Battles Lost and Won (10 page)

As they walked back to the house, Ruth knew she would have the unpleasant task of writing to her dad to let him know Bob was no longer here. He would know the best way to tell Mr Hunter. It was going to be a bitter blow to him, and as much as she loved Bob, it was hard to forgive him for causing them all this worry.

That night in her comfortable room, the letter was written, and although this was the most beautiful place she had ever seen, she felt terribly sad. There was no escaping the fact that she was missing everyone already. If Bob had been here it would have been easier. Now she felt so alone, and a little frightened. She had never had a room to herself, and everything was so strange, so she buried her head in the pillow and had a little weep.

‘What is it?’ Daisy frowned when she heard her husband cursing under his breath as he read the recently delivered letter. ‘Is Ruth all right?’

‘She’s all right, but Bob’s disappeared again, and Ruth is asking me to break the news to Alf.’

‘But I thought he was happy with the Russells. Does Ruth say why he left?’

‘It seems he found out that the captain had been here and he didn’t like it. I credited the lad with more sense than that.’ Steve handed the letter to Daisy. ‘Ruth must have been terribly disappointed when she found out he wasn’t there. I’m sure that one of the reasons she agreed to take the job was because she thought Bob was there. You know they’ve never been apart before and she must miss him very much.’

‘Hmm.’ Daisy read the letter, then put it back in the envelope. ‘From the tone of her letter it’s obvious that she’s angry at him, and I’ve never heard her say a word against him before. Oh, darling, Alf’s going to take this hard. He’s been so much happier since the captain’s visit.’

‘I know, but he must be told.’ Steve stood up. ‘Better get it over with.’

Alf was sitting at the table in the scullery writing in a notebook when Steve arrived. He closed the book and smiled. ‘Hello Steve.’

‘You look busy. Are you writing your memoirs?’ he joked, trying to delay telling his friend the unpleasant news.

‘Something like that.’ Alf fingered the book, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘From the moment I joined the army I kept a sort of diary. It helped me to keep things straight in my head when I was in the trenches, and I’ve just kept it up. Except for the times when I was too drunk to even think,’ he admitted.

‘Have you still got all of the diaries?’ Steve was immediately interested, and when Alf nodded, he asked, ‘Would you let me see them?’

‘Some of it isn’t pleasant. Might stir up nasty memories for you.’

‘I’d still like to read them.’

Still looking very doubtful, Alf took a deep breath, and then opened a large drawer in the table. It was crammed full of notebooks, odd pieces of paper and even old cigarette packets torn open. Every piece was covered in writing.

‘My God!’ Steve exclaimed as Alf began to lay them all out on the table.

‘Bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I had to write on anything I could find, but it’s all dated.’

Steve didn’t speak, he was too busy trying to sort the pile of papers into some sort of order, and read at the same time.

Eventually he stopped what he was doing, and exclaimed, ‘Bloody hell, Alf, you’ve got a record of exactly what it was like from the ordinary soldier’s point of view. As far as I can see you’ve described the fear, pain, tragedy and even the lighter moments. Will you let me take this and put it in the right order?’

‘What do you want to do that for?’

‘The new Imperial War Museum is asking for things like this.’

‘Oh, the place at the Crystal Palace?’

‘Yes, and this is just the sort of thing they’re looking for.’

Alf shrugged. ‘Can’t think why they would want my scribbling, but we could give it a try, if that’s what you want to do.’

‘Thanks, Alf.’ Steve began to gather up the writings, knowing he couldn’t delay any longer, so he pitched straight in. ‘We had a letter from Ruth today, and I’ve got some bad news. Bob found out that the captain had been here, and he was angry about it. He’s left the Russells, Alf, and they don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.’

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Steve. I’m the one who messed up that kid!’ Alf shook his head, clearly upset. ‘The damned fool! He’s just like I was when I arrived home – not thinking straight. Well, I sorted myself out, and he’s got to do the same.’

‘He will, Alf.’ Steve was relieved to see he wasn’t going to fall apart at the news. ‘Ruth’s really angry with him, and when she sees him he’ll get the sharp end of her tongue, no matter how big he is.’

Alf gave a wry smile. ‘That should knock some sense into his thick skull. Your little girl’s a gentle soul, until she’s roused.’

‘True,’ Steve laughed. ‘Daisy’s made a huge steamed bacon roll for supper. Fancy helping us eat it?’

‘Sounds smashing, and thanks, I’ll be glad of a bit of company.’

Both men walked out, loaded with all the pieces of paper and notebooks.

