In March Dick moved back to south Hampshire from Southbourne and was stationed in Southampton. The city was subject to regular air-raids, the Luftwaffe having resumed their bombing campaign (which had been hampered by the winter weather following the terrible attacks of November and December).
Poole, where Chotie lived, suffered 88 air raid alerts in March and April as incendiaries, high explosive bombs and UXBs were dropped on the area (from ‘Poole and World War II’ written by Derek Beamish, Harold Bennett and John Hillierand published by Poole Historical Trust in 1980.)
Dick wrote this letter while on guard in Southampton:
‘D’ Company
70th Dorsets
Southampton
Hants.
My Darling Chotie,
As I’m on guard once again I thought I’d write as I have a few moments all to myself!
I have to go on guard every three days or so – far too often - a 24 hrs guard, mounting at 6 pm and dismounting at 6 pm the next day.
It’s a regimental guard over the main entrance to the Battalion Headquarters. Needless to say everything is just so-so or the RSM* wants to know why. However, there’s a stove in the guardroom which helps matters not a little. There’s also an orderly attached to the guard who gets the meals and anything from the NAAFI.
The guard consists of one Corporal and three men, each man doing two hrs on duty and then four hrs in the guardroom. The main snag is that we have to wear full equipment and are not allowed to take it off during the 24 hrs, except for reasons too obvious to mention!
That’s enough of guards – they’re pretty depressing things anyway. To turn to a more cheerful subject, I hope to get home next weekend for a few hours – either on Saturday or Sunday. It all depends on when I have to go on guard again. If it falls on Saturday evening it ruins me, as there wouldn’t be time to get home and I would be on guard all the Sunday. I believe, however, that I go on again on Friday, which means I come off Saturday night and could get home on the Sunday. We must trust to luck as usual. I think I can make it all right.
I’ve been to the flicks twice lately – saw ‘The Great Dictator’ and ‘Black Fury’ (Paul Muni). How anyone could see anything in the ‘Great Dictator’ I don’t know. I thought it was chronic. ‘Black Fury’ was quite good but nothing up to the usual Muni standard. The place we go to (the only place we are allowed without a pass) is Shirley. I’ve no idea where it lies on the map but it’s inland from Southampton. It’s a pretty dull place; reminds me of the East End on Sunday – all 50 shilling tailors and patent leather.
There’s nothing to go out for anyway, as we have a first rate NAAFI and a good Corporals’ Room. The boys say there are plenty of women here but I haven’t seen any – except a couple of old bags, doubtless engaged in plying the oldest of professions. I’m afraid that’s rather crude. Almost Russian**…
Incidentally, I don’t know whether I told you I had an interview with the ‘Old Man’ and he’s recommended me. It will mean some months, as I have to wait for the recommendation to go through to the interview board. They’re the b----rs to get past and even if I get past them (which I very much doubt) I’d still have to wait to get posted to an O.C.T.U.*** Still it’s a start, I suppose.
I’ve just paused to make out the Guard reports – a wretched job as everything has to be reported – even the minutest detail.
Later
Well, Precious, it’s now just after midnight and still the sirens haven’t gone. It’s really rather odd as we seem lost without them here. I expect Jerry’s stocktaking this evening… the raids lately have been almost continuous and pretty vicious. About six houses in a row, 200 yards from here came down on Saturday night.
When there’s a night raid on the shrapnel comes down like rain, from the Anti-Aircraft Barrage. There’s not a house in the whole place that hasn’t got some windows out or half the roof gone. It’s certainly more interesting from that point of view, as there’s seldom a dull moment at night. It makes the guards a lot more fun when you can hear the shrapnel on the roof.
I’ve done very little reading lately as I don’t get very much time. I read, or rather re-read, Hitchins’ ‘The Garden of Allah’, and quite an interesting little book called ‘I’ll tell you Everything’, written by Priestley in collaboration with some one else****, which, although very light & sometimes puerile, was really rather good.
(Every now and then I light my pipe and march up and down outside in an effort to keep awake. The stove in here makes me wish for my dear little bed…).
There’s a piano here in the Assembly Hall, on which I manage to amuse myself occasionally if no one else. If I can find a piano anywhere where I can play without fear of being interrupted I’m really happy for hours – which only goes to prove what a simple minded soul I must be.
Well, my precious baby, I must close here as I don’t want to put an undue strain on your eyes (?) reading all this rubbish, so I will say ‘Good Morning’, Darling,
Your ever loving,
Dicker
P.S. Please look after yourself, Darling, as you mean just everything now.
* RSM – Regimental Sergeant Major
** ‘Russian’ was a romantic code between Dick and Chotie.
“Dicker and I, so young, played wonderful games. We pretended to be ‘Russian’ and he taught me to love the ballet as he did. Having always wanted to be a dancer we pretended I was. I wore my long blonde hair in the style of a ballerina. He was a brilliant pianist and played Chopin by ear. He had a very good physique having exercised with weights and things – very muscular. How I adored him. Our lovemaking was very pure by today’s standards. Just to kiss and hold each other close was very thrilling.” From ‘Chotie’s Story’.
*** O.C.T.U. – Officer Cadet Training Unit
****Robert Smythe Hichens’ ‘The Garden of Allah’, a tale of adventure in the Sahara Desert written in 1904, was made famous by the Marlene Dietrich film of 1936. ‘I’ll Tell You Everything’ written by J.B.Priestley in collaboration with Gerald Bullett is a light-hearted crime thriller.
© Chotie Darling
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