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October 13 1944. Friday. BLA.
Dear Mother and Dad,
I see the lads have landed and taken half Greece. I wish I was there instead of here. They’re the finest people I’ve met. They give things they can ill-afford and don’t even expect anything in return. I’ll bet our lads have a wonderful reception over there.
The Dutch are OK, but there’s always the fear of a traitor among the ranks. I don’t care for Jerryland either. My motto, and many others too, will be “shoot first”. I think old Jerry will force us to adopt this method. He’s fighting like a tiger, simply blind to the fact that he can’t possibly win. We seem to be standing still, but I think it will be a Montgomery special, same as Caen. He certainly likes to get Jerry into a good concentration, then goes to work on them. It’s a good idea, saves a lot of lives in the long run.
But old Jerry made me and my mate run around a few times last week. And this week too. He sent showers of illegible in photocopy . we went into the porch of a big Church many times, but on the last occasion, a chap came down from the steeple, said, ”old Jerry will get us yet”. We used it for an observation tower, so we didn’t stay long. We’ve been in the old village a fortnight, and what a fortnight. Yet, he’s not scored a hit yet.
At one time he only had one gun and every time it fired, we could just imagine the crew. “Oh, it’s gone off, what shall we do?”
Now he’s got a few more guns and reduced the odds. Still, if we don’t fire he doesn’t. When we open up, he does, and in a second too. I’ve come to the conclusion he has them ready loaded just waiting for us.

I’m glad we have consumed our quota of captured enemy food. I still wonder what wrong we’ve done that they fed us on that rubbish. Maybe some-one failed to salute a Brigadier or something.
I had a letter from Pop Coomer a few
days ago. He says us lads are to be day-waged when we come back until we get used to it again. But I’m on the look-out for a different job, and I don’t think I could stick a factory, I’m so used to living outside, I believe I will get an outdoor job. It will soon be our 5th anniversary. I begin to wonder how many more. I never dreamt we would see 1945 and still in the army. Old Monty seems to believe it will be off this year and before Xmas too. I only wish I could believe it was true. The nights are getting long now, it’s dark at 6.30 and we daren’t have a light, so Jerry permitting, we get quite a good sleep. I was in a house the other day and the young woman there used to work at Philips electric works, Eindhoven. Of course, the RAF have put her out of work.
. I’m OK for everything. We get stacks of food and even a bit of bread, which I promptly turn into toast over my little log fire in the wood. It tastes good, this bit of toast. We would never get it off the cookhouse.
.
I’m OK for everything and don’t worry. Remember me to everyone. I can’t find time to write to anybody yet.
Cheerio, all the best, yours with love, Alb.
October 16 1944. Monday. BLA.
Dear Mother and Dad,
I received your letter last night, also another one from Cairo. I told them to stop sending the Toc H news sheet, but it still comes, addressed to Tpr Shore, HQ, MEF. Maybe my letter to Cairo hasn’t arrived yet.

Not bad for mail; wish I could dispatch as many as I receive.
I’m glad you got back safe from Ramsgate. I often thought how you would go on if the old buzz bombs came over, but I see you were lucky.
The weather is simply awful. I’m sure if we had had good weather, it would be all over now. But I think it’s rained on the average every other day since D-day. I wonder why. And yet when Jerry was performing in 1940 he never had a day’s rain.
I’m glad to see that Sam is on leave, and a good leave too. He doesn’t want to think he’s off so soon. This Division we’re in has been on embarkation leave 6 times in 2 years and had leave each time. Twice it was at the very docks, and once actually on the boat for India. The army do funny things.
The other units in the Div firmly believed they would never come to Europe, but we assured them that wherever the 3rd were, there’s always trouble or trouble brewing, and even when we got on the boat, these lads still optimistically believed it would never sail. Well, I guess this is where they drop a point.
Maybe Sam will be lucky enough to get into a Div which has such luck, although I guess it’s a bit nerve-wracking to be off, then return, and as Old Tommy Handley’s “Chop Suey” says, I go, I come back. Do you ever have him on? It’s the best show of the week.
I caught the last 20 mins of the International match on Saturday. I heard Frankie Loo and Stanley Matthews’s name pretty often. It was a good win for England 6:2.
