Postmark Grantham - Sorrow Consume Me Quiet

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This Day For You

Letter # 2

Postmark Grantham 10:45 a.m.
17 Aug 1945 Linc5

O.C.T.U. Mess
RAF Regt Depot
Belton Park Grantham

TO: Miss Fran
American Red Cross
Bull Hotel Cambridge

Fran Darling,

How are you?

I hope you arrived safely, with baggage complete or should I say cargoe. This huge metropolis of Grantham died today; the whole light of it’s existence faded when you left. It is dark: humanity stumbles blindly through the streets, crying out “Where O’ Prophets is the sun! Sadly the answer comes, sighed on the sobbing breeze, nestled by the gossiping trees, “She has gone! She has gone to Cambridge.” You know darling, I think you had better come back, don’t you. I feel something like a lost pup, what a huge dark world this would be, but for you Fran. Fancy to yourself, the agony of creeping through this dismal hall of life, without the light of an ideal to be your guide, or the warm hand clasp of a friend to comfort you.

Wherever I look, darling, I see eyes, calm, friendly with the understanding of truth in them. They are yours. They haunt me. It must be so, for the warmth of them melts the loneliness in my heart. That’s right heart, beat yourself to death every time I think of her; you silly blighter. Fran I’m going to need a new one soon, this one’s bent. Bill is dead, never again will he hurt you, never and this I know, whether the one true light, kindle to love, or sorrow consume me quiet, one glimpse of it within the tavern caught, better than in the temple lost outright.

That is how I would say it darling, if I were gifted with a golden tongue. But I feel the curse of Bel-Sheddah is on me. I cannot speak effectively with my mouth, only my heart.

I love you, Dave

Read Letter #3

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