Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton



Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton


Peter Lamprey writes that his shoulder is better and the sling is off and about cheering on his colleagues running six miles in the rain. He mentions pursuing ladies and the difficulties in hitching lifts. He says that flying has started again.





Six page handwritten letter


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1384535. L.A.C. Lamprey. P.
Hut. X.35. A. Sqdn.
No. 1. Air Crew Wing.
RAF. Yatesbury.

Dear Unk and others.
I should not at any time come the old acid about my letters. If your last note had not had you address on it there would have been nothing to read. However, knowing the trouble they had teaching you to write I don’t blame you easing off in your old age. Life in the bottleneck of the woods is just moving. At least they say it is, but even if it is I can’t notice it. If the place was any more dead it would begin to smell.

As a result of your pleas I have at last written to Bill Smith. This will

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leave you with nothing whatsoever to write about next time. Unless of course your past catches up with you and then you can copy the middle page of the News of. [sic]

The shoulder is a bit better now and I have left the sling off today. If I can only get my fingers round a pass I shall leave this letter and continue it after I return from another night of easy living. The bother will be getting away from the M.O.’s parade as I have had to report every day so far.

The boys did a pretty little six miles in the rain this morning while I stayed behind and cheered. A truly wonderful sight, if I might say so, when they returned. At present I am the most unpopular man in the hut and they are all waiting until I am better again so they can put me on my back at the

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earliest opportunity.

I received the parcel o.k. thanks very much. I don’t know where you get the idea from that I am a peruser [sic] of pornographic literature. Normally I like the action better than the printed word. If it is as good as life in some parts of England or Scotland it should be fairly interesting reading. At the present moment I am engaged in trying my luck with a bit of cookhouse stuff but all I have got so far is big meals. However time is on our side, and if the bloody rain would only lay off for a couple of nights I could show her a lovely view of the stars from the flying field.

Well luck smiled at me and after a bit of bull dozing, the flight passed me a week-end. Everything came off again and once more a good time was had by all.

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The trials of an airman trying to work his thumb on the highways of Britain would make ghastly reading. It is a tale of frustration and fired up feet. I nearly dislocated my elbow thumbing cars that only eased up enough to chase me up the bloody bank. However in the end perseverance won and I arrived safely.

They started us flying again this morning. I had only been up about ten minutes when I was frozen stiff. It took me about three hours to find my googles after we touched the deck. It’s not [smudged] airmen [/smudged] they want it’s Eskimos. The bother in the training kites is you can’t wear your flying gear and your parachute as well and with these pilots I’d wear my harness on the ground.

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The shoulder – according to latest medical advice – is getting on fine and bar for massage twice a day is a great help in keeping the war down to an easy speed. Looking back on things I have picked up more scars in two years than Bro. G. did in all his campaigning, and I haven’t got really going yet. I’d like to get going with the WAAF that does my shoulder but I am just another lump of beef to her. Nevertheless if the shoulder only keeps on wanting attention she will get so used to me that I could find her at night and she’d feel quite at home – only I’d want to do the massage.

This letter unfortunately has been hanging around for quite a while now ad I am afraid I shall have

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to make a valiant effort to get it finished. If anything exciting should happen in between now and the end of war not only will I write to you about it – I’ll illustrate the blasted letter.
You might let me know how the Three Stooges stand up to their invitation into the mysteries of war.

Remember me to the old RIP – Jack Denny – Uncle Jack and all the other stalwarts. Look after Rusty – if you find him any time. Remember me to the engineers and OPA’s.
Best of luck.
[underlined] Pete. [/underlined]
P.S. This time the letter is in.



Peter Lamprey, “Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed April 23, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/6558.

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