Help Our Heroes: A Military Charity Anthology
Page 21
Did I tell you how amazing it is to fly? Honestly, it’s the best feeling in the world, exhilaration flows through you from the moment you take off until the second you land. Looking out of the aircraft windows, down onto the clouds which looks fluffy enough to try and lay on is surreal. Every now and then, during a break in the clouds, you catch a glimpse of the world below you – houses and vehicles that look like they could only house ants. It’s like being in another world. You tune out the noises of the engines and the people around you, and feel almost alone.
Can you tell I love my job? If I’m honest, I’m a little embarrassed with how sappy I just sounded. In many ways, it’s hard to show emotions, even ones of joy or enthusiasm unless you have a gun in your hand or a beautiful woman in your arms.
Oh, I’m being called out. I’ll try to write again soon. I hope you find some time to write me back and I hope we’ll be able to see each other soon.
Samuel.
:: ::
It wasn’t the most personal of letters, but I still felt guilty for reading it; guilty to the memory of my Grandpa Albert. My grandparents had been in love, even into their old age, always hugging, touching, and teasing one another in the way that only couples could do; it was a relationship I’d often aspired to, and knowing that Nana Betty has someone before him made me feel a bit… unfaithful.
I had no idea who Samuel was, Nana Betty had never spoken of him to me, and I wasn’t sure what to think. I’d always known that both of them had lived through the war, and that they had lives before they met one another after the war had ended, but this, this seemed intrusive.
With a sigh, I put the letter I had just read back into its envelope, and placed all of the letters back into the hat box. I’d decide what to do with them tomorrow; I needed a shower and to get to bed. I was on an early shift in the morning.
The following morning, I woke up feeling worse than when I went to bed. I’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about the letters. I didn’t want to read them, but I also wanted to know more about Nana Betty and her life before marriage and kids. Was it wrong of me to read them, even though they were obviously private?
Moving through the regular morning routine without thinking about it, I got myself ready for work. The only thing I could think about were the pile of letters sitting in the old box on my coffee table. In fact, I’d dreamed about a man in uniform and a young Nana Betty. In an attempt to put it out of my mind, I pulled my uniform on, grabbed my things, and went out to my car ready to start my day.
A busy day at work took my mind off what was waiting for me at home as I dealt with shitty customers with bad attitudes, staff calling in sick, and finally a power cut.
Twenty minutes before the end of my shift, the entire store was plunged into darkness and the sounds of the checkout lanes went silent. Within seconds, the crowd of customers were up in arms, moaning about being late to appointments, or claiming they should receive a discount on their shopping due to the delay. A number of people even came looking for me, as if it were my fault that the entire row of shops was without power.
Almost three hours after the end of my shift, the power was restored in our store and the others affected and I was finally able to leave. I trudged to my car on exhausted legs, and drove home, ready to stuff my face and collapse in a heap on the sofa. A bad night’s sleep and a shitty day at work, I could barely function, but as soon as I walked into the front room of the house, all I could see was the box of letters, waiting for me.
Chapter Two:
16 June 1942
Dearest Betty,
Thank you for writing back, it was great to hear from you. I guess not having to wait two weeks for mail is the one silver lining to being in the same country as the girl you want to hear from during wartime.
Your letter was the only bright light in some very dark days right now. Although my crew have been successful in our missions thus far, others haven’t been so lucky. The sense of mourning for our fallen brothers is strong and thick in the air on the base at the moment, but each and every man here understands that it’s a horrible part of the life we enlisted for; it could happen to any one of us at any time. It sounds morbid to consider this job in that way, but it a way to get through the time we’re at the front line, so to speak.
Some days it’s harder to keep going than others, but each and every day we all wake up, thank God for that, and get on with our work. Even the knowledge that each day could be our last doesn’t deter us from our lives and our duty. Losing friends we consider family makes this whole situation so damn ‘real’ – that sound crazy doesn’t it? War is real, but…
I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, my thoughts have been all over the place the past few days. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be using these letters to you as a form of therapy. I’ll stop now.
From your letter, it sounds like you’ve been so very busy and loving every moment. I do hope the factory is treating you and the other girls well. I’ve heard horror stories from the wives and girlfriends of the others in my battalion about how the women back home are being treated while ‘the menfolk’ are away. I don’t want that to happen to you or your friends.
I’ve been told that we may be being give a weekend off soon, which is unexpected, but I’m not sure whether it’ll be in time for the party you invited me to. I do hope so, I’m in need of a good night out where I don’t need to think about anything to do with aircraft or Adolf Hitler. Once I know for sure, I’ll try to get on the telephone in the mess area and tell you. I know Jimmy’s hoping we can get the time off, so you may want to warn Maggy hahaha.
