No. 7925934. Sgt. Greenwood, R.T.
9th Battn. R.T.R.
Darling, Jess: I received two letters today… thank goodness. I hadn’t heard from you for about three days. I have not been worried… but I have cursed the postal service.
Somehow, I feel relieved now that Mrs. Wright’s son has arrived: I think I must have been feeling sorry for Noel… he has probably had to endure much anxiety. Let us hope there will be mo complications and that Mrs. W. will soon be well again. I s’pose I ought to congratulate you on your accurate guess as to the child’s weight… but you mustn’t become conceited, my dear… even though you are a clever little lady!
Jess… you have referred to the question of saving “for a rainy day”… and I don’t really know what to say. In principle, I am opposed to people denying themselves throughout life in order to save up for old age. I think it is better to enjoy life whilst we are physically and mentally capable of doing so. But this is a difficult problem… and one I would prefer not to discuss in this manner. But I don’t want you to start stinting yourself under present circumstances. Your life is sufficiently difficult without organising a retrenchment campaign. Please don’t do it, Jessie Mine… not now.
One of your latest letters tells me about your difficulty in writing to me… of the confusion caused by reality and unreality. I can well understand your problem, Jess: it must be very perplexing… but don’t worry, darling. I am content with anything… just so long as I hear from you regularly. Even if you only say a few words, I am grateful. I have my writing problems, as you know, but I am not bothered by this ‘invisible presence’ which you speak of. That, I suppose, is because of environment. I have never had your physical presence out here. I can’t even imagine you in the midst of all this wreckage and misery. You – on the other hand, are in our home: in the midst of everything which means so much to you and I. It is so easy for you to imagine my physical presence… sitting in a chair… or using the gram. But I cannot imagine you popping out of a tank turret, or joining us on parade… or in any way connected with this beastly war. And for that I am thankful, needless to say. I always imagine you at home: doing the thousand and one things I have watched you do so often… or busy with Barry. And when I am writing, I am always conscious of your dear face… listening patiently.
So sorry, darling… it has been a struggle writing the foregoing. I have had to stop several times… and have had to attend a meeting concerning forthcoming courses! Yes… I will be instructing again for the next 10 days… But I hope to be able to write you each evening.. Am in better billets from today: will tell you more about them tomorrow.
Good night, darling…
Always, Your Trevy.