I heard too that S-o-T was mentioned last Sunday week in the highest Savings for the country good show, I’ll know where to come for a sub. I saw the Duisburg raid a few nights ago, and my! What a “do”. The bombers screamed overhead for over an hour. Then the sky was crimson for the rest of the night, and old Jerry went really rash. He sent a jet plane over and dropped a plane nearby. Later he sent another plane over and straffed an empty wood. What a weak effort. One 50 lb bomb in exchange for 5000 tons. Still, it’s boot on the other foot now.
I see you have the Xmas spirit in. I would like to think I would be home to help you out, but we seem doomed to see it all over out here same as we did in Egypt. I wouldn’t mind if they gave us a definite date which we could come home, either on leave or permanent. I wouldn’t care if they said you can go home in September next year. At least it’s something to look forward to. But no, suspense and the crushing of optimism are the passwords of our glorious army.
I was only thinking the other day. I read a paper where it said “Sentences of hard labour will be modified. Whereas men doing hard labour are deprived of a mattress for the first 14 days, they will now have a mattress to sleep on from the day the sentence begins”.
“Italian prisoners billeted in delightful semi-detached houses costing £1500 apiece”. I wonder if England is crazy.
Anyway it’s not good news for us, and I do not like to read such, neither do any of the lads. If that’s the case, why not keep it a secret. We don’t want to think of those two incidents while we’re perhaps huddled in a slit trench listening to shells whine overhead, raining, dark and cold.
I wish we were allowed to say and write what we wished to. I wouldn’t half stir some mud up and make some bigwigs know our feelings. But still it will end some day and maybe we will be allowed to spill the beans when people won’t care to listen. I reckon it was the same in the last war though, and I guess we ought to see it doesn’t happen again.
I notice it’s Dad’s birthday tomorrow. I hope it’s a happy one, and I hope the next one is with the lights on. I think we’ll have a good big party, and have a real celebration after all these years of anxiety and misery.
I’ve had just the bike for Levi, a BMW twin, with sidecar and sidecar wheel drive, and shaft drive too. It’s a lovely job, 90 mph and just like a bird. No, I haven’t done 90, but it’s capable. The Serg.Major had it off me, went out one night and, while he was boozing, had the thing stolen. Easy come, easy go. I’ve had the FN 350 too, I forget whether it’s Belgian or Dutch. That’s gone. So has my 6 cylinder Hansa. Our Major has claimed the Opel Kadet, but it leaves us with 2 push bikes.
It’s surprising isn’t it? Vehicles are 10 a penny. We’re all on the look-out for the Mercedes-Benz or Auto-Union soon, maybe we’ll get them. Then we shall see what these autobahns are really like. I hope I’m not too technical or maybe foreign to you. We have a habit of speaking with traces of Arabic, French Belgian, Dutch and a little English, coupled with all the army’s abbreviations. We must sound very funny to an Englishman, although I spare you all at home.
I had to laugh the other night. We all came in just on dusk and our mate, Jim, was up to the eyes in cooking. I think he had every available mess tin, mug, fork, knife, spoon, even wash tin. There was dehydrated spuds, dehydrated onions, dehydrated cabbage, and so on; 6 times the usual bully, rice, flour, etc, all strewn about the place. Ho and what a heap. He had been on the job for an hour and still couldn’t get these dehydrated concoctions fit for human consumption, so we suggested having cold bully and a bit of bread. Up come his foot and scuttled the lot into a hole. As I was telling him, the best plan for the spuds is to soak them in water for 4 days or maybe weeks, it doesn’t matter; then when you’re ready for them - really you’re never ready for them but we must assume we are - then put them on the fire to boil, providing there’s a big wood nearby to provide the fuel; after boiling for so many hours, strain the water off, take a spade, dig a hole and bury the - - - spuds. Ever tried them at home? Well, don’t, or your electric bill will be terrific. Joking apart, we do well for food, far better than I’ve ever known, much better than the Yanks, and Jerry well he lives on turnip tops and sawdust, with cabbage leaves to smoke. Pretty grim old Jerry. I don’t know why he sticks it so long.
I’m not unhappy either. Life’s not too bad, but I know of a better way to live, and soon I hope to be there. I only wish it would stop raining and give old Monty a square deal.
