ĂŰŃż´«Ă˝

July 6th 1940. Tidworth.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I’m sorry I haven’t answered your letter before this, but weekends seems my only chance to write an extra letter now. Last Tuesday I thought I would phone you up on the [missing] night, [missing] . .six out of our squad were told to report for armed night guard at 6 o’clock at night, so as I was one of them, I wasn’t able to phone, and on the Thursday my name was on the list for the guard that goes to Upavon Aerodrome. This lasts a weeks and we go from here at about 8 o’clock at night in buses.
I had an experience on the armed guard on Wednesday night. We all had a demonstration before we went on, and we were told to say “Halt, who goes there?”, then if they didn’t halt, repeat it, and still if they didn’t halt to say “Halt, or I fire”, at the same time, pull the rifle into the shoulder and fire it to injure him and try not to kill. Well, it was fairly dark and I saw a chap coming towards me. I went through the procedure and he still came on, and as I was taking aim, two officers, evidently hearing me in the guardroom, rushed out and stopped me from firing, so he is still living. It was the Sgt-Major who told us what to do and how to go about it. I didn’t know whether he was testing me or drunk, but the officers took charge of him and I’ve heard since that he was drunk. He was reported to the Commanding Officer and he looks like having a spell in jail. I’ve often thought what would have happened if the two officers had not come and [missing ]. I would have fired at him. This armed guard only started on the night I did it and it will continue indefinitely. Also we have 50 rounds issued when we go to the Aerodrome every night.
They have started a mean 48 hours leave now, and we don’t know for certain when we get ours, but we think we will get it next weekend, the 13 and 14 July. It’s a bit of a mess because I don’t think we shall know definitely until Thursday night, so if I get a chance I may phone you on Thursday night, that is if we don’t know before.
It looks as though you had a very rough time last week with the air raids. A chap here had a Sentinel sent him and I noticed the houses at Basford. I can’t remember seeing it about the Creamline accident, but it must have been pretty terrible. I’m glad you have put me wise to the raided city, or I would probably have been stunned, because we don’t know a thing about what’s happening outside Tidworth. I hope you keep clear of the raids in future.
Our own corporal left us on Thursday to take a new squad over; that is the tenth squad since us, numbering some 400 chaps. We’ve got a much better corporal now, he lets us do what we like.
Eveline has sent me another 10/- just in case I come over this next weekend, so I am well fixed for money and I have plenty of everything else so far.
The sponge cake was lovely and everything else was that was in the parcel. I have half the contents left yet, there was that much. It was my lucky day on that Thursday. I had a 10/- note off Eveline, 2 parcels off you and Eveline, 5/- off Auntie Ethel and Uncle Sam, 2 letters and a parcel off Wedgwoods. It was like Santa Claus. Wedgwoods sent 30s Woods, 2 PKs, a nice pair of Meridan socks, 2 silk khaki hanks, 1 lb shortcake, 2 Picture Posts, shaving soap, a pair of leather laces, some sweets and about a dozen lemonade tablets, enough for 6 pints.
Getting back to air raids, “touch wood”, we haven’t even seen a German plane or heard a bomb yet, although we have had 2 or 3 warnings.
It’s Sunday morning, 8.30 now. I had to leave off last night sooner than expected.

One of our chaps had his photo taken at the local studio and they charge 3/6 for 6 post-card size photos; he doesn’t like them at all, they’re rotten photos and rather dull, so I shan’t have mine taken here.
It’s funny weather we’re having lately, one day it’s cold and dull, and another day the same as today, is scorching hot. But still we all keep clear of colds etc. We have been out driving all this week, a sheer waste of time and petrol because we are all drivers and we were before we joined, but we enjoy it at the Government’s expense. Well, I must close now. Good morning, Mum, Dad, Levi.
Love to all, your loving son, Albert. xxx.

