My Dear Bessie (28 page)

I am glad that Iris and Lil have received [the almonds], also that you have one packet. Blow me, I posted two lovely bags on June 5. I hope you get them eventually, as the bags looked a smashing bit of work, apart from the contents. When eating them, do you put in hot water, and remove skin? It's better I think.

No, I don't think I am paying undue attention to childbirth, but when I think of a woman's body – it's yours I have in mind – and as the MO spoke of painless births (did I tell you he said larger heads of Scottish population is responsible for higher infant mortality rate?) and the agonies of the mother, it was natural for me to think of you, and your agonies, whether you eventually endure them or not. Perhaps I have your body too much on my mind.

Think of me when you put on your brassiere, think of me when you take it off – no, think of me always, and know that I am your man, a long, long way away, but ever-conscious of your beauty, your delight, your loveliness, always wanting you, always weaving the pattern of our lives together in imagination. I could wake you as you have never been wakened, love you as you have never been loved.

I love you.

Chris

5 July 1945

Dear Bessie,

Today being Polling Day I wondered how you were employed, and if you were knocking on doors or carrying on work as usual. It is very hard to arrange the Army vote, and so we are having about four days for the job, spread over about a week. As I had received my papers, I marked and posted my voting paper today. I do not know how many chaps are voting from here. Many have not got a vote either through their own neglect (in which case they would appear to be satisfied with the Fascist conception) or mischance. There must be many, even at home (like Deb and Marjorie Webb), who are on holiday and will also lose their opportunity of ‘striking a blow for freedom'.

Went along to see the Variety Show, which was a mixed Italian-English affair. I came away after two acts, one a blonde Italian female who sang a song in English, I thought obviously without knowing its meaning. And another, a quite good card conjuror. There was one mentionable joke, about Dirty Gertie of Bizerte, who lived in a street ‘three smells along' somewhere.

Tonight there is a film in the village,
Irish Eyes Are Smiling
, and I am glad I am on all day, so prevented from attending.

S'all for now. Sorry.

I LOVE YOU.

Chris

6 July 1945

Dearest,

The newspapers you have sent have been most useful, and have been well read by myself and others. When the results are announced, will you try and send me a copy of them?
The Times
has the best, but I doubt if you can get that. Maybe all the papers will have them in full at this election.

I am eating well, though my bowels are not acting properly. It's a 300-yard walk to the latrines and I think this has something to do with it. One of our chaps actually can't go to the lavatory if anyone is watching (in the Army that's always) and goes out into the fields on his own, for that purpose.

I wonder, do you think I could send you back one or both pairs of the socks you knitted me? One pair has holes in them, the other's OK, but I think civilian use is better for them. I have a spare pair of Army socks, making four. What do you think? I don't like to wear them out, out here, I'd like to send them back for you to keep.

Ignore all the stuff you read about the Allies being out of Italy by November, December or any other time. Italy is a good strategic centre from which to send troops to Spain, Greece, Yugo, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Tunisia. All reports I have seen say that garrison troops will remain. You can bet your front door knocker that I shall be classed as garrison troops.

I love you.

Chris

9 July 1945

Dear Bessie,

What I find myself pondering now is the smug way in which we both allowed ourselves to measure how much of ourselves we should pour out. Inside we were raging, tempestuous, tumultuous. Outside we were almost always so naicely self-contained. I should have crushed you to bits when I put my arms around you. I should have kissed you to pieces. I should have done everything. And yet, most all I produced was a sweet smile and a correct embrace. Is this the civilising influence at work? It might be the wisest thing at the time, but it seems madness now, when I can imagine you, see the shape of your breasts – yet vainly stretch my arms towards you. Yes, my darling, I was home for five weeks, and it did happen. Where ever I touched you I found beauty, acceptance, willingness, a claiming-ness. I wonder if you understand that ‘claiming-ness'? I know that you want me and that we complete each other. I am happy that our minds are together.

