Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

Letter from Harold Gorton to his wife

He writes of flying duties, his colleagues, domestic details, the weather and issues with his electric fire.

1943-10-12

Seven handwritten sheets

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EGortonHGortonLCM431012

OFFICERS’ MESS,
ROYAL AIR FORCE,
CARK,
NORTH LANCASHIRE.
TELEPHONE GRANGE 390.
12/10/43
Dearest,
I am having an easy night, but it looks like being long drawn out. I’ve postponed the Nav. until midnight & am getting on with the circuits & bumps, which will finish just before midnight. The Met has been pretty poor lately – they haven’t seemed to know what was going to happen or when, but I hope I’m not kept waiting too long tonight for the various fronts to pass over.
I suppose I shouldn’t grumble, however. I worked last night until 7.15 a.m., but I had Saturday & Sunday off.
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2.
I am carrying on a private war with the Resident Engineer here.
Yesterday morning, as there is no plug in my new room, I got another plug that would fit my electric light. I fixed it up, tried it on the light, & then went to the Mess. At lunch time I heard that the Engineer had been going round all the rooms, confiscating electric fires. Sure enough, when I went back in the afternoon, my fire had gone.
Here is the funny part of the story. My batman saw the Engineer coming round collecting fires, & rushed into my room, disconnected the plug, & put the fire in its box under my bed.
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3
This of course, make my position beautifully secure.
I’m furious with the bloke for stealing my fire. I rang him up yesterday, but he was out, & left a message that if he didn’t return it I’d report him to the C.O. for theft.
The fire wasn’t back today so I went to see the Adj, as the C.O. unfortunately won’t be in tomorrow. The Adj. hedged a bit, because he thinks the C.O. may have authorised the Engineer to take the fires, but it makes no difference to me, as not even an Air Chief Marshall can steal my property. If I don’t get any satisfaction tomorrow I’m going
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4
to put the Service police on the job.
Wednesday 10.0 a.m.
I was going to finish this during the second half of the night, but the midnight Met report was unfavourable, so I scrubbed. I’m hoping to finish it now before the morning post which goes, I think at 10.30.
I got three pairs of socks when I was in Bolton, so am now O.K. for socks. One of my shirts is fraying at the cuff, so I’ll send it to you in a few days time.
Moodie has gone sick, - something to do with his lungs I believe – and is to have an
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5
X-ray exam in Morecambe on Friday. If the results are serious, as they seem likely to be, he may be repatriated, & I may take his place on the Ops ladder, which would mean that I should go in November.
I’m glad you keep finding things to buy. It does me good, to know that you are getting ready for the home we shall have after the war.
I’ve not done anything further about the houses at Cark & Allithwaite as I was waiting for your reply. I don’t really think it’s much use
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6
your setting up house so far away from home when it’s in a part of the world that doesn’t suit you, & the fact that I’m due to go in a couple of months time makes it even less suitable. Anyway, I’ll try & find out if I can get the furnished house on a short tenancy.
The new C.F.I. has come, & seems to be a decent sort & something of a live wire, which will be a change. There’s a rather amusing story connected with his arrival.
Jacob was S.D.O. that night, & it was his job to arrange for the C.F.I. to be collected from the station.
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7
Jake was standing in the Mess & after waiting a long time, said “Where’s that f- C.F.I.? A voice behind him said “Here I am.”
Jake recovering himself quickly, “Oh, have a drink”,
C.F.I. “I don’t drink”,
Jake. “Have a cigarette”
C.F.I. “I don’t smoke.”
Collapse of Jake.
I must try & catch the post now, darling.
All my love.
Harold.