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September 13 1941. Sat 1.30 pm. MEF.
My Darling Eve,
I’m pushed for time again. I’m off out again at 2.0, still every little helps. I’ve a lot of news for you this time, duck. Last night I wrote an airgraph to the father of one of my missing mates. It was very brief, but I got to the point and promised to send this Mr Jackson an air mail letter with more details. I’ll have to write it very soon because they will be in suspense until it arrives.
I see on our notice board that the following mail has Been lost. All air mail posted around the 12th to 17th June, and all sea mail and parcels posted around the 19th April. It’s very good of the APO to notify us like this. I can only think of one similar notice, it was in early June. .
I was openly complimented yesterday by our Squadron Leader, Captain Gregg. It was on pay parade and you can imagine what a crowd there was. That’s the one parade where no-one is absent. Capt Gregg said to me “Shore, I’ve been told that you rank among our finest and most efficient drivers, and that the maintenance and condition of your vehicle is of the highest standard. Keep it up. I’m exceptionally pleased.” “Th . , thank you, Sir. I will,” says I. Honestly Ev, you could have knocked me down with a feather, and if he wants to promote me, I shan’t stoop under a pip or star on the shoulder. It certainly bucked me up. I felt like going up the desert and starting a little war on my own, just to blow off steam and let my chest down a bit.
Ev, I must ask you once again to excuse my writing. It’s getting pretty bad these days. I keep on missing words out etc. Trouble is I’m working under rotten conditions, in tents, on the floor, on my knee, a terrible wind blowing and my pad’s all loose pages. Is that enough excuses. Well, I’ll pass on to the other news when I come in tonight.. I love you.
Well, Ev, I’m writing by the light of a candle in a broken bottle. Sounds pretty grim doesn’t it? It’s not too bad. I’m comfortable. The reason I have to do this is because I shan’t have a chance to write until Monday afternoon or Tuesday. I had an order to go on a long journey tomorrow. Fancy, my day off tomorrow and I’ve just been down to the guard room for an early call at 5.0 am. I shall start at 6.0 and I may be out all day. I don’t mind, I like work, and as long as I have time to write to you, that’s all that matters.
Now, I’ve related my little praise-worthy speech by Capt Gregg, I’ll tell you of something else that blew the buttons off my shirt. I showed the snap you sent me to my mate, the newsagent, and he shouted for all the Transport drivers to come and see it. You should have heard the remarks that followed. “By, she’s beautiful.” “Is she your wife?” “You’re a lucky son of a gun.” “Very nice.” And scores of similar remarks. I almost blushed, Eve. Gee, didn’t I feel proud. I could have knocked Jo Louis out with one hit and held up Jerry’s army with my other hand.It’s too bad I have to stop here, Eve. I am tired, and a big day tomorrow. Bye-bye, Sug, goodnight and God bless.
Sept. 14th. I’m back early. I’ve just had tea and a lovely surprise. Two letters off Mother, July 3rd and August 8th. I’ve had a fair amount of mail recently. I tell you every time I have a letter so you will have to look up my back letters to know how many I’ve had this week I think it’s 5.
I should have gone to the hospital to visit my mate today, but you see I didn’t have time. I will try to go tomorrow, and I heard at tea-time that another of my Tidworth mates is in the same hospital with tonsillitis. He is Dickie Bryan from Brum in B Squadron. So I will have to take 2 bunches of flowers and 2 bunches of grapes when I go.
Well, duck, I’ve just been talking to my newsagent mate about buying the contents of the parcel we’re each going to send to our respective homes. We’re at a deadlock. You see, Ev, almost everything we can send is liable to a tax and excise duty, so I think that I will send you those cushion covers, a crepe-de-chine scarf affair (don’t laugh), some cigs, a paper or two, some tea (about 1 lb), a wee bit of sugar, and maybe something else to make up. I have a nice strong box all ready. Now, Ev, it looks very queer, me sending a parcel home and requesting you all at home not to send anything. This little request still holds good. I don’t want you to send anything at all. I’ll explain. First you cannot get at any price what things are most useful to me. Second I can get absolutely everything out here, fags, soap, choc, writing material and nearly all English newspapers. They must send stacks of them by boat. Mind you, they’re perhaps two months old, but even if you send them they will be two months old when I get them. There’s Everybody’s, J Bull, Tit-bits, People, News of the World, Empire, News Review, Times, and, as I say, every one of them. So, Ev, from what you can gather from the above, you have only one thing you can possibly send. Money, duck. Come back now, I haven’t finished. I saw you dashing off to fetch a postal order. That’s better. Now let me explain. What’s the use of you sending me money? For one thing I have enough in credit to meet any eventuality, not much, mind you, I think about £6 or £7. All I have to do is give a week’s notice if I want an advance of pay, so that settles that, do with it whatever you wish. Mother says that a lot of my mates and friends are out or coming out here. I haven’t seen any yet, and I’m always keeping my eyes open except when I go to sleep. (Joke). I think it’s a rumour about 9RTR being out here. I’ve asked dozens of Tank chaps and the answer’s always No. That’s Bob Bill’s Battalion, you know.
Well, Ev, I’ve done well with this letter, it’s dusk now and I’m going to close. I’ll pack and purchase this parcel before the week’s out and send it with a small list of who the meagre contents are for. Cheerio, Yours for ever, Albert Erf. xxx?xxx.

