Letter, September 18, 1940, South Cerney, Gloucs
Flew above the clouds again today, it is so nice and warm there… Really goodnight now my beloved, my wife-to-be. Take good care of yourself – don’t watch these air raids. So glad you still love me: and I do you, as always, for always. Forever and ever and ever with all me, heart, body, mind, soul and strength.
Letter, September 30, South Cerney
Just written to [Bob’s younger brother] Dick to ask him to be best man if he canget the leave. Oh Diana darling, all these little details and preparations bring youand us nearer.
Letter, October 16, South Cerney
By the time you get this I shall have managed to phone up to say that our Saturday off has been cancelled. I tried to phone Mother last night but there was still six hours delay at ten o’clock. I’m going to try again tonight. A piece of news I’ve savedfor you darling… I’ve been told unofficially that I shall get my commission alright when I leave here and have ordered a uniform on the strength of it.
Letter, October 28, South Cerney
I had my last – I hope – flying test today.I think I did alright but it might havebeen better. When we leave here, we get classed as “exceptional”, “above average”, “average” or “below average”. Shaw told me today that he had put me as “exceptional” and said I was supposed to be the best pupil on the course.
Bob passed his exams and was judged of very good character as an “under training pilot”. He is now authorised to wear his wings and awarded a commission as a pilot officer in the RAF Volunteer Reserve. On November 9, 1940, Bob and Diana were married at St Mary’s Church in Little Baddow, Essex, Diana’s home village. Diana’s great friend Patsy made her wedding dress and organised thewedding. Bob was posted to Africa in December 1940, sailing on the Dutch ship MS Meliskirk to Cape Town.
Letter, January 3, 1941
Nineteen forty-one. What’s in store for us this year, what will we be by the end of it? Writing now in the sun-lounge. No sun though and a little draughty. Got my flying eiderdown on and boots and a rug. The captain has just come out of his cabin to call his dog Nora because she keeps barking at us wanting to play games. “Writing love letters?” he asks.
Letter, January 31
Cape Town is now a glow in sight and we expect to land tomorrow… Last night was a surprise one – the captain’s dinner. We all had paper hats, red, white and blue ribbon on the tables and streamers.
Bob was posted to George, a town about 250 miles east along the coast from Cape Town, at No. 61 Air School for navigation and reconnaissance training.
Letter, February 17,George, South Africa
George is a funny place – named after a bastard son of George IV who founded the place… It is delightful to be out here now and would be just ideal for us if I were an instructor here. There is no blackout of course and you have no idea what a joy it is to wander round the lighted streets or sit as I am now on the upper balcony and see the lighted tree-lined road in front of me. If only you were here life would be perfect.
On January 4, 1941, Bob’s younger brother John, a sergeant pilot stationed in Newmarket, was fatally injured on a daytime training flight aboard a Wellington when it crashed.
Letter, February 22, George
Five letters all at once from you on Thursday. Now Saturday. Including the one about John. It seems so odd and far away as if it were someone else’s John and thensuddenly some little detail makes me realise in a bang. The realisation is gradually sinking in though. More than grief I feel blind mad anger overcoming me in waves… I wish I could have been home.
Now there is nothing I can do – no comfort but which will re-open the hurt and the pain. Poor Mother – her eldest brother in the last war, her youngest son in this.
Letter, March 23, George
So tired now darling and so wanting you. I miss you like hell. People out here are amazed at the way we want to get back home: anyway it’s a lovely country and I hate it. Enclose some heather I picked for you on the golf course. I wonder whetherit will survive the journey. In case it doesn’t some was white and some the ordinary colour. Darling, darling I’m going to be home very, very soon if wishing has anything to do with it.
Letter, March 30, George
Forgot to ask you last time that if you have any relatives with binoculars that they don’t use... Coastal Command urgently require them and, if they’d lend them for the duration, they’d be of immense service to me. The trouble is that I can’t guarantee giving them back, but I’d do my best.
Diana sent Bob a letter telling him she had had a miscarriage.
