by Anne Bennett
Everyone was instructed to collect gas masks, which they would carry in a box around their neck at all times once war was declared. On the wireless, the normal sound of the air raid siren was demonstrated, and the whistle if it was suspected that poison gas had been used, but the information did little to reassure Bridie, but rather chilled her to the marrow.
For the first time, she wondered if she were selfish in keeping her children beside her, for her own sake, when they could live relatively safely in the country. Tom understood her concern, but he was as worried for his wife as the children.
One evening with the children in bed, he sat on the chair and pulled Bridie onto his knee. All evening he’d known she had something on her mind but he also knew she’d say nothing until the children were out of earshot. ‘What is it, love? What’s bothering you?’
Bridie told him of her fears, especially those she had for her children. ‘God, but I’d hate to put one of these contraptions on the children,’ she said, dangling a gas mask in front of him by its strap. ‘But then not to do it and have them poisoned to death … It doesn’t bear thinking about. What if they’re blown to smithereens by a bomb or crushed to death or trapped? Oh Tom, do you think I should send them away?’
‘Yes,’ Tom said firmly. ‘And you should go with them.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, love,’ Tom said. ‘You know I won’t be here and I’ll worry myself silly over you if you stay here – Birmingham is bound to be a target being such a large city and one that contributes so much for the war effort.’
‘How could I run away to safety somewhere and leave Aunt Ellen and Mary to manage on their own?’ Bridie demanded. ‘And anyway, how could I just up and leave the house? It might not be much, but it’s ours. You know yourself with the housing shortage here, if I was to leave, someone else would be in it before I reached Bristol Passage.’
Tom knew all Bridie said was right, but fear for her safety overrode all practical concerns. ‘You’d not even consider it?’
‘No, Tom.’
‘Well, I think the children would fret without you,’ Tom said. ‘Liam is not yet three years old and Katie is just five.’ They knew no life beyond those narrow streets, where there might be many deprivations, but where most of the neighbours were decent people who were always there if help of any sort was needed. Maybe it would be better to stay where they were for the time being, Tom finally conceded, especially if Bridie was so determined to stay.
‘Aye,’ Bridie said with a sigh. ‘They’re both little more than babies. They’ll bide with me like so many more and we’ll face whatever comes together.’
The evacuation of women and younger children had begun in London in late August and plans were in force to evacuate the school-aged ones from other major cities on Friday 1st September.
Mary and Bridie went up to St Catherine’s school that Friday morning to wave off the children whose parents had allowed them to be evacuated. There were about thirty of them assembled in the yard. Their clothes – two changes of everything – were in various containers, little cases, or haversacks; a couple even had their things in brown carrier bags. But every child had their gas mask in a case hung around their neck.
Bridie saw some of the mothers of the children wipe tears from their eyes surreptitiously. Their children were nervous and apprehensive enough without crying in front of them Bridie thought, although she knew their hearts must be breaking, and she hoped no one would break down completely. Mr Steele, the headmaster, must have thought the same and he started the children singing ‘Run Rabbit, Run Rabbit’ as they marched out of the school and began to mount the bus that was to take them to Moor Street Station.
‘Poor little things,’ Bridie said to Mary as they made their way back. ‘Some of the younger ones looked frightened to death and no wonder: even adults wouldn’t like to be taken away and not told where they were going, to live with people they’d never met in their lives before.’
‘It’s hard, right enough,’ Mary agreed. ‘But what about the bombs? We all saw those pictures from Spain.’
‘There are shelters,’ Bridie said. ‘That one just off Bristol Passage is only a few minutes away. But we’re luckier, for we can hide out in our own cellars. We’ll all be as safe as houses in there.’
‘’Course we will,’ Mary said, and wondered who she was trying to reassure, herself or her sister.
And reassurance was needed even quicker than they expected, for they heard on the wireless that evening that Germany had invaded Poland.
Neville Chamberlain was to speak on the wireless the following Sunday morning. Everyone knew what he would say.
St Catherine’s was packed for the children’s Mass at nine o’clock and the same applied to many churches that day. Some, who’d rarely gone across the threshold of a church the whole of their lives, felt the need of spiritual guidance and comfort that morning.
Later, they all gathered in Bridie’s house, feeling the need to be together as they readied themselves for the inevitable. Many neighbours who hadn’t a wireless themselves wanted to hear the broadcast and crammed into Bridie’s, far too many for the little house to hold, and so the door was left open to the street. Katie took one look at the mass of people and scuttled under the table, pulling her little brother after her.
There was a hush over everything: no baby cried, no dog barked, no squealing children played outside. The pavements and streets were empty. No trams clattered along Bristol Street, neither was there a light rumble of other traffic, or clip-clop of horses’ hooves. It was as if the world held its breath. Everyone was waiting for the dreaded news from the Prime Minister. It finally came at 11.15.
‘I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of 10 Downing Street. This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now, no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.’
Bridie could hear the keening of women all around her and she felt her own throat tighten and tears sting her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She knew it was harder for the older ones, who remembered the carnage of the last war, but if they were to prevail, the women had to be as brave as their husbands, many of whom would be facing the enemy before too long. There was no time for giving way to emotion like that.
