been here about ten days. The weather is variable. We had quite a bit of snow last week, and the place is exposed to all the winds that blow. Today, however, is quite mild. Consequently, all the snow is water and slush, and there are lashings of mud. I imagine that all things come to an end in time, but if I were on the permanent staff here I should be even more browned off with the place.

You asked me whether I intended to take a commission. Well, as only about a third of us will be offered them, the chances would seem to be rather against it. I shan’t mind much either way. I suppose it would be rather nice to swank around at home as an officer and so-called gentlemen, but a common-or-garden sergeant can a have a lot more fun and games and is, I believe, considerably better off from a financial point of view. In any case, I haven’t by any means finished the course yet, and there’s still plenty of time for me to finish as an AC.2. (AC.2. - Aircraftsman 2nd Class) So keep your fingers crossed ...
Hugh

Dear Joan -

Very many thanks for your letter and the photograph, It was grand to hear from you again, and I like the photograph very much indeed. I feel very guilty for not having written to you more and for procrastinating over the photo, but I immediately dashed down to the local photographers and had a couple of bucks work of services. I haven't seen the results yet, but they should be ready tomorrow, so I'll enclose one - however lousy it may be. The flying seems to be progressing a little, although the more you fly, the more you realise how little you really know. Anyway, I haven't frozen yet. The planes are very warm, and the only clothing (flying, I mean) that we ever wear is or helmets and goggles.

You say that Canada should be very lovely in the spring. Well I hardly say that about this part of it although I must admit that the grass is making a valiant attempt to turn green. And I suppose the weather has improved quite a bit, even though it is still very variable. Three or four days ago the temperature here went up to about 82º, and yesterday morning I found ice on the windscreen. I was flying fairly low, so it just shows. Although I don’t quite know what. Your description of spring in England made me want to be there very much.

I haven’t been to any places shown in “Captains of the Clouds”, although I’ve seen the Rocky Mountains a good deal - every day for nearly three months in fact. I think I told you I saw the film in Vancouver, and thought it quite good. The filming certainly was excellent.

I expect that by now you’ll be a proud shorthand ace, so congratulations. Even I know that 120 wpm is pretty good going.

I shall be very out of touch with things when I do eventually see London again, so shall probably have to leave the choosing of the show to you. I’m not terribly particular although generally enjoy something humorous. Even so, I’m not below good straight plays or drama. I’m afraid my experience of ballet is hardly great enough for me to know whether I like it or not. Still, one has to learn sometime.

Your description of what can be got in the way of food cheers me up considerably (always thinking of his stomach). The food in camp is not as good as it might be, although it has improved quite a lot since we first arrived here. We generally manage to get down “town” once or twice a week for a decent meal so, although we still grumble (it’s one of the things we’re good at) things aren’t too bad and we still survive.

I haven’t heard from any of the Gresham or L & G boys since I left, except from Peter Wilson. I’m not sure whether you know him or not. The last letter I had from hime was written fro St. John’s Wood in January, when he was waiting to to to an IT.W.

Your reference to my “social activities” provoked a snort of ironic laughter. To put it mildly, they are extremely restricted, extending as a rule to one dance a week. Oh, for some good English dancing again. However, they break the monotony and nobody can tell how badly I dance. Thus my behaviour has been horribly good. You needn’t worry about any jitter bugging from me - quite frankly, I don’t understand it. In fact I am still very incredulous even when I see it being done.

There was another Wings Parade here this afternoon, so loads of spit and polish. I’m not generally very envious of other people but I did wish our turn had come. It’s about eight more weeks before we start puffing our chests out and there are several hurdles in between. The exams on ground subjects, night flying, and one or two others. Still, one hopes for the best and tries to save in anticipation of a bit of leave.

Did I ever tell the story about one of the blokes on this course who, when doing his first solo at E.F.T.S. made four circuits before eventually landing before an awestruck audience. When he got back to the crew-room he found that some wit had chalked on his locker “Per Ardua ad Terra” - by Hard Work to the Ground” Although it wasn’t quite as polite as that.
We have have some fun and games occasionally, especially when somebody prangs and bends something - as long as it’s somebody else. When you do it yourself you don’t see the funny side quite as quickly. I know.

