by Vicky Unwin
Heaps of love, Sheila
Diana Chard’s wedding to David Booth in Alexandria on 2 May 1942.
Letters from home begin to play an important role in Sheila’s life from an early stage:
I really think I am the most fortunate of anyone … everyone seems to write to me and I do so love getting letters … I can’t tell you how marvellous it is to have so much mail – everyone envies me as I seem to have much the most.
She frequently reports her letter counts, ‘21 letters in 21 days’; ‘6 p.c.s ranging from 11/9 to 15/10 and 4 letters, 2/8, 30/8, 1/9, 7/9’, ‘I have just written 10 airgraphs and 2 letters’; ‘I’ve had the most tremendous mail this week, I just don’t know how to answer them’; and she even compliments her mother’s letter-writing skills: ‘I love your letters, they make me laugh so, and I read them round to everyone in my room, and they all capsize with laughter.’
She must have had a sense of history in the making as she asks, ‘Oh by the way, do you save my letters, because if you do, coupled with a diary (only a very discreet one as we aren’t allowed to keep them!) I keep, you will get a very good picture of what we do out here, when I come home’. For her part she is keeping all the letters she receives, and is ‘going to file them, so I shall have a sort of book of what is going on at home all the time I am away. How I love to hear all the gossip!’
She writes ‘roughly’ every Monday and is constantly fussing over letters going astray, ‘has my mail been coming through all right? What is the datal order of my letter cards – Tell me and I will let you know if there are any missing.’ Naturally, letters quite often went down when ships were lost, or they took months arriving if they went round the Cape.
Sheila is frustrated, on both these counts, in trying to keep up with both Paul and Jaap. Paul seems not to have known where she was and rang home and spoke to her father and rather implied he thought she was still at Methil. She wonders if he is still on the Sheffield, ‘because otherwise my letters won’t be reaching him, and I’d rather like them to, as he seemed a bit miserable’. A few weeks later she enquires again if they have heard from Paul, ‘I would like to see him again.’ She then admits to feeling homesick, despite all the gaiety of life in Alexandria: ‘Much as I like all my new friends here I do like my old ones best, and get so homesick for them all and naturally, the glorious countryside which I miss most of all.’
Of Jaap, she has ‘heard nothing and have an idea he hasn’t my proper address as I never gave it to him. I do hope he is all right.’ However, he surfaces a few weeks later, in Edinburgh, ‘He had written before, but apparently they got lost’, suffering from a broken heel having jumped out of a window for a dare. She has a large photograph of him on her dressing table, along with photos of ‘Daddy, Rosemary and Uncle Cecil7 … surrounded by all my friends’. John Pritty’s photo is soon to join them.
In early June, she meets John Pritty in the hotel. He is the brother of her friend Maureen from Rosyth, and is in hospital having his knee cartilage operated on: ‘It’s very pathetic these boys being in hospital with no one to see them. I was awfully glad I went, though it was terrifying walking down the long ward all alone.’ She is soon seeing quite a lot of him:
… twice to the Sporting Club, once to dinner at the Beau Rivage, such a nice little place by the sea, and last night to see George and Margaret and on to dinner to Pastrondis. I ate much too much. I am having lunch with him today at the Sporting Club. He is so nice, Scotch, wears nice tartan trousers and sensible to talk to and be with – unusual out here, with all the naval fly-abouts.
By mid-June she is writing of her ‘busy and hectic time these past weeks – out bathing, dining, to the flicks and so on – all with John Pritty. What a pity I left so very much of my heart way back home, isn’t it?!!’ All the same, John manages to steal a rather large part of it. Many decades later, my mother would occasionally sigh, ‘If only I had married John Pritty.’ When I read the letters that follow, I think she was looking back with rose-tinted spectacles.
John Pritty. This photograph was taken in September 1940, before he and Sheila met. He must have given this to her when he went to the desert.
