Category: Letter

A year after the previous letter, Bobby is on a ship bound for an undisclosed destination. It must have been a difficult position for passengers- aware of the possible dangers from the enemy and weather, but unable to do anything about it. And not likely that they had the entertainments Cynthia had enjoyed two years previously on the Cunard ships! But it did give Bobby a glimpse of the wider world.

2/Lt J.R.Sheedy. R. Signals  R.O.A.K.H. c/o A.P.O. 1120

30-Sept. 41.

Dear Cynthia,

Forgive me for being so long in writing to you, but as I have completely exhausted my store of news in letters written to Mother, I thought it was rather fatuous to repeat the same old story over and over again, so I haven’t written to anyone else.

Now, however, we are in sight of the promised land. In fact we are tied up on the quay and at this moment straining on the leash to get ashore.  Naturally enough I am unable to give you the name of the port, but I am allowed to tell you that it’s in the Union of South Africa.  Believe me, it will be no small treat to set foot on dry land, particularly in a land flowing with milk and honey.  On information received I believe that the inhabitants are the soul of hospitality, and spare no effort to entertain the troops.  Consequently, although anticipation may be better than realization, I have a suspicion that I shall manage to fill in the time to some purpose..

Continued Friday 3rd Oct.

We  have had our shore leave.  Believe me it came up to expectation.  I have had about 12 hours sleep in three nights instead of the usual 24.  I’m not going into a recital of all our doings in this the Union of South Africa, but I’ll mention last night as an example.  They have one night club here, and last night we decided to go.  We booked a table in advance, and ordered some bottles from a bottle-store (the club has not a licence for drink).  In the afternoon we had been to the pictures (Tom Evans & self), we then had dinner, some drinks, picked up our partners and proceeded to the club in good order.  I was desperately tired when we arrived, but after a couple of dances and a couple of glasses of ‘Sparkling Moselle’ I perked up considerably.  Well after that we danced and drank and ate, and walked in the Roof Garden until we realised that it had gone 1:30 am.  Now our passes expired at 2 am,  but as there were numerous senior officers from the ship at the club enjoying themselves, we decided to stay too.  The dancing was by now pretty hectic.  Everyone was more or less happy, and the floor was packed.  We eventually left at 2:15 am, and lost our way in the docks arriving backing the ship at 3:30 am.  Fortunately we got aboard without incident.  The aftermath of my three days of ‘glorious life’ is now heavy upon me.  If I allowed myself to fall asleep I should sleep for weeks.

Two more news items:- there’s a fellow (2/Lt) in the RAOC occupying the cabin opposite mine.  His name is Len (Pudding) Rice and he apparently knows Denis Dodds well.  I think he was at the Modern School and after that at the R. Grammar.

One morning, I was in Barclays Bank to cash a cheque, and after signing the naval forms applicable, I was standing in a corner of the bank waiting to see the Sub Manager.  I turned round and immediately saw a fellow who was at school with me.  His name is Woll; I don’t know whether you know him.  The last time I saw him was at the Old Assembly Rooms, when I was there at a dance on my Embarkation Leave.  I won’t say “It’s a …… world”, but you know what I mean.

Incidentally, I meant to send off my Xmas cards, or perhaps I should say that I intended to buy some to send off, but I’ve  been so terribly rushed that I haven’t yet got any.  This letter may reach you at Xmas or later, so please accept these my best wishes for a normal happy Xmas and loads of fun at New Year.  God, how I wish I could be home for it all but it’s no use bothering about such unlikely things.

Well Cyn I’m nearly asleep.  If this letter seems somewhat of mix-up, please forgive me.  I’m not used to the gay life you know.

All for now,

Love 

    Bobby.

P.S.  Remember me to Doc & Mrs Ewing and the Allen Family when you see them!

By September 1940, the Battle of Britain had been going on for a couple of months, and the nightly bombing of London, the Blitz, had started. The fighting was confined to the air forces on both sides, and the German bombers were known as ‘the Jerries’, a holdover from World War One. Beyond that, I do not know which ‘Jerry’ he is referring to, although I presume Cynthia understood what bit of propaganda he is addressing. (Any knowledgeable reader, please advise.)

2363483 Sigmn Sheedy. J.R. 28 T.M Section, No. 2 Coy. 2 Corps Signals

Home Forces

15-9-40

Dear Jerry,

Your remarks concerning a postman ex-angler give me food for thought.  I note that he considers you: (a) gay, (b) fearless, and (c) independent.  Obviously, to pass such judgements as these, he must have spent considerable time in your company.  The adjective gay may be taken as complimentary and interests me not one jot (or one tittle).  The ‘fearless’ and ‘independent’ require more attention.  They suggest a personal knowledge of your behaviour in air-raids.  This suggests so many things that I am cleaning and oiling my rifle for my next leave.  Let the ‘postal sugar-daddy’ beware!  He would trifle with a good girl’s feelings. We shall see whether his blood is Royal Mail or Yellow Ochre.