Letter, April 11, George
My dearest – Your telegram arrived yesterday. I’m so sorry, sorry for you, for “it” and for us. But most of all for you. You mustn’t ask for forgiveness, angel, as I’ve nothing to forgive. It’s no more your fault than mine. My only worry is how you are – you really are “absolutely well” aren’t you? You wouldn’t say you were if you weren’t?
Shortly after returning from South Africa, Bob’s posting on flying boats was confirmed and, in March 1942, he moved to RAF Sullom Voe with 210 Squadron. The Shetland Islands were perfect for reconnaissance of the Norwegian coast, and providing cover for Allied ships heading for Russia. By now Diana was pregnant again.
Letter, March 12, 1942, RAF Sullom Voe
My darling, hope you’re not feeling too lonely – luckily I have little time to think but it’s very cold and lonely sleeping alone, although we have a fire in the room… Have you seen a doctor yet? Go up to London if you like and see your aunt’s doctor – I think you would be wise to see one soon.
Letter, March 15, RAF Sullom Voe
How are you feeling darling? Not sick I hope – getting any fatter yet? Don’t swell too much before my next leave which I’m sorry to say won’t be for another three months probably: I was half afraid it would be put off...
Letter, Undated, RAF Sullom Voe
Nobody here (except Tim) knows about your entry for the production stakes: I am keeping it fairly quiet because I ought to be able to spring it as a surprise.
Letter, May 12, RAF Sullom Voe
My angel, your letter arrived last night – unfortunately I couldn’t wire today – Sunday [actually Tuesday] – but will do so tomorrow (midday) unless we’ve gone off before then. Am very contrite and sorry that you have been so letter-starved recently.
But please never worry if you do get a gap for several days or even a week because sometimes we go off for as long as that. Have such sad news for you… Holly [Squadron Leader Frederick Hollins] was killed a few days ago in a crash at you know where. He was doing local flying and, so far, we have no further details…
As usual, the news here is very small and all the same. The only progress recently is in the garden. I’ve not had time to sail again or visit the dam. The seeds are beginning to show and we have great fun speculating on which is which and driving away the sheep, which sometimes get inside the fencing.
Well, my angel, it should only be about a month from now: it seems years and years since I last saw you and yet for me the time has gone quite quickly…
That was Bob’s last letter. On May 16, 1942, after taking off to patrol to the west of Trondheim Fjord his aircraft and crew disappeared, missing in action.
Letter from W/C Walter Hutton, CO, 210 Squadron, to Bob’s father: May 19, RAF Sullom Voe
It is with the deepest regret that I have to tell you that your son has not returned from an operational flight. I am terribly sorry that this should have happened and that I am not able to give you any definite news of him other than that he is missing with his entire crew. I have written to Bob’s wife as he so wished it and in addition to telling her what I have told you I have explained about the disposal of Bob’s effects.
Bob and his crew were officially declared dead in January 1943. Today their names are inscribed on the Air Forces Memorial on top of Cooper’s Hill at Runnymede, Surrey, along with 20,000 others. Bob and Diana’s daughter Penelope Anne was born on October 12, 1942. Her arrival was marked by drama. While walking near Kingsbridge, in Devon, Diana and her mother Connie were targeted by a German fighter.
As the bullets zipped past them, Diana suggested they should take cover but her mother said calmly: “Let’s walk to those rocks, but not so fast that he thinks we’re afraid of him…”
That night Penny was born. On VE Day, Diana visited a family friend, Gladys Foster, who tried to cheer her up over a cup of tea. She said: “Bill Dawkins is home. Why don’t you go over to see him?” Bill’s older brother John was Diana’s brother-in-law. He had returned from fighting the Japanese in Burma. Diana cycled on to Bill’s family home – a ride that would mark the beginning of the next chapter in her life.
They married soon after and, when Bill took up a career in the Colonial Service, Diana and Penny went with him to Sierra Leone. Having returned to the UK, Billdied in 2009 and, shortly before her own death in 2012, aged 91, Diana said she was now looking forward to seeing her two husbands again.
Although she said she hoped they would not fight over her.