July 10 1940. Wed. Tidworth.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I have had a letter off you today and one yesterday. This is as far as I got. It’s Thursday night now. I had to leave off very suddenly last night when I had written a short letter to Eveline, it was time to get ready for guard. I don’t know whether Eveline told you but this last three weeks I have been very busy and tonight is my first night I have had completely off for 28 days, that is having nothing to do after tea, what with trench digging and cleaning lorries after tea, and a fortnight’s guard into the bargain.
Tonight will be the first night for 9 days that I have had my boots off, because while we’re on guard at that aerodrome, we had to sleep with our clothes and boots on. It seems strange to have a night off. I suppose there will be something else in store for us tomorrow night. I did think I would have been on leave this weekend, but there’s no chance of it again. I don’t know about next weekend, but it makes it difficult now that we are a senior squad. They always pick the chaps with the most experience for guard duties, etc. It’s not a bit of use planning or even looking forward to a bit of leave, although 48 hour leave is resumed. I have made arrangements with Eveline for when I come home four times, and I’m still here. I wouldn’t mind so much if we were really training, but when they put Civvy Street drivers on driving lorries with learner plates on for 3 weeks it gets me down. It’s nothing but a sheer waste of everything, petrol, time, material, money, etc.
A chap out of our squad keeps his car here and he leant it to a Sergeant to have his leave on last weekend; well, he should have returned it by Monday and he brought it back on Wednesday with £12 worth of dented wings and panels. He had run into a few trees on the way back. The owner is in a terrible fix; it is only insured for himself, that’s why he brought it down with him. The Sergeant said he would pay for it, but how can a soldier pay £12. Of course, he may do, but I shouldn’t like to rely on it.
I did think of phoning you this Thursday, but I shan’t. It’s pouring down with rain, I don’t think it’s stopped since Wednesday morning. If leave is in sight next weekend, and I doubt it, I will give you a call.
That Greek has somehow got his 48 hrs off this weekend, on his own. You see, he cuts the Sgt-Mjr’s hair and he has cut Sgt’s and a couple of officers’ hair. I bet he has spun a yarn and I will be not at all surprised if he never comes back or is fetched back under escort. Of course if this happens, our leave is finished for as long as we are here.
I’m glad you’re not having any air raids now. Of course, I don’t know what they are like yet, we only have warnings, thank Goodness.
I’ve heard that Arthur Pickin has been sent to Barmouth, so he will not be over home as often now. I don’t suppose Jack and Rep will go in the Army. You say you was mistaken for Fifth Columnists one night - well, on Monday night, we were at the aerodrome, and in the night we heard the siren go off, and off we went to the trenches, we were standing there and about 4 miles away we saw a light going in and out fairly quickly and heard the planes pass over us. They didn’t drop any bombs, but we expected them with seeing that light. The following day we found out that it was a spy and some chaps from the Wilts Regt caught him.
Our own corporal has left us now to take a new squad over, and the corporal in charge of us now is as different again, very jolly and enjoys a joke. He never gets out of bed until half an hour after reveille, instead of our own corporal, he has us out at quarter of a minute past.
I’ve got plenty of money in case they give us leave unexpected, and I shall take it, don’t worry about that. I’m all right for everything and hope to be until I come over on leave.
I shall have to close now. Remember me to uncle Sam and family, Uncle Levi and family and all others,
Goodnight and cheerio to you all,
from your loving son Albert. xxx.

