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Extracts From Arthur Allvey’s Letters to his wife, October 1943

12-10-43 I’ve now had all your letters from no. 16 — 21. When I returned from leave on Sunday evening I found 3 letters and a telegram from my precious wife and I was very pleased…

I see from your last letter that it’s now getting wintry and cold in England. During the last few days we’ve had rain most of the time, day and night. Luckily I moved into indoor billets so the rain hasn’t bothered me. I’m in a large room with concrete floor and stone walls, formerly a wine producer’s warehouse. In the cellars are the wine presses, huge barrels and the other paraphernalia of a wine producer’s works, together with a strong smell of stale wine.

I’m glad you like my letters as I try to make them interesting although sometimes there’s extraordinarily I can say once having given you an idea of the place in which I’m situated, and I’ve been in this present position quite a long time now.

There’s a constant procession daily of returning refugees in painted carts bearing their goods and chattels, including their womenfolk, and these are drawn by sad looking nags sometimes, but usually by recalcitrant asses or patient, plodding oxen. Now the war has passed them by they return to their native habitat only to find their dwellings in ruins all too often, or, sometimes with other families in possession with a terrible squabble resulting. AMGOT certainly has its hands full on this island. Of course most of the AMGOT are natives of the island under the supervision of military officials. There’s a system of rationing of food in force and food is distributed by AMGOT as fairly as possible.

In addition to civilians are the returning warriors released upon the conclusion of the war with Italy. Daily they come limping back in their tattered uniforms and carrying their kitbags. Formerly we saw the same stream of Italians but under armed escort as prisoners of war and then we provided transport — now they walk.

21-10-43 The aspect of the island is changing now that the rain has moistened the soil and grasses and weeds are springing up where earlier the soil was barren. Young crops — beans etc — are growing rapidly and soon we should be able to get fresh vegetables and they’ll be very welcome after all the tinned stuff we get. I don’t suppose you’ve ever tasted dehydrated cabbage, tinned, and I don’t advise you to: it’s in shreds and when served up is an unwholesome looking brown mess, almost tasteless. All the food value is retained, however, so I suppose it does us some good. I suppose you’re now getting plenty of late greens, peas, lettuces etc. from the garden and allotment.

The island is being changed in another way too: as the refugees flood back in their thousands and search for their homes amidst the ruination that was their city, they are put to work clearing the debris and making as much order out of the chaos as is possible. Of course there’s years of work ahead of Sicilians, as with our own people, before villages, towns and cities get back to normal but at all events, under supervision from our engineers much is being done by them to make these places more tenable. Bridges and roads are being repaired, dangerous structures brought down, and whatever else can be done immediately is being done to ameliorate the Sicilians’ unfortunate plight. They receive rations of food, supplemented by what their innumerable children can cadge from the troops, and extra food is issued to those who do the work I’ve mentioned; furthermore I’ve heard that these latter receive 17/6d a week which is a good income according to their standards.

You may think that, considering these people have only just become our allies instead of enemies, we are being very generous to them but if it’s a fault it’s one that I like to see and seems to me to indicate that we’re endeavouring to live up to our aspirations and our publicised war aims. Also if you saw the condition of these people, especially the children, you would be pleased that something is being done for them. Some of the children go about with only rags on their backs, an insufficient of these to protect them from the rain and the cold, and look terribly undernourished; they have sores on their bodies and there is no colour in their skin. They come to our billets where the Engineers’ medical orderlies treat their sores daily. However I believe the origin of much of this malnutrition goes back prior to the war; certainly their glorious Fascist regime did not waste its money on building them decent homes and sanitation is a thing unknown here. Yet every house is decorated outside with words in large black print DUCE and VINCERE (victory) and ugly pictures of Mussolini as well as quotations from his stirring speeches. I only wish Mussolini could hear the things they say about him now it’s safe for them to speak their thoughts.

26-10-43 How are you darling ? Well, I hope. I’m very well and very lazy at this moment, lying on my bed writing this letter to you at my ease there being no parades or duties to attend to for the time being.

We caught a yard long black adder the other day and whilst it was still alive, and dangling down from somebody’s hand, a dog kept running at it with intent to bite it but, of course, we prevented this as a bite from this reptile can do a lot of harm. This particular dog is black and has some of the qualities of a pointer: it’s given to chasing lizards which, when it succeeds in catching them, it crunches in its strong teeth. Many a lizard has ended its life in this way as the dog is extremely quick. Quite a few dogs have attached themselves to our troop: a soldiers camp always has a strong attraction for dogs — I suppose it’s the smell of the cookhouse and the titbits they can cadge which appeals to them. Another dog has been with the troop longer than a good many of the men have. It’s a diminutive brown dog of nondescript appearance, the size of a puppy and yet it’s full grown. Its antics with the black dog would amuse you: they’re always playing together and the small dog — named Shifty — has to stand on its hind legs to reach up to the larger dog. You would delight to watch them dearest.

Yesterday Bill and I got into conversation with an Italian who could speak a little English… and he invited us into his garden. He owns several pieces of land and orchards and all around was one of his orchards bearing oranges which are just changing from green to yellow. He got his boy to pick us half a dozen of the most advanced oranges and they were quite good. Of course I’d given him a little tobacco which made him friendly. These people are short of food and totally destitute of luxuries like tobacco; a packet of army biscuits or a pipeful of tobacco is worth far more than lire to them. Indeed many of them have plenty of money but as there’s very little they can spend it on it’s of no use to them. Whilst there I saw his wife feeding a young child and all it had was potatoes and beans and was not very keen on this diet.

Here there is a gap in the extant letters. Arthur returned to the UK and had a leave. The next letter was written in December shortly after he had returned from his leave to the camp at Felixstowe.

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