by June Tate
Thus inspired, Hildy went to an estate agent to enquire about a small furnished flat for herself and spent the afternoon looking at a couple that were available. The second one in the Polygon area was just what she needed, at a rent she could afford so she went to the bank to draw out some money for the deposit and was given the keys.
She walked home filled with determination. She let herself in and went straight upstairs to start packing her clothes. She could hear her mother banging about in the kitchen below, making her presence known, but Hildy ignored the noise and filled two suitcases. Then she carried them downstairs and put them by the door just as Olive stepped out of the kitchen. She looked at the suitcases and then at her daughter.
Taking a deep breath, Hildy said, ‘I’m moving out, Mum. Under the circumstances I think it’s the best thing.’
At that moment there was a knock on the door. It was a taxi Hildy had ordered earlier. She handed the cases to the driver, then a piece of paper and a key to her mother.
‘Here is my address. I’ve got my ration book. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but it’s for the best,’ and she walked out of the door towards the cab. It was only then that Olive found her voice.
‘You selfish little bitch!’ she screamed. ‘Walking out on your own mother just for the sake of sex with some strange man. You’ll live to regret it; see if you don’t!’
Hildy closed the cab door, gave the driver the address and leant back in the seat trying to shut her ears to the abuse that was still being hurled at her.
‘Bad day, love?’ asked the taxi driver.
‘Something like that,’ she said and made him stop at a telephone box so she could call the base and leave a message for Milt with her new address.
That evening, Milt Miller arrived at her flat carrying a bunch of flowers. He gave her a hug and kissed her.
‘Well, when I got your message I was surprised,’ he said. Then looking round the rooms, he added, ‘Nice place, just what you need. Is the rent expensive?’
When she told him, he said, ‘That’s great,’ then taking a bundle of notes out of his pocket he gave them to her saying, ‘this will help you along for a while.’
She looked at them with some surprise and started to decline his offer.
‘Don’t say any more, honey,’ he said. ‘We are engaged, this is the least I can do. I’ll send you more whenever I can, after all, it’s now my place to take care of you.’
Hildy was overwhelmed. Ever since her father had left, she had been the one to take care of her own and her mother’s welfare. She who had to carry the burden that should have been her father’s. Now here was a man who was going to look after her. She put her arms around Milt and kissed him.
‘You have no idea just how much those words mean,’ she told him.
‘I told you, darling, that I had shoulders broad enough to carry all your worries, but now I have to go. I borrowed a jeep so I could come and see you, but I’ve got to go back to camp. I’m not sure when I’m going to be free as we are out on exercises from tomorrow, I’ll be in touch as soon as I get back.’
As he drove away, he knew that very soon they would be shipping out. He wasn’t sure when, but the rumours around the camp had been rife. The top military brass had been meeting to choose the day for the landings, that was all he knew, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t say anything to Hildy. He realised just how difficult the decision to leave her mother must have been for her and no doubt Mrs Dickson wouldn’t have made it any easier, but he was certain it was the right thing for Hildy.
During the next few days, Southampton became swamped with even more troops and vehicles. All along the streets surrounding the docks, tanks and their crew were lined up. As the local population went about their business, they saw the British Red Cross serving the troops hot drinks and sandwiches. Mobile canteens, run by the Church Army cared for the British troops. Every inch of the Empress Docks was filled with landing craft. The prime minister, complete with cigar, visited the troops to boost their morale and take a look at the final preparations for the forthcoming invasion.
Belle had seen little of Jackson Butler as most of the troops had been on exercises and she missed him. Of course leave had been cancelled for others who were also involved with final training, so business was slack.
The bar of the Horse and Groom was almost empty when Belle and Cora were sitting together that lunchtime chatting. Without the customers crowding the bar, the interior seemed even more dark and shabby, the stale smell of beer and tobacco seemed to cling to the walls, despite the fact that the bar doors were open trying to invite any casual drinkers. The pianist in the corner was sitting at the bar drinking a beer as it was hardly worth playing for a handful of people who were not exactly in the mood to celebrate anything.
Looking around the near empty bar, Belle asked, ‘Is it me or is there a strange atmosphere in here today?’
‘Funny,’ Cora replied, ‘I was just thinking the same. It reminds me of the Blitz, you know when you were having your supper waiting for the air raid siren to go, anticipating the worst.’
Belle finished her half of bitter. ‘Come on, love, let’s get out of here; its making me depressed. Let’s go to the pictures, at least that’ll cheer us up.’ So that’s what they did. But the British Pathé news, full of the troops fighting in various fields of battle, did little to lift their spirits.
The troops were at last given twenty-four hour leave. Although no information had been given out, the men knew that the invasion was imminent so they were determined to enjoy what they considered to be their last free time and they were hell-bent on enjoying themselves.
