And so my dad’s teenage adventure came to an end.
Monthly Archives: February 2021
Letter from Barrie Erskine to my parents: 1 and 3 February 1943
I recently discovered this letter, which was written from Tunisia 78 years ago, a couple of months before Barrie’s death:
My dear Jack and Zoe,
It is some time since I wrote you my last most depressed letter. I have not as yet heard from you, which is not surprising as the postal services out here are almost non-existent. It is in fact the one genuine grievance that we have.
At the moment I have given two days rest and am at what the Army is pleased to call the Officers’ Rest Centre. In point of fact itr could not be better. I am stopping with two other officers from my unit in an hotel high uop in the hills here in the middle of a huge forest. The hotel itself is very comfortable and run by a Frenchman so we get fresh food, instead of the tinned stuff we usually have.
At present I am sitting in summer sunshine in the forest. The trees are all of medium size, mostly cork trees with the bottom six feet of their bark shaved off. I have found an oak tree, and am actually seated under one with the acorns sticking into me.
Last night for the first time since I came out here, I slept in a proper bed with sheets. I also had my first proper bath. Three of us arrived from my battalion with four bottles of whisky and four of gin, we were taking no chances. Funnily enough the place is called Ain Dramm! Most appropriate. There are also civilians here among whom is a Jew, the Woolworth King of Tunisia, who has a wife and a mistress who all appear to share the same room. Whether or not they actually sleep in the same triple bed, I do not know.
At this point the writer was overcome with hangover and fell to lying on his back, watching the sky through trees.
February 3rd
I am now in an olive grove, we are on the move to what looks like a battle. War is peculiar. We have been out here twelve weeks only now and have only, apart from patrols and shelling, really been in a pitched battle for about three hours. Yet we have had quite a few casualties from this and that. We have long, long periods of inactivity, unfortunately these are not periods of relaxation as there is the continual discipline.
Enough of this wearisome business. When are you going to have a baby*? I imagine it is the only possible improvement God could make to your already perfect marriage. The completeness of being one together must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Later
The sun has just gone down behind a scrub-covered hill, it is getting chilly. A few moments ago, twelve Stukas came over, black against the sky.They dived almost perpendicularly, down, down, the ack-ack opened up all around and they flattened out and turned away, pink in the setting sun, with the gentle cotton-wool puffs of smoke forming around them. They were some distance away and all I could hear was the vroom of their engines. The whole affair was quite lovely, for all the world they might have been moths playing in the firelight. Strange. All that is left now are the widening wisps in the evening air.
We have had a cloudless day and now the sun is setting, a few transparent courtiers have come to pay him their respects before he goes to bed. Some are black, some are blood red, and some are orange. Across the sky from the sun, the night is feeling its purple way upwards.
What do I feel? What do I think? Firstly, thankful for the peace it all brings. Secondly, sad that I am not in love and have noone about to whom I can compare the sunset. (To the latter’s disadvantage) Thirdly, a longing to see you both who care for these things.
The sky is now pale gold, a solemn owl is hooting his curfew.
Good night to you both, you excellent folk.
Barrie.
*Not till the following year!
Filed under Erskine Family
Lee Family History 