by Jean Little
Thank goodness there was a merry-go-round. Jane and Pixie rode it three times and would have gone again if we had given them more money. But every ride cost 5¢.
Jane called the cotton candy “candy floss.” I don’t know why I like it so much. It does not taste like anything else.
Tuesday, May 13, 1941
Last Saturday, a man called Rudolph Hess parachuted into Scotland and gave himself up to the British. He was a great friend of Hitler’s. Nobody understands it. He put his hands up and said, “No bombs on my plane!” Dad says it is astonishing and he is as fascinated as though R.H. were a famous villain. He was lucky not to get shot when he landed like that.
We wanted to go to the show tonight but Mother and Dad said no. They went without us and came home laughing. The movie had Jimmy Stewart and Hedy Lamarr in it. I told Eleanor I thought I was old enough to go and she said Mother and Dad hardly ever get out by themselves and I should think about that. After all, we had been to Frolicland yesterday.
I hate it when I am in the wrong that way.
Last year I would have made a big fuss. Maybe I am growing more mature just the way Eleanor said I would. I would like to believe this but I don’t think it is likely.
Still no letter from George, or Bertie either.
Thursday, May 15, 1941
Boring day. No mail from G or B. If something bad had happened to them, the government would have sent word, wouldn’t they, Diary?
Friday, May 16, 1941
Today Barbara told me that her family got news that the Nazis had arrested thousands of Jews in Paris.
I did not know what to say. It sounds crazy. Wicked too, but also senseless. I know the Steiners have relatives in France. Barbara showed me a picture of two of her cousins once. They looked so small and sweet. Where would the Nazis put so many prisoners? It makes no sense. Do they arrest them just because they are Jews? Why? I can’t understand any of it.
Eleanor is starting to study harder. She will be trying for her Senior Matriculation in June. She’ll have to write nine Departmental exams. They are sent away to be marked by strangers. Your name is not on them, just a number. Being an egghead, Eleanor will pass with flying colours.
Saturday, May 17, 1941
Thirty-five enemy soldiers surrendered to our troops in Ethiopia. Do you suppose they will be sent to Ontario like those other prisoners of war? We are a very long way away from Ethiopia. I looked it up in the atlas. We have cold winters, especially up at the Lakehead. Ethiopia must be hot.
Everyone in the family is worried because we have not heard from George. I told them about Barbara’s cousin Daniel going on a mission and coming back safe and sound and that was a little comfort. But not much.
Sunday, May 18, 1941
Barbara was right to be afraid for the Jewish people. Her family is terribly upset by the news from France. They are still trying to get people out.
I asked her if she wanted to come over for a while but she said she had to go home and be with her mother.
Monday, May 19, 1941
I was positive we would get mail today, but none came. Soon it will be my birthday. If George can write to me then, I am sure he will. I will write to him again right now.
Tuesday, May 20, 1941
I have too much homework, Diary. I’ll get back to you when I catch up. I will not forget you. After all, I’ve written in you for close to a year.
Thursday, May 22, 1941
The Steiners heard that yesterday the Nazis forbade any emigration of Jews from France. What does it mean? Why don’t they just let them leave France if they want to?
No mail from G.
Friday, May 23, 1941
George is missing. I can’t
Later
I must write it down. We got a telegram. George’s ship was torpedoed, but the telegram did not say when. There must have been some survivors. Maybe a lifeboat is missing. If not, the telegram would have said George was lost, wouldn’t it? That is what I keep telling myself.
We want to get in touch with Bertie’s family and see if they have heard anything more. Is Bertie missing too? But we do not know his home address.
Oh, dear Diary, what has happened to them?
Bedtime
Books say mothers will know if their sons are alive. I can’t ask though. Mother looks so white and sick.
Saturday, May 24, 1941
Victoria Day
It is Queen Victoria’s birthday and it would be a holiday if it were a school day. But I cannot write about anything happy. Mother looks pale as a ghost and I don’t think she has slept at all since we heard. Dad’s face is stiff with holding in his feelings, I guess.
Pixie came dashing in to show us her new hair ribbons and I had to smile at her. But underneath, there was just a freezing cold emptiness inside me. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I am glad to go to bed because you can get away from the fear while you sleep.
I remember how terrible it was when the City of Benares was sunk and when Coventry was bombed. But they were like sad stories that made you cry. George being missing is not just a story. George is my brother who woke me up at six o’clock on my birthday phoning long distance.
I can’t help crying, but the tears are not just sad ones. They hurt. They blot the page. And they don’t help the pain go away.
Sunday, May 25, 1941
Afternoon
I can hardly bear to look into Mother’s face. Or Dad’s.
