Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel)

by B A Lightfoot

  ‘Aye. Because our lasses are struggling to bring up the kids with next to nothing. I reckon they’ve a better chance if they belong to the posh people like those your Sarah worked for up Pendleton.’

  ‘You might be right. But it’s not your fault. We’re doing a job that we have to do. Let’s just hope that it’s over soon.’

  ‘Yeah. Let’s hope.’ Liam looked wistful and the pain showed in his distant eyes. Suddenly, he cheered himself up a little. ‘Well, we’re half way back now, so that’s something. That mamselle’s kiss made me think about our Brig. We’ve become so hardened by all this lot, Eddie, we forget what a nice kiss from the missus can do for you. You know what I mean, mate. From someone who really cares. It’s something special, isn’t it, their gentleness, the way they smooth the edges off you? You come in from work, all rough-arsed and hairy, and smelling like a mad dog, she gives you a kiss and, wham, you’re in a different world.’

  ‘I suppose with being out here we’ve shut it all out. It’s how we survive. If you didn’t, you’d go mad because you can’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Aye. You’re right. There’s not much room for love and kindness in a place where we’re shooting the bloody heads off each other,’ reflected Liam. ‘I was just so wrapped up in my own misery I wasn’t thinking about Brig and how she’s coping. It must have been a bloody nightmare for her seeing that coffin go down and me nowhere in sight.’

  ‘But she knows what the score is, mate. She knew that you was in Egypt and had no chance of being there.’

  ‘No. I know. There’s not an ounce of spite in her. When I go home she’ll give me a kiss and treat me like a hero. There won’t be a second of blaming me for what happened to Lizzie. She’ll hurt for ever because of it but she’ll just say ‘It’s God’s will’ and get on with it.’

  The two friends settled back into their own thoughts. Liam’s brief experience with the French girl on the station platform had triggered memories of home for both of them. Edward wondered how Laura and the kids were really coping. Liam’s assertion was true. You did miss that tenderness that seemed so alien in this masculine world of bravado and butchery. Laura’s letters were always reassuring about how they were managing and cheerfully encouraging about the children. She told him little stories about what they were doing and how they were developing but she never dwelt on the problems. He knew that she was tough and resourceful and that she would manage somehow. He felt sorry for young Edward, growing up without a father. He’d had to do the same thing, but when he was young he’d always had his older brothers there as breadwinners and to give a guiding hand or a sharp cuff round the ear. Young Edward would just be celebrating his twelfth birthday yet already he was the man of the house and his part time job as an errand boy was proving an invaluable support.

  Edward stared at the carriage windows, now blinding white with the driving snow outside. What sort of a show was this going to be that they were heading towards? They had heard all sorts of stories about what was happening in France and Belgium. They knew about the horrific casualties on both sides and the stalemate that seemed to have developed after the mayhem on the Somme in the summer of 1916. After becoming acclimatized to the heat of Egypt, the weather that they were now passing through was bitingly cold. Memories of the Gallipoli winter, and the thought that this campaign could be even worse, depressed him.

  The large bundle in the corner stirred. ‘What were you just saying about bagging Beattie Brown’s Dad?’ queried Big Charlie.

  ‘Oh it was nowt,’ rejoined Liam, ‘We were just philosophising, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s a bit bloody daft in this weather.’ Big Charlie retreated into his greatcoat.

  Liam turned to Edward, smiling, and said quietly ‘It wasn’t what you think, you know.’

  Edward looked puzzled. ‘What wasn’t what I think, then?’

  ‘You know. The beautiful, busty Beattie. It all started quite – well, fairly – innocently. That Martha Jarvis – the girl from the tripe shop on Ellor Street – kept asking me to go for a walk round The Crescent. Well, I thought, I’m going to look a right Mary Ann here, you know, with the kissing and all that. You didn’t get to learn much about that at our school, did you?’

  ‘No. It certainly wasn’t included in any lessons. The nearest we got to sex education was Miss Brown playing ‘Sweet Lass from Richmond Hill.’ The rest of the time it was ‘Hearts of Oak’ and all that stuff.’

  ‘Well, anyway. I had heard that Beattie was a bit generous in that direction so I thought, her being older and that, she might be willing to give a bit of kissing practice to a needy person. Rather make a fool of myself with Beattie and have done with it than with Martha Jarvis.’

  ‘Right. Did it work?’

  ‘Oh aye. She was very helpful. She sat me on Nitty Norah’s junk stall in the market and kissed me so hard I thought my eyes would pop out. They nearly did after the next kiss. She undid her cardigan right down the front.’

  Edward was aghast. ‘What, in the middle of the market?’

  ‘Oh aye. It was closed though by then. Next thing, she’s dragging my kex off.’

  It was worse. ‘She what …? You didn’t er …? you didn’t … you know? Did you?’

  ‘Aye. I did. I grabbed my toffee apple and bloody scarpered.’

  ***

  The march from the station at Pont Remy, near Abbeville, was through deep, icy slush with freezing sleet driving into their faces. The howling wind explored every opportunity to push frozen fingers down their collars and up their sleeves. The horses at the rear of the line skidded clumsily as their minders tried to calm them and encourage them forward. They whinnied loudly in complaint at the conditions and grew more fractious as the forlorn column of Salford soldiers progressed slowly up the French road.

