Civilian raid deaths in August 1,075—about 35 a day—not too bad….
Sunday is National Prayer-Day. What will the Church pray for, or about? I hope they won’t be too smug and crusadey, but no doubt they will.
I am finding Behind God’s Back68 interesting, especially about the relations in South Africa between British and Boers. How irritating they must both be to each other!
Very much love. Tell Nancy to be ‘grim and gay’ about the raids, as Churchill says. I suppose gay when oneself and friends aren’t hit, grim when they are. I feel rather grim than gay when kept awake at night and finding the Post Office etc. shut by day. I hope the warning system will be revised, it wastes a lot of time now.
E.R.M.
On Wednesday next I am going to a Lunch to hear Harold Nicolson speak on ‘The present prospect’, so may be rather later than last time coming to you.
Sunday [probably 8 September, 1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
... I was lucky to get home by the train I did, as I hear that the Waterloo services were damaged and suspended by bombs quite soon after, and I might have sat in a train for hours. I hear little by little of the various bomb-damages in London—Hoxton again was badly hit, so were streets in Kensington and round Paddington. What a mercy Aunt Mary69 is away! Her house is in the thick of it, and she would have gone raving mad…
I see we mustn’t say much about raids in letters to Canada, or where they did damage—this is a pity, we must make a code with Will. However, he will hear about last night on the wireless and in the papers. I hear some letters have been returned by the Censor for saying too much. How lucky there is no censorship of English letters to England. Someone from Hoxton told me the dead were lying in the streets there among the ruins like on a battlefield. And thousands everywhere homeless. What a horrible business it all is.
I am seeing Middleton Murry to-morrow, a pacifist who says stop the war; I shall get out of him his alternative to war or surrender, if he has one. But he is too snakey to be pinned down, I think. I wish I knew how much there was in that American article on invasion. I am a disbeliever in invasion myself.70 Much love. Take what care of yourself you can in the circs. I have just been told on the telephone that Regent’s Park is ‘black with crashed enemy planes’. I must go and look, but fear they will be like the ones round Liss—a milkman’s dream.
Your loving
E.R.M.
Flat 7, 8, Luxborough St, W.1
Wednesday evening [11 September, 1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
... I hope you aren’t having as noisy a night as we are. It began just as I got home, and has got worse ever since. I never heard such a deafening & continuous pounding. It sounds, of course, in Luxborough St and Paddington St, but they are apt to sound closer than they are. The house rocks—but I read to-day that houses can rock a lot without harm. I went down for a bit and cheered up Mrs Gresty71, and advised her to spend the nights in a shelter for the present. I do hope both that you aren’t getting it badly too, and that you won’t have to go out to-night after those wretchedly ill-timed babies. I hope they all get christened Siren and Air-Raid, to punish them.
Thank you both so much for the 3 eggs. If I had known there were 3 I wouldn’t have taken them all, you can have none left, but it is wonderful to see 3 eggs together, almost a miracle; one is remarkable. I daren’t cook one yet, as it is better not to turn the gas on while bombs are about, I believe, but later in the night, if these pests should recede, I shall. I think they are revenging themselves to-night for the Reichstag and Potsdam,72 which perhaps we should never have touched, it is like throwing stones into a hornets’ nest—oh dear, this is too much I must get my wax balls. I enclose a box of these, I find them a great help (pick the fluff off first). I am expecting my ceiling to collapse, and the furniture from the flat above to come through on to me…. How fantastic life has become. I wonder if London will soon lie in ruins, like Warsaw and Rotterdam. I hear planes hurtling down, I think—I wonder where. It will be interesting to know to-morrow. I rather wish I was ambulancing to-night.
Thursday. After all most of the noise last night was our naval guns, rushing about on lorries and roaring continuously. I hope they’ll go on, though it quite prevents sleep. Margaret has just rung up to know how we both are getting on. Letters take a long time.
Very much love.
E.R.M.
… Oh dear, the night attack has just begun.
