Biscay by Andrew Shephard
Monday 2 nd October 1944 I still have to pinch myself. A year ago I’d only left Yorkshire once, and that was on a bicycle. Now I’m on my way to Africa in a tin can. The ship, a Dutch trooper, is terribly crowded. I spend most of the day in queues as long as the boat either for meals, chocolate from the shop, or items of kit which are issued as we need them. I haven’t been volunteered for any jobs yet so there’s plenty of time to kill. I can’t send you a letter yet because troop movements are hush-hush. But I feel like I’m talking to you even though you’re far away. Perhaps you will read this one day when I get back home. You don’t need to worry about me. I reckon you are in more danger than me, going to work there in the middle of London. Our bucket is in a convoy of fourteen ships, protected by three destroyers. The food’s better than expected. Yesterday we had bully beef and piccalilli, with real white bread. They showed us a film on Sunday. I saw Random Harvest star...