12/09/1940

Dear Naomi,

I do hope this finds you well. I’ve had a rather thrilling week - they finally let me take a spin in a Spitfire the other day. She’s an absolute beauty, a proper workhorse. I could rabbit on for hours about her, but I won’t bore you with all the technical bits. The lads here are a good bunch, mostly top blokes, though there are the odd clots, as you’d expect.

I’ve been told more than once to watch what I put in my letters - censorship, they say - so I’m being careful with how much I let slip. I might push my luck a bit once I’m settled in and confident.

Rumor has it the Jerries have been trying out some new tactics. Word is, they’re performing low-level strikes on airfields like ours. Nothing’s happened here yet, but it feels only a matter of time. I must admit, I’m itching to see one of the buggers in the air, and maybe even get a shot in.

Life on base isn’t all glamour, of course. The grub in the mess is a bit of a trial, though one can hardly grumble - there’s a war on, after all. Our squadron is sharing the place with another, and there’s a friendly rivalry brewing over who’s bringing down the most Jerries. At the moment, the other squadron is rubbing it in, twelve to nil.

The countryside around here is quite lovely. Farmland stretches for miles, and there’s a small village not far from the base. The nearest city is a bit of a trek, but I won’t risk mentioning which one. I suppose we’ll only see each other properly when I’m granted leave - I don’t expect it soon, but I’m already counting the days. It’s only been a week, and I miss you terribly.

How are you keeping? How’s your family? My mother has been writing almost daily, and I’m struggling to keep up with her letters. Do give your parents and sister my love.

All my love,
Matthew

Received on the 15/9/1940