Monday [23 September, 1940]73
Thank you so much for your card—almost a miracle, for it left Romford early this morning and reached me this afternoon. I meant to write before this and thank you for the lovely night on Friday. I missed some big smashes close here, which must have made a great noise. They did last night too. I am getting a burying-phobia, result of having seen so many houses and blocks of flats reduced to piles of ruins from which the people can’t be extracted in time to live, and feel I would rather sleep in the street, but know I mustn’t do this. However, to-night is one of my ambulance nights, when I sit in a nice dug-out (when not out driving).... I know a pacifist who makes it his war work to go round the tubes spraying the shelterers with disinfectant in the night—very brave….
I think faith in tables is important.74 I think I shall put my mattress under one sometimes. There is a ruined block of flats near here where the bath is hanging upright over the street; I keep thinking, suppose one was having a bath when the bomb fell, what a scene it would be! I hardly dare undress. I feel like an R.C. nun about it….
Much love.
R.
Thursday [26 September, 1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
I had a great stroke of luck to-day. I went to Selfridge’s again (really about something else) and they told me they had just unearthed 3 more Lilo mattresses from their bombed dept., so I got one. This is really lucky, as they told me yesterday they saw very little prospect of getting any more, and anyhow not for several weeks…. Mrs Gresty thought it a good idea for me to sleep in the passage under the stairs on bad nights, so I will try it to-morrow night.
Last night here was less bad than the one before, I think, but a lot of fire-bombs & fires (also, I gather, in Berlin). From one head-line in a newspaper I thought Quisling had been dropped on us as a bomb; it read ‘Quisling dropped’.75 It would be marvellous if he was, one night….
I have been offered another Home from Home, by the Gollanczs, in Berkshire, any week-end I like, or any other time. People are very kind. But I much prefer Romford, of course; tho’ I would like to see the G.’s sometime, he knows all there is to know and a bit more, so I might spend some Sunday there. But as to burialphobia, I don’t think I shall have it under the stairs; in fact, it is already wearing off, and may have been a passing disease, induced by seeing too many ruins.
The German press says it will now ‘hack us to mincemeat’, and that Churchill is a fiend in human shape—but he has been that for ages, of course, and they should think of a new thing….
Your loving E.R.M.
... I enclose Christian News Letter.76 Now he is off on dancing.77
Saturday [28 September, 1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
Thank you so much for sending me that lovely cape. I shall certainly wear it, and it will be most comforting below the stairs, but I shall count it yours, and return it you later, as you may easily have need of it in bed if ill…. [The] Lilo... is v.g.; I pump it up by mouth, as there are no pumps that fit it, the Lilo pumps having long ago been sold out. I took it to the ambulance station on Thursday night, blew it up, and put it ready for use on the floor, but after all we had a v. busy night, and I went out with an ambulance from 10 till 4 a.m., so never used it. Bombing was v. bad all round that night; I attended an incident in Camden Town—two fallen houses, a great pile of ruins, with all the inhabitants buried deep. The demolition men worked & hacked away very skilfully and patiently, and we all encouraged the people inside, telling them they would be out in a short time, but of course
they weren’t. There was a mother and a crying baby, who were rescued at 10.0 next morning after I had gone. I drove to hospital another mother, who had left two small children under the ruins. I told her they would be out very soon—but they never were, they were killed. The demolition men are splendid—we passed milk down to the baby, and water for the others, and the men kept saying to them ‘It’ll be all right, dear. Don’t you worry’. They are very nice and matey. I like their way of calling every one (including the ambulance women) ‘mate’. So polite, too. One of them was using some language about the bombs that whistled round, when his companion saw me just behind and said ‘Look out, lady here’, and he said ‘Sorry, Miss, excuse my language’. I assured him I felt the same way myself. They are, of course, so used to the job (every night) that they can throw it off when they are relieved, and think about other things—I suppose it is all in the night’s work to them. Perhaps it will be to me sometime, but I am still an amateur at it and it rather gets one down. One wonders all the time how many people are at the moment alive under some ruin, and how much they are suffering in body and mind. But it doesn’t do to think much in these days, or to start wondering what ‘There were a few casualties’ covers. Last night I was at home, and took the Lilo down below stairs, and slept a lot, right through the All Clear. There is much less noise there than upstairs. I was very warm in my sleeping-bag on the Lilo. I do hope you too got some sleep. Was it bad round you yesterday? Planes seem to have crashed down all about South England in the afternoon raid. And South-East bombing this morning. We saw a flight of bombers passing over here yesterday afternoon, but nothing dropped near here till night. Yes, Dakar has set us back badly. De Gaulle obviously misjudged.78 The Senegalese will be badly affected by it….