Meanwhile the Wrens move from the hotel to a convent, ‘two most palatial houses in town – mansions, really, with beautiful parquet floors everywhere, grand staircases and huge rooms.’ Grand it may be but not immune from bugs; to Sheila’s horror she discovers, ‘I’m bitten all over my back, and after investigation from a room mate, and told it is a BUG!! So must rush off now on a hunt for it. UGH! There are millions of these kind of things out here.’ She is, she reports, ‘covered with bites, the mosquitoes and flies are AWFUL – all over my face, and what with these tiring watches I look rather a mess! But you soon get used to them, I’m told.’ A few weeks later and she sounds quite blasé: ‘I can’t tell you how awful the flies are, they settle on you whatever you are doing, crawl all over you, and just won’t be disturbed. I am getting quite good at hitting and killing them whilst they run over me. Mosquitoes are far easier to kill as they aren’t nearly so active.’
So begins the happiest period of Sheila’s life. It must have been thrilling for my 21-year-old Norfolk mother to find herself not only an officer, but also an independent young woman, with scores of admirers and invitations to social events of all sorts, ranging from dining, dancing, going to the races, sailing, sport – riding and hockey – all the while working godforsaken hours on watch, albeit with a jolly bunch of people. She is also surrounded by old friends from Scotland, and always bumping into friends of friends – even ‘old’ Bert is not far away and she hears news of him every now and again, and indeed hopes to visit him in Syria. Her letters exude a joie de vivre during this period:
18th May 1942
My dear Mama –
We’re hoping for some mail this week so maybe there’ll be something for me. How is everyone and what are you all doing? Here life runs on in the same pleasant way – a lot of work, sleep when you can get it and a little pleasure thrown in. Last Thursday I went out to visit some people living on the outskirts of the city – friends of someone I have met here. We went swimming first at the Sporting Club, and then on by tram. They seemed very charming and I can ring up and go whenever I please. A couple of days after that Victor Streatfield, who was O/C troops on board our old tub, invited Rachel [Charlesworth] and me out for lunch at his place. He is commanding a large station not far from here, and he collected us at about 1030, and drove us out. We had drinks in various messes – all in tents and hutments in the desert, such fun. I’ve never known anything like the flies – they were simply frightful in fact. They had a tame chameleon to try and keep them down. Then there was a marvellous lunch, still in a tent in the desert and after that we drove over to another mess for a drink. History mustn’t relate what we did next and unfortunately we had to hurry home after that because I was on watch at 5. I would be most unpopular if I was late. After doing Dogs and Middle watches I disgraced myself by oversleeping and missed my transport for afternoon watch the next day. When I eventually arrived at the office, the D.C.O. [Deputy Cypher Officer] insisted I must have lunch. So down I tootled to the wardroom, expecting to find the place bare – to my horror I discovered the place crammed full with brass hats – at least 2 captains, six commanders and equivalent numbers of senior 2 I/Cs [2nd In Commands]. Alas, once inside the door there was no turning back so, having fearfully asked permission I sat me down to lunch. I must say everyone was terribly nice – they were having a terrific discussion on a ‘bottle’ [slang for a telling-off] the C/O had given us all. I was thankful that I hadn’t been present as I didn’t want to be embroiled. I’ve just been out to buy an alarm clock – twice I overslept – and there mustn’t be a third time. It cost me 16/- the cheapest tinniest looking thing you could imagine and made in Italy too! That is a good specimen of the prices here … they are shocking. I was sitting in the drawing room this evening and felt a prick on my leg I looked up and found an enormous flea. There ar
e 100s of them here and the mosquitoes are frightful. I had a P/C from Sheila Sage to say that Sybil Hoole has left the UK to join us. I hope to see Mary very soon now. That will be 4 from Methil! Tonight I am going on watch at 0400 so am having to go to bed specially early in consequence. I rushed into the town and had my hair done this afternoon … it looks quite nice. Have you had the parcel of stockings I sent you from one of our voyage ports? I enquired about cigarettes today and am hoping to send some to Papa soon. We have got some bathing huts on one of the best bathing beaches here, and soon we are going to start afternoons on the beach. I hope our watches will be changed soon and then I’ll be able to participate: as it is now it’s very difficult to find time for these things. I am getting quite brown, even tho’ I’ve not been trying very hard. The weather is lovely, but I fear we’re in for some hot times later on. Please tell Rosemary I’ve not written a lot of individual letters to her, except airgraphs because I knew she’d see these. I hope she won’t mind and will keep on writing the same though …
No more now. Tons of love Sheila.
Sheila and friends from her watch at Brownie’s Hut on Mustapha Beach (left to right) Sheila, Tony Field, Margot Ainscow and Frank Putt.
