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Extracts from Arthur’s Letters to his wife, Gladys, August — December 1944

14-8-44 I have just received your Thursday’s letter… I am so glad that the flying bomb situation has been slightly relieved recently owing doubtless to the ministrations of our air force.

Also I’m particularly pleased to hear about the telegram you have received form Wales indicating that there is a room vacant and I hope you will send a telegram closing with them without delay… I hope that all the arrangements will be quickly concluded darling and that you will get away within a few days; I am so anxious for you to be out of danger… it will be a tremendous relief to me to know that you are away from London. What a pity it is that your mother cannot get away also.

I begin work at all times dearest according to the existing circumstances and sometimes it means working during the night as well as in the daytime.

Our little kitten is still with us and is as amusing as ever, being very young and playful. He walks over our table, the telephone and everything else and chases every leaf and twig that gets blown in the wind.

15-8-44 I trust that you are still quite well darling… I hope the flying bomb situation is better and that you aren’t having any in Beckenham now. In this respect I’m waiting most anxiously to hear about your arrangements to leave London and evacuate to Llanelly.

Well I’m quite fit I’m glad to say and the sun is still shining in Normandy — in fact the weather is exceptionally fine and it’s greatly assisting our operations which are progressing very satisfactorily.

You’ve naturally heard of the new landing in the south of France — that is if my information is correct, as I was informed that, according to a ´óÏó´«Ã½ report, fresh landings have been effected. Well the Nazis must be feeling pretty uncomfortable to say the least of it, after all the absurd promises they have from time to time made to the German nation- especially their boast of the invincibility of the European fortress.

I’m now stationed in a farm which is in quite good condition. So many of the farms here are horrible ruins but occasionally we find one in a better condition. There are some barrels of home brewed cyder here and it’s quite good and most welcome after a dusty journey along the roads and lanes.

The flies and wasps are a great nuisance and there are also a lot of queer, winged insects an inch long with green bodies — I don’t know what they are called. Today we had a white hare in the C.P., apparently a tame one. There always seem to be some animals attached to us — it’s obvious that Normandy was an extremely prosperous place.

17-8-44 I’ve passed through some lovely country reminiscent of North Devon: hills and valleys clad in all shades of green, and formations of rock rising to considerable heights rather like the great rock at Tunbridge Wells. The weather remains perfect and our planes pass over in swarms with clocklike regularity and everything progresses very satisfactorily.

I am now in a meadow and all around me the ground rises in undulations with ridges of trees, just dark silhouettes as the sun sinks below the horizon. The golden rays of the sun cast long shadows across the grass, close cropped by the chestnut and white cows and the sky is a light blue dappled by fleecy, cream coloured clouds. It’s strangely peaceful after the sounds of artillery to which we have become accustomed but very pleasant dear. … Perhaps after the war we will pay Normandy a visit because, disregarding the destruction and desecration created by the war, it’s really one of the pleasantest places I’ve ever seen and must have been wonderfully peaceful and picturesque in the far off days of peace. It’s so pitiful to see these once beautiful little hamlets and villages merely piles of rubble bulldozed off the lanes and dusty roads but those remaining, some of which, miraculously, have escaped the ravages of war, show them to be charming places set amidst woodlands and lush meadows. It’s good to think that England was saved from this, apart from its cities of course.

22-8-44 I was very pleased to have your letter of Thursday last and to know that you are safely installed in Llanelly darling. …

Am afraid dear that in view of the present tempo of the war, there isn’t so much time for writing letters so don’t worry if you fail to hear from me as frequently as hitherto. I will certainly write as much as possible as you know, dearest wife.

At the moment am in a fine part of the country and there are some race horses — beautiful silky chestnut creatures — trotting on the levelled grass in front of our quarters. We are in an ancient building of medieval design almost, with a rectangular stone main building and one circular tower, pinnacled, standing out from the rest like a bastion of a castle; in fact quite likely this was originally a castle or fortress with is moat surrounding the walls. A little apart from our ‘castle’ is a collection of houses having the pattern of beams in the gables usually associated in England with the Elizabethan period. These are set amidst green grass, closely cropped, with the ground rising behind towards a wooded ridge and before it the flat sward on which the horses exercise. It’s grand country and I wish you were here to see it.

Yesterday we were near a river and, in a lock beside a mill, we had a refreshing swim. The water was clear and cool. One finds it difficult to get a bath and the nearest approach to it is a rub down using a biscuit tin filled with water, in all sorts of odd places as quite often we can’t find any suitable barns or sheds.

24-8-44 The war progresses in a very satisfactory way for us as you know from the newspapers and the battle for France seems pretty well over and soon I feel sure the greater battle will also be won.

Our reception these days is most warm and enthusiastic in marked contrast with the rather lukewarm reception during the early days when the French people appeared to be dazed and not at all certain that we should be successful — or possibly thought that the whole thing might be just another raiding party on a larger scale. This kind of apathy has given place to a spirit of tremendous enthusiasm and great expectancy. They are just as confident as we are having now seen how overwhelming our arms and materials are. They line the roads waving and smiling, distributing flowers and tricolours (sometimes they even give us wines and spirits) and, even in quite lonely spots away from any buildings one generally sees a small collection of people waiting to welcome us. They’re not deterred by the rain either but simply ignore it pointing down the road and shouting happily ‘Paris’. Here and there we have passed armed groups of the Maquis who, as you will have heard, are playing quite an important part in rounding up the Germans.

The weather is pretty foul today; it’s been raining most of the night and day but yesterday it was fine and, on the whole, the weather is favouring us. Today we are occupying a room in a house which is otherwise occupied by the owners and so we are out of the rain. As usual we are at a farm away from the towns but it’s quite comfortable.

By the way should you happen upon a small comb I could do with one dearest as the one I’m using is almost toothless… Don’t go out of your way to get one though as I can still manage having had a very close haircut.

31-8-44 Yes it’s a tremendous relief to know you are now in safety dearest wife as I have been terribly worried whilst you remained in London. Everything is well with me my dear but I don’t have so much time for writing these days owing to the tremendous tempo of the war.

We receive a wonderful ovation from the French people who present us with flowers, ribbons, fruit and wine. Instead of being wrapped in the sombre panoply of war we are decked out like the vehicles in a wedding or carnival, our cars and guns being decorated with enormous dahlias, carnations, flags and ribbons and inside filled with fruit. The people cheer and wave like mad things with all the pent up fervour of a race so long subdued by the Nazis — they’re ecstatically happy. How different an aspect do the Nazis bear when we encounter them. Dejection is a mild term to describe the heterogeneous collections of humanity ranging in years from about 16 to 50 or more. I really don’t think there exists any longer a shadow of doubt in their minds about the final outcome of the war.

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