Now, after causing me so much embarrassment that I have had to move house twice because of the gossiping neighbours, you send me a letter that doesn’t contain a sow’s ear of sincerity in it. All this on top of that dreadful pantomime at the workhouse is almost too much to bear and sometimes I think you care more for your pigeons than you do me. Well I’m sorry to say that they have gone because I couldn’t move house with those as well.
Perhaps now you’ll put more of your attention on to me and understand that I have needs as well. It’s not proving you’re a man throwing around gentlemen of a generous nature who are so thin that you could spit through them without wetting them. I want you to show me you are a proper man, Charlie. Just come home and overwhelm me and give me babies like normal married couples. Now.
Love
Dot
Edward folded the letter thoughtfully and handed it back to Big Charlie. ‘Well, she looks as though she might be happy to have you back, Charlie. Perhaps you should try and get a bit of compassionate leave. Say your Mam’s been taken bad or something.’
‘No,’ said Big Charlie firmly. ‘That would just be a waste of time.’
Edward was slightly taken aback by his friend’s curtness. ‘Why’s that then?’
‘Well, I’d need a long leave. There’s no address on the letter.’
***
Vauchelles
France
9th April 1918
My Darling Little Pippin,
I can’t tell you how nice it was to receive your letter and those from the rest of the family. I have read them over and over again because they give me a lot of strength. We have just had a few very difficult days and reading about life at home helps me to get back to reality. Sometimes it seems a bit hard to think what normal life was like back in England so your letters are a big help. I know that you must be wondering sometimes what on Earth we are doing out here and, when you read about them in the paper, you must think that some of the things that we do are pretty terrible. But please believe me Darling when I say that we are doing what is necessary to defend our freedoms and keep you all safe at home. Our supposed betters have got us into this war and now we must see it through or else the Germans will take over Britain and our Empire and our country will be ruined.
We are not heroes, Darling. We are just ordinary working class men doing what we have to do to build a better future for our children. Please don’t let it be in vain. Try to make the most of your chances and your education. The world won’t change overnight but, please God, the sacrifices being made will be worth something for you and for your children after you.
I think that your Mam is right when she says that the women will not want to give up their jobs when the men come home. The men will have to remember that a lot of women are widows with young families and they will have to work to support themselves. We will all have to work together and then we will build a better future.
I am sorry that you did not have a very good Christmas. We were quite lucky; our Christmas dinner was very nice although we didn’t have it until Boxing Day because we were on duty. We also had a Christmas concert which was organised by a group of the soldiers. They asked me if I would do a song but I think that they might have been sorry if I had done. Some of the men were dressed as women and they were hilarious. They nearly all had moustaches and their voices were too deep but the funniest thing was their dancing. They were falling over their own feet.
I suppose size 10 boots don’t help. We had a comedian who came over from England and he had appeared once at the Hippodrome on Cross Lane and he gave us a good laugh. There was a soldier from Newcastle called Our Willie who played an accordion. He was brilliant. We all enjoyed a good sing-song.
I know this war is not fair, Darling, as you say in your letter, but life does send a lot of challenges that we have to face up to and beat. When we overcome them we gain a new strength which helps us to face the next problems that arise and that makes us better human beings. People who are born with everything have nothing to gain and their lives are the emptier for it. Be brave, my little one, and hopefully soon things will start to get better.
I am really pleased that the socks stopped you getting chilblains. I think that it is really clever of you to knit them because your Mam has told me that it is very difficult to knit on four needles.
Pippin, I want you to do a little favour for me but this must be another little secret between us. Will you have a word with Billy Murphy and ask him if he ever writes a letter to his Dad. I don’t think that he does, so suggest that he writes and tells his Dad the news and also how much he misses him. It could be very important but don’t tell him that I suggested it.
Love
Dad
***
Liam’s mood vacillations seemed to get more extreme. Any form of sporting competition would lift him to an irrepressible level. His wit was sharp and often acerbic and his voice reflected his fever pitch enthusiasm. His energy sparked from him and those around him either allowed themselves to be caught up in it or they wilted under its heat.
When the confrontation was with the enemy, however, whether in hand-to-hand fighting or the more normal artillery bombardment or even just manning the front line trenches, his mood became dark and withdrawn. It was as though some powerful force was pressing in on him, his skin became grey and his eyes flat and empty. For days on end, he would hardly speak to anybody and his friends opted to remain at a comfortable distance. When Major Fforbes-Fosdyke arrived one day so drunk that he could barely dismount from his horse and delivered a lecture full of meaningless platitudes on the need for courage in this noble warfare, Edward could see that Liam was shaking with barely contained anger.
Unfortunately, the Major, misjudging the feelings of deep antagonism felt by the men around him, told them, in a preening, self-congratulatory performance, that he had been mentioned in dispatches and recommended for a MC in recognition of the heroic way he had led the troops in the Battle for Bapaume.