  These horses, like the men, had spent months in the blistering heat of the Egyptian deserts and were now traumatized by the dramatic change in the weather. The minders had worked with the same team of animals for a long time and, to them, they were like close friends. They hated having to subject the horses to such stressful conditions but all they could do was to cajole them and hope that they would not stray off the road and go down a ditch.

  Eventually, the Battalion arrived at the village of Erondelle where they were split into groups and directed to the different buildings where they were to be billeted. Edward, Liam and Big Charlie were relieved to find that they were to stay in a fairly substantial barn. They had been sleeping in bivouacs since they had enlisted so this accommodation felt quite palatial. The straw was comfortable and infinitely more preferable than the icy mud outside.

  During the next few days the Royal Engineers came and erected a large communal bath. The facility was a novelty for the Lancashire men whose bathing opportunities had been very restricted for the last two years and it was enjoyed with loud enthusiasm. A catering unit was established in the village and the improved rations made the appalling weather more tolerable.

  The issue of steel helmets brought a mixed response from the soldiers whose experience, up to that point, had been limited to cloth hats. Liam, grumbling about wearing tin hats in freezing weather, stuffed it immediately with straw to improve the insulation. The respirators that they were given left many of them puzzled until it was explained that both sides were using gas, the effects of which were, at best, extremely uncomfortable and, at worst, lethal. When they were issued with short Lee Enfield rifles to replace the older, long rifles that they had used for so long the men were fascinated and keen to try them. Liam was quick to point out that they had been designed with him in mind but that Big Charlie should tuck his into his belt like a pistol ‘to save him looking totally stupid.’

  The addition of a number of motorized vehicles and some heavy trench mortars to the Division helped the transformation into a newer, better equipped fighting force. They were being made ready to face an enemy even more formidable than the Turkish soldiers that they had confronted in Gallipoli and Egypt. Th
ere could be no doubting the awesome, destructive power of the German army. The evidence was everywhere. As they progressed through the villages towards the front line, the Lancashire men were sickened and disgusted by the wanton destruction that had been wreaked by the Germans upon the French countryside and its inhabitants as they had retreated back to the Hindenburg Line.

  Not satisfied with the enormous damage that had already been done by the heavy artillery fire from both sides – the roads and fields blown into a lunar landscape and the woods reduced to a few leafless, charred stumps – they had strived to make the countryside as useless as possible to the advancing Allies. They had destroyed orchards and crops in the ground, felled trees that lined the roads, booby-trapped buildings to make them unusable and had blown up bridges to make them impassable.

  The most sickening, and most puzzling, sight for the Salford lads was the pointless desecration of the cemeteries. Smashed gravestones stood like broken teeth though a large marble cross had been allowed to survive. The broken remains of worthy peasants, who had died in peace but had now been exhumed by war, lay scattered and anonymous. The men had seen many dead soldiers over the past two years but seeing body parts of long-dead locals sticking out of destroyed graves filled them with shock and disgust. Liam, the death of his daughter Lizzie still fresh in his mind, collapsed to the floor weeping. Edward muttered a confused prayer to himself whilst Big Charlie, the pain flickering across his ruddy features, bent over Liam and scooped him up. He carried him from the cemetery like a loving father carrying an injured son.

  ***

  29 Myrtle Street

  Cross Lane

  Salford 5

  Great Britain

  22 February 1917

  Dear Dad,

  Thank you for your Christmas letter and the bracelet that you sent me from Egypt. I can’t believe that it is real gold and I don’t think that I should wear it if it is very valuable. Mam said that perhaps I should save it until I am a bit older else people will think our rich uncle has died. I asked her who was the rich uncle and where did he live so that perhaps we could go and see him. Our Ben thought that he might have some cows. But it turned out that it was just one of those figure-of-speech things that grown ups use. Perhaps Mam just doesn’t want to go and see him because we would all need new clothes.

  I think that those flying machines do sound a bit scary. It’s no wonder that the Arabs run away from them. One might fall out of the sky on top of you and then the Arabs would be laughing because they had been sensible.

  Our teacher was telling us that they are making some things that look like massive iron slugs now and that they are sending them to France to help in the war. I hope that they work and that you can come home then. It has been freezing cold this winter because of the war. Our Edward and our Ben go out collecting coal from the railway sidings and sometimes we get coke from the gas works. They brought a back door home last week but Mam made them take it back. She said the people couldn’t have finished with it if it was still hanging up on the hinges.

  Our Sadie didn’t pull Santa’s beard again and she got a nice doll so she was very pleased. But I was more pleased because I got a set of pencils and a pad full of clean sheets of drawing paper which I don’t like to use because it spoils them. They are nice and thick and they are a lovely white colour. I think that new paper always smells special. Our Ben got some lead soldiers that Uncle Jim had made for him and he keeps dreaming that they have come to life and are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him to play with.

