5 December 1936

Dear Mother:

Got your 21 card today. thanks. If I haven't thanked you already for the clothes bag, shoes, etc. - please accept my thanks. I am sure I thanked you before but I might have destroyed the letter and wrote another and then overlooked it.

Our heavy baggage goes Friday night, and we leave Saturday morning. My uniform sure looks snappy. Gold buttons with a little wing on each one. A hat with two wings of gold, etc. The overcoat is $45 alone, so you can imagine the nice material it is made of. We don't get ceremonial dress with sword, etc. This can be rented for state celebrations, etc. I still have doubts about sitting down in my mess kit. The trousers fit like a glove - not trying to be funny. Us tall fellows look all right in these. Our field service cap is smart - just like a cadet cap, but it has gold wings on it. One lovely gold stripe on our sleeves (our very, very high rank) I don't think.

We watched the passing out review of the armies today. It was very spectacular - hundreds of men moving in perfect unison.

Today was really fine. Weather crisp but not too cold - just right for drilling.

In first inspection before Wing Commander my great coat was the only one to pass. The slightest wrinkle in any part of our uniforms and back it went. We spent the whole day getting into kit - first service jacket and one pair of trousers, then great coat with other pair of trousers, and then out of that into mess undress jacket suit and then into mess dress jacket. The Wellingtons are fine when you have them on, but oh! the torture pulling them on or off.

Every so often a squadron of fighters will fly over us in formation, shattering the quietness of everything - even the Flight Sergeant's sweet voice.

A Rolls Royce is so sissy when it comes to noise. It sends a real thrill through us when they flash past in perfect formation, but I believe the Flight Sergeant would like to black them out of the sky so he could get on with his drill.

We have headquarters for Fighter Command here and huge wireless station flashing out orders for the Air Defence of Great Britain - nearly all the chief chaps have wings for flying.

I played billiards with a chap from New Guinea last night - up the R.A.F.

Two squadrons of fighters pulled off a posh show today, and I'm afraid our eyes wandered from the scene of activities.

Well, good bye for now.

Love Bill