In response to "Mavis' Missives" by L.E. Wigman, Chapter 6. He's incorrigible.
March 30, 1944
My Dearest Mummy,
May I still call you that? Being so far from home, Mam or Mum doesn't seem to quite cover the depth of my affection for you. My love for you needs at least two syllables. One simply isn't enough.
How unfortunate that Mavis didn't explain the good fun we were having with our letters back and forth. You know how brothers and sisters are—always trying to provoke one another just for giggles and speaking in their own special language. We were just being a bit silly and I'm afraid we got carried away in an excess of good humour. That's just how we are together, mad as hatters.
So of course everything is perfectly grand here at Stalag 13. If I was into any trouble at all, such as nights in the cooler, fights with hurling sticks, excessive drinking, or being kicked into submission by anyone, I would confide in you. I might have had one black eye and needed a few stitches here and there, and I did have a touch of pneumonia. But you know me, stiff upper lip and all that. This is really nothing worse than I'd have in an ordinary month back home in London, is it?
I do worry about all of you, though. Especially Mavis, who seems to have developed an unnatural fascination for American flyers. How unfortunate that she isn't meeting any solid British chaps. But I suppose all the brave men are soldiers and are off at war. Perhaps all that remains are foreigners who spend their days loafing around London in offices lent to them by the good and noble British people.
I'm surrounded by Americans here, and therefore I am highly attuned to the methods they use to entrap and ensnare young girls. And as you know, I have always been fiercely protective of my sisters. All of them, really, but most especially of Mavis, as she is on the brink of womanhood. Or might have already fallen off the edge. I'm not sure, really, as it's been a few years since I got a good look at her.
It would ease my mind ever so much if you would monitor her post to make sure she is not getting too caught up in correspondence with one of my fellow POWs, a chap called "Hogan." Good fellow, that Hogan, but he's entirely wrong for my favorite sister.
As for my attitude toward Auntie Gwynedd, I'm not quite sure what you're on about. I sent Auntie a lovely letter after Mavis let slip about her unfortunate accident and I didn't mention her drinking once.
I hope you and all six of my darling sisters got my Valentines. It took me hours and hours to make them by hand, and I spent the most time on yours, especially that poem. It had to be perfect because after all, that's what you are to me. Perfect.
And yes, I am attending church regularly in a constant effort to purify my soul and be worthy of your love.
From your eldest son who adores you beyond compare,
Peter
March 31, 1944
Dear Mavis,
I wrote a long, apologetic letter to Mam. Please back me up on everything. You know how madly I love her. I would never want to break her heart. Help?
Perhaps you could just say a few nice things about me. For example, you could say how lovely my Valentines were, or how solicitous I've been about Maggie and Auntie. Or you could detail how helpful I am to other POWs, always cheerfully doing my KP. She doesn't need to know it's the same as Jankers. Or you could say in passing that I so often mention our chaplain's inspiring sermons. Something like that. I trust you to figure it out, Ducks.
Any of these comments would go a long way toward easing my concerns about your interest in certain American officers. Do you think you could talk him into settling in London?
Your favorite brother,
Peter