How will this calling-up business affect you? I imagine it won’t and certainly hope it doesn’t. I’d hate to get back to find you at the other end of the country. It would definitely shake me. One of the disadvantages of this place is that we almost always have to use runways for taking off and landing. As the wind is rarely obliging enough to blow strait along these, most landings have to be made cross wind, and this does not improve matters. However, I suppose this is all good training.

This, of course is hoping that we do go home soon. There hasn’t been any suggestion otherwise so far, buy we know from experience that whims of the Powers That Be are often strange, so we try to keep an open mind. Not very successfully, though.

I suppose by the time you get this the tennis season will be in full swing again. I shan’t know one end of a racket from the other, so should be easy meat for you. No doubt it’ll give me a spot of exercise, which won’t do me any harm. About the only exercise we get now is brushing our teeth and winding up our watches. The very ideas of a 15 mile hike would make us give up the ghost immediately.

Talking of exercise reminds me that from tomorrow we have to drag ourselves out of bed every other morning in time to be flying by six. I hope it won’t do us much actual harm, but as we don’t exactly enjoy crawling our at half-past six as it it, I guess there’ll be a few groans

Hugh

Many thanks for your letter dated 13th April, which reached me last week. I was very glad to get it and to hear all the news from home.

When I said in one of my last letters that it didn’t it didn’t look as If I’d be home until Christmas, I think I must have been rather browned off with things and consequently a little on the pessimistic side. According to latest information and rumours, however, practically anything may happen. With luck I might be seeing another London blackout before the end of August. Its just possible. But from what we hear, there is at present a surplus of aircrew in England and there is quite a chance of being posted out here as a staff pilot or something equally annoying. We shall just have to wait and see what turns up. In any case. the course isn’t finished yet,so I hope you’ve still keeping your fingers crossed for me. One thing, however, our ground exams are over now, and the results have been reasonably successful. I, at any rate, am not grumbling over them.

I was rather pleasantly surprised that you remembered the time we saw “Sweetheart” at the Stoll. It seems ages ago since those days, and quite a lot seems to have happened since then - things that we never even dreamt of. I saw “ Smiling Through” when we were at Moncton, but didn’t think it was quite as good as the original film, although that was quite a while ago. Anyway, I certainly like your toast to the return of times like we had.

I guess you must be looking even nicer, if that is possible, after your lavish expenditure of cash and clothing coupons. One of the disadvantages of this particular vocation is the rather stereotyped form of dress. We were, at one time, to be issued with summer kit, with uniforms of khaki drill, but u/t (under training) pilots, it was decided, won’t need it, I only hope they are right.

From what you say your certainly seem to be working hard nowadays and I guess you don’t feel much like the gay life after the day’s work is finished. Thinks aren’t too bad here in that respect. We are supposed to be down at the hangers at 5.30am, ready to start the days flying . We finish at 3pm, however, although there is sometimes night flying later on. One thing, we don’t do any digging, so I seem to be a bit luckier than you. Although I feel sure that your honest toil must make you feel frightfully good and self satisfied!

I hope you received my photo alright. I’m not sure whether I like it or not. It rather looks as though i’m lying in state or something…..

I guess I must have eaten something which disagreed with me, because I had to spend a few days in hospital. As as result of this, I was off flying for just over three weeks and was only passed as fit again a couple of days ago. I was given seven days sick leave to recuperate , and spent it in Banff, which is in Banff National Park in the Rockies. It’s about four hundred miles or so from here and it was grand to get away from the dusty prairies for a week. The scenery there is just magnificent. So much so that although I’ve seen it for myself, I still don’t really believe it. i took quite a few photographs, but even the best of these can only give you a very poor conception of the real thing. Although the social life there is pretty limited at this time of year - the winter sports having finished and the summer season only just beginning - I managed to find quite bit to do. Apart from the mountains to climb, there are some quite good rambles around, as well as canoeing, a bit of pony riding ( a bit hard on the posterior this ), swimming in the hot springs and cycling. They are sulphur springs and smell rather like bad eggs on first acquaintance, but you soon get used to that, and they are marvellously warm, even though they are open air and the fact that there were a few flakes of snow knocking around on the day I picked to go. Altogether I had a pretty good time but I’ve got to pay for it now because I’m quite a fair way behind in flying hours and shall have to get cracking to finish on time, otherwise I may be transferred to the course below us, which would definitely be not so good. We are now the senior course of the four that are here and things seem to be moving along fairly well so far. But, as I said before, things aren’t finished yet, so don’t forget about keeping your fingers crossed

