Gloucestershire Regiment
2nd Battalion
27th June, 1944
Dear Father,
I hope this letter finds you well. It would be good to hear a word or two, know you were getting on all right back home. There isn’t a day – an hour, really – that goes by that I’m not thinking of you and our Bess and the forest. I did think I might have heard word, Father, especially now that the dipping and the shearing’s long since done. I’m right sorry if I’ve upset you so much by going against your wishes.
I’m on the continent now, not too far from 
apparently. You haven’t seen anything like it, our Dad. The roads are lined with sandbags and the villagers all gone, who knows where. Gives you the willies, it does, to see the ghost of a place like this and know the enemy’s lurking.
Hopefully now the Yanks are involved we’ll be able to push on and see a difference, get this job finished. Joyce tells me there are even Yanks in the forest now; is that right? Seems funny to think of them sprawling all over the place with their big trucks and their chewing gum whilst I’m stuck out here.
I’ll be honest, Father, it’s lonely out here at times. I know it’s my duty, and it’s the right thing to have done. But it’s so different from home, where everyone knew everybody and the rhythm of things stayed the same no matter what. There’s no rhythm here, no rhyme nor reason. The land smells different, the sun casts different shadows, and I feel right exposed without our oaks around. Makes it harder to stay steady when the countryside itself don’t do what you expect it to.
This isn’t how a soldier’s supposed to feel, is it? But I don’t know how a soldier’s supposed to feel. I’m a miner, and a forest boy, and I’m here because of both those things, to fight for King and Country. I just hadn’t reckoned on it getting under my skin so much.
Writing to you, putting the address on them letters; it makes me feel like I’m nearly back there with you. And that’s the thing that keeps me going, if I’m straight about it.
Please write, our Dad.
Your affectionate son,
Billy