Well, I’m glad you’re not upset because I write to Eve pretty often and not quite so often to you or anyone else.
So cheerio. Love to you all, yours ever, Alb. Xxx.

October 24 1944 . Tuesday. BLA
Interesting tale about a small Dutch girl..
Dear Mother and Dad,
Many thanks for the anniversary card and your letter. They’ve come very quick. I had them yesterday.
Do excuse the writing, this pen of mine is hopeless.
I’m glad to see Sam is enjoying his leave. Did you hear what Monty said we’re getting? He’s going to give us 48 hours leave every 6 months. It was on the radio a week ago. They must feel very generous. As far as I’m concerned, they can keep it. What’s 48 hours after 5 months of fighting?
What I’m concerned about is almost 5 years of my life gone west and I reckon we shan’t get compensated in any way. Never mind, we shall see what happens after the war.
This is the fourth rainless day and what a treat after weeks and months of mud. Trouble is, in this country, if we dig a trench it fills with water overnight, and there’s a chance of getting drowned, thrown in with all the other hazards.
I watched the raid on Essen last night. It must have been hell let loose over the way. The bombers streaked over our heads on the way home. Last time it was Duigsburg, just over a week ago I think.
It’s a pitiful sight around here, the roads are filled with evacuees, leading horses and carts piled high with their belongings, and bikes and barrows and hand carts, miles of shell holes and dead cattle and wrecked homes. It’s like a Caen battlefield, but we certainly shift Jerry if we want to.
I’ve just seen an old mate of mine who left us at Aldershot. He’s in the Intelligence Corps and has just come to pay us a visit as we were fairly near to each other. A part of his Department went to Aachen with the Yanks, and as the Yanks advanced through the town, they came across Jerry tanks and guns with women and kids strapped to them to prevent us firing back at them while they continued to fire at us..
I see we’re doing well in Old Greece, kind of reversing the 1941 procedure. The old towns are coming in the news, Lamia, Larissa, etc. When we passed through Lamia going up, they had just got over an Italian bombing which descended upon them a few days after an earthquake. I guess old Musso knew the town would be in a turmoil and the defences all upset. What beats me is why a good many people in England forget this horrible trick and many more like them and take pity on the Italians. There’s a factory just in front of our squad, and old Jerry has been fixing it up with mines and booby traps for a few days. When I went up yesterday, I noticed the chimney gone first, then everywhere seemed flat. It happens our guns first blew the chimney down because a Jerry was using it for spotting for his artillery. Then a lucky shell must have caught one of the mines inside and the whole factory went sky high, Jerries and all. I should liked to have seen them.
We’re supposed to be out for a rest, and in front of us is just a few infantry, then Jerry. “A” Squad can watch Jerry going about his daily business, and at night the patrols are always clashing. What a rest.. still our so-called rests have always been the same so far except once, and that was at Laigle in France, when any useless regiment could chase Jerry up country.
Thank goodness the rain has stopped, at last. The ground is drying fine, but one consolation about the mud, it absorbs the shells. But worse still, they use air-bursts so it’s as broad as long.
My mate has two civvies here, they’re young Dutchmen who he’s got to know. He goes to their house to sleep every night. They have learnt a bit of English and I keep hearing Dixie this and Dixie that. My mate is named Dean and the popular nick-name is dixie. One of them used to work at Philips Electric, Eindhoven.
You would laugh if you saw a little tiny girl who we’ve adopted while we’re here. She can only be 4 or 5 and she comes to meals with a chap who sleeps in their barn. She’s there in the queue even at breakfast, with a little mug and plate. She sits down and eats her porridge, then washes her plate and goes up for the sausages and beans, or bacon and spuds, and resumes eating, washes up when she’s finished and then off to her house again.
I have just received The Sentinel and the 11 Armoured Div column struck my eye. It’s good isn’t it, and how true. The people of Antwerp could never thank us enough and they are going to put a monument up for us.
Well it’s quite dark and this is the last page of my pad, so we’ll listen to the news about last night’s raid on Essen and turn in.
I’m keeping OK and don’t want anything.. I’ll have to be off now. Cheerio. Love to you all. Yours ever. Alb. Xxx.

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