I had a paper from home which gave details of the latest budget. It rather shook me, with cigarettes up to 1/- for 10 and beer also going he same way. Still, as there’s a war on, I suppose it’s only what we must expect. I understand as well that the basic petrol ration is being cut out and that there has been some tightening up on the food regulations, especially in restaurants. Although these must be unpleasant, I must confess that they seem to be overdue and I know that when I left home, at any rate, there were still far too many people who simply couldn’t realise that the war had any right to affect them.

Canada is, I think, still far from realising that there is a war on in many places. There has been some sort of petrol rationing for the last two months, I think, and it is now difficult to get new tyres and impossible to get new cars. There is also sugar rationing but it is not too severe. However, I suppose it’s only natural to try to carry on as normal as much as possible.

On reading through this last page it seems rather like a rather dry sort of sermon. I’m sorry. I’m not really qualified to discuss other peoples's failings - I’ve too many of my own .

We had a bit of bad luck here just before the exams when one of our boys went for a burton. It was pretty tough luck as he was quite a good flier and a nice chap altogether. Still, we’ve been pretty lucky so far, touch wood.

Yours
Hugh

Dear Joan,

Many thanks for your letter dated the 4th May and also for your cable - which cheered me up a lot, as I hadn’t expected it. I’m sorry for the fact that you hadn’t heard from me for quite a while, but something should have reached you by now. Did you get the photograph alright?

I was sorry to hear that you had a cold but hope that it was not serious and that you will have forgotten it by the time this reaches you. By the way, it was very nice of you to say how proud you’d be to be seen with a live airman when I get home - I think, though, that it is I who should be proud to be seen with you. When I get home.

You seem to be frightfully busy - what with the office, studying, dressmaking and digging. Life must be a giddy whirl. Even you will have a job getting me to do very much for the gardening - there’d have to be a valuable bribe!

Mother and Keith still seem to be getting along alright at home, although, reading between the lines, I’m afraid food must be getting a bit of a problem. And you say that rationing will continue for two years after the war ends. Bad show. Mother asked to be remembered to you next time I wrote to you and, of course, Keith hasn’t forgotten you yet.

I take an extremely dim view of our not being able to celebrate our twenty firsts together, but there it is. Anyway, I’ll promise you a wizard time to make up when I get the chance. And it’ll be some celebration. Though I haven’t the slightest idea when the chance will come along.

By the way, I hope you’ll forgive me if my writing is even worse than usual, but I am travelling on the great C.P.R. through the Rockies, and I never was much good at writing on trains. The scenery is just grand, although there is so much of it that you reach a saturation point and it becomes difficult to appreciate everything after a while. So I’ve been trying to make up for some lost sleep this morning and now I am trying to salve my conscience for not having written you a week ago.

I had a bit of excitement the other day when I was formation flying ant the other bloke tried to chew my tail of with his prop. Luckily he didn’t quite manage it but he made quite a dent in things and he had to fly back with about ten inches knocked off each end of what had been a perfectly good - and tough - metal airscrew. However, all’s well that ends well or something.

As you may have noticed from the address, I am no longer a mere L.A.C., but have now advanced a little. I hope you won’t hold it against me - I seem to remember your saying that you preferred the A.C. Plonk, but I hope you’ll make an exception in my case. Following our Wings Parade on Friday, we had a peach of a booze up afterwards - hardly anyone was sober. We showed the township a thing or two. They are getting wise now, though , and whenever a course passed out, they go home to bold the doors and shutter the windows. We started at 6:30 on Friday and I finished up in camp at 5 the next morning. And, what is more, got up at 8. Now, having partially recovered, four o us are on our way to Seattle, via Vancouver, to use up a spot of leave. After which I suppose we shall have to just stooge around until something turns up.

Dear Joan -

Very many thanks indeed for your letter dated the 18th June - I was pleased to hear that a couple of my letters to you and the photograph had all turned up safely so that my effort wasn’t completely wasted. I’m glad you say you liked the photo - I hope they weren’t too rude about it at the office.