I want you to carry on with your clothes as though I was at home, because I'm sure we shall not seriously differ about what you should wear, though I'd like you sometimes to heed my own choices for you. Could you send me the little pieces of cloth that might suit you, so that I could send you some cloth, if obtainable. I don't want you to cut up your frocks to supply the material for the pattern of course, but I daresay that even you hoard some little pieces of cloth?

I love you.

Chris

11 July 1945

My dear Bessie,

Regarding Deb, I will write her, in reply to the next letter I get from her (but not specially), that I have noticed her ‘earlier observations about Bessie, and can only say she is my heart's desire and I have every reason to believe that I am hers'. Does that seem satisfactory to you? I shall wait your reply before I actually write to her on the point. Now, do not be too, too crushing with my old pal Deb if you start any conversation with her. Certainly you may say I told you of her enquiries – but do avoid the wonderful chance to slosh her for her inquisitiveness, or however you regard it. You may say what you like and I will support it, but be a good girl and don't be too eager to bash her. If you do, then of course, I am with you, but I hope you'll be content to be nicely and possessively quiet. You must concede her certain rights about me (although I don't say necessarily on this subject) and you won't really gain anything but a momentary satisfaction from sloshing her.

I am glad you think old Churchill hasn't necessarily been hailed very enthusiastically in all places. We shall soon see.

Always I must want to keep you fully and completely aware of the immensity of our being together. I don't want my views to be hidden by neglect or forgotten by default.

I LOVE YOU.

Chris

12 July 1945

My dear Bessie,

I am very sorry to hear, in No. 48, of the pain in your chest which continues although, according to X-Ray, it is ‘nothing'. If the doctor only had said there was no need to worry, I should have been anxious and unhappy, but what about the X-Ray, was it done at a hospital or under proper control? If so, I think you must force yourself to believe it is something which will go when you cease thinking of it. I am under the impression that you cannot beat the X-Ray. If we do not accept its findings, we shall never feel sure about anything. So, be sure the X-Ray is OK – go again to a hospital if you feel you must – and then try hard to forget it. It is quite possible that the pain is a digestive one, I think, and very likely that your mode of living has ruined your digestion for the present. But what I feel is that your pain comes from wanting to hug me, which impulse probably overcomes you during your sleeping hours, and plants the pain there. It is perhaps a silly thought, but it's the one I have. I am so sorry you are troubled like this, and would so much like to be with you to allay your fears, to comfort you. I am disturbed that you should have held on to your ‘secret' for so long. Please do tell me all you can as early as you can. Because nothing can be gained by non-revealing (I use that instead of ‘concealing') and I would much prefer to worry or feel with you than be kept in ignorance. This is my right and your duty and obligation.

I am marrying you. Do keep me informed all the time about everything, so that I can always be sure I know just what is going on. It is a good motive not to want to worry me with your fears – but I would prefer the idea that you bring me your fears and cast them away by my knowledge of them. I think I told you once that I had a ‘fear' that I had TB or something as terrible, through finding a little clot of blood in my mouth in the mornings. I went to a doctor in fear and trembling (and so bravely I thought) to be told it was excessive whistling and speaking that had caused the slight tearing of the tiny little flesh-parts in my throat.

I very much favour you having some sick leave, plenty of it as it seems even slightly desirable. I object to the thought of you working when you aren't really well. I resent the idea of you ‘keeping going' just because you either feel there is a war on somewhere and ought to do your bit, or you are too conscientious to stay away. For goodness' sake, rest when you need it, relax when you feel like it, and give your nerves and body a chance. You have had a very bad time in the last five years. Start realising it's time you took it easier, and ‘taking it easy' will be better for you than all the medicines in the world. Blow me, just think of my life of idleness (which is good for me up to a point – I've had a wonderfully idle time since I joined the Army) and your scurryings – sometimes you get frantic, don't you?