Lizby comes into the kitchen in the morning with red eyes. And Grandpa keeps saying we must not worry because he is praying for George’s safety. But his voice shakes and you can hear how afraid he is.
I am praying too, Grandpa.
And I am afraid.
Evening
The war news makes it worse. The Bismarck sank the British ship Hood. 1416 crew members are lost. Did they tell the sailors’ families they were missing or that they died?
Mother and Eleanor went to church. I couldn’t. I took Jane to Sunday School. I sat there in a sort of blur. They were talking about the lost lamb and how the shepherd searched for it. I like that story but it was hard to bear today. I was glad to get away. On the way home, Jane held my hand.
Monday, May 26, 1941
No news. Oh, Diary, it is so hard to bear.
Tuesday, May 27, 1941
Sam got a letter from Terry. He is still fine even though his family has moved away from the street they used to live on. He said their house was smashed to rubble the night before they left, but they were safe in the Anderson shelter their neighbours dug. Sam was reading the letter out loud because Terry’s writing is hard to decipher. He also said they have had a letter from Alan delivered by the Red Cross.
Sam came to the end and just sat staring at the floor. We all knew he was thinking of George. He feels it as though George is his brother too. He tried to say something and then just left without speaking.
Oh, where is my brother? Is Bertie with him?
Please, God, keep them safe.
Wednesday, May 28, 1941
They sank the Bismarck!
More dead sailors, even if they are Germans. I can’t write about it. I keep picturing them in the water struggling to stay alive.
Thursday, May 29, 1941
George is alive! George is alive!
I have to write it again. It won’t stay shut in my head. George is alive!
That was all the cable said. A letter will follow. It did not mention Bertie. We have so many questions.
But my brother is ALIVE!
Saturday, May 31, 1941
Mother and Dad are overjoyed that George is alive, and they’re frantic with worry, yet they both go right on with their usual lives. I don’t see how they can. Yet we will go to school, which is sort of the same. I don’t think I will learn anything. Miss McColl is kind and never asks to see my homework. Thank goodness the weekend has come.
I wish I could write in tall golden letters that danced up and down on the page
<
br /> Later
No more news yet. No mail on Sunday, of course.
Why can’t they tell us more?
June 1941
Sunday, June 1, 1941
Mother said we should write to George even though we have not heard any more news. He will be waiting for word of home. So we had a letter-writing binge. Jane wrote, and Lizby. Then Aunt Carrie came by and she sat down and added a note too. George is going to be deluged with news from home.
Monday, June 2, 1941
At last, we got a short airmail letter telling us about George. Someone from the hospital wrote. He and his friends were in a lifeboat and then drifted ashore. This happened about two weeks ago. But we still don’t know how they are. The letter said he was as well as could be expected.
I did not know anyone would really say that. It answers none of our million questions. Is he wounded? Will he be all right?
Tuesday, June 3, 1941
We finally heard from George himself. He wrote a line and then dictated the rest to a nurse. He was in that lifeboat for two days! Bertie and four other men were with him. Bertie is alive. George’s left hand was crushed. He says his fingers look like huge bruised sausages. They put leeches on them to suck out the dead blood! He sent his love and will write again.
The person who wrote the words for him said he is doing well. His friend however had a head wound and is still unconscious. She must mean Bertie.
I thought I would throw up when he told about the leeches.
Wednesday, June 4, 1941
Nothing seems real. We are waiting for news from England. Nothing today.
Thursday, June 5, 1941
We got a longer letter written just the day after. It tells about Bertie. He is in the same hospital as George but in a different wing. He is still very ill. He got a bad head wound. He was struck on the head by wreckage. They hauled him to safety and wrapped his head in strips of cloth they tore off clothes.
The nurses wheeled George to visit Bertie. He has not spoken but George is sure he can see and hear.
Later
I was inspired and told Eleanor to post off her best picture right away and she kissed me and ran to get one. It was the new one with her Easter hat and, with it, an old one of her sitting on our front steps looking not so glamorous. Eleanor is wise sometimes. It would be far more comforting to a sick sailor.
But our George is alive!!!!! That is the marvellous thing.
Friday, June 6, 1941
No more letters this afternoon, but we sent a package of candy and cookies. Aunt Carrie put in a box of Laura Secords, every one of them chewy. They are George’s favourites. I like the buttercreams better myself.
In all the excitement about George I forgot to mention that Mother bought me a reversible coat for $5.95. It is an early birthday present. I love it and she says it was a real bargain. It is brown on one side and green on the other. I call it my celebration coat.
There was a parade with six bands on June 1st. It was to get people to buy Victory Bonds. Dad did, although I don’t know how much. I didn’t write about it because we did not go.
There’s a bigger parade coming up and Jane is going to march with her class. It is called a Torch Parade.