Thanks very much for keeping your fingers crossed, I guess that must have done the trick. But don’t uncross them yet, because at this station we have to fly planes which we have never flown before and, as the first time we fly them we are solo, I can see some fun and games coming off. Add to the above the politest description I have heard of this particular type of aircraft, which, incidentally, is scarcely respectable, and you’ll see that it would be a good ideas if you kept all your fingers crossed!

You ask about my birthday celebrations. Well, Joan, I hate to have to admit this, but there was not hangover whatever. This, I imagine, was entirely due to the fact that the “celebration” consisted of a couple of beers and a decent meal in town. But we’ll make up for all that when I get back. Anyway I don’t mind telling you that your cable, which arrived bang on the dot, and your letter, which reached me the same day, made up for a lot of things.

As you’ll already have seen from the address, I’ve left the prairies many miles away and an now in a much nicer area with lots of really green grass and bags of trees - we hardly saw the latter in Saskatchewan. The station is an R.C.A.F. one and doesn’t seem too bad, although we’ve only been here five days. As far as I can make out my job, when we get going properly will be the horribly exciting one of drogue towing. Which means that we go up and fly back and forth across a specified bit of Lake Eyrie for two or three hours at a time while somebody in another aircraft tries to shoot at the drogues that I trail behind. At the moment we are waiting for some serviceable aircraft to get our hand in on them. Which means sitting around in the crew room all day and playing table tennis in between whiles. Not very strenuous, true, but tiring all the same. I understand that they work 24 hours a day and seven days a week here, so we don’t get weekends off. However, we do get one day a week free, and every month we get one 48 hour pass (which includes one of out weekly “days-off”). So in effect we get five days off a month, so it could be much worse.

The quarters are pretty comfortable. I’m sharing a room with another bloke who came with me from Swift current and we’re fairly comfortable. The foods reasonable and - being in the sergeants mess - we’re waited on by W.A.A.F.’s.

Actually, they are don’t call them W.A.A.F.s out here but “R.C.A.F.W.D.” (Women’s Division). But I must be getting old because even that novelty didn’t interest me more than a day or so.

It’s been very hot and sticky here. I’m sitting in swimming trunks and a pyjama jacket trying to keep reasonably cool. My room mate is blasphemously engaged in sewing chevrons and wings onto his light khaki summer issue, which we managed to extract from stores today. That job’s still waiting for me - oh for a woman’s hand! And I’ve got simply dozens of socks to mend. Any offers? I was afraid not. Still, we get by - I shall make a marvellous wife for somebody one day.

By the way I hope you got my letter which I posted from Seattle. I wasn’t trying to be funny by putting all those stamps on it, but that was all the had.

Did you ever know Peter Wilson? He was in the L&G and we joined up together. I’ve had a letter from him saying that he is now in Canada and is stationed quite near to where I’ve been for the last four months. Just my luck that I had to come so far east and miss him. He’s a damn good bloke and I’d have given a lot to see somebody I’d known at home. But that is just fate - or the R.A.F.

Ever yours
Hugh

Dear Joan -

Very many thanks for your letter dated the 17th July and also for the congratulations which, believe me, I did appreciate.I’m glad you’re so pleased. And you can say that again about the help your finger crossing gave. I’m sorry that I wasn’t as plain as I might have been when I wrote your from Seattle, but I am always afraid of being accused of shooting a line.

I had a letter from Mother on the same day I got yours and she said how pleased she had been at hearing from you and that she had asked you down for a weekend. You needn’t feel awkward about ‘phoning her to fix up because I know she wouldn’t ask you just for something to say. I imagine, though, that you probably have plenty to do at the moment with digging for victory and studying for exams, so for heavens sake don’t feel that you have to go just out of politeness.

You ask how many more months I expect to be stuck out here in Canada. Well, Joan, you just can’t say anything for certain in this life - you’ll remember that I would, at one time, have bet on being back home by now. but the latest gen is that we are supposed to do six months as staff pilots before going on to the next stage, and about five weeks of time has already gone. Even so, six months can’t be taken to the day, but is the minimum at present. It seems a hell of a long time, though.