A recurring theme in the letters is the sending of parcels, either with gifts from the bazaar, or food that is scarce due to rationing. Sheila obviously feels intensely guilty about the quality of life – the fruit, the chocolate, the sunshine – and is constantly telling her mother off for sending her money, although she is not shy of requesting that pink frock again! All this exercise and fresh food is making her healthier; reading through the letters it is noticeable how much sickness there was amongst the forces – from jaundice to more serious illnesses, such as scarlet fever. On the whole Sheila was pretty healthy, bar the odd bout of sand-fly fever or tonsillitis, usually due to overwork:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
7/6/42
My dear Ma –
… Tomorrow I am going out to send you a parcel of sugar ready for the jam season, if I am allowed to. We can only send 5 lb at once tho’. We have now changed our watches, thank goodness and have more time off as we do more hours at once. Consequently I feel much better and have been swimming at the Sporting Club 3 times this week. I am getting thinner – hooray! … I have seen quite a lot of Mary [Dugdale] since she arrived and Sybil [Hoole, from Methil] came this week. She is a dear and brought me so much news of Scotland it made me quite homesick! … I have changed my watch since last I wrote and don’t like my new people half as much – none of our usual hysterics! Rosemary asks if I take my tin hat about with me – well, I don’t need to and we never have to take gas masks. Unheard of here! I don’t know how you send parcels to me, but I would like my pink woollen frock ready for the winter, as wool is terribly expensive here and I have no winter clothes at all. Could you find out how long it would take and how much it would cost to send please … I think I have just been roped in to do some censoring – the Wrens mail has been waiting about here for quite a while and it seems such hard luck on them … I do hope you don’t worry about me out here – I am very happy and like all the people here so much – tho’ of course life is very artificial, and I would love to be back in the U.K. However that will come … It seems so funny to wake up each morning to a lovely day – always sun, but sometimes hotter than others. I really must stop now, no more space for one thing. I’ve about six other letters to get off this morning, so heaps of love and do keep writing. Sheila
Amid talk of ‘busy and hectic times’, concern over ‘gippy tummy’, shopping and the hectic social whirl it is hard to fathom how they fitted in the work. But every now and again, Sheila reminds us of her watch timetable, and that John is part of the Eighth Army and stationed in the western desert. They must have all been on tenterhooks in June, as the British army was in retreat following its defeat at the Battle of Gazala. The troops had reached as far back as Mersa Matruh, 80 miles within the Egyptian border and, at the end of June when General Auchinleck took over command of the Eighth Army from General Ritchie, they retreated even further to a railway stop called El Alamein. Working in the Cypher Office, Sheila must have been at the epicentre of the messaging, not only about the movement of ships in the Mediterranean, but also of the status quo in the desert, as the navy and the army were working in close collaboration to deliver supplies and weapons to the forces:
17th June 1942
My dear Mama – … I went to the races on Saturday, but alas, never again as it was far from profitable. The one thing is, that everywhere here is the same, and once you’ve been to a place, all the others are like it – and I actually heard the 1st Officer say with a sigh at lunch ‘how I long to be home where you don’t have to bother what to eat or what NOT to eat!’ You see, you mustn’t eat watermelons, prawns, strawberries or apricots, as they are all liable to give you severe gippy tummy – nevertheless, we do and sometimes have to bear the consequences. As I sat down to my melon and 2 eggs, butter, marmalade, and coffee with tons of milk, this morning, I wondered what you were all having at home. Often I refuse 2 eggs for breakfast as I can’t eat them! I am terribly brown all over (except for the bathing costume area!) You would think me an Indian.
Tomorrow I am going bathing with Jack Roughton and then on to the Barbers where we are staying to dinner – They have specially invited 2 very musical people who are going to sing, and I am very much looking forward to it. John will be returning to the Wide Open Spaces this week and is very miserable about it. I shall be quite lost without my gallant cavalier! I never see Mary D. these days – she works in the Base on day work which doesn’t seem to fit in with my watches at all. Sybil is feeling rather miserable, and as I haven’t seen much of her I feel rather guilty. I think I had better wish you many happy returns of your birthday now – because I don’t know how long it will take to reach you – I would love to be at home with you, but maybe in a year’s time it’ll be possible. I hope so, don’t you?