All the pubs around the docks were packed with all nationalities. The military police were out in force as were the local constabulary, ready for unrest, but on the whole, it was trouble free. Yes, there was many a drunken soldier who was taken back to their different camps to sleep off the excess of alcohol, but the others just wanted to enjoy the time they had before being shipped out. To drink and get laid.
The local brasses were kept busy; they too realised that this may be the time to make a pile of money as the men queued for their services. The locals looked on with some amusement at the men standing in line outside various brothels. Others were disgusted saying the area around the town should be cleared by the police and all the prostitutes put behind bars. But the police were aware that would be unwise at this particular time and on the whole if the girls didn’t cause any trouble, they were prepared to look the other way. That’s how it was in wartime.
Cairo Fred drove his girls hard, thinking his cash flow would be sadly affected once the boys sailed across to France, taking their money with them. His girls complained bitterly, but he was not interested, only in the money they earned.
The law was different for those dealing in the black market. Men who dealt in American goods, filtered by the quartermasters who were on the fiddle, were syphoning off as much as they dare whilst they were able to do so. The racketeers loaded their vans. They took everything that was offered, but the local police had several of them under surveillance and pounced on them when their stocks were full. The courts were busy with a waiting list of cases to be dealt with.
As one of the judges remarked during a case, ‘Greed is the downfall of many a criminal.’
At lunchtime, Cora waited in the Lord Roberts for Hank after hearing that leave had at last been given to the men, hoping that he would have a few hours free. She sat nervously waiting and looked up anxiously each time the door opened, until eventually he walked in and hurried over.
Taking hold of her hands he leant forward and kissed her.
‘Gee, Cora, I was so worried I wouldn’t get to see you before we shipped out.’
She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘When are you going?’
‘Nobody knows for sure, but very soon. That’s all I know and this will probably be the last leave I get. I have to be back by midnight.’
Her heart sank, but not wantin
g his last night to be a sad one she forced a smile.
‘If that’s the case, what would you like to do?’
He gazed at her taking in every detail of her face so he could remember each part of it. ‘Let’s have a drink here, then go back to your place. I just want us to be alone.’
As they were sitting quietly together, he gave her an address to write to when he’d gone.
‘Keep those letters coming, Cora, ’cause it’s the only thing that keeps a man going when they are in a war zone. I’ll write back when I can – don’t worry if you don’t hear for a while – mail collection is uncertain.’ He smiled and said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’
When they arrived at her room, they undressed and climbed into bed. Hank drew her into his arms and they just talked for a while and then they made love, taking their time, enjoying every touch, every kiss, unhurried in their need for each other, wanting this moment to last. To be remembered. To be cherished.
To Cora’s delight, he’d brought some eggs and bacon with him which she cooked and they sat and ate together. When eventually it was time for him to leave, they stood in the doorway and clung to each other.
Cora watched him walk away, tears streaming down her face.
Jackson was curled up in bed with Belle on his final leave. She was trying to give him support mentally for what lay ahead, but strangely, he was the one who was the stronger of the two.
‘Don’t you worry none, Belle,’ he told her. ‘Whatever happens to me is in the good Lord’s hands, but if my life is to be over soon, I have no regrets.’ He gazed at her and kissed her cheek softly.
Belle could hardly contain her emotions and with tear-filled eyes she pleaded with him. ‘Jackson, don’t talk that way. I can’t bear it.’
‘Aw come on, honey, don’t you fret none. Whatever happens, if I survive, you know I have to go home after to my family, but I’ll never ever forget you, Belle. As long as I live, I’ll never forget you. But you write like you promised me, won’t you? That way we’ll keep in touch.’
Taking a deep breath, Belle said, ‘Yes, of course I will. But you listen to me, Jackson Butler, you make sure you write back and tell me you’re alive and kicking!’
He burst out laughing. ‘Belle, honey, you forget where I’m from! All my life I’ve been ducking and diving, no old German is gonna take me down – you hear?’
She couldn’t help but smile at his confidence. ‘I hear you loud and clear.’
Two days later, the troops were moving out of the town. The inhabitants of Southampton stood and watched for hours as company after company of troops of all nationalities marched through the streets of Southampton towards the ships waiting in the docks. The British troops marching tall and proud and in step, the Americans more casual, throwing their small packs of K-rations to the children waiting on the pavements. Cascades of English money was also thrown, the troops saying they had no further need of it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there was an unexpected air of jollity about it all. Army trucks full of soldiers followed.
Cora and Belle were stationed in Latimer Street every day, both watching for their men. The Negro troops passed by and Belle caught sight of Jackson who waved and motioned with his hands for her to write. Belle nodded and blew him kisses, much to the delight of his comrades who teased him unmercifully.
There were several women pushing prams with black babies also waiting. Some crying, others cursing as they saw the father of their child who tried to keep out of sight.
One woman seeing her Negro boyfriend screamed out at him. ‘You come back here, you bastard. This is your baby you’ve left me with!’
The man in question just kept marching, staring straight ahead.