Although i’ve trained on single engine planes and am still on them at present, I can’t honestly say whether I shall eventually end up in fighters or bombers, even although single-engined training is intended primarily for fighters. And although i’ve always said I wanted bombers, I don’t really mind what I go on now, as long as it is something.

I certainly envy Philip being able to get back home, although I still can’t think how he managed as he is the first one I’ve heard of going back for months except for one whose mothers was very ill and that had compassionate grounds.

I don’t think I can yet claim to be an expert in the art of painting the town red. I have, I’ll admit assisted more than once, but it always seems to me easier with a whole gang. Besides, Swift Current was only a tiny town really.

I hope that the snaps I sent you in my last letter have reached you alright and that they will be of some interest. I’m afraid that they are not terribly good ones but they are the best I have. I didn’t realise that films were so short nowadays. It must be a terrific fight when some do come in. As you say, though, I suppose there are more important things in life.

You remember the film that I couldn’t remember in my last letter? I’ve found out since that it was called “Design for Living” and the bloke in it was Walter Pidgeon. Other than that i have seen “Tortilla Flat” with Spencer Tracey which was quite fair, and “This Above All” with Tyrone Power & Joan Fontaine. This was quite good but I was a little disappointed in it after reading the book - which, incidentally is about the only really good book I’ve read for a long while. And of course we hd to spend time criticising the uniforms in the film and the bus shown - you can get like that. One flick that I do very much want to see if I get the chance is “Mr Miniver” which has had a terrific write up out here. Besides, any film with an English setting is always very welcome.

You say you’re going on a hike with the boss but are only going to do about 15 miles. I’m afraid I just can’t see where that “only” fits in. Anything over about a couple of miles would lay me up for a least a week! Old age and a dissipated life are taking their toll. But maybe if I had the thought of a really nice comfortable pub at the end of the journey I might do a bit more - is that what spurs you on?

I’m glad that I shall still be welcome as a sergeant - but perhaps you thought you had to be polite. Anyway I still liked reading it.

They have just started a duty watch system at this station, which means that for one whole week in four we are confined to camp and are officially “on duty” the whole time. This is going to be a bit of a bind as I shan’t be able to get out of camp for w whole week now, and have to persuade somebody to post my letters and collect my laundry for me. The days off system has been changed as well. Instead of five days off a month, including one 48 hour pass, we now get a 48 every other weekend. Last week I took advantage of this to look up some relatives I had heard about vaguely and discovered a whole lot of second and third cousins and a great uncle or two thrown in for good measure. They all live in Brantford, about 90 miles from here by bus and train. As I couldn’t get any connection, I had to stay in London on Friday night and went to a dance on the banks of the Thames. It all sounds rather familiar, but they both look quite a bit different. Incidentally, the London Hotel has a room which is the nearest approach to an English pub that I have yet come across out hear, with a nice beamed ceiling and good solid furniture instead of the steel or match wood concoctions that are more generally used.

When I eventually reached Brantford I had a fine job introducing myself to people of whose existence I scarcely knew. They are most awfully hospitable and want to know all about home - it’s still “home” to them as well - and about people we both knew. So I had a grand time.

The other bloke who shares my room and who came to this station with me (we wangled a room together soon after we got here) decided to pay Detroit a visit. From what he said it is well worth going, so it looks as if we shall be going down there together pretty soon. I’ve got a spot of leave coming off at the beginning of next month and hope, if all goes well to pop down and give New York the once over, but I haven’t as yet made any arrangements.

I hope this letter reaches you for you in time for your birthday and I want to wish you many happy returns and everything that you would wish yourself. I understand that stockings have been a bit difficult so thought I would send you some. I hope that they reach you OK and that they are at least a reasonable fit and shade. As a matter of fact I’m not terribly up in such things and to put on a bold man-of-the-world air before daring to march in & buy them. Spare my blushes and stop laughing.

Yours ever
Hugh

Dear Joan -

Very many thanks for your letter dated 2nd September which arrived here this evening and which I was as glad to receive as I always am. ……..I had been expecting to hear from you for a week or so and I recognised your writing as soon as I walked in the door and saw the letter lying in the mail box. ……. I rather think that your last letter to me must have gone astray somewhere...

It was rather curious that you should ask whether I was still towing drogues. As a matter of fact I was until last Friday, but since then I have become a member of the Bombing Flight where I am to fly the mighty Anson while embryo observers try to drop bombs within a reasonable distance of the target.

