Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton

Letter from Peter Lamprey to W Gunton

Peter Lamprey writes that he has had good news of a wounded colleague but that while he is unhappy with life at Royal Air Force Hixon he is pleased with his new status as a senior non-commissioned officer. He concludes with some banter.

1942-12-24

Envelope and four page handwritten letter

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ELampreyPGuntonW421224

[postmark]

[postage stamp]

Mr. W. Gunton
Machine Room.
Waterlow and Sons Ltd.
Twyford Abbey Road.
Park Royal. N.W.10.
London.

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Reverse of envelope

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1384535. Sgt. Lamprey.
c/o Sergeants Mess.
RAF. Station. Hixon.
Nr. [underlined] Stafford [/underlined]

Dear Unk – Others. Bill Spalding.

Once again I climb into the ring for another round of troub. [sic] I protest against the gross misrepresentation as laid forth in the issue of the “Royal” just received. Tiree was never at any time a love nest. As my letters from there points out, ever [sic] the sheep were shy. And another thing my name is not spelt like a soda water siphon. However once more I send thanks for the letter – the Royal and the cash. Thank Alf Barnes for the stamps and may his parsnips prosper.

Before I forget. I have news of Fred Gunner. He is well and

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[underlined] 2. [/underlined]

has just moved up into the line again after being wounded in the foot in the retreat to Egypt. This was his second spell in hospital as he had been down with dysentery [sic] some while back.

Life - on the whole – has lifted the reins off the horses [sic] neck. From being between the shafts I am now on the tail-board. Not that everything is altogether – shall we say – choice. I had at one time been under the impression that there could not be any more mud about than on some of the other camps I had landed in. I was wrong. This dump is so full of mud that the Southend Corporation have protested against the infringement of their prerogative [sic]. What the hell they put these camps in the arse end of the country for, I don’t [sic] know. You can walk miles

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3.

in any direction and still arrive nowhere – fagged out. Still life is fair to middling and we hope to settle down and raise a fine time.

The big adventure of being a Senior N.C.O. is that they fetch the beer in to you instead of having to go out and fight for it. And quite a decent drop of stuff if I might say so. At present I am lying low and watching points but can be expected to bust [sic] out at any opportunity and really wreck my perfect health. Some of the mob here are pretty good but some of them are not bright enough to be called dim. If I pick some of them in my crew they will have my resignation by first post in the morning.

I hope the three stooges at last realise what can be done

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by hard work and application to duty. Not that they will be this side of the drink for long if I am any judge. I hope to run into them at some time and will give them a few tips on success.

The amount of news from here is sweet F.A. and until something breaks the letters will be full of nothing but blah. Remember me to the mob. Look after this and that.

All the best.

Pete.