January 29 1942.
Dear Mother and Dad,
Today has been my lucky day. I almost went down town for the evening, but at dinner time I was presented with seven letters, 3 off Eve, 3 off you and one off Uncle Levi. I’ve had stacks and stacks of letters since I came down from Libya. I’m doing my best to answer them all as you will no doubt see. There will be one mail-bag from me to Stoke-on-Trent, one of these days.
I’ve just sent you and Auntie Ethel an airgraph and written Eve a letter. Those airgraphs are very nice for a speedy message, but one cannot tell much news on them.
I shall have to write more often and to more people in future. Trouble is I can only get at it at night, and some days I’m out until 7.0 or 8.0 at night. No, not every day, perhaps one or two a week, then a guard occasionally, very occasionally, I may add. I’ve learned the art of dodging a wee bit, and of course I go down town once a week. That’s plenty though.
Tons of excuses aren’t there. Well, it’s not as bad as it reads. I’m afraid I may be conveying a wrong impression. Life’s never been so cushy for me as it is now. I do more work - did I say work? - I mean hours, but I rarely go on a parade, only pay parade. The Serg. Major used to call my name out at the first parade every day. That’s when they call the roll, you know. Well, a few weeks ago, he stopped calling it; knew it was a waste of time.
I’ve certainly learnt a lot since Blighty days. I see you ask if I want any socks. To tell you the truth I could send you some. I have a mate in the Quartemaster’s store. Compre? There’s not a single thing I’m short of. If I want a shirt or socks, well just pay a visit to the Qs.
It must be hard for you to imagine that I don’t want anything. Perhaps you hear of other soldiers sending home for this and that, and think I’m putting you off because of expense or trouble. No, it isn’t! Either the other lads are telling a tale or spending their cash on beer and women. I feel I would like to broadcast home and just tell people how life is here. Everything is just as easy to obtain as in England before the war. What things are more expensive, there’s others which are cheaper. If you could have seen a parcel my mate had the other, you would have wept. It’s no joke what I’m going to tell you. The contents, upon despatch, must have been cake, 100 Players, soap, toothpaste, brush, blades, etc. Well, when he opened it, he didn’t know whether to eat the soap and wash his hands with the cake, or smoke the paste and chew fags; it was a filthy mess. He threw 90% of it away. A few fags he thought he had salvaged, turned out to be awful; he was blowing bubbles the rest of the day. I tried one and decided it would be better to have a shampoo. The same happened to another youth in the same tent. His parcel was useless. Of course, some get through OK, quite a lot I should say, but what’s the use? Stuff out here is just the same, English and American, cheaper than home by along way.
Do you know the three most plentiful brands of cigs, there’s five actually - Craven A, State Express, Players, De Reske and Woods, and about a thousand others.
I don’t know what to do about you. You all want to send me anything I ever want. I can quite understand. I would be the same if I was at home and someone we knew was out here. To be honest about it I would say he was kidding, and send something like Uncle Levi did, but you must believe me when I say I don’t want anything at all, and don’t worry; if I was short, I would be down Marconi House filling a cable form in right away.
Cheerio. Alb. Xxx.

