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12/26/2015 0 Comments

Letter from the past

The following is a transcript of a letter sent by my uncle, Frank Crookes Pepper, to his three brothers.  It's a glimpse into a past life & a past way of life.  Frank was in Hong Kong when it fell during WW2 & died as a POW aboard the Lisbon Maru in 1942.

Postmark:      Rochester & Chatham, 6pm, 2 Apr 1936
Royal Engineers crest on paper
                                                                                                            Sapper F. Pepper
                                                                                                            202 Part A.Company.
                                                                                                            Chatham
                                                                                                            Kent.
 
Dear Dib Dob, Hettypots & Mug,
Soon I will be enjoying 5 days’ leave for which I will be paid 2/9- a day. This I draw on the day I leave .  I have also been banking a little for a special reason.  I have a nice cab badge for Dib Dob & lots of love for the other two stick-in-the-muds.  Contrive to have all the work done at Easter, don’t stick any on me.

What you think of Sheff. U.  Poor old Arsenal.  I’ll bet it’s a close game.  It’s now 2.15pm. I’ve just been to the Doctor’s for medicine.  I collected the parcel this dinner-time & am overjoyed to find the dates & pomfret cakes in.  Of course the sweet cakes come first (and go first).  How’s the Jowett?  How far has she run, now?  How much milk is Arthur selling, any more?  What are you on with now, on the land?  How are the cows, horses, hens doing? 

Tell Mother the potted beef was grand as was the buttered cake.  I didn’t keep it long enough for any of it to spoil, tell her.  Which of you sent those jokes? There was only 1 I hadn’t read, but the boys enjoyed them.  That announcer looks some guy.  Freddie boy you make me laugh!

When I think of all the work I did on the farm & now compare it with a soldier’s lot I gurgle with glee.  You must be putting some hours in these days.  Soldiers finish work at 3.45pm but for polishing etc (when training only).  After training they get weekend leave, etc. etc., & every week we get Saturday noon & Sunday off.  We go to church Sunday morning, only marching to the band.  Never mind.  If you won’t take my word you won’t.  The N.C.O.s are chums.  We have pillow fights with the Lance corp. next door.  We made him a Spanish bed the other day & he tipped ours over after lights out then came & threatened to put us under charge for being out of bed.
​
Well so-long till next Thursday
from Frank.

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    I spent most of my life not realising I was a writer.  I just thought everybody's minds worked like mine.  On some level I had a vague idea that the conversations with people who weren't there might just put me in the crazy category, so I kept quiet.  Besides, the people in my head were usually more interesting which was never going to win me friends out there in the reality sphere.  Fiction has always seemed to offer more interest than the real world and finally I realised - this is how writers think!  Normal people don't have these thoughts.  So, I had the imagination and the crazy thoughts.  The only thing needed to turn me into a writer was to put pen to paper...  Or, in my case, fingers to keypad.  Here goes!

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