#53

March 13. 1945

Dear Mother:

I have heard that a lot of the ordinary mail is getting hoe just as quickly as air mail so I hope it will work this way in this case.

We went on leave on the 2^nd. Art Bellis and I spent all of it together as our crews were scattered to their various homes. London was our headquarters. It was a miserable overnight trip to London, no sleeper, no heat, and an abnormally cold night so that there was ice on the inside of the windows. We were more dead than alive when we arrived but a hot bath and breakfast did wonders as did a number of rums. We stayed at the Strand Palace this time though didn’t see much of it and never had one meal there. In the afternoon I went to my Tudor Club to see if by some quirk of fate Peter was on leave. Peggy, who looks after the place, said that a brother officer of his had been in to say that he had been wounded, though not badly, thank God. I think I told you that a boarding house pal of mine is over here now in the army. Well one evening I went out to West Acton to see him and he has been able to find out that Peter is not in any hospital in England which means that if hurt at all it was only very slightly. However if this is all news to you I rely on you to treat it as duff gen and forget it.

When I came out of the Tudor I ran right into Bill White who I haven’t seen since Bournemouth. We were at SFTS together and flew as partners at Summerside. He is now a F/L with 24 trips behind him. I told him of the trip I was so soon to do. Ferrying a kite out to some place like E. Africa, I wasn’t sure, then coming right back again as a passenger and out again possibly to India. It looked like being the experience of a life time.

Walking down the Strand one day I met Bob Whillis. He has been married for some time and has a flat in London.

The first evening in London we went out to see a great friend of Arts, a Mrs. Alexander. As we spent much time at her apartment and with her at other times I should tell you a little about Alex. She has known all Art’s circle of friends on his old squadron for some years now and has been very kind to them giving such things as books and electric heaters for them on the station and accumulating somehow bottles of rum for when they come on leave. She is over forty but so attractive you would not say she had yet reached thirty. She works in a place that gives refuge to the men of the merchant navy who have lost their ships and belongings battering their way in convoy to such places as Antwerp and her autograph book signed by these men certainly pays wonderful tribute to her graciousness.

About the second night four of us (the fourth being Alex’s sister in law Freda) went to a night club called the Astor. This place was once the home of Lady Somebody or other and certainly must have been a magnificent place. It was much the best night club I have seen yet, and the only one to have two bands playing alternately. This affair went on until about four a.m. so we were in no mod to go to the wedding in Brighton of one of Art’s crew the next day. We missed breakfast, lunch and the right train but swept up to the church just before the bride arrived. The wedding was too small and the church far too large for there to be much spirit of gaiety (we had no spirits in any case) and I was glad when this was over. The wedding breakfast probably saved our lives as I think we had also missed supper the day before.

We got back to London about seven having had a good trip up in a warm carriage (the Southern Railway is much the best in England) and as we stepped out of the station there was a terrific crash and a flash lit up the horizon. This was much the closest V2 to date and caught us with already frayed nerves. We had struck a bad week for there was a lot of thuds at irregular intervals and also a few alerts for V1. Anyway we carried on out to Alex’s in St. Johns Wood and had the first good meal of the day. Fried eggs, Canadian canned susages, chips etc. I really appreciated that meal.

There was another rather close rocket the next day just when we were getting up and we saw the results of this one later which had landed in a market, of all places. It was anasty mess though except for shattered windows the damage seemed localized to one building which was completely demolished.

One day we had lunch at a funny little place called the Old Mitre Club. It was built in 1546 and is now so surrounded by buildings of more recent generations that only a very narrow alley leads to it. The pub was built around a cherry tree and its trunk is still encased in one corner. Another odd thing about this place is it is in Cambridgeshire so that if you were to become disorderly the management would have to call the police some 35 miles away to put you out. The pub is not far from my bank in Lombard Street and after lunch we called there and then walked on to St. Pauls Cathedral. I suppose you have been through this most magnificent building. I was amazed by its immensity and still wonder how, even in this day and age it would be possible to build such a place. We went up to the whispering gallery and the guide described the building to us from the far side of the balcony in ordinary conversational voice which we could hear perfectly. Then we walked onto and all around the outside balcony admiring the view.

We only saw two shows during the week but one, The Thin Man Goes Home was worth seeing. The two shows we really wanted to see—The Canadian Navy Show and the Lunts’ ‘Love in Idleness’ were both booked until the end of March at least.

One afternoon in the Tudor Club I met four Canadians who seemed to be having a wonderful time—An army captain on crutches, a WREN and two air force officers. They were all cousins and after much planning had finally arranged this reunion. They were all from Vancouver with the name of Lamb, one being a brother of Tom, Henry Hobson’s friend. Later we all had supper together.

I meant to do quite a bit of shopping but never got round to this. I talked every day about buying some half Wellingtons but it wasn’t until back passing through Glasgow that this was done.

On the last day I met a chap who had come on leave just after us and learnt how nearly I had been recalled. Apparently plans for my crew alone have been changed for reasons I cannot fathom and I shall be going out by boat. So I am off to another station. We have a few days to get there and this constitutes the leave I mentioned in last letter.

On Saturday afternoon the four of us went to Stanmore in London’s suburbs to meet Alex’s people. It was an interesting day. Her brother is an artist and also a keen photographer and we saw all his work including some excellent enlargements of pictures taken in Switzerland, on the Rhine and in the Scottish highlands.

But we were to see better work. His best friend is a talented Chinese, Chiang Yee. He has written a lot of books—a series ‘A Stranger looks at London’ or some other place and also a series of stories for children about the Panda. All these books are illustrated in colour by him and we went through all these equisite originals done in his oriental style. What originals he has sold fetch about £40 each and there were scores and scores of them. Autographed copies of all his books were here also.

When we got home we had another meal of eggs (supplied by Freda) mushrooms (supplied by an odd little restaurant we had discovered) lamb chops (supplied by our ration allowance) all cooked by Alex in the smallest kitchen you could imagine.

Freda works in the Admiralty and on Sunday she obtained passes for us and took us around. Part of the building is very old and we saw the room where Lord Nelson lay in state before the funeral, also the original model of his statue. Saw also a display room where all the best photographs of this war can be seen. Some of these prints are enormous, three by five feet, so it was interesting.

Soon after this we had to catch the train here but it was a good trip for we had managed to get third class sleepers and we slept all the way.

This is my longest effort. I hope it doesn’t get lost.

With love from
Tony.

[Editor’s note: Transcription provided by collection donor.]