Kindly give my regards to Doc Ewing.  I would wish these treasures to be delivered verbally by you, as my literary style is of the modern persuasion and might chance to be misunderstood.  Also (kindly) give my regards to Mrs Ewing.  I leave you to decide the method.  

Have you read “Present Indicative”?  (Noel Coward’s autobiography).  It’s good.  His frankness is appalling, yet appealing.  For instance, his entry into a nursing home was referred to by the Press as being necessitated by a “minor ailment”.  He informs the reader that an operation for Piles was the reason for this step.  

At the end of the book is reproduced the Toast Speech from “Cavalcade”.  I remember when I saw the film of Cavalcade I was particularly impressed by this.  I don’t suppose you were, (or am I wrong) but here goes:-

“Let’s couple the Future of England” with the “Past of England”.  The glories, and victories and triumphs that are over, and the sorrows that are over too.  Let’s drink to our sons who made part of the pattern, and to our hearts that died with them.  Let’s drink to the spirit of gallantry and courage that made a strange Heaven out of unbelievable Hell, and let’s drink to the hope that one day this country ours which we love so much will find dignity , and peace, and greatness again.”

I suppose one might dub it ‘slush’ but somehow it just gets me.  Latent streak of patriotism rears its’ ugly head. 

Thanks for the heather.  I’ve just put it in a little pocket it my Pay-Book.  Our section officer received some by the same post.  He showed it to me, and it wasn’t heather.  He seemed rather annoyed when I produced mine and compared it with his sickly ‘flora’.

I have a favour to ask of you.  I’ve recently grown very sick of the galaxy of female photographs adorning the walls of our sleeping quarters.  I would like to be able to look at the above display with enjoyment, not nausea.  I think one of your photographs would fill the bill.  Could you possibly oblige, or is it asking too much?  Anyway, here’s hoping.

Inspiration has fled

Love 

    Bobby 

P.S. ‘Spinster’s Club’- Pah! It smells.

The previous letter that Bobby Sheedy wrote to Cynthia, his childhood friend and neighbour, came from the Plymouth area in the summer of 1939 where he was in training for the war which was declared in September. The British Expeditionary Force (B.E.F.) was sent to France, but nothing much happened during the Phoney War period. (A certain tone of frustration can be heard in Bobby’s letter, writing being very difficult when censorship forbade so many ordinary topics.) In May 1940, however, the attack they had prepared for came, France fell, and the B.E.F. retreated to Dunkirk. The story of the evacuation is well known, more than 80% of the B.E.F. was rescued.

No 2363483. Sigmn J. R. Sheedy 4UA.A. Brig HQ Sigs, B.E.F.

18-4-40

Dear Cynthia,

Forgive the foul scrawl in pencil, but the ink or l’encre has given out, and Woolworth’s have not as yet opened a branch in this god-forsaken joint.

What I can tell you Lord only knows as the bloody- ‘tut tut’ blue pencil, please!- censorship allows nothing to pass.  Even small talk about the weather is forbidden in case the Germans read between the lines.

I imagine the censor as a small, weedy, Old Bill moustached gent with a low mind.  A sort of frock-coated Mrs Grundy if you see what I mean.

I can understand certain aspects of this blue-pencil business, but some of the forbidden information is just bureaucratic.  One must not describe one’s billets (personally I haven’t sufficient imagination), also conversation  about food is taboo (ditto-ditto).  This cannot serve any useful purpose as men on leave give adequate information about both the above.

Change of Subject

I’m glad you missed our pleasant society at Warkworth, but maybe the R.A.F. came up to scratch, or did they?

From reports from my local correspondent, I gather that “Rolling Stone Ewing alias ‘Gordon the Con-man’ is setting out once more for distant lands.  When I return on leave I expect to see ’95’ festooned with tiger skins, elephant tusks, stuffed tadpoles and all other types of hunting trophy.

Note “when I return on leave”.  If it’s September I will be lucky unless Adolf kicks the bucket before that.

Apropos of nothing, it’s getting helluva cold here, (where I’m writing) so I’ll leave you.

Before I forget did I tell you I love you?  No!  Well I do.  It occurred to me one cold night when on guard, providing comforting warmth.

Au revoir,

Bobby

P.S. I am not drunk.

This Mystery Postcard, written in bastardized French and addressed to 

Mme, et Mlle. Ewing et Ben chien

(the Ewing dog was called Benny) in Angleterre, sends New Year’s good luck wishes via four kittens and can only have come from Bobby Sheedy.  It is postmarked Marseille-Gare on the last day of 1939.

 

The message reads (I think):  

Je suis ici a Marseille.  Tout très bon.  Tout les dames et les hommes- et les enfants, très, très, joli.   Au Revoir.  Vive la France.  [Indecipherable signature with a question mark.]