W. E. Pidgeon
War Correspondent
c/o Public Relations
1 Aust Corps
Sunday July 24 1945 [22 Jul 1945]
Darling,
It is inconceivably wet and almost cold. Everyone in the camp is on their spines, out of the wet, & either reading, or gazing gloomingly at the fog of rain that surrounds the tents. It has been raining, & raining plenty for the last 2 1/2 hours. It is said that all roads will be closed for the time being as the trucks & God-knows-what vehicles are simply churning them into a sea of mud. Where, yesterday, I was choked & coated with the talc like dust is today a slippery & sloppy morass attended by the suckings and ploppings of boots stepping & out of the mess & the slithering hiss of tyres. Damn me if it hasn’t got worse. Our tent is flooded & the earthen floor lies beneath an inch of swirling water. I got a spade & Eager is trying to dig himself out a bypass channel. His stretcher is likely to float off any minute. A few tents up Dawes & Smythe sit with their feet on their stretchers & peer helplessly at the 3 inches of water & slush beneath them. Noel Adams in our tent takes it all rather philosophically – he can afford to – his bed is perched on the only dry piece of ground in the whole bloody camp.
It is too dull, and uncomfortable to write any more at the moment. The weather stinks and I am as wet as a WC from the hips down. Borneo for rain!
[23 Jul 1945]
Monday. Just prior to afternoon tea time. Today is dry and hot. The correspondents’ spines are still taking a terrible bashing. As far as they are concerned this campaign is over and they are merely waiting to be taken home.
That fellow Newman, Ivan gave me the note to, is on the island but I have not been able to get sufficient means of transport to contact him. I did meet one of the 2nd Seventh who told me, Newman, was here. The fellow that I met was Radcliffe and well remembers that dag “Joe” Gaskin. Also came across Capt. George La Monte – I think you introduced him to me in the early days – he inquired kindly after you and if I recollect alright, the young man. Lt. Arthur Horner, the tall fair artist johnny we had out to tea one night is attached to military history section just down the road.
There’s nothing much to tell you about this island Labuan. It is quite small and is more or less a base area with an air strip. The Japs have been cleared out and there is no excitement apart from the tracking down of mosquitoes and myriads of other winged beasties. I imagine that Victoria Town once the hub of social life, was a picturesque spot in pre war days. Only a couple of brick homes and an old clock tower remain after the invasion bombardment and the demolition by the air force gangs. The native population consists mostly of Chinese farmers. Malayans and Indians, all quite small in stature. The women are slim and on the whole not unattractive whilst occasionally a real beauty will appear for a passing moment. Their build is slim and graceful, their bones delicate and well turned. They dress mostly in a buttoned up to the neck tunic and three quarter length pants – their black hair is always well groomed in plaits and other what you – do – it like styles. Usually the colours are white, pinks, bright blues, and black. All beautifully laundered. Sometimes you see them wearing a vivid puce headgear with a bright green upper garment and getting away with it. The babies are either slung across their backs or carried in exactly the same ways as the cuddler seat manner.
Two bottles of beer and a bottle of gin ration is on today.
Am leaving in the morning for Brunei and down the coast to the oilfields where I should get more stuff than this place offers. We shall see. How’s my little fellow? Has he missed me at all yet? How are you? Not unduly put out about my absence I hope. Does he try to walk yet? Behaving your ‘self? How’s Mum? And a lot of other questions. Lots of love dear and tell Graham I often think of what he may be up to.
Love
Bill
Have had some of my money changed into Straits Settlements money which is the legal currency up here. Am sending you 1 dollar, about 2/11.
[Signature of censor at bottom of letter]
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