Very much love.
R.
Thursday [3 October, 1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
I got a bus at once, and rode to Aldgate in 45 minutes. A very ugly ride, of course— how dismal East London is! Very few ruins to be seen; I imagine they are more by the Docks. You see many more on the drive through the City, on the 25 bus—these are really impressive, far more so than the East End, though so much less is said about them, perhaps because they are more damaging to our business life. It makes slow going, as there are so many diversions because of craters. I haven’t had so good a view of them before. I was home by 11.0.
Thank you so much for the night, in your perfectly-appointed house, where the visitor’s life runs on oiled wheels and the visitor is a pampered drone lying on a soft warm couch and waking to news and breakfast, and everything found but beer, as one used to say to servants. It makes a very light spot in the week, particularly of course seeing you, as I am not only out for comfort and physical pleasures. The Christian News Letter is getting much too physical, I consider; this cult of digging and of physical training is more medical than Christian. I shall drop it if it goes on like this much longer.
It looks like being misty again to-night, and we hope for another quiet night. I shall be at the ambulance, where some people get bored by a quiet night and having nothing to do but sit and wait for calls. And if one could be called out to incidents of smash, fire and flood without casualties, as I was the other night, it would be very nice, of course.
Very much love, & to Nancy.
E.R.M.
Wednesday night, 9.45 p.m.
[between 9 October and 27 November, 194°]
Dearest Jeanie,
I had a most odd journey home from Liverpool Street. The Central London tube was so crammed with thousands of shelterers that I couldn’t get near the platform at all, so pushed my way out again, with some difficulty, and took the Metropolitan as far as Moorgate Street, where I had to change for King’s Cross. At King’s Cross, where I got out, I found a raid had begun and the station was locked so that I couldn’t get out, so I had to take a train on the Northern line and get out at Euston, from which I got a lift in a taxi half way home and walked the rest, among bombs and guns and flashes that lit my way. When I got here I found Luxbro’ House deserted except for a policeman guarding the door, and a note from Mrs Gresty the caretaker for me, to say they had been advised to evacuate, because of the bomb nearby. So I am here alone for the night, hoping that if the bomb goes off it won’t break my windows, which I have opened top & bottom. I have been sitting on the stairs by the street door for a time, talking to the policeman and giving him a drink of sherry, which I always keep in the flat for people who drop in. He says he is ‘scared blue’ very often, and so are all the police, firemen, wardens etc. I think he was glad to stand in the doorway and not outside in the street, as the bombs have been falling very near. There are obviously some more fires somewhere. As Mrs Gresty and the others below are away, I half think of taking a mattress down below the stairs and staying there till the fury abates a little. It probably makes no difference, but one feels more comfortable there, and that, as we agreed, is the main thing. The policeman says they are certainly attacking this district rather hard just now—perhaps for the B.B.C., or the Telephone Exchange, or the line of stations between Euston and Paddington.
It was a pathetic sight to see the shelter crowds in the Tube, dossing down so uncomfortably for the night, sitting leaning against a wall, sometimes with a baby in a suit-case (open, of course). I suppose it is the warmth that brings them there instead of to the shelters. The policeman said he thought there was danger of people’s nerves giving way badly, if this goes on much longer. That would be a great disaster, and could make things very difficult.
I expect you have the same horrid zoomers over head that I have (or others like them); sometimes he shuts his engine off before he drops his bombs; the policeman says that is caddish, and perhaps it is, but it is difficult to discriminate in this business, so much of it seems pretty caddish—or rather barbarian, that is an apter word. I do hope you will get some sleep to-night. How appropriate that Xmas card of mine is just now—the one about the scare-fires, I mean, and the watchmen….