  Dad, why are you fighting against the Germans in this war? Teacher said that it started because some Prince from Austria got shot but why did you get dragged into it? She said that we are peacemakers because we run the most powerful Empire in the World so why don’t you just go with your army and tell the Austrians and the others to stop arguing like Mam does with us kids? Mam tells our Edward to keep his nose out of it when other lads are fighting at school because it is nothing to do with him.

  Mam is looking after Edith Hardcastle’s little brother because Mrs Hardcastle has got to go to work now making big guns in Trafford Park. I heard her telling Mam that some of the girls at work write their names and addresses on the guns to see if any soldiers will send them a letter. Mam told Mrs Hardcastle that she had better not try it because she has enough worries as it is without adding to them and that she’d never been right since she’d had the telegram about Mr Hardcastle.

  There is a man comes down our street every Sunday after Sunday School sitting on a bogey because he has got no legs. He sits in the middle of the road singing and then takes his cap round hoping for some money. Mam always gives him a cup of tea and a piece of cake and says ‘There but for the Grace of God. It could be your Dad.’ But it couldn’t because he is the Dad of one of the kids at the Mission and he said that they’ve got no money because he can’t get a job now.

  If you do come home, don’t bring any of those lice because they sound horrid.

  Love

  Laura

  ***

  Erondelle

  France

  6th March 1917

  Dear Pippin,

  I’m glad that you liked your present from Egypt. The Arabs make some beautiful jewellery and I wasn’t sure which to choose. You can wear it as a special treat for me when I do come home. It’s a very complicated situation with this war, Darling, but I’m sure that people in the Government are trying very hard to sort it out. You will just have to believe that we are fighting because we want to make sure that our wives and children can be safe in their homes and because we want our country to be free. I am sorry that it is causing so much upset and difficulty. I just hope that it will be over before too long and then we can all come home.

  I haven’t seen any of these giant slugs yet but I have been told about them. They are called tanks and they have soldiers inside them so that they can’t be shot at. They seem like a good idea but they have been having problems with them because they keep getting stuck in the mud. The weather here has been awful. We have had a lot of snow and it is bitterly cold. We complained about it being so hot in Egypt but I know which we would prefer.

  Mam tells me that you are still doing well at school, particularly in English and Geography. She said that you keep checking in the atlas to see where I have been. You keep working hard, Darling, because your schooling is very important. We want a better future for all our children – both girls and boys. If you have a good education people can’t take advantage of you as easily and you have more confidence. You want to be able to make something of yourself when you grow up. One day you might become a teacher and we will be really proud of you.

  Hopefully, at least, when all this is over we won’t have the same problems in Britain that they will have in France. All around here the villages have been virtually destroyed and people have to move in with others in the houses that are still standing. A lot of families are struggling because their men are away in the army and their houses have been hit by shells. They try to keep everything going as normal if they can. The baker still makes the bread if he can get to an oven and the little bars open and the old men sit outside having a coffee.

  We are staying in a barn on a farm at the moment. The sappers have built us a special bath that can be used by 60 men in an hour. It’s worse than being the last in line for a bath at home but at least that is your own family. They said that they are building quite a lot of these units because some of the soldiers here in France haven’t had a bath for months. In the village the army have fitted out a cinematograph unit like one that I took your Mam to see once up Cross Lane. You would be amazed if you could see it. They have brought some films over from England and we saw our planes shooting down the German airships. We watched a few minutes of Manchester United playing when we went last night. We got very excited when Billy Meredith scored a goal.

  Perhaps you and your Mam could knit me some more socks. Our feet are freezing all the time. I have cut finger holes in my
old ones to use them for mittens.

  Take care of yourself my little one.

  Love

  Dad

  ***

  During the second half of March 1917, the men of the 1/8 Lancashire Fusiliers helped the Royal Engineers to patch up the small French communities and their heavily scarred countryside. They repaired roads and cleared them of debris; they repaired bridges and made houses habitable. Their hearts went out to the devastated families that were struggling to survive in the midst of this mad, destructive warfare, the innocent civilian bystanders who were trying desperately to keep some sanity as the shells thudded into their homes blowing their animals, their livelihoods and their loved ones to smithereens.

  The continuing bad weather, however, began to take its toll on the horses. They struggled to acclimatize after spending so long in Egypt and many of them developed bronchial infections and died. The conditions also took their toll on the soldiers’ equipment with the boots becoming a particular problem for the men working outside all day. They had been issued just before the Battalion had left Egypt but they fell apart in days when exposed to the bleak, wintry weather in France.

  On the 5th April they arrived in Peronne where the Divisional Headquarters was to be established. Virtually every building in the town had been destroyed or badly damaged. The municipal building – L’Hotel de Ville – had survived with its ground floor almost intact, protected by the sturdy, arched colonnade that ran along its front. The five Grecian style columns rose aloofly out of piles of broken masonry and splintered timbers – sad relics of the first floor and roof. Above the colonnade, the departing Germans had fixed a sign with the mocking message ‘Nicht ärgern, nur wundern’ – ‘Don’t be angry, just be amazed.’ Despite its attractions, it was immediately declared out of bounds by the suspicious officers. They knew that, as the most usable building in the town, it might have been packed with high explosive by the departing Germans.