Tuesday, 27 April, 1943

Sergt S. Bristow                                                                                      (19)
Headquarters
9 Corps Signals (Rear)
B.N.A.F.

Tuesday, April 27 ‘43

My Very Own Darling

Actually I have nothing new to write to you about, but I have a feeling of restlessness hanging over me tonight and I thought perhaps to share a few minutes with you might cure it.  This is my third letter in three days, so I think I am just about creating a record, since arriving out here. 

You will have got my air letter of the 25^th and airgraph written last night by now I suppose.

At the moment I am surrounded by about ten black warriors.  They are French Colonial troops (Senegalese I think) & they are sharing the same camping area as us.  They were attracted over to my wagon by the wireless, I think & at the moment they are all sat round me listening with childish delight & chattering quite happily amongst themselves.  I suppose listening to the wireless is quite a thrill for them.  They are quite interesting people & have some very fine horses.  They have, I believe done some very good work just lately.

The wireless programme at the moment is one which brings back delightful memories, Darling, memories of a certain young lady snuggling into my lap in a large armchair in a bedroom, whilst we both listened to the pleasant music & dreamed of ----- & you know the rest.  Yes!  Our favourite band, Victor Sylvester is playing.  When I hear him I always think of the times we have sat at Grimethorpe & listened together & wonder how much longer it will be before we repeat the process.  Oh!  How I hope it will not be too long! ! !

I have just finished a job, too which brings back very vividly memories of our last leave together.  I have just finished darning some socks.  I will have to admit that they are not darned nearly half as well as they were the last time they were darned – by you.  Remember that afternoon as we sat at home, both conscious of the fleeting minutes that were passing by, bringing our parting ever closer? It is a very happy memory I hold of you helping to darn my socks whilst I passed rude remarks about your prowess.  Each time I pricked my finger today I wished and wished that you were near enough to be able to darn the damned things.  I wouldn’t have passed any disparaging remarks either.  And please forget that I am learning to darn.  I don’t want you setting me on when I get home! !

You ask what the Arab women are like, in one of your recent letters.  Well, I have not seen many, but the ones I have seen don’t exactly come under the description of “dark skinned beauties”.  As a matter of fact the last one I saw had quite a proportion of her face eaten away by what appeared to be the advance stages of syph!  Not particularly pleasant I assure you.  The Dean of Canterbury has an apt description for these women in his “Russian Strength” ..... “The Eastern woman is a chattel, a piece of property, a domestic slave & an economic slave ....... mere objects of lust .... regarded as inferior morally, to be isolated in the dwelling and hidden behind the veil.”

Whilst I was in Algiers I saw one or two tasty French girls, but the native population – ugh!  You need have no fear of competition, Darling, I can assure you.  The memories of the past and the hopes for the future are quite enough to keep me on “the straight and narrow”, if ever I should need any “keeping”.  My one thought since leaving England has been to get back quickly and safely to you, so that together we can put into effect all the plans we have thought of together and individually.

There are times when I get impatient & think they will never come, but never does my love for you grow dim, or my faith in the fact that you will be waiting for me lessen, Darling.  Do you ever get impatient, Darling?

How’s the needlework, etc., progressing?  Have you had to take over another drawer from your Mother yet?  Examining all the things you are busy making is but one of the thrills which lies ahead of me when I get home.

Your description of “Matron’s Day at Selston” certainly made me think.  I thought a Sergeant Major’s inspection was bad enough, but you seem to have found something worse.

The “Jerries” keep coming to visit us & throw things at us, but although we throw things back at them just to show how unwelcome they are, the still persist in coming!  Still it makes a change & during the dark hours we usually get treated to a display reminiscent of several Guy Fawkes nights!

Well, Darling, to say that I did not know what to write about when I started, I don’t think I have done too badly.

Goodnight, Angel. These “goodnights” nowadays are not so delayed as they used to be as we watched (or heard) the clock tick by the early hours of the morning.

I will write again in a few days time.  Until then keep my love.  Yours, Stan   xxxxxx