Walter Macken

by Ultan Macken

  Bye, bye for the present,

  Kiss my darlings for me,

  As ever,

  Your devoted husband,

  Walter

  In his next letter, Grandfather Macken refers to a very nice gesture being organised on behalf of all soldiers by the YMCA:

  Dear Aggie,

  The YMCA has organised a special league which is setting out to have photographs taken of the families of the soldiers who are too poor to pay to have them taken themselves. There will not be any cost on the families at all. The amateur photographers have volunteered their services free. I think it is one of the nicest acts that has been performed during the war.

  It doesn’t matter where the soldier’s relatives live, in the smallest back street or village in the British Isles, these photographers will reach them. So you can be prepared for a visit within the next fortnight, don’t forget to send one or two to me. If you wish, I think, but I’m not sure, you can have Ivy taken with you, you could say she was my sister, I have put family on the form, I had to fill in. I had a letter from Flossie and Ivy; I will answer them next week.

  You know that Zeppelin that I told you about in my last letter, well it was our guns that hit her, the devil. I bet no more of them will visit Dover, if they can help it; it is the best fortified place in England. I had a beautiful letter from Nannie today that I enclose; you can see that mother is still putting on the poor mouth. I think I’ll ask her to write to you, it can do no harm, besides as she says we can still think of our young days. If you are writing to her say nothing about mother, just treat her doings as a matter not worth noticing.

  Bye for the present,

  How are all the chicks?

  Kiss them for me,

  Your beloved husband,

  Walter

  Later he again refers to his hopes of getting home, although it is clear he had no set date for this. The letter was sent on 29 September and these are some extracts from it:

  Dearest Aggie,

  I suppose by now you have seen the report of the great advance in France and Belgium. This is what I told you about in some of my letters. The newspapers have not been given the full story. We landed 20,000 troops in Ostend over the past eight days. If things go all right, we will have no trench work for the winter, it would do your heart good to hear the guns hammering Ostend like hell for the past three weeks. We can hear them quite plainly.

  Talking of the war, Aggie, I may as well tell you not to be surprised if you see me come home after three weeks, there is a draft of five to six hundred soldiers to be sent to the front next month.

  I had a letter from Nannie asking me if mother could go back along with me from Galway to England. I had a letter from Mary a few days afterwards wanting to know if I’d accompany Mother as far as Manchester, but unfortunately my journey does not take me anywhere near Manchester, so I suggested too, that Mary should meet us at Holyhead. Mary told me in her letter that the Pink Form man is after Thomas, wanting to know why he has not joined the Army; she thinks he is going to volunteer. She also told me that Michael has joined the Canadian contingent, that will mean that the whole Macken family will be in the fun.

  It was five months since my grandfather had left home and he was still hopeful of getting to Galway for his furlough when he wrote the following letter on 7 October 1915:

  Well Aggie,

  Things looked very blue for my six days leave last Sunday as all leave was stopped until further notice and I half expected to be warned for [sent to] the front before a fortnight. But Thank God that cloud has rolled by and I won’t be a bit surprised if I am home in a fortnight from next Monday.

  We sent a draft from here to France on Tuesday morning. I pitied some of the poor fellows; nearly half of them had their six days leave cancelled and a crowd of them who had gone off for two days were recalled.

  I thought there would be a strike on Sunday as every one of them went before the Colonel but all he said to them was that they were unlucky, the poor devils went off singing and shouting just as if nothing has happened. I think there were over seven hundred of them, altogether. There was not a great number left here who are able for the front, so I shouldn’t be surprised if I’m there in about six weeks time.

  You will be glad to know that I got on splendid with my shooting last week. We finished our recruit’s firing on Monday and on Wednesday we started our duty man’s course, which means we have to fire for our pay, or rather for an increase in our pay as they tell us but we never get it, I believe until we have served two years with the colours. We finish our duty man’s course tomorrow (Friday) and even without tomorrow’s firing, I have taken first class points. I only need thirty more points to qualify as a marksman, but I’m afraid I’ll remain as a duty man’s class as my sight is no good at six hundred yards. However, if I remain in the army for two years (which I hope not), I’ll have my pay increased by 6d per day.

