This is the eighteenth part of a fiction serial, in 766 words.
As well as the radio, the newspapers were full of photos and articles about Dunkirk. They had no idea if Teddy’s ship was involved, but if it wasn’t, it must have been the only ship in Great Britain that wasn’t heading out to France to collect the soldiers from the beaches. Even seaside pleasure cruisers from Margate and Southend were being used, and her dad told Vera that hundreds of boats were passing along the Thames on their way to the sea. “Just little ones, love. You know, cabin cruisers like those rich people have tied up behind their houses”.
Janet was relieved that Frank was still in training camp. waiting for a posting to a regiment. Viv had heard that Roy was in Scotland of all places, happy to have escaped the Artillery for whatever special job he had volunteered for. She read out part of his letter, then stopped when she started to blush. “The rest is personal stuff, you know the sort of thing. Well, he misses me, don’t he?”
Almost every port or harbour of any size was starting to receive weary-looking soldiers who had been brought off the beaches. Some of the ships had been sunk, and it made Elsie upset to think of those boys believing they were safe, and then those awful dive bombers sinking them at sea. “Why can’t our RAF do more to help the boys, Bert? I mean to say, we have a lot of planes, don’t we?” Bert stopped rolling his cigarette, and looked solemn. So do the Germans, Elsie love. And they have had a lot of practice”.
For nearly two weeks, it seemed Dunkirk was the only thing anyone talked about. They got so many off those beaches, including a lot of Frenchies too, Vera read. Albert had something to say about that. “Well, I hope those Frenchies don’t expect to sit out the war in Dover or wherever. They can bloody well fight, and help defend us when the invasion comes”. Elsie said nothing, but she thought her husband could sound very silly sometimes. That week at the cinema, Vera watched the newsreels holding Janet’s hand tight. For some reason, she was convinced she was going to spot Les, climbing on a ship to safety, or returning to Dover with a big smile on his face as he disembarked. But they talked about the rearguard, and how so many had been killed, wounded, or captured. Now convinced Les was in the rearguard, Vera cried all the way home from the cinema.
Frank came home on leave, with the news that he was being posted to Dorset, to join the 1st Royal Tank Regiment. Janet spotted him standing outisde the factory gates as they finished work, looking older and more serious in his uniform. He seemed excited about being in the tanks. “They might even let me drive one, and it’s better than footslogging. Besides, those new tanks stop bullets, so my chances are better”. Vera didn’t want to mention the shattered tanks in France they had seen on the newsreels, and kissed Frank on the cheek before leaving them to go off to spend time together.
That Sunday, Vivian came round with the boys. She brought some sausages with her that she had smuggled out of the factory, and they had them for tea with mashed potatoes. “I will have to stop pinching the sausages soon, Mum. They are getting very careful about stocktaking since the rationing”. Albert wasn’t amused. “I thought you got them cheap. You stop that right now, young lady. No Dodds has ever been a thief, and I won’t have it”.
Another letter had arrived from Roy, and his big secret was now public knowledge. He was in a new unit called The Commandos. They were to be used for special raids, and had lots of extra training. Viv sounded impressed. “He’s got a special knife, and he gets to carry a tommy gun instead of a rifle. He says they are a really tough bunch, and those Jerries had better watch out once they get started. Lots of them didn’t get through the course, but my Roy came out in the top ten of his class”. Albert nodded his approval, wondering how such a wet-looking article as Roy had managed to become part of an elite unit.
There was still no news about Les, and Vera was increasingly worried when she heard that The Grenadier Guards had been part of the rearguard.
That night in bed, she prayed to God for the first time since she was a little girl.
I keep wondering about the past of military information to citizens. When motivational messages turned out to be wrong, it was often more demotivating than not being informed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There was a lot of propaganda, but it took some time before they started telling the truth too.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The story flows beautifully, Pete. All the characters have such personalities. I do hope Vera hears something from Les.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for your kind words, dear Jennie.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are most welcome, dear Pete. On a side note with our blogging community, Steve (hubby) will often ask, “How’s Pete? Is Ollie okay?” I think that speaks volumes for our extended ‘family’. Many of us have become household members. We both have a strong, close family, which I treasure. Lucky us! Best to you, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s great to hear, and I of course feel the same way.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure, Pete. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A terrible time and people think they are hard done by now …
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, they have no idea. When I started school in 1957, my area of London was still a bomb-site, from 12 years earlier.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLike
(1) “The rest is personal stuff, you know the sort of thing. Well, he misses me, don’t he?” Okay, so Vivian doesn’t want to share that part of the letter. But, Pete, I’m sure you know what’s in that letter. You can’t reveal what your prying eyes have read?
(2) The U.K. has a lot of planes, but nobody wants to pilot them. According to Mike Hollis, they’re held together by dabs of defective industrial glue.
(3) “Well, I hope those Frenchies don’t expect to sit out the war in Dover or wherever.” Of course not! They’ve offered to chip in and make beignets and tartes aux myrtilles!
(4) “That week at the cinema, Vera watched the newsreels holding Janet’s hand tight.” Later on, the newsreels gave Janet a gentle kiss on the cheek.
(5) Vera kissed Frank on the cheek, and explained to him that he would never again be kissed by Janet. She had dumped him for the newsreels.
(6) “I will have to stop pinching the sausages soon, Mum. The guys are complaining I pinch too hard.”
(7) Roy “was in a new unit called The Commandos.” He said, “While the other soldiers are flying by the seat of their pants, we get around that problem by not wearing any pants at all!”
(8) That night in bed, Vera prayed to God for the first time since she was a little girl. After World War II was over, God decided she no longer wanted to be a little girl, and once again became a white-bearded old man. But it was fun while it lasted!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you had fun with my grammar about the newsreels. I suspected I had left myself open for that. It was deliberate though, trying to relate how someone would have told the story. (It was actually told to me as a real event when I was young.)
Nice of you to get another serial reference in, with ‘Home About Six’.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good stuff here, Pete! Relatable characters and lots of tension.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks very much, Audrey. The characters and situations are real, all people I knew or heard about as a child. I just changed the names, and the regiments, then wove them into this story.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It does have that feeling of authenticity.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just had a thought, if Vera is going to live to old age, this is going to be a very long serial. I wouldn’t mind at all. 🙂 I am keeping fingers xt for news (good) of Les.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It doesn’t last until Vera’s old age. There is a ‘cut off point’, FR. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My mother’s college was nearly entirely women during the war and most of her friends had beaus overseas. I am learning a lot about how nerve racking that was for the women.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The mail was always delayed from overseas, especially for prisoners.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 2 people
That makes sense.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re doing a great job of sowing what it was like for your home front during the war, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, GP. That’s much appreciated.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another terrific chapter, Pete…you are really giving us a feel for life during wartime…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad to hear it is working for you, John. And thanks also for the retweets.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve connected so much with these characters, I’m getting anxious!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Then I am very glad to hear that, Kim. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You and me both, Kim
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Sue.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLike
A worrying time for everyone, but especially poor Vera. Not knowing must the the worst thing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, despite a good postal service, getting news of loved ones took some time.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person