1/9/43.

Dearest Jill;

I’ve just come down here to the ground instruction centre from the mess and I’m suffering acute depression – plus some alcoholism. The cause of my unhappiness is the mail situation, for there have been thirty bags of Canadian mail recieved here in the last two days and I haven’t had so much as a bloody post card. Bloody poor show – isn’t it? I haven’t had a letter from Canada for well over two weeks if not three and I thought you would do better than that even if the family deserted me. Anyway consider yourself severely reprimanded and send me a post card if you still love me, for I am getting very lonely for some word from you darling.

Flying goes pretty well these days, with no more than the usual teething troubles among the crew and surprisingly good weather for our work. We have done all but one of the day cross countries, the remaining one being a 15 thousand foot five hour trip, which I am looking forward to with pleasant anticipation. The next thing is night flying and I’ll be starting that before the end of the week I hope. It has all come back to me surprisingly easily, with all the old pleasure in it, despite some over-fatigue which is only natural and to be expected for a while, until it all becomes instinctive again.

Dick Warr and I have not been able to meet as yet though he is only twenty miles away, but we keep in touch and should be able to get together in Stratford soon. He writes to say he is very well and thoroughly enjoying his work and I imagine he is doing fairly well from some other reports gathered from instructors over in Stratford. Trev and Acky both wish to be remembered to you and both seem to be getting allong fine. Mrs. Rowe also sends her love and hopes you are enjoying your work. She writes to me regularly, still signing herself as “Mummy Appleton” and being her old cheery self despite the fact that she is pretty much confined to home with leg trouble.

There are umpteen other people who inquire after you and send thier regards, so your still in a lot of peoples minds. Pretty popular aren’t you? - and I don’t wonder at that you attractive little bundle of joy. I only wish I had you here to feast my eyes on and tell all my troubles too – and I do need you darling. The longer I stay over here, the more I miss you and when the day of reckoning comes darling we’re going to have a lot to make up for. I can see us quietly slipping off all by ourselves for about six months to draw the principal of time lost, when I get back and that will only be a start – of course we won’t be able to afford that – I know, but I can dream can’t I? Here’s the end of the page sweetheart and so I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you for now with all love my darling.

Your
Den.