  I had a letter at long last from John today, he has gone up very close to the firing line, he wants to know when I’m getting my furlough as he is going to try and be home with me. God, Aggie, wouldn’t it be beautiful.

  I wish to heaven if it were only true and he is going to have himself attached to the field ambulance to which I’ll belong when I get over there, I’m sure Aggie that piece of news will please you. So Aggie, pray your best that he and I meet out there. It would give me heart to fight like the devil if Jack [John’s nickname] were anywhere near.

  He is still talking about getting home in his next letter send on 13 October 1915:

  My dearest Agnes,

  Your very welcome letter arrived here today. I would have received it yesterday only I was on guard from 3 o’clock yesterday until 3 o’clock today. Being on guard is a nice job, Aggie, only at night they are very strict here. Dover at present is a hard place to either get in or out of. In the past week, something had to be done as the whole place swarmed with spies, you can imagine what it was like last night with me being on my first night of guard duty too. I suppose I shall catch it pretty often while I am still here.

  Aggie, I got to my new company last Saturday (3rd Company instead of 8th) and you will be glad to know I’m far happier in it than I have been since I left Galway, the men in my room have all been to the front, some of them have been there twice and expect to get there anytime again.

  Of course they have all been wounded, they are better now, one of them got wounded the same day as poor Pat Power was killed. It would surprise you to hear them talk, much the same as if they were at a football match.

  I have not heard from John since, but I’m expecting to be told off for my furlough anytime next week, and if not it will surely not pass the week following, so Aggie love, I’m all nerves until next week is here. God if you only knew how I look forward to seeing my loved ones and my little cabin again. I have lived and hoped for nothing else for four months. Aggie, I do not give a thought to what happens when I’m leaving you again and I want you Aggie dearest to do the same, it’s time enough to think of that when it comes, let us think of nothing else for the present but my homecoming.

  Did Nannie write to you yet? She threatened to do so in her last letter, I’m not sure if I told you. I had a beautiful cake from her today, poor thing; she’s the only one outside of you, who writes to me, Mrs Macken [his mother] or Miss Brady [a sister-in-law] has not written so far, but never mind, I shall not turn grey with worry.

  I will say no more for the present love. I hope to have definite news next week as to my homecoming so I’ll conclude with love and kisses to you and the kiddies.

  Your devoted and affectionate husband,

  Walter

  P.S. Send me on your photos as soon as you lay your hands on them.

  The next letter, also written in October, also came from Dover:

  Dearest Aggie,

  Your letter, fags and parcels arrived, many thanks. I was just out of fags and money when yours arrived. I would have answered your letter sooner but I had no stamps. I
hope you are not too vexed with me. But in any case, Aggie, even though I didn’t get sent yet, I believe that if all turns out well, I will never fire a shot at the Huns. Everyone here is absolutely certain that the war will be over before the end of October. We were out all night on Friday on trench work and during one of our lectures, the sergeant (he is not long back from the front) told us that the most we’d have to do would be to go out and let all the soldiers there back, he said that in a month’s time or six weeks at the latest, the great movement that we have been waiting for since spring was coming off. The English will have two million soldiers out there for the final push.

  So, Aggie, old pal, keep your heart up, yesterday we sent a batch off to fight the Turks and an order came last night, there were to be no more drafts, the next drafts were being put back for another week or two. Fortunately we were put on trench-digging this week and we go to the training company in a fortnight’s time, so someone must be praying hard for us. Trench-digging, Aggie is blooming hard work. We have breakfast at seven in the morning, start at a quarter to eight and dig away with only one quarter of an hour’s rest until one o’clock, we then come back for dinner and then have to turn out marching until four. About these photos Aggie, I have just sent my pal over to the YMCA to enquire about them.