July 16 1940. Tuesday dinner. Albert Tidworth.
Dearest Eve,
What a morning. 3 letters all in one go. Your yesterdays letter, one off Mum and one off Jimmy Daniels. I read them all while I was on the lorry, because they were a bit late in delivering them.
I was upset somewhat about leave, but as you say it might be for the best and when we look at it, we are very lucky, we are both getting on all right and still have our daily letters But still it’s pretty bad for al that.. One of these Fridays, I shall give you a surprise, and what a surprise, it will surprise me as well.
I’m glad you’re managing all right with money, as long as we don’t get into too much debt and can live fairly comfy while this war lasts, it won’t be too bad.
My endowment is due in September, I think, around my birthday, and I forgot to mention it Eve. The lavender in the 10/- note was lovely even now.
What’s my surprise, Eve. It’s got me guessing this time, but I’ll have one little guess, can I. (Some cake) I’ll bet I’ve hit the nail on the head this time. Good old Trent Vale and ĂŰŃż´«Ă˝. I can almost taste the cherries.
Jimmy Daniel’s letter was only 2 short pages and he didn’t say much in it, except that he started to write the letter six weeks ago, he actually addressed the envelope 6 weeks ago. He is married you know, and his home and wife are in London, he is able to see her almost every day and to sleep with her most weekends. He’s lucky isn’t he?
As you improve in your writing I get worse, you’re getting much better Eve, it’s very neat and almost without any mistakes, you make me jealous, mine is real scribble and generally rotten, but I think you can read it.
Ration books, what are these? You must be very busy, Eve, and fancy bringing them home. I can see the manager will have to look out, or he will be asking for another job, perhaps asking you, you lovely darling. I do love you, but I hope you don’t overdo yourself with all this work. You say they should be in by 22nd. Well, all being well, we should be home on 26th, our room is 13 and we will have completed 13 weeks of service. Are you superstitious? Notice all 13s; it may be our lucky number. Get the fortune-telling book out, Eve, and see what it says. I’ll bet mother makes something of it. I must close now, Eve, until tonight. Bye-bye, precious. Xx.
On the night of July 16th 1940.
Eve, I’m writing to you as a so-called sick man now. Don’t get alarmed. While I was cleaning the lorry, the bonnet fell cleanly on my head and cut it, not too bad, but enough, according to the orderly corporal, to go sick in the morning.
The bonnet was a heavy one that lifts up in one piece from the front on an hinge, you know what kind I mean, they’re not very common.
I saw stars for a few seconds, but all was well again after; it’s cut about 2 inches and there was a bit of blood floating about; the beauty of it was that we had nearly finished and the corporal in charge took me first to one place of first aid, then another, until at last we found one that was open; it was the fifth attempt. The chap in charge has cut all my hair off and left it with nothing, only iodine on. That’s why I didn’t want to go sick, but it seems as though I’ve got to do. Really I’m all right except for the iodine sting. It’s 8.20 now, so you can tell how long it took with the first aid business. Now, Eva, don’t worry, I’m all right and as fit as a fiddle, a better fiddle than this. Now don’t worry please.
I’ve had another letter off you today, that’s 4 altogether. 4 letters to answer and another one for Uncle Levi. Mother sadly wants me to write to him. I’m going to be busy, aren’t I.
You’re a cute lill rogue, you are; of course I read your letters. I never thought about this and the New Testament. I’m sorry, I haven’t touched it for about a fortnight. One wants complete relaxation and quietness to read this, and I haven’t been able to enjoy the aforesaid of late. What Ho, Chappie, Oxford?
One must have one’s little joke, mustn’t one?
Eve, you tell me that Ann is going to get into another house, well, what about living with her own mother. I should advise her not to go into another house. It will be too expensive and there’s too much running about to do. (Remember us). It will be too much for her to tackle on her own, and what will happen in a few months’ time; she will be in a terrible fix. She will want 24 hours a day attention for a few weeks, and who will be able to give her that? also, who will look after baby when she does eventually go to work. It’s not a very big thrill ahead of her, to fetch baby, say from her mother’s, and go home to light a fire and get her own meals ready, and probably sleep on her own. To crown it all, there’s the ever presence of air-raids. Myself, I certainly wouldn’t ever entertain the idea of it, I would see what my own mother could do, and if she couldn’t do anything, try to save a little money and go to London Road for the confinement. It will be all free under her circumstances and the savings will see her over the spell of no work while she is confined. I’m sure Reg’s mother will agree to that. Can’t you find out what the trouble is between them and try to bring them together on better terms. I feel sure it’s really nothing at al, and perhaps a bit of your advice will clear everything. I’m not telling Reg anything.

Good night, Eve, and God bless you always. Bye-bye, duck, yours for ever, Eve, Alb.
I’m all right so don’t worry. Compre. Joy.xx. Tra, Sugar Plum. You sweet lill wifey.xxxxxxxshshsh it’s a girl.

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