Letters, Oct. 23, 1939

(4 of 6)

"Jimmie speaking" was the reply . . . and went on, "I say Kate—have you read your Times yet?" "No, I haven't—why?" "The news looks bad—Russia and Germany have signed a pact. I'm leaving here today and getting back home. It looks bad I tell you and I want to see my uniform is alright." "Well give me a ring before you do go to say 'Goodbye.' " "Alright, Kate—Goodbye." Sank back in my bed and that dull thud, thud in the head overtook me, the thud of wondering, imagining and trying not to wonder and imagine—the thud that has gone on continuously since that morning to this. Captain R. C. got his recall telegram and left, too. The next day was our village regatta on the river finishing with a burst of lovely fireworks on the river—the thud telling one as we watched, those explosions may be bombs and gun fire by next week . . . and they were.

Yesterday, September 20th: Whilst I could still get petrol I raced 76 miles to spend a day and night with my own child. Did I speed! At least when I could, for everywhere on roads and country lanes, one was constantly meeting the troops, lorries, vans, tanks, and fatigue parties. . . .

. . . With characteristic British "refusal to be moved attitude," we all changed for dinner, although it meant sitting in a very cool sitting-room afterwards, without a fire and washing in a pitch dark bathroom, as they had not gotten their curtains back from the cleaners and we couldn't show a light. (Curse Hitler!) . . .

. . . And then I said "goodbye" to my child and fled for home again. Two days before war was declared, the Southampton children were evacuated. Jenny assisted the doctor for two long days inspecting heads, teeth, etc., before these children were sent to billets. We got four—aged 12, 10, 8, 6.

Jenny became nursing sister in charge of the health of the 300 evacuees in the village. Some job! Air-raids we may have, but sick and ailing children one has always. So my car is used to fetch and carry them from the doctor and to take her to minister to them in their homes. I, for my sins, find I am representative of the Wives and Families Association of those serving. In peacetimes (Oh long forgotten times!!) I have really nothing to do, but now!! It is a terrible legal job and I have to see landlords, to wage unequal battles on behalf of these poor women whose allowances do not admit of the high rents in force here. . . .