Welcome back to part two, Bert has just travelled by boat to Rhodesia, as it was known then, in Africa, he last wrote on the 8th August and there is now a month where no letters are sent, until the 14th Sept 1942 when Bert sent an Airgraph home, his address is now Bullawayo in South Rhodesia.
“Dear Mum and Dad, I hope you got my cable all right, my letter will be following this airgraph I hope, I got it off about a week ago. You’ll find in it, all about this place – we’re really having a marvellous time out here now. I’d told you in my letter that I’m now an LAC which is equal to a lance-corporal in the army. In my letter I’ve asked you to send my camera out here, in the parcel you might put as many airgraph forms as you can possible get, because they are possibly scarce out here. I had to queue up for half an hour to get four forms. Well, it will be great to hear from you again then, so as soon as you get this, will you cable me to let me know you are all O.K. You can send a special cable called E.F.M. where there are certain sentences with numbers attached which you select, and they give cable the numbers, and they decode them this end. I’m perfectly fit and having a jolly good time.
My pay amounts to about 30/ a week and the food out here is marvellous. I’m eating about 8 oranges a day and drinking about 3 pints of milk. Well will you get that parcel off immediately you receive this Mum, and wrap it up well won’t you. Don’t forget to spread my address around and get as many people as possible to write. Hoping to hear from you soon, your loving son Bert”
Letters from home must have meant everything to these young soldiers away from home for the first time. The next airgraph from Bert is dated 19th Sept 1942:
“ Dear Mum and Dad, just another few lines to let you know all about South Africa, and what we do out here. They say that if you pass your pilot’s course out here, you can really call yourself a pilot, because this is reputed to be the toughest course in the whole world. We had our first taste of Bundu-bashing yesterday. You’re given a military prismatic compass and taken out in the middle of the ‘bush’ , and three of you working together have to make a triangular trek of 1 ½ miles, measuring your miles and finding your way back to your starting point. We had some jolly good fun, it felt like an exploring trek and next time we have to do a 15 mile one. That should be jolly fine, because you’re out marching for two days, and you can find your way back to camp just how you like.
I shall be writing another letter to you tomorrow, but in the meantime, don’t forget to write as often as you can, don’t wait for my letters to arrive. Oh! And don’t forget the local ‘rag’ will you Mum, I should love to have a look at the old Mercury again. Don’t forget to get everyone you can to write, that includes you Dad and you Les, and Rusty if he can manage it. Well that’s all for now Mum, your ever loving son, Bert”
Bert did write a letter home the very next day as promised. Dated 20th Sept 1942 it reads:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and Kids, Well it’s now exactly 3 weeks since we disembarked at Durban, and I’m just beginning to settle down in Southern Rhodesia. So far, I haven’t managed to ‘get in’ with some of the people in the town of Bulawayo, but a lot of the chaps have been lucky, and managed to make some quite good connections. Incidentally, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but there’s still the original gang of six of us here, who all joined up together on Whit Monday. That seems a hell of a long time ago. We’re still in the same flight together here, and in that respect I think we’ve been very lucky – don’t you.
I don’t think I shall want to sleep in a bedroom again, out here we sleep in ‘lines’. Before we took this camp over, it was a huge cattle market, and now they’ve cleared out all the long lines of the cattle stalls, and given us one each. They’re really very good though, with a shelter over the top of you, and it’s surprising how comfortable they can be. Some of the chaps have taken photographs of them, and if possible, I’ll try and get hold of one for you.
It’s Sunday, about 12 o clock now, and I’m just taking the opportunity of writing these few lines before going to lunch. We’ve had a church parade this morning – you would have enjoyed it Mum – about 500 airmen all singing, led by a choir, it was really fine. After that, we had a march past the flag-staff with a Wing Commander taking the salute. As I write this, I am wondering what is happening back home about this time. I can just visualise you bustling round to get the dinner Mum, with Rusty “Helping” you in every way possible, and he’s mucking about in the garden. As for Dad, well I should think he’s holding the bar up at the moment, very nice too, if he’s as hot as I am. At the moment he’d be down in the cellar with his mouth under a barrel.
