(The British Hospital, Wimereux.)—Is pleased that Oliver is friendly (towards their engagement). Thanks him for the gift of a bag. Discusses her experiences at the hospital. Has been into Boulogne to see Frances and may go to Julian’s funeral tomorrow.
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Transcript
May 27th 1915
My darling one your letters are such a joy to me, I cant tell you what they mean. They usually come about 6.30 or 7 & I collect them then, but usually have to thrust them into my pocket & read them later, about 8.30 when we are having a disgusting meal. Tonight I opened one from Asprey first and of course jumped to the conclusion that you had told Geoffrey & that he was hostile and felt very much dashed, however your letter reassured me, particularly as it brought me the news that Oliver also was friendly. Darling its too divine of you to give me a bag. I shall risk being murdered at night for the sake of it, in order always to use it, tho’ so far the only expense I have to meet is 6d a day in train fares to and from Boulogne. Washing will be another item, but that is yet to come! I cant describe to you how disgusting I’ve become, my hands are far far worse than they ever were in the worst London days, As to “experience” it certainly is completely different, thank God, from anything one has ever seen or imagined before, and up to now I dont believe we have had a really bad rush. However I’ve had the priviledge† of seeing a mans leg turn black almost while one watched it, and be whipped off above the knee! Sometimes I feel I cant bear it, its so dreadfully grim, and unlike the other beastly place there are no alleviations, I mean I cant come to tea with you as I did then. My only fun is toiling into Boulogne in a very slow dusty train and seeing Frances for a quarter of an hour, very depressed because Edwards temperature will keep up to 103, and then toil back. Tomorrow I shall perhaps go to Julian’s funeral {1}. Isnt it ghastly? Yet I believe I should be miserable if I had to go home, I cant help hoping the Norman will sack me after my month as I’m afraid I shall never have the strength of mind to say I must leave. And yet I want to see you quite as much as you do me.
Your letters are the only things I read now, I’ve given up books.
I must go to bed now.
Goodnight my most dearest, dont be sad about yourself, I know you are all right, and you know that my judgement is incomparable! I think you’ve been marvellous about all this considering how bloody it is.
Your loving
Venetia
I’ve not seen so much as a glimpse of Gilbert, or of any real human being.
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{1} Julian Grenfell was wounded near Ypres on 13 May and died from his injuries in the military hospital at Boulogne on the 26th. He was buried in a cemetery above the town two days later. His sister Monica was at this time, like Venetia, a nurse at Wimereux (cf. A1/148).
† Sic.
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