Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

He writes about night flying, the weather, and his activities on base at RAF Cark.

1943-07-30

Three handwritten sheets

This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.

EGortonHGortonLCM430730

OFFICERS’ MESS,
ROYAL AIR FORCE,
CARK,
NORTH LANCASHIRE.
TELEPHONE GRANGE 390.
30/7/43
11.35 p.m.,
Dearest,
I’ve just got all the aircraft off, & I thought I’d write to you so that you would get a letter on Monday.
I’ve come across a bit in a book that I can’t resist quoting to you. A chap in Africa sees a white girl & says to himself “This woman comes from the Welsh Marches, somewhere between Ludlow & Ask, where the women have pale skins of an incredible delicacy, & straight eyebrows & serious dark eyes, & a sort of woodland magic of their own.” Don’t you think it’s silly? But it made me laugh, & I thought you might find it amusing.
4.0 p.m. Sat.
I stopped at this point,
[page break]
2
as the night became too hectic to concentrate on writing. I had 10 a/c u/s during the night, changed the runway, & had a Halifax down, as I had my hands full.
It’s very good to be able to work while it’s cool now, but sleep is impossible after about 1.30 p.m as these wooden huts, with inadequate ventilation, are like ovens. I intended going to see Miss Westwood after tea, but since it’s so hot [deleted] sil [/deleted] it seems silly to go out in my thick uniform.
I got a letter from a college friend of mine yesterday. His home is at Ingleton, near Carnforth, & I rang him up, but he wasn’t home on leave.
[page break]
3
He sent me the enclosed book, presumably because we knew both the author & the subject of the book when we were at Oxford. I’m sending it to you because I’ve read it & want to park it.
Otherwise, I don’t think there’s anything more to say except that I wish I were with you, darling.
All my love,
Harold.