大象传媒

My sister and I both joined the W.A.A.F. and we were stationed together in a large house called 鈥楻edfields鈥� in a lovely village called Wilslow in Buckinghamshire. I was 17 and cooked for the R.A.F. Officers. My sister was 19 and worked as a clerk.
It was a lovely social life, we would not have missed it for anything. Of course, we did not get air-raids, as so many people did in the towns, but we did experience quite a few raids when we were at home. We held lovely dances at Redfields and we met our future husbands there, who were both regular airmen and lovely men.
Before I met my husband, I kept company with some very nice air crew, who were stationed at a base called Horwood. Some of them were shot down and killed on their first raids over Germany. I have enclosed a photostat copy of a letter from a young man, who seemed to have had, a premonition that he might not come back. I had known him about six months and became very fond of him. I was very shocked to receive this letter.
I am also enclosing a photostat copy of a letter from the mother of another really lovely fellow I kept company with, telling me that her lovely young son had been killed on a raid over Germany. As you will read, his mother says she hopes his death would be worthwhile and help to make the world a better place.
It is quite depressing that it does not seem to have improved. I recollect that we could go out at night and have no fear of being raped or knocked about. We would go to dances in the Village Hall and walk back down the country lanes. Sometimes we used to have to 鈥榃ait on鈥� at parties for the Officers, and they wouldn鈥檛 finish until 0200hrs. I would then cycle back to the farm where I was billeted鈥� (after I married). I was never afraid, even as there were no lights on these country lanes. What happy memories my sister and I have, of our days in the W.A.A.F.
Although it was during the war, that we were in the Forces, we feel that we had a much happier time than the young people of today.
Here are the two letters.

Dearest Marie,

It has taken me some time to compose this letter, as it is not easy to write in anticipation of not returning from a raid. Don鈥檛 think I鈥檓 in any morbid frame of mind, far from it, but being on 'Ops'. There is just that added chance. It is for that time, that I鈥檓 writing and want to let you know how much you mean to me.
First and foremost I must tell you I love you. Why I never said so before I can鈥檛 quite tell, but now, when brought face to face with facts I realise it. I think that I must have always loved you and always get a good feeling from the thoughts, that I believe you love me. May it not be too late for there is always a good chance, in fact a very good chance of escaping.
We would have made a good job of facing life together Marie, I鈥檓 confident of that because you are just the girl for me. We always did get along well right from the start didn鈥檛 we? How grateful I am for meeting you Marie and spending all too few hours with you.
At night before going to sleep and when all is quiet, that is the time when my thoughts always turn to you. How often I鈥檝e wished that we could be together and how proud I was to be seen with you. Each night before dropping off to sleep I wish you 鈥淕ood night.鈥� in my thoughts.
Your letters are kept for happy memories - how glad I am that you wanted me to write. Your letters Marie, will be sent to you again for I鈥檝e marked the envelope they are in, with your home address.
If you write to my home address Marie, you will probably get some later news although no doubt they will be writing to you. You may be sure, if I do get the chance, I shall be seeing you again and may it come true.
Well Marie I hope this is not, 鈥� Good bye 鈥� but should it be, please do not take it too much to heart, rather think of the amount of pleasure that you鈥檝e made possible for me - that is the memory I carry with me.
So rather than say 鈥� Good bye.鈥� I鈥檇 like to say. 鈥� till we meet again.鈥�

All my love.
Bill.

Dear Miss Elson,

I hope you will forgive me for writing to you. But I know that you were a friend of my son Bob. I found your address amongst his effects which were sent home to me from the depository.
Bob was sent out on a raid on Monday May 22nd and failed to return and all this time we have been hoping against hope, that he might have escaped. But our hopes were dashed to the ground this week when I received a letter from the Air Ministry that Bob is buried at Venlo War Cemetery, grave no.419 Row 33, Provence of Limburg, Holland.
Some time ago I heard that Sgt. Sindall and Sgt.Turtle were alive and Prisoners of War and about a month ago I heard from Miss Jones, Pilot Grisedale鈥檚 young lady, that he and Sgt.Punter, Bomb Aimer, had come home to England. I do not know how they escaped, I heard from Pilot Grisedale and he told me that the news he had for me, was the worst, as Bob was killed on that fateful night. They were attacked without warning by a night fighter and got shot up in the petrol tanks. They had no time to bale out before the plane exploded in mid-air and the four that are alive were thrown out and escaped with cuts and bruises but the other three were killed. I know that you were a great friend of my son, and he wanted you to have his photo. If you would like one I will send you one. You know he had many friends here, every one liked him and gave him a good name. He was always a good boy to me, never any trouble, it seems such a hard blow when they do their very best and get cut down in a minute but God knows best I suppose and perhaps has other work for them. But I feel so thankful that he is not buried in Germany and perhaps after the war we may be able to go and visit his grave.
One can only hope that the world will be a better place for those that are left (for their great sacrifice, their duty nobly done.)
I hope that you are keeping well and will not mind me writing to you .

Now I must close for tonight.Believe me. Yours sincerely
Rebecca Gabbedey.

Marie Shelley.
Dagenham. Essex.

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