September 3, 1940

Dear Kathy,

Well, I've finally made it to Egypt! Terrible timing, I'd say, as it's nearly winter now, but it doesn't get very cold here anyway. it's only about 40 degrees or so at night. It's encouraging, you know, every time an aeroplane passes over and I see that it's one of ours. Speaking of, what are they all doing over here? I should hope it means that they've finally run the German pilots out of London. Is the Luftwaffe nearly over? I should hope so. If we're going to be dealing with Italy around here we certainly don't need Germany on our backs at home.

Well, anyhow, the attacks will surely be well over by the time I get your letter back. It muddies things up, the post delay, doesn't it? I get a letter from you, and I look at the date, only to find out that you wrote it a month ago, a month after I last wrote you, and most everything in your letter isn't true anymore. I should just come back. Then I can talk to you face-to-face. Do you think my commander would let me? I don't. Wish me luck, though.

I hope you and Peter are still doing alright. We don't get much news of London down here; I wish we would get the paper again. Most of the boys here will rip out pictures of the London Bridge and Big Ben and what have you just to have a bit of home in their breast-pockets. You've no idea the lengths we go to in keeping those little things dry.

It's incredible, the things you realise in only a couple of months. I've realised that half the people in Britain don't really have a family. All these soldiers—you know why they're here? They've got no place better to be. That's why all the enlisted wanted to get in. Perhaps only one man in an entire battalion is here for the sole reason that he wants to defend his Country. Even some of the drafted men don't talk about any family or friends that they want to see. It's terrible. What've they got to fight for, I wonder?

Even though I'm separated from you and everyone else that I call family, I'm certainly glad that I have someone to go back to when all this is over. I really can't imagine being one of the chaps here who doesn't have anyone but his war mates. The saddest thing, really, is that they probably won't even have them for very long.

Thank you very much for your last letter. If there's anything that all of us need right now, it's a kind word from home. Same to you, Peter (because you have that fascinating habit of reading post over a person's shoulder).

Right. Best of luck at home. Take care, don't you two get blown up, and I'll try to do the same.

Cheers,
Richard