Nyth Bran,
Capel Curig,
N. Wales.

Tel. Capel Curig 237

My Dearest Love,

Once again I am in the wilds of Wales among the goats that inhabit the heights of Capel Curig (as Elaine puts it).

I had a very good journey coming up and the train was only 3 minutes late in Llandudno which was very good for wartime and snow. The baby was very good and didn’t howl once during the whole journey. Its father a young 2nd lieutenant of 23 was very funny. He first of all asked me if I was a married man (he must have taken you for my wife) and then he said, “It is a great trial being a father”. I roared as the kid was only six weeks old!

I went shooting yesterday and shot like a fool, I fired 8 cartridges and shot 2 pigeons. I was thinking of you the whole time, and almost forgot I was there to shoot the damned things. You have a very demoralising effect on me.

Today I was repairing the duck pond when I heard a far, high clanging call. It struck me I ought to know that call, but I took no notice and then it came to me in a flash “Geese”. I looked up and there high up I saw 16 flying in a perfect V shaped skein, I could tell they had come a long way by their strong, purposeful flight. I watched them until they faded into the red of the sunset, their calls sounding long after they had disappeared from view, a veritable echo of the Arctic wastes that bred them, Greenland, Spitzbergen, the white wastes of (unintelligible), the marshes of Finland, the unnamed locks and estuaries of those far Lafoten islands, where they catch salmon under the unearthly light of the midnight sun. Those were lands which saw those geese last who, in the grey of tomorrow’s dawn will, in all probability, drop in to some quiet green Essex marsh from the stars. It is amazing to think that they travel 4000 miles over sea to winter in England.

Please excuse me if I stop now as I am dead tired and it is tomorrow morning. There is a glorious moon now and Siabod looks marvellous in the moonlight as it is covered with snow. It makes me feel I am in another world, a world where there are no wars, only peace and quietness, a world that will come when Naziism is stamped out, may I be there to see it, yet sometimes I have an odd feeling I shan’t be. I hope it is not true for your sake. Well I must go now. Give my love to Hazel and John I shall write to them to thank them for having me. I would have done so tonight only I am too tired. Well Goodnight, my Dear, and thanks for the memory of Saturday.

Lots of love and kisses

Your Home Guard Sergeant, Hugh.

P.S. I hope you find the poem to your liking.