It was two o’clock in the morning and Steve was still working on the writings. He couldn’t leave it alone because he now knew that this was something special. Alf had written from the heart, and his descriptions were so graphic that Steve could have been there. Parts were heart-rending, others funny, but through it all the horrors of the trenches came to life.

‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’ Daisy asked quietly.

Steve glanced at the clock and ran a hand through his tousled hair. ‘Good heavens, is that the time?’

Sitting next to her husband, Daisy looked at the assortment of papers strewn across the table. ‘This is going to take time to sort out, darling; you can’t do it in one night.’

‘I know. Alf’s used any old piece of paper he could find, but at least they are all dated.’ Steve sat back and rubbed his tired eyes. ‘I want to get this done as quickly as possible. This is an extraordinary record. If only more men had thought to do this, then the true accounts of the war wouldn’t be lost. The sheer scale of human sacrifice mustn’t be forgotten, Daisy. Alf has not only set down his own feelings and experiences, but those of the men around him.’

She listened, her heart beating, for this was the first time Steve had talked about the war. This wasn’t unusual because none of the men ever mentioned it. She knew her husband’s experiences were very different in the Navy, but he was talking, and she took that as a good sign. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to bottle everything up inside, and when she had mentioned this, Steve had only shaken his head and said that he didn’t want to rake up all the memories again.

‘If you like what Alf has done, why don’t you write about your time in the Navy? The war wasn’t only fought in the trenches. The sailors and airmen should have their stories told as well.’

‘I know you’re right.’ Steve gave a tight smile. ‘Come on; let’s get some sleep. I’ll leave all this in our bedroom so the kids can’t get their hands on it. It’s not the sort of thing they should read until they are much older.’

It took nearly a week of working every evening before Steve had the diaries in a condition fit to show someone at the Imperial War Museum. It had been a harrowing task because it meant he’d had to read everything, and he had chain-smoked all the time, but Daisy hadn’t said anything, leaving him to cope with the work in his own way.

After fitting the last scraps of paper in place, Steve rested his head in his hands. ‘Thank heaven’s that’s done!’

Daisy placed a cup of tea in front of him, and pointed to the pile her husband had discarded. ‘What are those?’

‘Alf’s diaries since he returned home. They are too personal, but they must be kept safe. I hope that one day Bob will read all of this and understand just what his dad went through. Perhaps it will help him to forgive.’

‘Let’s hope so. I wonder where he is now?’

‘To be honest, Daisy, after reading this, I don’t care.’ Steve stood up. ‘The lad has chosen to run away from his problems. I call that desertion.’

‘Oh, that’s harsh, darling. After Alf joined the army, Bob took over the role of man of the house. Helen was ill and he cared for her, working two jobs so she had enough money without worrying where the next meal was coming from. He had convinced himself that it was only the war making her ill, and that everything would be all right when his dad came home. When it wasn’t he couldn’t handle it. He’s only young, Steve.’

‘A whole generation of young boys died in the war, and I’m in no mood to be charitable at the moment. Bob has the chance to grow up – many had that taken from them.’ Steve grimaced. ‘Sorry, Daisy.’

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘No need to apologize. I know you like Bob really, but reading about Alf’s war has clouded your mind. You’ll soon get over it.’

He laughed then. ‘Of course I like the boy, but if he walked in here now I’d tan his hide.’

‘And I’ll help you.’ Alf was standing inside the back door. ‘The two of us together might be able to handle him.’

‘Go on, the pair of you,’ Daisy chided. ‘If he appeared now you would both cry with relief and happiness.’

‘Maybe after we’d given him a good hiding first,’ Steve admitted. ‘Let’s hope he’s stopped growing or we’ll have to enlist Ruth’s help as well!’

When both men laughed, Daisy was relieved. This last week had been tense, but now the job was done she could see the grim expression fading from Steve’s face. And although Alf knew about Bob leaving the Russell estate, he was taking it well this time.

‘We’re off to the Crystal Palace, Daisy.’ Steve kissed her on the cheek. ‘Just wait till they get a look at this.’

‘They’ll tell us to put it on the bonfire where it belongs,’ Alf snorted. ‘I don’t know why I’m going along with this daft scheme of Steve’s. Who on earth is going to want to read my scribbling?’

A bus arrived as soon as they reached the stop at the end of the road, and they went upstairs so they could smoke.

Alf lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke towards the roof of the bus. ‘This is a waste of time. They’re not going to be interested. I’m sure a lot of it doesn’t even make sense.’

‘Have you ever read these through yourself?’

Alf shook his head. ‘I lived it; I don’t want to read about it. I only wrote it all down to keep my sanity.’

‘Well, you can take my word for it, the museum will want it.’ Steve turned to face his friend. ