Letter 15    From the RAF Radar Station in Portlethen, Scotland

March 17, 1942
 

CTC Headquarters
Eglan Court.
7 Knyveton Rd.
Bournemouth
(Original Return Address was Censored)

March 17, 1942
 

Dear Mom, Dad and All:-

     On night duty again so am knocking out a few lines as I work.
     In my last letter I told you I planned to spend Sunday with some people in [--(censored)--].  I did so with a friend Bill Ducasse, a Canadian.
     We went to 11:00 o'clock Mass at St. Mary's a solemn pontifical High Mass and than went to see the McIlwraiths.  He is pastor of the Church of Scotland in [--(censored)--].  Rather surprising, yes, no?  They asked us who said the Mass and when we described him, told us it was the Monsigneur.  If that isn't tolerance I've never seen it.
     Their two daughters aged about [--(censored)--] sixteen ran out to meet us, Bill having told them about what time to expect us; and I do mean ran out, because they met us about three or four houses down from theirs.  Bill introduced me and we went in.  Mrs. McIlwraith met us inside and gave us a fine welcome indeed.  She then shoo [--(censoring on other side of this page in the original letter destroyed this part on this page)--] stairs to the living room with its big fireplace and easy chairs to chat with the kids and await dinner.  It was just like being home.  The eldest daughter, Margaret, was acting very grown up and youngest one, Jean was asking me numerous questions about America.
     The Reverend came in after a short while and bade me a warm welcome, just as the dinner bell rang downstair.
     We went down and, after the Reverend said Grace, started in on the first course served up by the maid, cream of tomato soup with diced vegetables in it.  This was the first time I'd had any of it over here and the Mrs. insisted on our having a second helping, which we didn't refuse.  We then had some fine roast beef, buttered cabbage, roast potatoes (two helpings each) and bread and butter.  Dessert consisted of custard and prunes.  The cooking was first rate and Mrs. M. reminded me of Mrs. Kroll (except for stature) being sure we were getting enough to eat.  It was sure a fine feed and we were just like members of the family.
     After dinner, we adjourned to the living room again and read the Sunday papers and listened to the radio.  The reverend had to buzz off for an afternoon service, but returned about three-thirty and we had quite a discussion of the war, etc.  About four o'clock a Dr. and his wife dropped in for tea and to meet us, Bill having known them before.  The "Doc" was sure a witty fellow and quite a well-known figure in political and social circles around town, as was the Reverend.  The tea consisted of China tea (rarely used here now because of it's price) and three different kinds of homemade cakes.  Boy oh boy!  Lying around in a big easy chair or the davenport was like being King for a day.  The Doc left about five-thirty and the reverend had to buzz off again so once more we were alone with the kids and Mrs. M.
     We fixed a midget radio they had and listened to it after we got it fixed.  Bill fell asleep on the davenport, much to the girls' amusement, and I read some more papers.  We hadn't had any sleep the night before having worked all night.  Pretty soon the Reverend came back and just as we got discussing the latest news the supper bell rang (about seven).  Scrambled eggs, (real ones), not powdered, toast and jam, scones, fruit cake, and American Coffee (the last can she had, saved for just such occasions) made up the meal.  Once again we retired to the living room with the family and learned all about what the kids were studying in school while they, like Jerry used to, sat on footstools before the fire and did their homework.  The youngest had been out two days of the past week and had to have a written excuse, the importance of which she was trying to impress on her mother.  After they got their homework done they got out their autograph books for us to sign and the youngest was showing me her stamp collection and movie star photographs, etc. just as though I were her brother.  She also does a bit of sketching, like Jerry, and drew a picture of her sister as she sat before the fire.  The evening passed very quickly in this fashion and when it was time for us to leave to catch our bus, the reverend walked to the street car with us to give their touseled Scotty dog an airing.  They bade us return again soon and we made a date to take Mrs. M. and the kids to the movies the following Saturday afternoon.  They also told us they had a spare bedroom and anytime we wanted to stay in town overnight to give them a ring and all would be ready for us.  We got downtown and caught the 10:30 bus back to camp tired, but feeling very well satisfied with the world with our bellies full.  The generosity and hospitality of the people over here is practically unbelievable and really indescribable.  I'm certainly glad I came.
     I was off last evening, Monday, so I took one of the WAAF's on the station here to the "flicks" as they call them here.  We had tea at the theater cafe and then saw Nelson Eddy in the "Chocolate Soldier".  We both liked it, the singing was very good.  The girl, I suppose you're all curious, is a Lancashire lass about Rosemary's size (and age, incidentally) with flaming red hair.  She happened to be on the watch with me so I asked her to go along.  It's nothing serious I assure you, I only met her the day or so before and she's too young at any rate.  There are some very attractive girls on the camp among the thirty or forty here, but I'll take an American gal, anytime, in preference.
Well, so long for now and don't forget to write, all of you.
     By the way, increase the waist about an inch on those pajamas if you haven't already sent them.

  Cheerio.

Bob




Edward Martin stoking the fire while visiting the McIlwraith home (mentioned in the letter)
Bill Ducasse (seated) and Margaret McIlwraithwhile visiting the McIlwraith home in Aberdeen, Scotland
At the entrance to the McIlwraith home while visiting on another ocassion.