Tuesday, 30 March, 1943

General Hospital Annexe                                                                         (10)
Selston
Notts.

30. 3. 43   

My Own Darling,

I attempted to write this letter yesterday but owing to the noise in the sitting room and the very poor light in my bedroom I gave it up as hopeless.  As things are quieter this morning I decided to try again.

I had a lovely surprise this morning.  I received your second letter.  With receiving your 3^rd and 4^th one I thought that I might not receive No. 2.  However, No. 2 has turned up – all but the lines at the end.

I must admit I had a good laugh when I read of your attempt at being a sailor!  I guess you did not think it funny at the time.

In my previous letter I told you that I was going home for my day off.  Well, I managed it alright.  Sister let me off duty earlier than I should have been off so I managed to get home at 5 p.m.   Mother and I went up to “19” on Saturday evening.  I don’t know whether your Mother has told you or not but she has got two grand arm chairs.  Really big cosy ones.  You know the kind – where two can snuggle in comfortably!  Yes – that reminds me of something else as I suppose it does you.

By the way – you know the “Armstrongs”.  Well “Dopey” as Vera used to call him fell down the pit shaft last Saturday and was killed.  It is tragic isn’t it.  I feel very sorry for Mrs Armstrong, having three little girls to bring up.  I think that is all the “Grimethorpe News”.

Going home made me feel very unsettled – I missed you not being there.  It is almost seven weeks since we were there together.  I wonder how long it will be before we are there together again.  Really, I was not sorry to be back again – as you have said before there is nothing like work for taking one’s mind off things.  Of course, it was a change from “the daily round, the common task”.

Vera is a little better but not able to go downstairs yet.  She looked after the youngest “Armstrong” baby all day Sunday so I also got a little experience!

I have only another three weeks to do out here and I will have done my three months.  That is, of course, if I go back to time.  Laughton is going back to-day and she has been out here 4 months.  I hope they don’t keep me so long.  However, there will be no need for you to address my letters to the G.H.N. yet.

 You know, you must find my letter dreadfully boring because I never seem to have much to tell you.  Just the same old things day after day.  There is one thing which I don’t think you get tired of hearing do you Darling? And that is that I still love you – more than ever and I am missing you so much.  Until the day when we shall be together again we must keep smiling Darling and now I must write home so cheerio. All my love, Yours Grace xxxxxxxxx

A short item about Ernest Armstrong's death appeared in the 'South Yorkshire Times' on 3 April, 1946 - it seems a very short mention for such a tragic death.