Dear Mavis, Are You Bloody Well Kidding Me?

by Abracadebra

What happens when Newkirk finds out that his sister has been writing letters to Colonel Hogan-and that the Guv has actually been writing back? Letters from an irritable British corporal happen, that's what. Many thanks for Prolegomenon aka Old English Game for inspiring this response with her very funny "To Colonel RE Hogan" story and to LE Wigman for playing along.

9. Chapter 9: Be My Valentine

This is in response to LE Wigman's "Mavis' Missives," Chapter 4.

FEBRUARY 14, 1944

Dear Mavis,

There's no doubt about it. I am a bad 'un, just as I've always been. Colonel Hogan says I give him more grey hairs than the rest of the camp altogether, and there are 900 of us.

But Mave, it's so bloody dull here, and some loud singing fortified by a wee dram of whiskey never hurt anyone. Remember when Granny used to look after us and spike our tea with a nipperkin or two to quiet us down before bedtime? That's one way to get the kiddies to relax—you might want to keep it in mind if you're stuck with them any longer.

Poor Aunt Gwynedd, I'll drop her a note, though I half wonder if a pint of ale wasn't involved in her tumble. She is a Llywellyn, after all, and we know they can't hold their drink. I quite like writing to the Welsh clan, if only for the entertainment value of daring Colonel Hogan to pronounce the names and addresses. He's absolute rubbish at this one thing and not much else besides drawing and singing, so it's good fun to see him struggle.

Anyhow, he's placed me under strict orders not to consort with the Scots in Barracks 12 unless it's daylight. No mention of the Ulster lads in Barracks 16, though, and St. Patrick's Day is right around the corner. It gives me something to look forward to.

It is really lovely to hear from you, Ducks, and the possibility of getting some of your biscuits is grand. I sent Mam and you and the rest of the sisters some valentines, which I had to make on the sly to avoid being mocked. Drawing, writing and posting seven surreptitious valentines was no small feat, and I hope you received yours, as it was the best of the lot along with Mam's. Well, I did all right with Rita's too, so that's eight.

I got a few valentines back. Rita, of course, is still potty for me. Kathleen's came with a long, droning description of the potato harvest. I really need to introduce her to Carter when she's done being a Land Girl, as I'm quite sure they would talk each other's ears off and not even notice. Maggie worried me a bit with her response. She drew herself as a cheeky little curly headed soldier looking though the sight of a gun and saying "I aim to be your valentine." She's 12 now, is she? Has she gone completely bonkers, or still just slightly mad?

And by the way, you're going to make a marvelous mummy. Just do it in England where I can see you once in a while. If you go to America with "Robert" (Really, Mave?) I don't know what I'll do. Follow you, probably, kicking and screaming all the way.

Love from your first Valentine and don't you bloody well forget it,

Peter

H=H=H=H=H

NOTES: My off-the-boat eastern European grandmother believed strongly in the medicinal value of blackberry brandy for obstreperous children. Just saying that Peter's Granny comes by her inclinations honestly. Kathleen is the third Newkirk sibling from my story "In the Name of the Father." She was borrowed shamelessly (well, with permission) from dust on the wind's superb story, "Esk Road: The Rest of the Family." Maggie, properly known as Margaret, is the eighth of 10 Newkirk siblings from dust's story, but is not yet on the scene in my stories. As dust put, it "Margaret had the art of social dissembling down pat. Or to put it another way, she waited till you weren't paying attention, then put the boot in." That description was enough for me to decide she took after her brother.