  He hasn’t come back yet; I’ll see him before I post this.

  By the way, Aggie, I have found a shop in Dover, where I can have three photos, something about the size of a cabinet, taken for four shillings. If you can spare the money, I’ll have them taken but on no account, Aggie, leave yourself short.

  Aggie, excuse me finishing this scribble,

  I feel awfully tired,

  Kiss my kiddies for me,

  Your devoted husband,

  Walter

  I have read these letters many times over the years and one of the fascinating insights that they provide is the way these British soldiers in training seemed to have no money – Walter has to ask his wife to supply him with four shillings to pay for photos and there is a reference to the fact that he does not have any stamps. Another aspect of my grandfather’s war experience that is not that clear from his letters, is whether he actually did get home for a furlough. My father’s own memory suggested that he did. He told me he remembered seeing his father dressed in British army uniform. When I told my mother how my father had told me of his clear memory of this, she doubted whether it was possible that a baby of five months old could remember something like that. However, Winnie Kelly, a next-door neighbour, told me that she believed my father’s memory of this was accurate, as her mother had told her about my grandfather visiting home in his uniform.

  The following letter also appears to confirm that he did get to spend his furlough in Galway with his family, probably towards the end of October 1915, as it explicitly states ‘a week or two before I went home’. He also talks about friends and neighbours, such as Pat Healy, Mrs Griffin and Mrs Flaherty, as if he has just seen them:

  Dover.

  Friday

  My dearest Aggie,

  Your welcome letter received this morning; also paper, I’m sorry to hear that yourself and Wally are sick. I trust in God that you are all right by the time this reaches you. I am not for the front this week, Aggie, in all probability; I will not go there before Christmas. Although we were told yesterday to stand by for a draft to be picked, nothing came of it and last night I was in the quartermaster’s office and I was told there will not be a draft here for at least three months. But it is as well to take all these kind of rumours with reserve; one never knows in the army what is going to happen next. The War Office controls all these kind of matters; whatever they say must be done.

  For my part, Aggie, I’m not much particular about when it comes, I’m ready and with God’s help, I feel that nothing will happen to me and we shall be happy together again.

  Poor Eileen, God help her, she is surely fond of her Daddy. Aggie when the train left the platform that evening, I felt proud of you, knowing how you felt, you were so calm and brave, I assure you it makes my heart light, something told me I will see you all again, and although I felt awful homesick after coming back to Dover, the thought of you on the railway platform made me forget my loneliness.

  I had a letter this week from John about his leave. In fact I believe that all leave from the front has been temporarily stopped. Poor fellow he is unfortunate in his leave. I’m thinking that there will be some big fighting in France shortly from what I read between the lines. I would not be surprised if it came off in four or five weeks time and this is my reason for doubting, whether I shall be here after Xmas.

  Mary [his sister] is becoming good to me lately, a week or two before I went home, she sent me a dozen stamps and this week I had a half-crown postal order from her to buy cigarettes. Talking of cigarettes, I didn’t have to buy a single one since I left Galway thanks to Pat Healy, Miko and Ivy. I’m just on my last packet of woodbines today.

  I haven’t written to thank any of them yet and can’t do it now until Sunday as I’m on guard duty today. I don’t come off guard duty until four or five o’clock tomorrow. I may tell you, none of us are in humour for writing letters after coming off guard duty.

  No more at present, Aggie, give my love to all at the Racquet, remember me to K. and Mrs Griffin and Mrs Flaherty. Trusting you and my pets are well and looking forward to your next letter.

  Your devoted husband,

  Walter

  The next letter is just a fragment of one written not long before he was sent to France. He is worried about his wife and family, as he had not heard from them for three weeks:

  Thursday

  Dearest Aggie,

  Is there anything the matter with you or any of my darlings? You have my heart nearly worn out worrying. If there was anything wrong, you had right to let me know, just fancy three weeks without even a postcard from you. Whether there is anything wrong or not, write immediately, if you have not already written and don’t be afraid to tell me everything.