I keep sending prayers and good wishes to George and Bertie and writing to tell them about all the goings-on here. I hope it cheers them up.
Later
I was telling about the Torch Parade. It means the torch in the Flanders Fields poem by Colonel John McCrae. It says:
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
I think it means that you have to keep fighting for the dead soldiers even though they are gone. I like the earlier part better about the larks who keep singing even though they can’t be heard because of the thundering of the guns.
There are to be four thousand children in the parade! It will end up at the McCrae House. Dad took me to see that house when I was ten. Is the house part of history? I am not sure about houses. If they have bullet holes in the walls or King Charles slept in them, then they are history, but what if everyday people just lived ordinary lives in them?
George is part of history though, and Daniel and Bertie and Terry’s brother and all the rest.
Saturday, June 7, 1941
Jane is outside with Pixie, bouncing a ball against the side of the house. I just heard her chant,
I’m a little Dutch girl dressed in blue.
Here are some things I like to do.
Salute the Captain. Bow to the Queen.
Turn my back on the dirty submarine.
Fly a spitfire to Paris, France,
And give Mr. Hitler a kick in the pants!
I knew the first part, but I never heard the line about Mr. Hitler getting a kick in the pants. I think they keep making up new words.
Sunday, June 8, 1941
Yesterday we got a letter from a friend of George’s who was on leave when the ship was sunk. He told us there were two dead men in the boat by the time it reached shore. George did not tell us that, but Dad says not to keep asking George to tell us more. He will need time. “Wounds to the spirit like George’s will last long after his body is healed,” he said.
I never heard of this before.
In church, Dr. Gallegher thanked God for George’s deliverance. It made me feel queer thinking about all the others that died.
Monday, June 9, 1941
We got another letter. George told us that Bertie holds Eleanor’s picture up and smiles. He has not spoken yet. His head is still bandaged but not his face. He thinks he saw Bertie kiss the picture but he was not sure. Eleanor blushed and ran out of the room. But she has the letter upstairs.
I wonder when her new photo will reach him.
Tuesday, June 10, 1941
George’s letter also gave us the name of another man who never gets mail because his wife and baby died in the Blitz, so we are writing to him too. It is hard to do but I try to pretend he is just like George.
School keeps going all the time. My birthday is one week away. I actually managed to keep my promise and write in you for twelve months!
Wednesday, June 11, 1941
AMAZING NEWS! Prepare yourself, Diary.
Mr. and Mrs. Browning came to visit George in hospital. And Mrs. Browning is EXPECTING A BABY!!! Jane is going to be a big sister! Sam too, of course. A big brother, I mean. Everyone is flabbergasted. He — or she — is due any day.
The Brownings did not tell Sam and Jane because they didn’t want to upset them and they decided to wait until the baby arrived. But George told them he was sure the kids would be pleased as punch and he was going to “let the cat out of the bag.”
When Dad read that bit, he said that was an unfortunate choice of words on George’s part, as though Mrs. Browning is a bag.
Anyway, Jane and Sam are excited and happy mostly, although it does make them want to go home badly.
Thursday, June 12, 1941
We talk about the baby, all the time.
Jane is looking in our A Name for Baby book. She says she will choose. After Britty and Only, I am not sure this is such a great idea.
Maybe the baby will be born on my birthday! Now that would be great.
Friday, June 13, 1941
Eleanor got a letter from Bertie’s mother! She wrote to thank her for her kindness in writing to Bertie. Eleanor was so surprised and pleased. Bertie’s family comes from Sussex, which is where some of our ancestors lived. She sent a picture of them. He has three little sisters. His father is a postman. Eleanor wrote right back but she had trouble thinking up what to say. I helped.
It was a lovely thing to happen on Friday the 13th, which is supposed to be unlucky.
Saturday, June 14, 1941
The kitten got lost today. We spent all day mopping up Jane’s tears and searching. He had been asleep, shut up in Jane’s dresser drawer. At suppertime he woke up and began to yowl
. It was almost like getting the news that George was alive!
Sunday, June 15, 1941
No exciting news today. My birthday is nearly here. So is the baby’s. As I have already told you, I hate waiting.
Monday, June 16, 1941
Thank goodness I have a new library book to read tonight. I can’t stand the minutes crawling by so S L O W L Y! I am taking my book to bed.
Tuesday, June 17, 1941
Happy Birthday to Charlotte Mary Twiss! I am now thirteen!
Barbara’s mother actually let her come over to my birthday supper this year! And Barbara was lovely to Jane and Sam. Maybe she is maturing too.
I got my reward from Eleanor. I got two. The first was another diary. She laughed when she gave it to me and pretended that it was the big prize. A year ago, I might have been fooled, but I know her better now. So much has happened in our lives during my thirteenth year, just as she said it would.