I’m lying in my bed writing this with nothing on but a pair of gym shorts, my topee and a pair of sun glasses. Summer’s just beginning out here now by the way, it should be about 120 in the shade by about Christmas. However, I think I’m fitter now than I’ve ever been in my life before. We get an hours P.T. and an hours drill every day, and the sun ‘browns you off’ in no time out here.
Ah! There goes the 12 o’clock siren. All the times out here are given by means of sirens. We’re called on parade, the signal for the end of lecture, reveille, lights out and end of duties, they are all marked by ‘moaning Minnie’, and it’s just like the ‘all clear’ at home. It’s very reminiscent too of those days we spent popping in and out of our little hole in the ground. The people out here, however don’t know what it’s like to be bombed, and as for air-raid shelters, they’ve never heard of them. As soon as we got out here, we just put all our respirators, gas-capes, steel helmets and anti -gas clothing into our kit bags, and they’ve been there ever since. I think I’ve forgotten what a gas mask looks like. However it’s difficult to realise that if I was to travel about 2000 miles up north now, we’d need all those things again.
Well you must excuse me while I go and fetch myself a bottle of beer – I’m parched . That’s better, the beer’s not much good out here, but it quenches your thirst. Talking of beer, it’s just about the best stuff I’ve known for getting drunk on. Last Monday afternoon we played another flight at football, and out here, we don’t play on grass, but on a dust pitch with not a blade of grass on it. And my God! When you been running about for an hour on a pitch like that, and rolling about in the dust into the bargain, you feel as if you’ve got the whole of the Sahara Desert down your neck. However, we won the game, and also a bottle of rum which was put up for a prize, and so we had to celebrate. The whole eleven of us, and most of the opposing team as well were rolling about that evening, and I don’t remember having more than about 5 bottles of beer myself. However we had some jolly good fun, I’m quite looking forward to the next football match. Incidentally, no one worries out here if you’re a bit ‘canned’ – you’ve got to let off steam somehow.
Well I think I shall have to be closing now, as lunch will be ready in about 10 minutes and I want to have a shower before I go out. Don’t forget to spread my address around will you Mum, I’ll try and get some more letters or airgraphs off to the family written the next week some time, but meanwhile, write as much as you can won’t you, and don’t forget the airgraphs, they only take half the time as ordinary letters.
Well cheerio for now all, and I hope you’re all keeping as fit as I am at present – all the best from your loving son, Bert.
P.s. give my kindest regards to everyone will you and get them to write to me – I’ll answer every letter I receive. “
Bert is desperate to receive as many letters as possible from home, he must have been missing his family very much. He next writes a 2 part airgraph on the 25th September 1942:
“Dear Mum, Dad and kids, we have just had our first packet of mail in, and I received a letter from you dated 4th August (Rusty’s Birthday) and also 3 copies of the local rag. From your letter, I see that there is one that you wrote before, I expect that will turn up when the pile here is sorted out a bit more.
I see that Norm is on embarkation leave from A.C.R.C. well, in all probability he is coming out here – it will be just fine if he is. We’ll have a hell of a fine time together, I must keep hoping that he’s coming out here anyway. It’s really beginning to get warm out here now. I am writing this naked except for a pair of gym shorts. Sorry to hear that you’re getting some raids – hope you’re not worrying too much. Yes I was sorry I couldn’t get home for Rusty’s birthday – I thought of him when I was on the boat. Tell him to call his pilots Sam and Eric, and the aeroplanes a Typhoon and the sturmovik. Yes West Kirby’s a pretty good place for it, we had a pretty good time there.
