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Extracts from Arthur Allvey’s letters to his wife, Gladys, September 1944

2-9-44 Thanks for your letter of Sunday last which reached me only today. The mail is subject to much delay these days darling owing to the rapidity of our advance and this accounts for your not having heard from me for a period.

Everything is grand here except for the weather which these two days past has been bad. Last night, or rather at 2 o’clock this morning we pulled into a position and the night was very fine, with a full harvest moon… We had passed through various villages and towns and, sometimes, passed ghostly shadows sidling through the streets with their arms ready rounding up the remaining waifs and strays of the German army — odd snipers usually willing to give themselves up to us to avoid falling into the hands of the Maquis.

Having arrived at our bivouac, and there being nothing needing our immediate attention, we laid our blankets down at the foot of the apple trees and went to sleep. Alas, the fine weather didn’t continue because I awoke in a miniature pond as it had rained very heavily. Luckily this afternoon the wind literally blew a gale and, for a while, the sun shone so that I’ve managed to get everything dry. … This part of the country is rich in orchards, mostly apples, and root crops are widely grown although these latter are badly cut up by the tanks and vehicles which have passed over them.

The usual reception still awaits us at every place we reach and even after midnight last night people were standing cheering apparently too excited to go to bed.

At one of the halts yesterday a Frenchman took photographs of a group of us and in the fields where we had taken up a position countrywomen came to us presenting us with enormous dahlias and insisting upon kissing us on each cheek as the French generals salute their men when decorating them. There are some beautiful dahlias out here and they grow as large as chrysanthemums; some of the fellows actually wear these enormous flowers on their tunics and hats.

You will have seen from your newspapers that we’ve now taken some of the flying bomb installations and will soon be in Belgium.

4-9-44 How are you dear… I hope that everything is well with you and that you are happy. I’m sure the news will have cheered you dearest and it’s improving all the time. As you know all, or at least the majority, of the flying bomb sites have been cut off in France and now we are dealing with those in Belgium.

There’s not a lot of time for writing these days I’m afraid beloved as it’s a time for quick actions and much speedy travelling — we are never long at a place now as the whole aspect of the war has changed and static fighting is a thing of the past.

Everywhere one goes there are orchards; apples, pears and plums abound and we are now at a farm where they are most plentiful.

You will have heard the news that British troops are in Brussels I’ve no doubt. Germany isn’t far away now.

8-9-44 I hope both you and Marian are well … I’m quite well I’m pleased to say and the sun is shining upon us after several days of heavy rain. Yesterday was a very autumnal day as the sky was leaden while rain fell and the wind brought the leaves tumbling in sheathes and whirled them around. It was cold and unpleasant as we travelled along the roads or the canal banks but cold and rain failed to dampen the enthusiasm of the people who everywhere lined the roads to welcome us and again we received a good crop of fruit, tomatoes etc, which we put to good use since on these rapid marches there is no time to prepare meals and, usually, cooked meals are prepared early in the morning and late at night with only what can be scrounged en route in between. However, everybody is very happy about the situation realising that only thus can the war be ended, and if we do make a short stay at any place people begin to grumble at the delay being only desirous of keeping contact with the enemy the sooner to end the whole business.

Well my dear wife I suppose you are cheered by the news of the excellent progress on all fronts. I’m particularly pleased that the flying bomb sites are being liquidated and I trust that you aren’t having trouble with the bombs nowadays [Gladys had returned to London]. I haven’t seen a newspaper nor received mail for a week now so am rather out of touch with home news though I hear the general news through the medium of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Forces programme but they don’t dwell upon things like flying bombs fearing to impair our morale but, in my opinion, they make a mistake in this policy because we are naturally eager to know what is happening at home.

Have just listened to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Symphony Orchestra broadcasting Schubert’s ‘Unfinished Symphony’. It’s seldom that I have an opportunity of listening to good music these days. I was sorry to read of the death of Sir Henry Wood: I wonder who will continue the Proms.

Recently I was quartered in a farm house which would have made a lovely home … It had just been renovated — in fact work was apparently interrupted as the Germans, who were sponsoring the work which was necessitated by damage they had caused, had to evacuate rather suddenly. It had some 8 rooms, spacious and airy with large windows and white walls and, being spotlessly clean, it had a wonderfully bright appearance…

I was surprised to find that ice cream is sold in the towns here but haven’t tasted it yet. Boys on tricycles sell it as they used to do in England.

In the country places the men dress, if they are labourers, in baggy blue trousers and tunics and wear wooden sabots. They speak a patois which is similar to German and I can manage to understand some of it and make myself understood a little.

The people here, who seem to have proclaimed a holiday to celebrate their liberation, are very interested in our cookhouse and stand around us, young and old, when we come for our meals. Our biscuits and chocolate are as popular with the children here as they were in Africa and Sicily. However they are generous with their fruit and, at the end of a journey yesterday, our vehicles were like greengrocers’ vans.

A few days ago we stayed for an hour or so I a little country place and as usual all the country people turned out in strength to welcome us. A young woman, on her own, shook our hands and immediately afterwards was set upon by a brawny country girl and there was quite a fight. I gathered that she was generally unpopular and known as a collaborator. They have a method of dealing with women collaborators; in one village we stayed at six of them had all their hair shaved off and were forced to parade through the streets. Naturally we have nothing to do with this sort of thing as it’s handled by the locals or the Maquis and Partisans.

I’m hoping to get a letter from you today as I’ve heard nothing since your letters from Wales. Of course I know you write but we haven’t had any mail at all for the past week owing to the rapidity of our moves.

I’ve heard that the blackout is to be partially removed in Britain in 10 days. I wonder if London will be affected.

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