Thursday [afternoon, after lunching out]. Another night over: Luxborough still stands. But London is more and more a devastated area, and bicycling to Soho to lunch, diverted at every street by ruins, craters, and ropes, took an incredible time. I must get back now to see how the bomb is getting on. We had a lot of close ones in the night: some more in the High Street, Manchester Square, the Wallace Collection, and other streets near, including nice little Paradise Street by the public gardens opposite me. I think I shall pack some books etc. in a case, it might keep them safer in case of a cataclysm; a few pictures too. Goring says London will be razed to the ground like Warsaw & Rotterdam before they’ve done; but Warsaw and Rotterdam hadn’t got our A.A. or Spitfires…. Very much love. It was nice seeing you.
Your loving E.R.M.
Half the big Oxford St shops are now bombed. What will Aunt Mary do?
Flat 7, 8, Luxborough St, W.1
24 November, [1940]
Dearest Jeanie,
… Gilbert Murray says all the machinery for political and economic federation after the war is in the League. I lunched with him on Thursday; he was very nice, and had his private sugar in a lozenge box, for our apple tart….
I have just listened to Jos. Wedgwood79 on wireless—what nonsense he talked! People aren’t a bit frightened when the warble goes by day. They know it probably means nothing, and they certainly don’t have to restrain themselves with an effort from panicking (I wonder if he does himself). And plenty of people don’t mind showing fear in raids by night, and plenty of people didn’t like to show fear [in the] last war—everything he said was untrue. I always think him silly, rather. I have hired a wireless, and may buy it in the end, if mine doesn’t return, which of course it won’t. So now I can hear the news to-night… and Handel’s Concerto Grosso at 10. I don’t care what any one says about not buying things, a wireless I will have. And I am hoping for the insurance money, which I think I shall probably get, as I think I am insured against larceny (i.e. entering & r
obbing without having to break in).
I am glad to see there are so many complaints in The Times, The Spectator, and elsewhere about the vulgar tone of the [B.B.C.] News bulletins, sneering & taunting & triumphing over the enemy. I think they have improved the last day or two, and perhaps will be cured altogether soon. They are worst about the Italians, I think. I am sorry for the poor little Italian soldiers, having to scamper so fast and so far—not that they aren’t used to it. But to be chased by those fierce Greeks with kilts and knives—I should run like a hare. And then to be jeered at and despised, and cursed by Mussolini. He has sacked 60 officers and more, but that won’t help him.
I am reading an account of the Belgian rout in the Sunday Express, by the American Ambassador then in Belgium.80 He gives a fearful picture of the rout of the French army; they really do seem to have behaved like Italians rather, poor things. Combined with the refugee mob, it must have been a frightful affair….
V. much love.
E.R.M.
Flat 7, 8, Luxborough St, W.181
Wednesday, [11 December, 1940]
... Thank you for wire. I was so glad to hear, as they told me many Romford lines were out of use, including yours, and not why. I do hope your bomb will go off soon and not blow up 254,82 and that you have got out of it the things you most want (including wireless, but I fear this is impossible!). Sunday night here was the worst I have known, I think. Fires & bombs all round; the Poor Institution83 again was hit, and blazed for hours—so did a lot of buildings near. They dropped two land-mines on 2 blocks of flats in [Marylebone] High Street which not only demolished the blocks (15 killed and many more buried, still) but blew out every shop in the street (including the ones where I do my household shopping; it is very sad, I know all the people there well). The street looked extraordinary next day—chemists’ shops perfuming the air with smashed bottles, wine-shops running over, groceries, clothes, furniture, everything, tossed in heaps among the piles of glass. Luxborough House (at least 200 yards away) lost more windows (not mine, thank goodness) and part of the wall between my sitting-room and spare bedroom came down (it was cracked before, by the last bomb). They are building it up again now. I’m glad it wasn’t my bedroom wall. These land-mines are devastating; these were right round the corner of the street, and not really very close, but the noise and shock were like an earthquake. I thought the whole building was down, and ran downstairs to see. Luxborough and Paddington Streets looked like a scene out of Things to Come, all fires, and the Engines so busy they could scarcely get round London. These incendiary explosives are new, and harmless if they fall in a street, as many [of them] die, but much more apt to set buildings on fire than the other incendiaries are. I expect Romford was much the same as us. I rang up next day, but couldn’t get on. Since then, quiet has reigned: what next??? Telephone if you get a chance and let me know how you are, and about the bomb. I won’t come till I hear.
Letters to a Sister Page 9