I don’t think I told you before but, I went to a dance there the Friday before we left, and I got talking to a girl there and eventually took her home, until, she took me to her home. Her people were very good to me, I had a lovely supper and eventually got back to camp at 1 o clock in the morning. I didn’t go ‘on the books’ for coming back late, they don’t worry – it was just like a holiday camp. Well to get back to the present – I hope you’re not worrying too much Mum, I’m having a jolly good time out here and we’ve got many more advantages than we had back home.
I’ve managed to grab a sleeping out pass for tonight (Saturday) We’re going to stay at Toc H in town here, you can get a good bed, and breakfast in bed on Sunday morning for 2/6’. I’m writing this after lunch and as soon as I’ve finished, I’m going down to the baths for the afternoon. Then I’m going to have dinner at the Services club and after an evening at the pictures. I shall retire to bed at the Tac H, lovely isn’t it.
Well then, don’t forget to spread my address round as much as you can, and to as many girls as you can, preferably those that I know. I’m not making any efforts to get to know a girl out here yet. I’m too busy studying at the moment. Give my regards to all the family, and tell them that I’m writing to them all. I’ve already sent an airgraph to Aunt Doll, and I’ll be sending some more off sometime next week. All the best and love from, Bert”
In October 1942, the Bell P-59 Airacomet had it’s first flight, paving the way for later generations of jet fighter aircraft. On the 6th October a law was passed in Nazi-occupied Belgium equivalent to the one passed in Vichy France on September 4, obligating able-bodied citizens to do work for the government if ordered to.
Bert wrote an airgraph home on the 5th October 1942, and on the same day wrote a long letter home also, the airgraph:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and Kids, Great news – Norman has arrived at Hillside here, and he’s billeted just round the corner in the same Squadron. Absolutely marvellous isn’t it. He arrived on Thursday and we’ve been out together on Friday and last night. I almost jumped for joy when I heard that he was in the new draft. Although I half suspected it when I heard that he had embarkation leave from St John’s Wood.
He’s looking very well indeed, and I’ve been showing him all around the town, and giving him the ‘gen’ on the camp here. By the way, will you let Mrs Dacey see this, Norm’s full address is- 1800750 LAC Dacey, N.W. Hillside camp, Buloway. So she can get some mail off to him. He had such a lot to tell me about the old home town, and Blighty in general, and it makes me feel as if I have been out here for years. I’ve received some more mail from you Mum, and I’m writing a letter as soon as I’ve finished writing this. Don’t forget to send this up to Mrs Dacey will you, my kindest regards to everyone at ‘Hillcrest’, and believe me, Norm and I are going to have a damn good time out here.
Your ever loving son, Bert”
The letter:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and Kids, I’m writing this in bed, so if ‘Lights out’ goes before I finish it, I’ll have to carry on with it when I get some spare time. Well, as you know from my airgraph, Norm has arrived out here, and was I happy. When the new draft arrived, I asked one of the chaps, just by chance, if there was a fellow called Norman Dacey in the draft, and this chap happened to have been in Norm’s flight at St. Johns Wood. When he told me he was here, I went all along the line trying to see him, they were queueing up for bedding. But in spite of the fact that I had the other 5 boys here looking for him, I couldn’t find him. Then suddenly, one of the boys came rushing up to say that Norm was waiting for me at my bed, and when I got back there, he was stretched out on my bed.
You can imagine how happy I was – if I could have afforded it, would have gone into the canteen and got drunk, but it was the day before pay day. However, Norm is nicely settled down here now, and we go out together every night. I think it’s absolutely marvellous that he should be posted out here – all the rest of the world to send him and it had to be here, but I am glad, gee – not half!
By the way, I had another couple of letters from you this morning Mum, dated the 10th and 13th of August (post mark). One of them contained Rusty’s letter, I showed it to all the boys, and we’re going to do our best about it, but an elephant is rather a tall order. However, we’ll see what we can do. You mention that I should take the chance of a broadcast, if ever it comes my way Mum, but it’s pretty hopeless, they don’t have them as far south as this, they keep to the Middle East, however, if I ever do get the chance, believe me, I’ll grab it with both hands.