I don’t know if she told you, but she wrote to him a couple weeks ago, and ever since then, he hasn’t shut up about her. Seriously, even the other guys are fed up with hearing Maggy’s name – no offence to her of course.
Well, I better go and get to sleep. I wanted to get this letter written in time to catch the mail first thing in the morning. Hopefully I’ll see you before you get a chance to write me back.
Yours,
Samuel.
:: ::
Deep in thought, I put the letter down on the table. Samuel’s words were a lot more heartfelt, open, and honest. It made me wonder what Nana Betty’s response to his first letter contained. The tone of Samuel’s words were a lot friendlier rather than the simple information dump that the first letter had been, which made it clear to me that Nana Betty had told him things that had made him open up a bit more.
I knew that Nana Betty had worked in a car factory during the war. Of course, car manufacturing had halted to make way for military vehicles and other equipment. Nana had told me that she sat on a production line stitching seats with about twenty other women. She’d been very proud of her wartime work, and had always been a proud supporter of the armed forces up until the day she died.
Grandpa Albert had been in the army during the war, but hadn’t spoken about it much. Nana Betty said it was because he’d seen some horrible things during his time on the front line in France, had lost far too many friends in front of him.
I could never have imagined what it was like living during times like that, and didn’t particularly want to. Rationing, air raid sirens, and not being sure if anyone you loved would survive the end of the day or week.
Sighing, I put the letter back into the envelope and resisted the temptation to read another. It was late, and my mind was going a mile a minute. I needed to get some sleep, but knew I would lie in the dark thinking about the war and the people who lived through it.
Waking up with a jolt, I fumbled with the lamp on my bedside table. Once the warm light filled the room, I took a look at the clock and saw it was almost three a.m.
Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I tried to work out what had woken me up. I had been dreaming I’d been in London during the war, and an air raid siren had been blaring. Running from a nice warm bed to a local tube station to get underground and protected was the last thing I could remember before waking up.
My fingers twitched as I gazed at the two I had already read, shifting my eyes slowly to the pile I was yet to read. Making the decision to read at least another, regardless of the time, I put my tea down and grabbed the next letter. Before I opened it, I shot off a text to my boss to tell him I was unwell, and wouldn’t be able to make it into work for my shift. Feeling guilty at bailing for the first time my working life, I turned my phone off and opened the envelope.
:: ::
18 July 1942
Dearest Betty,
I have a spare five minutes before we head out for a late-night flight… that’s all I can say, sorry; so, I thought I’d quickly pen you another letter. It’ll only be a short note, but I need to take my mind off what is coming.
I’m so glad me and Jimmy were able to get to London a couple weeks ago. It was the perfect tonic for feeling more and more wound up, and if I’m honest, the best bit was seeing you again. Holding you while we slow danced was the most amazing thing to have happened to me in a long while. You not only looked absolutely beautiful, you smelled gorgeous – is that a strange thing for me to say? I hope not, because it’s one thing that has kept me going the past few days; well, that and the kiss we shared as I walked you home after the party.
Something I never said at the time, and should have, was that I was so honoured when you told me it was your first ever. Never have I felt so overwhelmed with emotion.
Jesus, I’m so sappy, but I make no apologies. You’ve humbled me and made me so happy all at the same time, and I don’t think there’s any way I could ever thank you.
Well, that’s kind of all I wanted to say – I feel guilty I was unable to say it to our face, but it needed to be said.
Yours,
Samuel.
Chapter Three:
Finally, I fell asleep at almost six a.m. I’d stared at the hastily scribbled note that had contained hints at Samuel falling in love with Nana Betty. For almost two hours, I wondered if she’d felt the same, wondered if his feelings were one-sided; I wished I had Nana Betty’s letters to Samuel to get the whole story.
It had been a long time since I’d had a lie in beyond nine a.m., but that morning, I slept in until almost mid-day. Sitting up in bed, feeling completely disorientated, my head pounded from the extra sleep that was at odds with my usual routine. Glad I’d decided to take the day off from work, I made my way to the kitchen, so I could have a cup of strong coffee and some painkillers.
Without hanging around, I went into the living room to where the letters were still where I left them on the table. I picked the next one up and pulled it from the envelope.
:: ::
31 July 1942
Dearest Betty,
Thank you for coming to visit me at the hospital last week. My leg is much better now; I should be cleared for duty very soon, so I can get back to my crew. I still feel so very embarrassed about the entire thing. I’m supposed to be here, defending mine and your country, but I can’t even walk across base without slipping over and spraining my ankle.
