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

6-1-44 I had to see a sergeant who asked me if I wanted a job as clerk in the troop office and since I wasn’t averse I’ve commenced my clerical duties immediately — in other words, have seated myself on the wooden form before the wooden bench comprising the whole of the office furniture and have begun this document to my beloved wife

8-1-44 Today I noticed in the shops that oranges were on sale — large ones too, but only to people with ration books, of course, at the rate of 1 pound to each book. Then in the NAAFI tonight, when I went to get my tobacco, I saw oranges and bought four at 3d each. These I shall send to you as soon as I can find a suitable box and brown paper. Also I will send you some more soap flakes in a day or so.

I am writing this letter in the writing room of the Y.M.C.A., which is provided with chairs and tables, and is very well heated by a gas fire. It’s far more comfortable writing one’s correspondence here than in the billet where we have no furniture. You know the Y.M.C.A. is the best thing we have and here everything possible is done for the comfort of service people. There are lounges and reading rooms as well as a canteen, also a hostel and a chapel. All the work is done voluntarily…

15-1-44 I am quite well dearest so you needn’t worry about me at all. Naturally I’m feeling sad and lonely …it always takes several weeks to settle down to army life after a leave; after about a week I’m at my lowest ebb, and thereafter begin to console myself by anticipating the next leave.

This time I’m not alone in my billet so it’s not so bad. Also I have some work to do since that clerking job is not such a sinecure as I imagined and I’m kept fairly busy which is quite satisfactory since it makes the period of our separation appear to pass more quickly.

20-1-44 Is everything well with you my dear? I do hope so — this is awfully bad weather for people who suffer from catarrh. Soon, the papers say, there will be a distribution of oranges to the services, who have first priority for n unknown reason, and if and when I receive mine I’ll send them, or it, to you dearest wife.

It’s beastly weather here for the most part with raw, frosty mornings, very often with a cold, white mist hanging over the ground and chilling one to the marrow. Our billets are like tombs in their clammy chilliness since fires may not be lit until 4.40 p.m., when one fire only may be lit in each house, and as a further economy we are supplied only with coke which just refuses to kindle, so, actually, we seldom manage even one fire per billet. In consequence of the gloom and austerity within doors I usually go out in the evenings to the canteens and cinemas where some warmth is available. Unfortunately this is rather an expensive way of obtaining warmth so I hope the weather becomes more clement in the near future.

I’m still holding my post in the troop office and find it sufficient to occupy my time in the little clerical matters that crop up throughout the day.

This morning I attended a class on surveying work — it was an interesting class so I didn’t find the morning go too slowly. For a while the sun shone quite pleasantly and the mist and frost were swept away, disclosing an almost cloudless sky wherein the aircraft soared and twirled making patterns with their exhaust trails.

22-1-44 Last night I understand there was a raid on London on a larger scale than usual these days and this has made me very anxious about you my darling wife. This afternoon I tried to get Mrs Rigby’s number on the telephone but was unsuccessful as the junction for London was engaged. I don’t know whether it’s worth trying again tonight. Anyway if I don’t manage to get through to you I hope there will be a letter from you to say that all is well…We also had alarms and the A.A. guns were in action but there were no incidents.

27-2-44 It’s very worrying to read of these frequent air raids and not to know at once that you are safe my darling wife — how I wish I was in London all the time so that I could know how you were faring.

Have been pretty busy all the week as, owing to people being on leave, we are rather shorthanded. On Friday was on a digging party helping to construct a kind of ditch to be used as a test for the vehicles and drivers. The ground is heavy clay and it was a difficult job to get it up with a shovel. This job kept me out most of the day and we took our dinner rations of bread, spam, salmon (grade 5 which no one ate), and cake and tea. Yesterday I was room orderly and was sweeping and scrubbing the billet in the morning in preparation for the O.C.’s inspection.

I was detailed for guard duty and mounted guard at 4.30 p.m yesterday and finished at 4.30 p.m. today. The guard was mounted over the guns and vehicles in the gun park and it was the usual monotonous routine — 2 hours on and 4 hours off. At one point it rained heavily but I got under the shelter of a garage and did not get wet. The one bright spot was the supper provided for us, i.e. mutton chops and mashed potatoes, bread and butter and tea. I only managed to get a few hours sleep in so must make up for the loss tonight.

29-2-44 today have been engaged in foot drill, gun maintenance (i.e. cleaning guns, or in other words looking frightfully industrious in our overalls, and carrying oily rags in our hands, but actually doing nothing at all and getting very cold in the process), and gun drill. It’s the same old routing as I became accustomed to at the training camps.

Tomorrow I go out on a drill order, or scheme. There’s a longish journey before we get to the place, which is near Hunstanton in Norfolk. Have been working till 6.30 tonight loading stores on tractors and preparing the guns. Will probably be travelling all day arriving at our temporary billets in the evening. Some of our fellows have been on a scheme to the same place and they tell me that we are billeted in an old mansion so it won’t be as bad as the scheme at Cromer when we were out of doors the whole time.

This scheme lasts until Friday when we return to billets so you see my darling I shan’t have another opportunity to write to you this week, and, alas, you won’t have a letter for the weekend, but I will write at the first possible moment sweetheart…

3-3-44 As you’ll see I’ve now arrived back at Felixstowe…It took us all day. From 8 a.m. to about 5.p.m., to reach our destination as our convoy moved only at the rate of about 10 — 15 m.p.h. It was awfully cold on the tractors in which we travelled and my feet were like blocks of ice.

We travelled through the flat countryside of Suffolk and Norfolk for about 100 miles, and, despite the cold, the sun shone quite brilliantly on the brown ploughlands and the old fashioned villages and hamlets. There are few towns of any consequence in this part of the country but many a peaceful village, with its green and its old inns… We eventually reached such a village, Old Hunstanton, half a mile form which were our quarters comprising a rambling mansion complete with its moat. In fact as far as I could see this mansion was not truly ancient but dated back about a hundred years, though possibly the original of the building may have stood there centuries ago. It contained hundreds of rooms and included several modern bathrooms. We found some coal; we knew precisely where it would be found and went straight to it — in the officers’ quarters; naturally fuel for the other ranks was quite an unnecessary luxury. Anyway, very shortly a fine fire was blazing in our room, while the evening meal was being prepared… After the meal Bill and I went to the village where we found a W.V.S. canteen. We played dominoes in here, had a few sandwiches for supper and returned to find an enormous fire blazing and the room was delightfully warm. As we were overcrowded I had placed my blankets within two feet from the fireplace with the result that I found it impossible to lie within them, and instead slept upon them.

The shooting took place some miles away, at a deserted, swampy piece of ground verging on the sea. I was detailed to remain at the edge of the zone into which we fired, and prevent people from approaching that area. I therefore did not participate in the shooting could observe our shells bursting on the marshes. We were tolerable comfortable, although the spot was very exposed, as we had a low, rock wall behind us and made a wood fire which we kept burning all the time we were there. Saw many wild fowl on the creeks and pools of stagnant water. About 1.30 a van came to us with a cheese sandwich each and cocoa. Supplemented this fare with some buns which Sheldrake managed to buy from a baker in the village.

In the evening an old lady passed us, wearing a black fur cape and leading a playful, black dog. I was lying before the fire when the dog reached me and I stroked his head, upon which he raised himself on his hind legs and licked my face. This lady was a Londoner, emigrated to this village for reasons of economy.

Shortly afterwards a truck came for us and we began the journey back to our billet…

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