She caught Tom’s eye and reached for his hand, but they’d barely touched when someone shouted, ‘Look!’ They were pointing at the window and Bridie crossed to the door as people spilled into the street. Against the backdrop of a beautiful early autumn day where the sun, like a golden orb, shone down from a Wedgwood blue sky, steel grey barrage balloons were suspended, swaying gently from side to side.
They looked ugly and out of place and struck a chill into many a person’s heart. Maybe they were meant to be reassuring, a deterrent to enemy aircraft, but in reality they looked menacing. ‘Oh Tom!’ Bridie cried plaintively, her resolve to keep control evaporating immediately.
‘I know, love,’ Tom said. ‘But now it’s official, Eddie and I will be seeing about enlisting straightaway.’
Bridie always knew what he’d do when war was declared, so why did her body shake and feel as if it were comprised of ice? She wanted to plead with Tom, implore him to think of his family, beg him to wait until he was called up and not to volunteer today. She did neither of these things, for she knew Tom was doing what he felt he must. She drew on all the reserves of courage she had, willed her voice not to shake, and even forced her reluctant lips in the semblance of a smile as she said, ‘Yes, Tom, I know.’
Tom was filled with admiration for Bridie’s stoicism and he held her close for a moment, despite all those looking on, and said, ‘You’re a grand girl, Bridie Cassidy, that’s what you are, a grand girl.’
‘Are you going to be a soldier, Daddy?
’ Katie asked two mornings later, as she watched Tom pack his clothes into a suitcase.
‘Aye,’ Tom said. ‘Uncle Eddie too, if they’ll have us both. Will you like me being a soldier, Katie?’
‘I don’t know,’ Katie said. ‘What does a soldier do?’
‘Well, many things,’ Tom explained. ‘I’ll have a nice smart uniform that you’ll probably like, but what I really have to go and do is try and stop a nasty man doing bad things and that means I’ll probably have to go away.’
Katie looked hard at her daddy’s kind face with the deep, brown eyes that often sparkled with laughter, and then her eyes moved to the sad face of her mother. She knew she didn’t want her daddy to go away and leave them all, not even for a short time, so she told him, ‘I don’t want you to be a soldier, Daddy. I want you to stay here with us.’
‘I’d like that too, pet,’ Tom said. ‘But I have to go.’
‘Is it to do with those horrible curtains Mammy has on the windows?’ Katie said, glaring at them. ‘Mammy said she had to put them up.’
‘Aye, my darling girl,’ Tom admitted. ‘It’s all to do with this war everyone’s talking about.’
‘Then I hate war!’ Katie declared.
‘So do most sane thinking people, pet,’ Tom said, getting to his feet. ‘But now I must be away for your Uncle Eddie,’ and he kissed Katie on the top of her head, then Liam, and lastly he took Bridie in his arms. She willed herself not to cry for the children’s sake, but she wanted to hold back time, to keep this moment in Tom’s arms, their children beside them, for ever. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ Tom reassured her. ‘I’ll only be in training at Cannock Chase.’
But what was he training for, Bridie thought. To kill people and to avoid getting killed. Oh God, if anything should happen to her Tom … But she said none of this and instead gave a brief nod of her head. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice husky with the effort of not crying.
‘I have to be away,’ Tom said, glancing at the door. ‘They’re picking me up at Thorpe Street Barracks at eight.’
‘Go on then,’ Bridie said, pulling herself reluctantly out of his embrace. ‘Wouldn’t do to be late your first day in the army and I have to get Katie ready for school.’
But Bridie watched Tom through the window until he was out of sight. Already his step was firmer, his back straighter, and she knew he’d make a fine soldier.
Bridie missed Tom more than she ever thought and she wondered how she’d manage weeks and weeks, months and months, before he’d come home again. She was grateful for the photographs Ellen had taken of Tom and Eddie in their uniform because she was afraid Liam would forget his daddy altogether. Each night she propped the photograph up as she helped the children say their prayers and when she wrote to him, as she did every week, she’d tell him about the children, little snippets she’d remembered that they’d done or said. She’d help Liam write kisses on the bottom of the letter, though Katie could do hers unaided. They’d await his reply eagerly – Tom always included a little note for them and asked for a photograph of them, which Ellen and Bridie sent.
He told Bridie the training in Cannock Chase was gruelling and his muscles ached in places he didn’t know he even had them. He hadn’t realised he was so unfit. Mind, he’d said, army issue boots were not made for running in, not made for much else but crippling the feet, and might be Hitler’s secret weapon.
While he was quite keen on the training and the practise with weapons, as he felt it had some purpose, he was bored rigid with constant drill and the emphasis on neatness and presentation. He complained about it to Bridie:
You’d be very impressed if you could see the way I can make a bed now, square corners and so spick and span. I’d be the envy of many a nurse, I bet. It’s amazing what you can do when the threat of a boot up your arse hangs before you.