Since I’ve been in that flight, all I’ve done is to sit on the usual place all day and play table tennis. I was forgetting that I did go for a flip for a couple of hours as a passenger in order that I might see how things were done, but I got a bit bored and fell asleep, so didn’t learn as much as I should have done.

I suppose you’re right when you say that six months as a staff pilot is not so bad, but although I’ve already done two months of it, it still seems a heck of a long while to wait. And there is no guarantee that It’ll be six months bang on the dot, either. They’re just as likely to forget all about us...

It’s rather nice of you to hope that I’ll stay out here long enough to dodge too much real war, but all the same my own feelings don’t quite coincide with yours. After all, I didn’t join up to do quite what I’m doing now and although I suppose we do help the war effort a little, it’s not quite what we want.

...please tell me something about the letter that didn’t reach me, because I feel I’m missing something as it is. For one thing it came as a horrible shock for you to say that you’re de reserved now - just like that and all out of the blue... It’s going to be quite a problem, I’m afraid, travelling to see each other when I do eventually get back but I think, some how I’ll manage it... I wonder how you will look in uniform - pretty good, I’d imagine.

Yours ever
Hugh

Dear Joan -

Very many thanks indeed for your letter written on the 29th September, which arrived yesterday. I was especially glad to get it as I hadn’t heard from you for about six weeks and I was getting rather anxious. In fact, I had already started to write to you again. I expect, though, that the earlier letter you wrote will reach me eventually - you must have been mixing me up with somebody else to send it to Montreal. Besides that, the mail seems to have gone haywire and letters are taking more than twice as long as they should to get here.

I was very glad to hear that the stockings and cable had both reached you and that you liked them. Don’t forget to save a pair for when I come back - it’ll be a special occasion for me. Glad that you say they are a good fit as well - that was just luck, I think.

I’m very sorry you hadn’t heard from me for so long but you should by now have received the letter I wrote in September and I’ll really make an effort to reform, especially since you say that you are going to write every fortnight. Believe me, I’m all for it. To make a confession, though, I’m afraid I’ve got to admit that I haven’t been able to settle down to writing for about a month, so I’m way behind in correspondence and am just starting a more or less determined drive to clear my conscience.

To set your mind at rest, I will tell you that I am quite moustache less although I have been vaguely contemplating an attempt to raise a growth just to relieve the monotony.

I still want to get back home just as much as ever. More so, in fact. and i still haven’t any real idea as to when I shall be coming back, although there have been several rumours floating around lately and the consequent raising of hopes. But they never seem to come to anything. Still, as you said, all things come to he who waits. I hope.

You gave me a laugh when you asked how many cinemas Fingal boasted and what sort of town it was. I must enlighten you. In the first place, even the inhabitants admit that Fingal is only a village. So you can guess that it is pretty small. In fact, I’ve never even stopped there, and if the have even one cinema, it’s been kept such a deep secret that nobody has even suspected. The nearest town to the camp is St. Thomas about twelve miles away. This is quite passable and is far, far better than was Swift Current. There are a couple of cinemas there and now and again they have some quite decent films. There is also the City of London, a mere eighteen miles further on, which is quite a fair sized sort of place and has at least half-a-dozen cinemas. Also a river Thames and ‘buses going to Waterloo and Richmond.

I haven’t seen very many worthwhile films lately, although you may be interested in a couple I saw in Toronto - “Holiday Inn” and “Her Sister Eileen” with Rosalind Russell and Brian Ahern. I rather liked both of them. “Holiday Inn” has some pretty good tunes in, one in particular being “White Christmas” which I expect you have heard a few more times by now. I’ve just remembered that I saw “Reap the Wild Wind” which you said was so good, and I enjoyed very much, although about four of us who had gone to see it had a terrific argument afterwards over the ending.

You ask me what kind of flying I am doing, To be quite honest, it’s pretty dull. As I think I told you in my last letter I have been transferred to Bombing Flight where we drive Ansons ( and do mean “drive”!) while would - be bombardiers endeavour to bomb a target a few thousand feet below. And after Lysanders, Ansons are as dead as a bike with two flat tires. However, we get along and really shouldn’t grumble because we are far better off than a good many people. We realise that, but somehow it isn’t very exciting!

