No. 7925934. L/Sgt. Greenwood.
‘C’ Sqdn. 9th Battn. R.T.R.
A.P.O. England.

23.6.44

Friday evening.

Jess dear, The last I was able to write bears Sunday’s date… the 18th. It seems a hell of a long time ago (chiefly because so much has happened to me since then). (bracketed words ‘blue-pencilled’ by the official censor – but still legible). Unfortunately I can tell you nothing about my activities… and that is already understood. Some day, I hope to be able to tell you a few details of my little life during these days of mass-produced history. Meanwhile, I know that my stereotyped bulletins have at least some interest… if only because they let you know that I am still hale and hearty. Today I sent you a ‘field service postcard’. From that you (will draw your own conclusions). (bracketed words ‘blue-pencilled’ by the official censor – but still legible). I think I dated it the 24th: it should have been the 23rd, of course. (Click here to see the field service postcard. Note that it bears the words, very small in pencil “I am in Caen”).

Incidentally, you may notice frequent incorrect dates on my future letters… simply because the days are so much alike now, and we have no official means of checking up. But I will do my best to avoid mistakes.

Last evening, I received yours dated Tues 13.06.44 and you can imagine how I welcomed your news, even though a little out of date. This evening there were three letters for me… a minor windfall… One from you dated 13.06.44 (again), one from K. (Kathleen, RTG’s sister) enclosed with yours, and one from Bob Plowman. These letters from home have an extra special interest for me now, as you can imagine. K’s letter in particular was very cheering. It is so nice to know that she is recovering. I will certainly write to her… and I will enclose her letter with this, if permitted by my troop officer, who is now censoring my mail. Bob Plowman has written from Catterick: the usual wishes to you and I, and some news of ex colleagues who are now with him.

I would like to reply in detail to your letters, but I cannot do so at the moment… nor can I make any promises about future letters. But if I can write tomorrow, I will do so… and that goes for every day, as you know.

I must leave you now, dear… hoping for more news of you and Barry tomorrow.

Au revoir, dear Jess.

Yours always,

Trevy.