Like I told you when you came to see me, the guys in my crew ribbed me relentlessly. Apparently, I’m the only one who would get injured during wartime, but not actually on the front line. Only I could injure myself enough to wind up in bed for almost two weeks. They enjoyed teasing me far too much, and all I could think about was you.
You looked radiant that day, and I can’t rid myself of the mental image of you in that dress you wore; not that I want to. The fella in the bed next to me told me, after you left, that you’re a ‘right looker’ – I’m a bit smug that, not only do I know what that means, but you came to visit me.
Oh, I’m sure you already saw it, but I sent you a copy of the picture the nurse took of us in the gardens of the hospital. I bribed one of my crew with a pack of smokes to develop the roll of film from my camera, and he gave me two copies of that one without me asking him to. I hope you treasure your copy as much as I do mine.
Once I’m discharged from the hospital, I’ll be straight back to the base and back into missions. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to see you again, and I hope I’ll have the time to write to you as regular as I have been.
Yours,
Samuel.
:: ::
There was no photograph in the envelope, nor was it in the hat box the letters had been stored in. I hadn’t expected it to be and decided to rummage through the piles and piles of photos and albums Nana Betty used to have scattered around the house. I’d gathered them all together and squeezed them into a bookcase in the small bedroom. It was a room I hadn’t been in since she had died, and I was dreading setting foot inside it, but I really wanted to know if Nana Betty had kept the photo of Samuel, all this time.
Putting the letter down, I took a deep breath before standing and slowly making my way to the bottom of the stairs. It took me a couple of minutes to gear up the strength to put my foot on the bottom step, and to continue to the very top.
The smallest bedroom had always been used as an office when Grandpa Albert worked from home during his time as an insurance broker, but since he had passed, it was more of a dumping ground that Nana Betty hadn’t bothered keeping on top of. When she had died, it had taken me days to sort through everything, but I managed it, then shut the door without going back inside since.
Opening the door, I paused once more. Everything belonging to both of my grandparents I couldn’t bear to part with was stored in this room. There wasn’t much, but enough to flood me with memories of both good and bad times in my life.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I stepped inside, and closed the door behind me. I went straight to the shelves next to the old desk, and began to pull out all of Nana Betty’s beloved photo albums. My grandmother was meticulous with her organisation of her photographs. Every album was dated, and each photo had a caption listing the names of those in the shot, and the date it was taken. I finally found the album from 1942-3.
So many photos of Nana Betty and her best friend, Aunty Maggy – who obviously wasn’t my aunt, but was as close as. She’d been mentioned in the letters from Samuel, but I hadn’t made the connection until I flicked through the photos of the two women in their youth. I was disappointed when I reached the end and there was no photograph of the elusive Samuel, and I flicked the final page over in frustration. Stuck on the inside of the back cover was an envelope, unsealed.
Carefully, I pulled the contents out. There were a few ticket stubs from train journeys and dances. Then, what I was looking for. A small black and white photograph of Nana Betty smiling radiantly, sitting on a garden bench next to a good looking young man who was sat in a wheelchair, his legs covered with a blanket.
Due to the lack of colour to the picture, I couldn’t tell what colour his eyes and hair were beyond dark, but he was very handsome. He looked nothing like Grandpa Albert who was very fair, and I found myself to be relieved.
Carefully, I put everything back in it’s place, and took the photograph downstairs to where the letters were waiting for me. Now I had a picture reference of the man who wrote to my grandmother.
:: ::
19 August 1942
Dearest Betty,
Just another quick note. Myself and my crew have just returned from another successful mission, and I wanted to speak to someone other than the guys. I know writing a letter isn’t the same as speaking face to face, but it’ll have to do for now.
I received a package from my parents this week. Full of my favorite candy and other things. I’ve included some of the candy for you to share with Maggy and your other friends. I know, thanks to rationing, that you don’t get much chocolate and oth
er candy. It’s not much, but I hope you enjoy it.
Me and Jimmy may be back in London soon, but we’re unsure at the moment. I wanted to let you know. I really miss you and can’t wait to be back with you. Hopefully, I’ll have the time to take you out for a proper date. I’ve been saving all my pay so we can get dinner, and maybe head to a theatre to watch a movie. Without Jimmy and Maggy, if that’s okay with you. I love that red-haired idiot, but I would love some time with just you. I can promise your parents that nothing untoward would happen.
I better sign off. It’s crazy ass o’clock in the morning, and the adrenaline is wearing off. The crash is going to hit hard.
Yours,
Samuel.
To be continued…
I honestly hope you have enjoyed Dearest Betty so far. I will strive to get it completed as quickly as possible, so I am able to release the full novel once the anthology is taken off sale.