The volcano inside Liam erupted and he waved an accusing finger at the Major as he raged at this injustice. ‘You weren’t even around at Bapaume. You had disappeared like you always do as soon as there is even a whiff of a German,’ he roared. ‘How could you be mentioned for anything when the only action that you ever see is in the bar?’
The red faced and seriously discomfited Major grabbed his batman’s arm. ‘Arrest him and have him charged with treason,’ he ordered.
Liam’s face was now taut with fury and his eyes stared with a dangerous madness. He waved his clenched fist at the Major and screamed in his rage. ‘What about some recognition for the thousands of poor sods who’ve died fighting on the front line? The only decoration that they will get will be a wooden cross.’
Edward put his hand on Liam’s shoulder to restrain him but he shook it off. ‘Our men are having to stick bayonets into German boys with bum fluff on their chins,’ he shouted, now waving both fists, ‘but the only people that you ever killed were British soldiers. Have they mentioned the Hennessy kid in the dispatches? You shouldn’t be decorated, you lily livered bastard, you should be shot for cowardice.’
A stunned silence hung in the air for a moment before others joined in the condemnation of the now twittering, slavering officer. The agitated major, panting like a cornered prey, suddenly took out his pistol and pointed it at Liam. He stepped forward but fortunately the batman’s stray foot impeded his progress and he fell forward accompanied by much laughter and applause from the surrounding soldiers.
The next day the military police arrived and arrested Liam but the case against him collapsed when the only evidence that could be obtained was relating to the Major’s obviously drunken condition.
Liam later went to see the chaplain to discuss his inner turmoil. The letter that he had received from young Billy had thrilled him but it had added to his confusion. The value that his son placed upon him as a father, a mentor and a friend only made him feel less worthy of that role. He felt
inadequate to his son’s expectations of a principled hero. He now felt a deep shame about what he perceived as his own complicity in the destruction of the moral framework that had structured his early life in the Catholic Salford Cathedral and school and that had informed his recent years as a husband and father.
The chaplain was sympathetic but had his own struggles as he tried to preserve a state of grace for vast numbers of British, and occasionally German, deaths. He told Liam that there had been many Christian martyrs who had fought for freedom and justice and they couldn’t just walk away, especially as, at last, the war seemed to be turning in favour of the Allies. However, he reminded him of the importance that the Church placed on the family and the duty that he owed to his wife and children.
Liam had a wailing in his mind that could not escape. When, in his darkest moods, he tried to draw strength from thoughts of his wife he would see her loving grey eyes and he would look for repose in them but they would suddenly be the frightened blue eyes of German boys. Then faces would pass in front of him like the pages of a book. Dark brown faces with shining, passionate eyes; arrogant faces with snarling mouths; pale, white faces with burning hatred in their eyes; haughty, superior faces with steely, disdainful eyes. They had all wanted to kill him first.
***
29 Myrtle Street
Cross Lane
Salford 5
Great Britain
20th May 1918
Dear Dad,
Thank you for the birthday postcard and the present from you and Mam. I am eleven now and I don’t feel much different but Mam said that I am allowed a more grown up dress because I am going to be a young lady soon. Well she actually says that I am a bit of a Madam sometimes, so I suppose that means the same thing.
Dad, what extra things was you allowed to do when you were eleven? Mam said that you were working on the cattle market when you were eleven. Apart from doing my scholarships there’s nothing else that is any different for me because I still have to go downstairs on the tram, I still have to come in for seven o’clock and our Edward won’t let me play cricket with them in Ordsall Park because he says that I’m too young. So what is the point of being more grown up when the only extra thing that I’m allowed to do is to take our Mary to Sunday School?
When I was playing tops in Billy Murphy’s back yard there was a horrible, horrible crying noise from next door’s yard. I was playing tops because you had asked me to go and see him and he has made a top with all patterns on that he has done with different colours of paint out of his shed. It’s really brilliant because when you whip it really hard it goes nearly white. So we got a ladder and climbed up to look over the wall and the man next door was holding some little parcels wrapped in bits of cloth under water in a white bucket. When he saw us he said that he was doing some washing, but the parcels were squeaking and the cat was sat on the lavatory roof crying. Billy said that we should go and tell the police because he was murdering the kittens but his Mam said that perhaps he was just seeing to some rats. I helped Billy write a letter to his Dad. He hadn’t sent him one because he said his Mam wrote and told him everything.
I am good at keeping secrets because I never told anybody, apart from Mam. When I heard Mrs Willoughby telling Mrs Jones about the butcher and the woman who reads palms on Trafford Road, Mam said that I had to keep that a secret and I never told anybody apart from Amy, who is my best friend so that is alright, and you because you are my Dad and you are in France.
