R10125, (H.D.B. AC2),
No. 2A., Manning Dep.
May 12, 1941.
My darling wife;
Being in the throes of abysmal agony I don’t suppose this epistle is going to be much other than the reiteration of the fact that I love you and how much I wish you were here to make me forget it all, as only you can. The cause of all this is the partaking of the first two of a series of inoculations. My right bicep is about twice its normal size and so damn sore I can hardly write. There were 53 of us done at noon today and the maledictions are universal if not harmonious.
There has been nothing of interest happening around here these last few days, just routine. We have a large complement of men here and they are still coming and I’m hoping to see some of the fellows from home soon.
This is the 13th – 1 P.M. I had to stop last night as my arm was to stiff and sore to write any more. We had a swell night dearest, just lying in our bunks listening to each other curse and groan. We heard some very interesting little monologues from different bunks as some of the fellows fell into a pretty neurotic sleep. However my arm is a lot better today, so I can enjoy my moment of excused duty by saying some of things which belong to you and I.
I had lots of time to do a lot of thinking last night sweetheart, rather useless thinking of course but nevertheless interesting. It is queer how different things look to you in the sweet security of the dark where one can strip things naked and look facts in the face. I tried to really analyze my reasons for joining this outfit and just how big or how small they actually are. The sum total of all this pondering was not exactly flattering because mixed with a lot of material reasons I find the odd shred of idealism. I still know that I could do nothing less than fight for this beautifull Eden that has given us so much, but would I have gone in as soon as possible for this reason alone? I think not. I think if I had been in a good position, with good prospects, I’d have beaten around the bush for a while before giving it all up for my country. As it was the R.C.A.F. was the easy way out and it is not exactly with pride that I realize this. Its funny how small and dirty our poor little souls are when we strip them of all the frills we hide them with. All the unnecessary hypocracies of convention and false modesty which we burden ourselves with – God! how much happier we would be if we could but live true to ourselves and our Christianity. Until we can live in a true state of Christianity and stop our endless deciet, there will be no world peace.
When I think like this, my darling, my mind inevitably seeks for a way out, bringing on lazy dreams of utopian fields for you and I. I see a man walking a lane, cool and sweet with the fragrance of the spring life. He is approaching the neat buildings of a farm, a fit setting for the sweet, fair-haired lady waiting in the door with the love light shining in her blue-gray eyes. At sight of her the man quickens his step and they run to meet each other in the full hapiness of two lives made one. Kissing her tenderly on the tip of her sun-burnt nose, the man puts his arm around her and together they stroll through the lush grass to a small paddock where a band of blooded stock are lazily enjoying the hot sun as they graze on the verdant feed in sure peace and security.
I could go on for hours dearest, but what would be the use? Someday maybe, as the song says, but it is to far away too talk of sensibly.
Do tell me something of Amigo and how you are looking after her. What are you using for pasture these days and a bridle? I hope to get into town on Sat., and get your bridle for you and of course will mail it at once. If there is anything else you would like me to get, please don’t hesitate to say so.
So far I haven’t been into town, but if I can get my jacket, which has been at the tailors, I’ll go in tonight and look the place over. The fellows who have been in to Red Deer say it is quite a nice little place and I’ll give you my views on it in my next letter.
I have taken several pictures of some of the horses working around the depot here. They are all percherons and are certainly excellent stock. I have some of myself in uniform which I will send to you as soon as I get them developed.
I must stop now darling but will be with you in thought always.
All my love,
[added to final page in pencil: “Read”]