It must have been pretty tough - not to mention chilly - not to have been able to have any heating till 1st Nov. But as you say, things are a devil of a lot better than they would be in Russia and Stalingrad in particular. I think that any people that have suffered as they have suffered, and still go on, must be superhuman. That’s not really the word I want, but it’ll have to do.

That was some suggestion of yours that I should bag a plane and pick you up at Oddenino’s. i’d give a hundred dollars just for the chance. And don’t ask me where I’g get the hundred bucks - it wouldn’t take me long with that incentive, don’t worry! When I first read you suggestion, I sat back on my bed, put my feet on what would be the mantlepiece if we had one, and was lost in day dreams for the next half hour.

It was good news to know that, for awhile anyway, there is no chance of your being called up because it would be just too ironical if I got back home and then had to start dashing all over the countryside to see you. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

As you’ll know by now, I imagine, I didn’t get to New York on my leave mainly, I fear, due to laziness. So can’t give you all the gen. Should I be getting any more leave, though, I think I shall have to make a somewhat more determined attempt to get there. Even if only so that I can mention in casual conversation “of course, when we were in New York …..” !

I had a letter from Peter Wilson too or three weeks ago in which he said he had finished his E.F.T.S and I gathered had made quite a good start at his Service School. He is still in Saskatchewan ‘mid the beautiful prairie and about sixty or seventy miles from the nearest town of any consequence. He’s not really very far from Swift Current but that doesn’t help much now that I’m out here. It would be good to be able to meet him again and have a real old maids’ gossip over old times. Those days at Aldwych House were pretty good, weren’t they? I can remember seizing every excuse to walk past the Typing Room and being only too willing to take anyone’s cylinder in!

...write again soon. Life here can get very monotonous at times and except for our 48’s, we don’t got out very much. After all, it’s twelve miles to the nearest town and, which is more to the point, twelve miles back again. We are supposed to get a 48 hour pass every other weekend. My roommate (another English bloke) has managed to get himself entangled with and American coed and dashes down to the States at every opportunity. I sort of make a round. I have some relatives in Brantford that I look up occasionally. At other times I wander up to Toronto for a mild round of dissipation. Horribly mild.

Ever yours
Hugh

P.S. It’s a good job they don’t celebrate 5th November here - it’s raining cats and dogs

I came back from a spot of leave on Tuesday night to find your airgraph letter waiting for me. I don’t think I have to tell you how pleased I was to get it…

The mail seems to have lost it’s grip lately as I hadn’t heard from you for over five weeks, and I’ve had not letters from home for about three. I imagine that there must have been a pretty fair sized Christmas rush, so am hoping that it won’t be long now before I hear again.

Now for all the news from this end, First of all, I have had a great burden lifted from my shoulders when Freddie, with whom I trained and had been sharing a room here, was posted back to England a couple of weeks ago. So now I no longer have to keep awake o’ nights talking him out of getting engaged for the second time since hitting this continent. I may have told you this before but, anyway, his first love (out here, that is) was a lass in Calgary, his senior by a mere seven or eight years, He even gave her a ring, I believe, although she may have bought it herself. The second great romance was with an American beauty and I think that if he hadn’t been posted in such a hurry that he didn’t have time to see her again, eh would have again been contributing to the diamond trade. Very close.

Incidentally, his posting was rather a wangle, starting when one of the other RAF sergeants here was posted home just two weeks after a spot of “till death do us part” patter with a fair daughter of Canada. Not unnaturally, I suppose, he didn’t altogether relish such a swift parting and got permission to get a substitute. Cards were cut, and Freddie was the winner. The rest of us were a very sickly sort of green with envy, but we bear up and carry on.

Not that there are very many of us left to do that - only five R.A.F. sergeants, fact. There were nine, but two got posted home, another on some course, and the fourth one cracked up a couple of weeks ago. And this latter occurrence didn’t raise our spirits any, as you can imagine. But it’s just one of those things, and there’s nothing much one can do about it.

