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Date: May 19th 1945
Mother and Father
Joseph Moore

R-208467. L.A.C. MOORE, J.L.
#436 SQDN. R.C.A.F.
May 19, 1945

Dear Mom & Dad,

I just received your most welcome letter of May 6th. I was going to write you tonight anyway, and send you this clipping I ran across in "Wings Abroad", the Forces paper we get once in a while. There have been the other articles about us in the "S.E.A.C.", the Forces paper for this theatre, but we only get one paper for each tent of four men. George Scrutton, the "head of our house" got the last article to send home. George, by the way, just got a wire, saying his wife had a son on May 13 and he feels very happy. He's a Kingston boy but spent a few years in the service on the West Coast and married a Vancouver girl. You ask, "will I be coming home now that the war is nearly over." I guess phase one is all over now but as you know, phase two is still going strong and that happens to be the phase that I am tied up in, in case you didn't know. The clipping I'm enclosing will give you an idea of what we've been doing. The underlined name is that of our C.O. [Gordon of Bobcaygeon, ON]. Quite a few of our chaps on the ground got a chance to fly on op's. as crew, handling the supplies. I've often thought about trying to get on, but we are always rather busy with the new engines or sometimes working "bugs" out of old ones. I get the odd test flight, or fly to some other station, if one our kites is U/S someplace. I'm very glad to hear that Gwen is with you at last. I hope Jim doesn't have to stay in England much longer. I wish I could have been at the big "do" you had for Gwen. You shouldn't have put that photo out where it would scare everybody. The account of the menu for the party is just plain torture, Mom, so please don't write things like that. I even think our grub is good once in a while. I wouldn't be surprised if I came back with a dehydrated constitution, though. Tell Gwen to send me one of her pies, no, I guess the trip would ruin it, so I'll have to wait, I guess. I'd have given a lot to have heard your speech, Dad. So you're going to have a big "do" again when I get hitched, eh? Well, the way I feel right now, that won't be for a good many years yet. Marg and I still write regularly, but I am getting sort of fed up writing the same things, practically all the time, and I feel that she is too. If I had stayed in England, I am sure we would be married now, but truthfully speaking, I don't feel as I did a few months ago, and I am beginning to think I am too young to settle down. I feel a lot older since coming over here, but I have had really no fun in life yet. One does an awful lot of thinking in a life like this, Mom, mostly at night, because we get little sleep in this heat. I've been heat. I've been running over a lot of angles such as my returning to England, if & when, the conditions there then, and, of course the financial angle, which is no small matter where marriage is concerned, I'm thinking. Now marriage hasn't exactly been mentioned but our letters have been quite ``jammy" to say the least, and we trade views, likes and dislikes, etc. Now, the farther I look into the future the more I think I should get settled in Canada before thinking about a wife, family, home, etc. I had my life pretty well mapped out before I met Margaret, and then everything was all jumbled up. What should I do? --- Be wise, or be happy, & work things out the best way I can? Sometimes I say to myself, forget you were ever in England. Then I get a letter from Margaret, and, having written letters such as those I wrote soon after leaving her, how can I write, how I feel now, and then maybe when I see her again the fire will start again. Oh, why did I ever learn to write? I shall surely go mad out here unless I figure out a way to extricate myself, or else keep on plugging away with letters and see what happens when this war is over. Well, I guess when you've read all this you'll think your little son is off his rocker, and maybe I am, but that's what a woman does to a guy, and that's that. Do you know, I went out with a very nice girl in Liverpool nearly every night for a month and never thought of her as more than a friend, for I knew I was going to be on my way soon again and then during the last couple of weeks I was introduced to Marg, and that did it. What's the answer? I can't figure it out. Maybe I could just write Marg and tell her to forget about me, or could I? Well it's nearly midnight and my clothes are soaked with sweat & my lamp is running out of oil, I think. I was very sorry to hear of Lewis Wheeler's death. I hope Roy is okay. Hurry up with those pictures. By the way, I received a parcel of candy a while ago and it was just one big mess because of the heat, so please stick to raisins or tin cans. You know I don't care much for candy, more so because of the heat now, so I'll say good night, with love to you both and Gwen.

Your baffled son,

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