Jan 29 1942. MEF
(Eveline checked - he did write two letters on Jan 29.)
Dear Mother and Dad,
I’m in a fix. I feel I could write you dozens of letters, but being as I couldn’t bear them to be censored by our own officers, I am compelled to use a green envelope. I’ve got these envelopes off chaps who never write home, or at least never use them.
I know you’re all working hard in Blighty. That’s why I hate to be at base camp too long. It seems such a shocking waste of time. I wish we could all go in in one big mad dash and simply sweep Jerry off the map, same as we’ve just done in Libya. 600 or 700 miles in about 7 weeks. Old Jerry didn’t know whether he was coming or going. The old prisoners kept trailing past, looking real sorry for themselves, especially when passing their own wrecked tanks and guns and planes. I guess we did a good job up there, but the papers don’t seem so good now. Whether it’s a pre-arranged plan to lure him out or not, I don’t know. I hope things are going according to plan for all that. Pint of water a day, and he says “You can do what you like with it, either bath every day or every other day. It’s all yours.” I shouldn’t relish the thought of all that again, and bully and biscuits too. Yes, as much as you like. You can have two packets of biscuits if you like. Must have thought we were going to do a bit of road making or building a pill-box. It’s a funny war. I could laugh my head off when I look back a few months. The old Serg. Major “Come on, Albert, the Stukas will be here at such-and-such a time”. (They came at regular hours you know) “Oh, go to blazes and go asleep.” Those were the days, when everyone was a man. A crown on his arm didn’t say he would be the last to get a packet. I’m getting bloodthirsty, aren’t I. Well, I guess it’s time for bed. I’ll write more tomorrow.
Friday 30 Jan.

I went down to the Army Post Office this afternoon for some Airgraph forms. The latest is this. We can’t have a form, unless we buy a stamp, and more than that, the stamp will be stuck on the form by the clerk himself, so a dozen forms cost me 15 piastres (3/1½), although I showed the clerk all the stamps I had had sent to me, about 3 dozen altogether. He would not let me have the forms without stamps. I said “Well, the stamps are useless to me now”. He said “Too bad.” So, Mother, you’d better stop sending me stamps. I don’t know what to do with them.
You see the trouble has been this. For every 300,000 forms printed, only 100,000 have been through the post. Chaps have evidently been using them for other purposes. So another good scheme goes west.
. There’s only one thing you can send and that’s POs, and I have over £6 so I don’t want any cash for a while.

I’m afraid I shall never be able to get the paper with our pictures of going to Greece. It’s months and months ago. As a matter of fact I had a struggle to recall what you meant. Very strange,you should mention that. Only last weekend (and don’t laugh), we were at our camp cinema, what should come on the news? “Churchill sends troops to Greece.” Eight months ago that film was taken, and we’re only just seeing it. know the films were made before my time. Of course this is only the camp cinema. Down town are all the latest films and newsreels.
Well, when this Greek news comes on the screen, you should have heard the roar. It blew the roof off. I was glad to see it though. I wonder if you ever saw it. It showed us embarking at Alex, being given life-belts, disembarking at Piraeus (Athens), unloading our kit and some wonderful scenes of us going up to the Yugoslav border. Maybe you did see it but have forgotten by now.
I was disappointed when I saw Egypt for the first time. The people on the whole,are filthy, dress in long night-shirts, always asking for buckshees, always pestering us for shoes black, razor blades and a million other commodities. There’s no countryside. When you go out of Cairo, it’s sand until you get to Alex or Port Said, then sand again to the next place. I’ll try to give you an insight on life out here in my next letter. I’ve promised before but not had time as yet.
Remember me to everyone. love to you all, Alb.

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