I’ve had another couple of 48’s since last I wrote to you, one of which I spent in Toronto quite pleasantly and the second one very quietly with one some second and third cousins in Brantford. I did splash out a bit on the Saturday afternoon though, now I come to think of it, when I went to the flicks and saw quite a passable film called “The Major and the Minor” with Ginger Rogers and Ray Milland. And on the Sunday afternoon - with oceans of snow outside - we lounged comfortably while listening to Churchill’s ferocious threats to the Italians if they didn’t come to heel.

I forgot to mention that I listened to the church bells from England, which were broadcast out here. It may be my imagination, but they just don’t seem to have bells like that in this country. Whatever is is, they sounded grand to me - and I expect they did to you, as well.

Freddie and I had managed to get our seven days leave together and had decided to show ourselves to New York, but his posting rather bent our plans, and i had decided not to bother to go down alone. However, at what was more or less the eleventh hour, I came to the conclusion that it would be rather a pity not to go while I had the chance ...The result being my arrival last Thursday morning at the Grand Central Station, at the ungodly hour of 6.30, when I proceeded to watch the cold (you can say that again) flush of dawn scramble across the skyline.

On second thoughts, perhaps the last part of that sentence is not quite accurate. What really happened was that I stepped bleary eyed out of the station in a howling breeze, before deciding that a hasty return to warmth and breakfast were my main needs. I did happen to notice a faint lightening in the sky. And that’s about the nearest to seeing the dawn I was while I was there - despite some awful late nights.

I think that about my first impression of the place was the extraordinary number of taxis, all of which were “decorated” in a most vivid manner, and nearly all were in one heck of a hurry. I spent quite a bit of time brushing up the old traffic dodging nerve acquired through many crossings of the Strand and Aldwych. Which reminds me that you ought to get along alright there - you nearly gave me heart failure more than once in London!

They have a very good system of entertainment for the forces whereby we could go to a large number of cinemas, theatres etc. as well as dances at no cost to ourselves. Naturally, I was all for this, and obtained tickets for a show called “Star and Garter”. I don’t quite know what made me choose this particular effort, expect that the name reminded me of a pub in Richmond, and when I got there I found it was a vaudeville, with Gipsey Rose Lee as one of the stars. I imagine that you’ve heard of her- she’s written a couple of murder mysteries, although I rather imagine that these are not her chief claim to fame. My own feeling is that she is overrated, but maybe I’m too critical. I quite enjoyed the show (NOT what you think) but was rather glad I hadn’t any maiden aunt tagging along.

In the evening I went to the Stage Door Canteen - of which you may have heard. They wrote a song about it and some girl called Eileen. Anyway, there really is such a place and everybody’s very hospitable. And film stars really do drop in there - in fact the place is run by entertainment people. Do you remember Ann Rutherford? She is in the Andy Hardy films, I think. Anyway, I stopped in at the Canteen one night and she dropped in right after me (a coincidence, I imagine) made a pretty little speech and dropped right out again.

The same evening I went to a broadcast call “The Stage Door Canteen” and had quite an entertaining half hour. It was quite interesting as I’ve often wondered how they managed exact timing of programmes and what the advertisement pluggers looked like, Now I think I know.

From the broadcast, I wondered out along Broadway - now without its gay signs and lights - until I found Jack Dempsey’s Bar, wither i repaired for a little refreshment. While I was there I me quite a few Navy and Mercantile Marine blokes and had quite a few chats, and then to bed.

Such was my first day there. The others that followed proved just as busy and entertaining. I saw a couple of quite good films, “The Road to Morocco” with Bing Crosby and Bob Hope and an RAF one called “One of Our Aircraft is Missing”. This last had a somewhat long sort of title, but I really enjoyed it - maybe I’m prejudiced. I saw some “Ice follies of 1943” as well. These were also very good, and reminded me that something I’ve never yet seen is and ice-hockey match. I’ll have to make a real effort to do that because I believe they are well worth seeing.

The rest of the time there I wandered around, met people, and went to a couple of dances. In fact, generally seeing the town. I enjoyed it all immensely but I’d still swap it for London - any day.

Now I’m back at Fingal, making up for lost sleep and trying to overhaul my finances in time for Christmas, when I’m supposed to be getting a few days off. As this probably won’t reach you until after Christmas, I’ll hope that you have had a very good time and that I shall be seeing you again very soon. In the meantime, I shall be looking forward to your letters to cheer me up.

Ever yours

Hugh