In your letter the other day, you mentioned that you could send me Uncle Bill’s address, and also a photograph of his wife and children. If you haven’t already sent them, will you get them off right away Mum, because I’m very eager to get in touch with him if he’s got 3 daughters, I shall forget how to dance if I don’t get a dancing partner soon. If he is living anywhere in Southern Rhodesia, I can get in touch with him, and maybe visit him when I get a spot of leave, I hope. Actually I should have finished my course at this camp by just after Christmas, and then I get 7 days leave, I hope, anyway, it would be absolutely marvellous if I could contact him wouldn’t it. I think I’d walk up to him and say “Ah! Doctor Livingstone I presume”, after his being ‘lost’ in the wilds of Africa for so many years.
Well I took Norman down to the Services Club in Bulawayo last night, and we partook of some dinner there. He was absolutely amazed, we had egg, bacon, sausages, chips, baked tomatoes, toast, coffee, fruit salad and ice cream for 1/11. Fairly makes your mouth water I bet. Of course, it’s all new to him at the moment, but I’m beginning to get used to it now. We have our supper in bed at night now. We take it in turns to go and get 6 hot dogs or egg rolls and 6 mugs of coffee from the “hoddog” stand. It’s run by an old African who we call “Pops”, and you can get everything in the shape of steak rolls, egg rolls, bacon or sausage rolls, and even onion rolls there for 4D a time. It’s a regular nightly occurrence now, a cup of coffee and an egg roll just before “lights out”. As a matter of fact someone’s just gone for them now. He’ll be back soon, so I can’t write much longer.
Believe me Mum, this place is doing me a hell of a lot of good. I feel fitter now than I’ve ever felt since I was at school. I don’t think you’d recognise me now. I’m about twice the size I was – in fact my tunics, the blue ones I was issued with at St Johns Wood will hardly come together across my chest. I’m also as brown as one of the natives out here. What with the tan I got on the boat coming over, and the extra tan I’ve got at the baths here, you can’t help but get brown. Well, now that Norm’s out here, I don’t mind how much I stay here, I admit I was a bit homesick at first, and also a little “browned off”, but when one of your greatest pals is sent out half way round the world, and arrives at the same camp, you forget all about that sort of thing. Really I haven’t got over it yet, and when Norm comes round to see me, I still can’t believe it’s him.
Continued Tuesday 6th – at night.
We have just got back from a 5 mile “bundu bash”, or a trek across the bush with nothing but a compass and map. You’re taken out in a lorry and dropped at a point about 10 miles from the camp, and told to get to a place 5 miles away across the bush, where you’ll find the lorry waiting for you to get back to camp. If you’re not there by a certain time, the lorry goes without you and you have to get a lift back on anything you can or else walk back. We missed the lorry, but got a lift in a little Ford van and actually beat the lorry back to camp. I’m beginning to learn a bit of the native lingo out here now, so don’t be surprised when I come home to call Rusty by saying “Moya lapa Rusty”
I was going to send you a photograph of the group of us out here with this letter, but unfortunately, they’re not back from the chemists yet, so I’ll have to send them along in my next letter. Talking of photo’s, Norm and I are going to have our photograph’s taken together, that’ll be fine won’t it. We’ll have them done as soon as possible, and then you might be able to have them in time for Christmas, with a bit of luck. Well, I don’t think there’s much more Mum, so till next time, I’ll be saying,
Cheerio, and lots of love from your ever loving son, Bert”
He was so happy to see the familiar face of his friend Norm and being so far from home, I am sure it must have been very comforting for them both to be in the same place together at such a difficult time. Bert next wrote an airgraph home on the 14th October 1942:
“ Dear Mum and Dad, I have received some more mail and “Local rags” from you the other day. One letter included those five photographs, they’re not bad considering they were taken 14 months ago, but are they the only ones that came out! I had a letter from Dorothy yesterday and she says that she’s taking a photograph of you to send to me, very nice of her isn’t it. I think that letter from her has re-awakened the old flame in me. Keep her up to writing to me Mum, will you, I look forward to a letter from any of the girls back home.