  In addressing your next letter leave out the 8th Entrenching Battalion as I have just been ordered to join my unit so by the time, you receive this I will have had a taste of what war is like. Address your letter to 4th Battalion, RFBEF (Royal Fusiliers, British Expeditionary Force) and for God’s sake Aggie love, do not leave me much longer without a letter.

  Grandfather Macken wrote the next letter I have on Christmas Day 1915. By this stage he had been sent to France, although he had not yet been to the front line:

  25th December 1915

  A few lines I’m writing to you, to wish you and my darlings all the blessings of the season. I feel very lonely all this week. I have not received one letter from anyone belonging to me. Did you answer my last letter? In any case I cannot blame anyone in particular as I did not give you sufficient address. I thought when I was sent to Rouen that I would be sent up to the firing line a few days or at most a week afterwards. But I’m still here and although we were sent out to join the 4th Battalion, I believe we are to be sent to a different battalion, so I’m afraid if any of you wrote to me, it will be some time before I get the letters, if I ever get them.

  If you have not written before this, do not do so until you hear from me again, I expect to be in the trenches in about three days time. You will be glad to know, I’m sure that I was at Confession and Holy Communion this morning. We had a midnight mass here last night. I lay awake all night thinking of you and the mites. I tell you I prayed more than ever I did in my life that God would bring me back to you all again, yes the longing to see you, was very strong. Please God, I’ll see you all again.

  So in about three of four days time, you can start your prayers in earnest as I shall be having my first tussle with those dogs of Germans. But for God’s sake Aggie, do not worry yourself; it will do neither yourself or our darlings any good.

  How is Mrs O and all at the Racquet? I hope they are all well. Did poor Ursula come out of hospital yet? Remember me to them all. I
have not written to or heard from John since I came out. I don’t want to write to him yet as I’m not sure which part of the line I will be sent to. And now Aggie, I have no more to say at present until I get to my destination. When I get that [sic], I will write to you immediately. Give my love to all at home. Kiss my little pets for me. God bless and keep my darlings safe until I return.

  Goodbye,

  Your devoted husband,

  Walter

  P.S. If you have not yet got my photos, write to Mrs Baldwin, 19 Lawn Road, Dover.

  My grandfather’s next letter was posted in January 1916. There is one thing that comes out very clearly in all my grandfather’s letters – his absolute belief that he would survive the trenches and return home to his family, something his two brothers, John and Tom did, of course. This letter is interesting in that he appears still not to have gone to the front:

  Tuesday 18th January 1916

  My dearest Aggie,

  Your most welcome letter received yesterday. I would have answered it by return but I was working a bit late. I was more than delighted to know that you and the kiddies are well, may God keep you well for me. Poor little Birdie, I’m glad the poor mite wasn’t forgotten on her birthday. Sometimes at night, I lie awake or rather I’m kept awake, no chance of going to sleep, while guns and pretty big ones at that are greeting each other all the time. While lying there wide awake, I think of you and the kiddies and wonder what you may be doing, but isn’t it strange Aggie, I never feel homesick. I only think of when I’ll get home to you all again. I’m glad you were pleased with the card I sent to K. Griffin. Don’t you think she deserved something? I would have sent her a far better and nicer one if I could have got up to the shop where they sell some beauties. However, I may be able to send her something better as a small token of my gratitude. My mother has written me one letter, an answer to the one I wrote her. I acknowledged it and on the face of what you’ve said, it’s the last she’ll hear from me. I feel fairly fed up in that direction, though I might tell you, Aggie, I’m just as well pleased she keeps away. You need not worry about sending me anything, Aggie, if I want anything, I will ask for it, who else would I ask?