Messerschmitts and Paris hats - Tuesday 4th July 1944

 

July 4^th (?)

61^st Recce Regt RAC

BW87

Chotie Darling,

                                    All my mail has finally turned up, so yesterday I had twelve letters dating from 30^th May.  Many thanks, Darling for all your letters and wishes on my behalf.  They do make one realise that we are fighting for a cause, and not throwing lives away needlessly. 

            Things are going very well here, especially well for me as I have a day’s rest in a fairly ‘safe area’, and hope to get organised again after a rather sticky time.  Not having a batman here I have to do all my own washing, etc, which is really rather funny – if you can appreciate the humour of it.

            I’m in an orchard (I usually am) at the back of a Chateau – a beautiful place surrounded by a moat, and apart from the occasional hedge-hopping ME109 or the odd mortar bomb we’re having things cushy.  It’s very fine today after weeks of almost continuous rain and everyone’s in the best of spirits.

            I spent some nine hours at the nearest large town** a few days ago and browsed round the shops.  Cafés have strictly limited hours to Allied forces and have little to offer.  I managed, however, to get some coffee and two rolls & butter, which is the first bread I’ve tasted since I’ve been here.  If bread were the staff of life*** (as it’s supposed to be) I’d have been dead a fortnight ago. 

            I saw a shop full of the latest Paris hats – fabulous prices (some were 1,650 francs ie £8).  Wonderful looking things.  Nothing else worth a damn.  The book shops are pretty thinly lined – and rather obscure authors at that.

            Must close here, Darling to get some work done.  Even a day’s rest means plenty of work to a poor subaltern….

                                                            All my love        

                                                                                Dicker

*The Messerschmitt Bf 109, interchangeably called the ME 109 was a German fighter plane.  More ME 109s were produced than any other fighter aircraft in history.

**Presumably Bayeux.

*** “Here is bread, which strengthens man's heart, and therefore is called the staff of Life” Matthew Henry, 17^th/18^th century Welsh Presbyterian Minister.

© Chotie Darling

 

Eric Postles also visited Bayeux in July 1944: “One day we went back to Bayeux for a bath and change of underwear at the RAOC mobile bath unit.  There were a number of showers heads in the tent.  The water came on then went off while you soaped yourself and then came back on to swill off the soap.  You had to be quick or you missed out.  Our clothes were liberally dusted in DDT which after the war was banned as dangerous to use. 

We bought Camembert cheese in the town, which made our biscuits more acceptable.  It was also encouraging to see soldiers with formation signs we had not seen before who were arriving from England.  We also heard that 43 Division Recce Regiment had lost a squadron when their ship hit a mine off the beaches. 

I was going deaf and had to go to RHQ where the sergeant medic syringed my ears and I had no problems after that.  It was the only time in my 5 years’ service that I had to report sick, which was quite remarkable considering the conditions we lived under and the low standard of hygiene.  It was not unusual for all of us to wash in the same water.”  (Extracts from ‘My War Years’ by John Eric Postles ISO used by kind permission of the author.)

 

Eric Brewer was also recounts a struggle with his washing in his letter of 5^th July (censored by J. Petts):

"Dear Mum Dad and all

I have to keep stopping to see if my washing is going okay which so far it is.  The first day I tried it I put shirts, socks, handkerchiefs and underwear all in together and the socks came out shrunk….. and the rest came out brown but have overcome the difficulty now and everything is proceeding as planned, I hope.  

The lads have just come in with some La Burr …(in English butter).  Also about a gallon of milk -  that is about all these French seem to have plenty of.

The… French are funny people - we were at a certain place and a big battle was going on… loads of tanks and infantry and the artillery was having a smack at targets. I looked down the road and there was a Frenchman with his donkey and cart cutting a path through the corn and carrying on just as though nobody was about and there was no war on…they seem to have seen so many battles that they don’t care a damn what happens as long no one interferes with them. If they do they start to speak it’s as though they were on piece rate but some of them are okay and give you nearly anything…."  (Extract from letter included by kind permission of Derek Brewer and his family.)