On Monday I was in a Guard of Honour parade for the Portuguese Ambassador, who visited one of the camps near here. There were only 99 men picked from the whole camp, and I was one of them. It looked really good, we all had khaki tunics and slacks on, with thick webbing belts and rifles, gleaming bayonets, and tons of brass all nicely polished. I’ll send you a photograph of us when they are developed. I’m writing a letter after this, tell you all about it then. Love from Bert”
Bert kept his promise and the next day on the 15th October 1942 he wrote a long letter home:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and kids, I have just written an airgraph to you, and I am just following up with a few brief resumees. I have received another couple of letters and a local rag. One of the letters contained those photographs which I asked you to have developed. They’ve kept pretty good haven’t they, considering I took them about 14 months ago. They certainly brought back some memories – yes, I will take care of the one of Lindy, that’s a pretty good one isn’t it. I am enclosing a few snaps of myself with this letter, and also my “crossing the line” certificate, will you look after this, as I’m very proud of it. You can get some idea of the baths from the one of me in my trunks, by the way, I’m not wearing stockings there, it’s just a sun-tan mark. They’re not very good photos, but no doubt you’ll be glad to have them, they give some idea of the sort of life we’re living out here.
I mentioned the Guard of Honour, in my airgraph. That was a jolly good business- we looked jolly fine in khaki tunics and slacks, with blue webbing belts, and all our brass polished up till it dazzled you to look at it. We had service rifles which incidentally I can sling about like a walking stick, and lovely gleaming bayonets. One of the Officers who was watching us, compared us afterwards with the Coldstream Guards. However, we had a jolly interesting time. We were all drawn up on the tarmac of the aerodrome, and when the Portuguese Ambassador’s plane landed, it taxied up to within a few feet of us before he got out. Then we presented arms, and had a march past, preceded by a military band. You would have enjoyed it Mum, had you been able to have seen us. However as I mentioned, I Gordon and Dick, a couple of my pals of St Johns Wood days, had our photographs taken, and when they’re ready, I’ll send you them.
I had a letter from Dorothy Cope the other day and also that girl I told you I met at West Kirby who took me in to meet her family. I was quite surprised, but hellishly pleased to hear from Dorothy, I guess I’ve got a very soft spot for her. Please encourage her to write to me will you Mum, it’s great to receive a letter from any of the girls back home.
I had a letter from Waddy also the other day. So he’s at Scarborough, and having a pretty good time. However, I’m glad I came out here, it was a chance in a lifetime and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I am trying to find time to write to Mrs Dodson and also Mrs Allen, but I’m studying pretty hard now for my exams, and I don’t get much time, however I will get a letter off to them if I possibly can sometime in the near future.
Well I haven’t much more news now Mum, and I’m feeling pretty sleepy. Actually I’m writing this during one of my off-duty spells. We are the camp guard tonight, and tomorrow, and I shall be on guard myself in about half an hour, so I will draw this letter to a close.