I am working hard at school, but we just want you to come back before anything happens to you. Some of the girls at school have Dads who have been killed and I feel a bit frightened when it happens. They stay off school for a bit, which isn’t bad, but after a few days you know that something terrible has happened to them and one of the girls now has all sores on her hands. Mam is missing you as well, and sometimes I hear her crying at night. She says that she has had a bad dream but it’s always more if your letters haven’t arrived. My friend Amy says that we should write to the King and ask him to talk to their King and tell them to stop fighting because our Edward said they belong to the same family. I think it might be better to write to their mother so that she can boss them into stopping.
Our Edward has been chucked by his girlfriend because there was a butcher’s boy from Weaste who had a nicer bike. There is a girl in the top class at Sunday School who told me that she likes him but our Edward said that she is too old because she is nearly sixteen. I think that he is frightened of her because he won’t go down her street now.
Come back soon. Mam says that perhaps I can have another rabbit when you come home.
Love
Laura
***
Sailly
France
14th June 1918
My Darling Pippin,
It was so nice to get your letter this morning and it was just in time because we are moving out of this place tomorrow. We have been doing some training here for the last few days and some young lads have joined us from England. One of them comes from Turner Street where your Grandma lives. Things are looking a bit better over here now. The Germans had a big push at the end of March and took a lot of territory but now we are pushing them back. Everybody is feeling more hopeful now. The Germans seem to be getting a little bit weaker so maybe it won’t be too long before it is all over.
Darling, if you and your Mam get the chance to make some cakes for the men over here they would be very much appreciated. The food is not too bad but it is mostly tins of bully beef and some potatoes or dried biscuits. Occasionally we have a stew or perhaps a bit of tripe. The Army can’t buy anything locally because the land is so devastated by the shelling that there is not enough food for the local people.
It’s very sad when you see the villages. There were lots of beautiful old buildings but now they have been so badly damaged that it will be impossible to restore most of them. I don’t know how the people will go on when all this is finished because the heart is being ripped out of their communities. I am just glad that this hasn’t spread to England. I know things are a bit hard in Salford but we have a better chance of building our futures than the poor people over here.
I was trying to remember what I did when I was eleven and I think that, like you, there was not much difference to when I was ten. I already had a little job on the cattle market and met lots of interesting people. I went to school and I played a lot of football. Your Aunty Sarah used to make me help her to do the washing on a Saturday morning. She used to light the boiler in the cellar and I would pound the clothes in the dolly tub. She used to crack me round the ear if I did it too hard because she said that I would tear them and then I would have to learn how to do stitching. The trouble is that I was always in a hurry so that I could go and play football. I don’t remember feeling any different either. When you are nine then eleven seems very old but when you get to eleven it doesn’t seem much different. Because the change is so gradual you don’t notice it yourself but I haven’t seen you much in the last four years so I know that there has been a big change. I know, both from your letters and from the photo that your Mam sent me, that you are growing up to be a lovely young lady and I am very proud of all of you.
I was sorry to hear about the girls at school who have lost their Dads but I am trying very hard to stay safe and hope it will not be too long before I am home. If you see your Mam looking very sad then put your arms round her neck and give her a big kiss from me. Tell her that the kiss fairy has been with a special delivery from France. Please be brave, my little angel, and pray to God that this terrible war will be over soon so that we can all be together again.
Love
Dad
Chapter 16
Serre 22nd August 1918
The Lancashire Fusiliers had been involved in intense fighting for almost two days and they were tired to the point of dropping. The heat during the day had been oppressive and the Germans had responded to the Allied attacks with massive artillery bombardments, inc
luding thousands of gas shells. But the British and New Zealand troops in the area were enjoying a level of success in taking the fight to the larger German army that they had not seen for years and they were now anxious to drive home this advantage.
They were elated to see the enemy retreating slowly over the land that they had taken four months before and the Germans were paying a high price in casualties. It had taken almost three weeks for the Allies to push them back only four miles but their attack was gaining momentum and they were keen to maintain the impetus. They had waited so long for this moment to arrive that they did not want to let it go and desperate tiredness was held back by adrenaline.
The counter attacks from the Germans had been massive and destructive but the British soldiers were not to be denied. They had repulsed every assault and held all the line that they had gained apart from a patch of high ground known as Beauregard Dovecote. The building that had housed the doves had long since gone and all that remained were the mutilated trees that had once surrounded it.
The Dovecote had no aesthetic merit whatsoever but it had a great strategic importance. It stood on a hill overlooking Miraumont – a small town garrisoned by the Germans as a part of their line which followed the direction of the River Ancre down to Albert. The Allies needed to control Beauregard Dovecote so that they could push through to Miraumont but the Germans were determined to hold on to it.
In a heroic assault on the previous afternoon, the soldiers of the 1/7 Lancashires had taken the Dovecote as a part of the gains made along the whole line. At 2.30am that morning, however, the Germans had launched a thunderous artillery bombardment along the whole of the Allied front around Serre which lasted for almost two hours. In the ensuing counter attack, the British troops had been overwhelmed and the Dovecote was regained by the Germans.
Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel) Page 29