´óÏó´«Ã½

Extracts from Arthur Allvey’s Letters to his wife, Gladys, March 1944

5-3-44 Yesterday was I think the coldest day I’ve experienced since returning to this country. The sky was opaque and filled with snow awaiting its opportunity to descend upon us. We were compelled to stand on parade in a street leading straight to the sea shore and the cold, green waves, pending an inspection by the major and his cohorts which, since he appeared not to be in a very good frame of mind that morning, was prolonged to its utmost. Greatcoats were forbidden and snow began to fall whilst we were still awaiting him and continued throughout the morning. Next there was an inspection of guns and stores and again we had to stand on parade while the O.C. leisurely examined every nut and bolt for dirt. The rest of the morning was spent on the gun park, on maintenance, except for a short break for a very welcome cup of tea. There are some excellent cafes still carrying on business here and we always go to these in break periods in preference to the NAAFI canteens where the tea is foul.

That office job I had is filled now…

8-3-44 [at Newmarket] I have, as you will note, now reached my temporary billet where I shall stay until Tuesday. I left Felixstowe by the 10.46 train and the weather was very fine with a bright sun shining from a clear, blue sky. I’m billeted beneath the July Stands overlooking the race course, in a fair sized room which, I should imagine, was formerly a jockeys’ dressing room. It’s clean and has in the centre a stove which radiates a good heat, so we are quite comfortable. We bed down on the wooden floor. Evidently the race course is no longer in use.

9-3-44 Began a course this morning and we had instruction on the uses and characteristics of explosives, then we put into practice what we’d learned… It’s amazing what a variety of mines there are in use today, and how diabolically ingenious some of them are.

Had a poor night’s rest since I had only one blanket between me and the floorboards. Also the chap next to me went mad and I found him lashing about with a boot. I thought he was trying to kill a rat but apparently he was still asleep and unconscious of what he was doing. Awake he is quite a nice, sober sort of fellow and an interesting companion.

I must tell you about the beautiful horses I’ve seen exercising near the course; they’re fine creatures, and step out as gracefully as ballet dancers. We see strings of them trotting across the turf with their jockeys on their backs. You would enjoy the sight of them dearest…

11-3-44 I am still here immersed in the absorbing study of mines and it is surprising how much there is to learn about them… I slept a lot better than the previous night. We have an excellent fire in the stove. We don’t need to get up until 7 a.m. as breakfast is served from 7. 30 — 8. and here we have no early roll call parade. Work begins at 9 and finishes at 4.30 p.m. but last night we had another session from 8. — 9.30 during which we laid a mine field.

There is a large aerodrome next to the race course and planes are constantly landing and taking off but otherwise it’s very peaceful here and we are surrounded by the fields and the common. Newmarket is not a large place, and mainly comprises one street where all the shops are centred, with a few streets radiating from it where the residential buildings are. There are two cinemas, two services canteens and, naturally as it’s a racing town, many inns and public houses.

14-3-44 I arrived back here yesterday afternoon and found awaiting me your letter of Tuesday last and a parcel of cakes for which I thank you darling. It’s very nice of you to go to the trouble of making cakes for me, but I know how difficult it is to obtain ingredients and would rather you made something for yourself my love, instead of using your limited rations on me — there is no shortage of food here.

I’m awfully sorry to think that my letters make you miserable my dear, but you mustn’t think that conditions here are so terribly bad because they’re not. I’m afraid that in the army it becomes second nature to grumble at everything — or to ‘tick’ as they put it, and regret that I appear to have caught the habit. Actually, we’re having a far better time in this country than we ever did abroad and we’re not overworked, nor hungry. It’s merely that I tell you everything that happens from day to day that my letters paint such a dark picture but, in fact, the conditions could, and are abroad, be much worse. I’ll try not to grumble in future.

On the Sunday at Newmarket we worked the same hours as Saturday, namely until 3.30 p.m., when we ended the course. After tea I and another fellow went for a walk. We walked around the race course, which is quite a long one, and the weather was dull and the sky grey. The copses and woods showed up black and sombre and around the track the ground was bare and perfectly flat. We walked across the common and, outside the bounds of the Jockey Club, came to an aerodrome — a field which, owing to the extreme flatness of the land for a distance of miles, had lent itself to the uses of the R.A.F. there we saw at close quarters Stirlings, Halifaxes, Lancasters, Fortresses, Wellingtons, Beaufighters and Hurricanes. For hours we strolled around examining the planes and were completely unmolested, scarcely passing another soul. There were scores of planes standing tails to the wind, besides the enormous man made birds. Had we been saboteurs we could easily have destroyed aerodrome, camp and everything.

21-3-44 Yesterday there was a drill order for one of the gun detachments, although not to the detachment to which I belong. Unfortunately it was short of men and I was detailed to fill one of the gaps. A drill order means an exercise when the guns are taken out and used as though in battle. On this occasion, however, we used imaginary ammunition, although we usually fire live ammo on the drill orders.

Our vehicle containing us and the gun stores, and drawing the gun, departed our gun park at 8.30 a.m., and I very quickly dozed off to sleep.

We had the usual routine dropping into action at two places on the flat, brown countryside. It has been a grey and gloomy day but it has passed now and I am comfortably ensconced in a chair before a nice fire in the Y.M.C.A. reading room. Since I was here last they have installed a wireless set and a gramophone recording of ‘The Warsaw Concerto’ has just ended.

Today I was employed in the gun park in the usual aimless fashion when the Troop S.M. beckoned me over and I went to where he was talking to our troop officer. The latter asked me whether I would be interested in an Ack’s job. This is the work for which I was being trained on that recent course, which was terminated before it was half way through. The term ‘Ack’ is the military … for the letter A, which is the abbreviation for assistant and signifies either GPO (Gun Position Officer’s) assistant, BC (Battery command post) assistant or OP (Observation Post) assistant an in this instance the first named is concerned. It merely means that I no longer work on the guns but in the command post chiefly working out artillery calculations required by the officer in charge if the shoot. I am not at all sorry to come off the guns because there is really nothing of interest in this end of the job.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.