Sergeant Milt Miller was marching beside his company of men when he saw Hildy searching the faces of the passing troops. She suddenly saw him and ran over, kissing him and walking next to him until they turned into the docks. She stood watching until the last line of men disappeared out of sight and she wept.
Cora, waiting further down the street, saw Hank in an army vehicle, who waved and called out to her.
‘You take care of yourself!’
‘You make sure you do the same,’ she yelled back at him.
‘Be sure to write,’ he called. She nodded back, unable to speak as her emotions overcame her.
Inside the docks, the troops embarked in readiness, knowing they’d soon be crossing the English Channel to face the enemy. They coped with this knowledge in different ways. Some joked with their companions, others withdrew inside themselves. A few of them offered silent prayers. Others tried to cover hands that were shaking with fear trying to hide just how scared they were, trying to be men of strength.
To cover the mass assembly, smoke screens had been laid down and there were many complaints as the acrid smell seeped into the town; the population were unaware of the importance of the manoeuvre. But there was an air of tension in everybody, knowing that at any moment the invasion would begin for real. There was the faint possibility, if things went wrong, of seeing German troops walking through the town, but in their hearts they believed that the enemy would be defeated.
Chapter Eight
On 6th June 1944, the invasion of Normandy began. The sound of many planes flying overhead could be heard throughout the night and on into the dawn. The civilians poured out of houses and shops to watch, knowing that at last the day had come.
Sergeant Milt Miller was pushing his way through the men in his company, pressed together like sardines in the landing craft as they crossed the Channel, barking out orders, keeping his soldiers alert, not giving them too much time to think of anything but making their way as fast as they could out of the landing craft onto Omaha beach and keeping their heads down.
‘Remember what you’ve been taught during the exercises. Those Krauts will be waiting and they won’t be inviting you to stay and be friends. Show them the American GIs are up to the task and give them hell!’
‘Yes, Sergeant!’ they yelled in unison, now all pumped up, the adrenaline flowing through their veins.
Throughout the night, the RAF had pounded German batteries along the French coast and in the early morning, the US Eighth Air Force took over the attack. Mines were swept from the invasion route and engineers demolished beach obstacles as the troops landed behind them.
Milt’s landing craft eventually stopped and the front opened. The men poured out, jumping into the cold water, holding their rifles aloft as all hell broke loose. The rattle of machine guns was deafening. Explosions from enemy positions filled the air as gun boats opened fire on them, trying to eliminate their gun placements and afford some backup for the invading troops. The water was waist high and the men struggled towards the beach, bodies dropping as they were brought down by German bullets. Cries from injured men could be heard. Blood stained the water. The lucky ones eventually found solid sand beneath their feet and raced to find shelter against the cliff face, soaking wet, scared, but triumphant.
In Southampton, Hildy leant against the wall of the factory, having watched the planes flying overhead, knowing that Milt would be on his way by now. They had spent his final night together in her flat, talking about the future and making plans for when he returned.
Listening to him, Hildy was impressed by his optimism; he didn’t even consider that something might happen to destroy their future life together so she tried to be positive too and shut her mind to any negative thoughts.
‘I’m not sure how long I’ll stay in the army,’ he told her. ‘It just might be the time to quit and open up my own business, but we’ll wait and see how the land lies when I return. But no matter what, we’ll be together.’ He looked at her and asked, ‘Do you want to get married in Southampton with your family and friends around, or in the States?’
She couldn’t help but give a sardonic smile. ‘With my mother there – or not! I doubt she’d want to come and, if I’m honest, I’m not sure that would be a good idea anyway, she would do h
er very best to spoil the happiest day of my life knowing her.’
‘You know, honey, I kind of feel sorry for her.’
‘You do?’
‘Well, it must be terrible for a woman like that, so wrapped up in herself. She’ll never know true happiness and that’s a great shame.’
Hildy nested in to him. ‘You are an extraordinary man, Milt Miller.’
‘Not really. I’ve learnt a lot about people through being in the army and in charge of men. People come in all different types. I’ve met wives and mothers like yours before. The most important thing is not to let them run your life or for sure, they’ll destroy it.’
Milt had brought some food over from the PX store and they sat like a married couple sharing a meal and chatting before going to bed together. As she lay in his arms, Hildy prayed that the plans they’d made that night would come to fruition because she knew that this man was solid. One she loved, one she would be content to grow old with and she made a quiet pledge to her maker that if he would only bring Milt back alive, she’d be a good woman for the rest of her days.
The sound of a passing bus brought her back to the present and she returned to her work. Life had to go on and she’d sit down tonight and write her first letter to him.
During the following weeks, troops still marched through Southampton before being shipped across the Channel. Boats came back filled with wounded and German prisoners who were marched to barbed wire holdings inside the Western Docks to await removal to prison camps. They were watched by the locals who gazed at them with mixed emotions. This was the enemy? This bedraggled group of men who looked thoroughly dejected. They didn’t look menacing at all.
