At sea;
Dear Stinky;
I’ve written before, I write again, I’m deeply in love with you. The sun literally rises and sets from your brown curls. The bards have set to verse the thoughts which always come of you, ah my leetle dove wouldst but I could be with you now. Time flies, yes and no. When away, it drags as does the flie entangled in molasses. When you are near the hours turn to minutes and the weeks to days. Always my fondest desire to moil for you, and some day twill happen.
Have written before concerning my transfer to the Royal Navy, now can say that I’ve adopted a foo of their customs. The grog served at the noon-day meal. A funny habit, an awkward drink, (3 parts water and one part rum.) , the stuff is definately not a cocktale (?)
Another thing which we (USN) quit when the war started is the wearing of shorts. Ours were as skin compared to these. (Yas, I’m wearing them.) Never let anyone say to you, “There’s a typical Englishman.” Where it started, I can’t say, but tis a bit preposterous. Never much on synonyms, but they are all as different as Americans are. Where our land has the Brooklyneze, Rebels, Texans, Midwesterners, Northerners the English continent seems to contain a similar conglomeration. One understands a chap from Southern Eng. but can’t make heads nor tails of a lad’s speech about the north. I believe every family must have its own dialect. Clipped or burred or rounded, Gad but our version of the King’s English is different. Thier regular Navy men also stay a bit longer than our too! Fifteen bloody years is their first hitch--(Guess you know whose also got only a butt to do yet---caught the pencil underlining in the last book, clever and true. The Navy has very few regulars.)
To bite your neck or lie close and whisper, to laugh and wrestle over nothing, to walk along a wooded path or stop and watch a creek flow by, to light your cigarette or hold your hand in the dark, to crush you to me and kiss the again--these things I long for.
Love,
Kenny Lee
Kenneth Lee Martin SM2/C
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