And your boots and buttons must shine so that the bullying, sadistic Sergeant in charge of us can see his face in them. And what a face, Bridie! God, there’s me, a devout Christian man, and yet I have never wanted to punch a man’s face as I have that man’s.
If I could see the point of it all, I’d feel better, but I can’t. I mean, are the Germans supposed to be terrified of our bed-making skills, or maybe dazzled by our buttons, or awed by our marching hour upon hour, hoisting guns upon shoulders, and never firing a shot? I hardly think so.
I’m glad I have Eddie beside me. At least we can laugh it all off together. The men here are a grand bunch and we get along with them fine, and we’ll make a good team when the time comes.
Bridie hoped Tom was right about the good team. She imagined if she’d been in the same position she’d value someone she could trust beside her. But despite that, she hoped Tom had weeks, maybe months, of training ahead of him before he would be considered capable to face the German forces who’d so far conquered all before them.
In late October, a mere seven weeks after Tom had left, he came home on a week’s leave. He thought it was embarkation leave; he’d heard the rumours flying about the camp and been told by the old hands that the army always gave you leave before sending you overseas. He didn’t tell Bridie this initially. She was so pleased to see him, she was almost speechless and he had no wish to take that look from her eyes when it would serve no purpose.
Liam had passed his third birthday and was as enormously proud of his soldier father as Katie was. She, though, was less dazzled by the uniform than her brother and wanted her daddy home again. ‘Have you finished all the war now, Daddy?’ she asked.
Tom laughed. ‘I’ve barely started, pet.’
‘Then what have you been doing?’
‘Training?’
‘Oh.’ Katie wasn’t sure what training was, but it sounded important and anyway she didn’t want to spoil her daddy’s leave, so she didn’t say any more about him coming home.
Tom treasured every moment of that leave. He knew he would soon be facing the enemy and all the training he had, basic though it was, would come into play. He wondered if he’d ever have the nerve to kill another human being, or the courage to face danger and possibly death.
He shared these doubts with nobody and to anyone watching, he appeared not to have a care in the world. He devoted his time to his family, taking Katie to school and Liam for walks or to one of the local parks, swinging the little boy up on his shoulders when his legs were tired.
He gave himself up to the children until they went to bed: playing games, reading books, telling stories and tossing them about effortlessly until they squealed with laughter.
But when the children were in bed, it was time for him and Bridie. Though he loved Ellen and Sam and Mary, and would see them in the day, those precious hours in the evening belonged to him and Bridie alone. He wanted to hold her close as he’d longed to do many a night lying alone on an army bunk. He wanted to take her to bed and tell her and show her how much he loved her. And he wanted to commit every detail of his children and his beautiful, wonderful wife to memory. That last evening, he’d wished he could stop time, and when Bridie, seeing something was troubling Tom, enquired, he told her why.
‘Overseas,’ she repeated in a horrified whisper. ‘So soon?’
‘Sooner the better,’ Tom said almost flippantly to hide his own anxiety. ‘Hitler waits for no one.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘I don’t even know if it’s definite – we’re not told until we go, you see. It’s just a feeling, the hint of a rumour, no more than that.’
But Bridie knew with a dread certainty that Tom would soon be among the fighting ranks on foreign soil and later, as he slept, she wept in abject fear, muffling her tears into her pillow, lest she awake Tom.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Letters from Tom came regularly, but of course they said little. Bridie understood and in the same way did not moan about the blackout, although she could have done. It was universally hated and it was unnerving to go out in such complete and utter blackness. I
t reminded her of walking home from the socials with Rosalyn so very long ago. Sometimes they’d walked home in intense darkness, but often stars would twinkle in the sky and a helpful moon would light the way for them.
In the smoky Birmingham skies, where factory chimneys belched fumes and smoke into the air, few stars were visible and even the moon didn’t seem so bright. In time, the residents of Birmingham would learn to fear clear moonlit nights, but no one knew that then. The blackout was dangerous too. In fact, before Christmas 1939, so many people had been killed and injured because of it, that vehicles were allowed shaded headlamps and people could carry shielded torches.
Christmas 1939 was a dreary enough time. There was no point in going into a city centre with no Christmas lights strung across the streets and no bright displays in the shop windows. Not that there was much in the shops to be bought: nothing in the way of gifts, no toys at all and even food, which was in increasingly short supply. If you complained at all, the shopkeeper would remind you that there was a war on, as if you needed reminding.
One thing that hadn’t materialised though was the bombing that everyone had been prophesying would start straight after war was declared. Bridie was able to reassure Tom that they hadn’t even had a hint of an air raid and were as safe as houses. Most of the children evacuated to ‘a place of safety’ had come back. In fact, so safe was it that people were dubbing it ‘The Bore War.’
In January, another restriction came into force: rationing. Four ounces of butter or lard, twelve ounces of sugar, four ounces of raw bacon, three and a half ounces of cooked bacon or ham and two eggs a week were the staple rations. The egg allowance was a joke: because so many hens had been slaughtered to save on feeding them, eggs were in very short supply and you didn’t necessarily get them.