Norm wishes to be remembered to you, and hopes you are all keeping well – he’s absolutely fine himself, he had 4 letters from Kathleen the other day so he ought to be. The very best of luck and love from your ever loving son Bert. P.S. will you get my certificate framed please Mum”
Bert wrote an airgraph home on the 21st October 1942 to let them know he had received a cable:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and kids, I have just received your cable saying that my first letter from here has just about reached home. I am wondering if you got my letters from Freetown and Durban, I wrote three or four while on the boat. I sent some photographs off to you in a letter yesterday, although I expect this will reach you before the letter. I had some more taken on Friday – I’ll let you have them when they are ready. I’m eagerly awaiting that letter from Dad giving me Uncle Wills address- I simply must see him before I leave Rhodesia, although I still have plenty of time. However, it would be nice if I could spend Christmas with him and his family wouldn’t it. It seems funny talking of Christmas while still running about it shirt and shorts, but by the time Christmas comes I shall be running about in a bathing suit – it seems to be getting hotter every day now. Well space is almost finished, so till next time, cheerio from your ever loving son, Bert”
The next airgraph is dated 27th October 1942 and Bert also wrote a letter on the same day, the airgraph:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and kids, I am just taking the opportunity of writing you this spare airgraph, I have just finished a letter to you in which I have given you all the latest news, but I omitted to say that I have had some more photos taken which will most probably be included in my next letter if they are ready in time. I haven’t received any mail for about 10 days now, in fact the last thing I had was your wire saying that you had received my letters. However I understand that there is a whole pile of mail waiting to be sorted for us now at Bulawayo post office, so I’m hoping that there will be some for me in that lot – don’t forget to write as much as possible, Mum, and get anyone else to write too. I may not be able to write quite so much now – I’m studying hard for my exams, however, I’ll write as much as possible. Kindest regards to all, love Bert”
The letter written on the same day:
“ Dear Mum, Dad and kids, Just another brief line to let you know that I am quite well, and hoping that it finds you all the same. I’m afraid I haven’t had any letters for the past week, but I understand that there’s a whole pile of mail for the camp that’s just waiting to be sorted, so I’ve no doubt that there’ll be some for me in that lot.
It was one of the boy’s Birthday here on Saturday, so we celebrated his 20th Birthday in the canteen here. I took a bet on with him, that I could drink him under the table. Needless to say, I won, although by the time that he said he’d had enough and was going to bed, I wasn’t very sober myself. I wasn’t the only one a trifle tipsy. Out of the six of us, only one of us, a chap who had been down in the town that evening, and who had just arrived in time to join in the latter end of the celebration, was able to get undressed and in bed without any help. It’s a damn good job that we didn’t have to get up the next morning. Incidentally, we can lie in bed all day on Sunday here if we wish to. I got up just in time for lunch on Sunday, and after a cold shower I felt pretty well O.K. But I don’t think we shall have another night like that for some time, at least not until another Birthday comes along. Actually I think that mine is just about the next, so we’ve plenty of time to wait yet.
Last Thursday we had a 15 mile trek across the bundu or bush. Every cadet has to do at least one trek across the bundu, in case, during his flying training, he is forced down in the bush, and has to find his way back to camp. We all piled into a lorry on Wednesday afternoon, and were taken out into the middle of the bush, where we pitched camp for the night. We went to bed about 8 and were up again at 3.30 in the morning, when we had a lecture on the stars. Then, after a breakfast of 2 eggs and a plateful of bacon cooked over the camp fire, which was absolutely marvellous, we all piled into the lorry again and were dropped off in parties of 6 at different parts of the bush, and with only a map and a compass to help us, we had to get to the Maropos Hotel, 15 miles away across the bush. It doesn’t sound far if you say it quickly, but it seems more like 50 when you are actually trekking.
However, it was well worth it because when we got to the Hotel, we had a bath, beer, lemonade and a scrumptious lunch of roast pork. Then we had a boat out and a swim in the Matopos Dam, so it wasn’t such a bad day after all. Where we pitched camp, there was a small farm, owned by an old lady who came out here from Derbyshire, about 20 years ago. She breads dogs, and has about 30 of them all shapes and sizes, running about the house. Someone took a photograph of myself and another chap with her and her dogs, which I will send on to you when developed.
Incidentally, take good care of these photos won’t you Mum, I shall want to keep them for future reference when I’m relating my adventures in Africa to all my children!!!! Well I don’t think there’s any more to say except many happy returns to Pop for the 30th – this’ll be about 6 weeks late, but I’ll have a drink for you Dad on Friday, cheerio for now, love to you all from Bert”
To be continued...
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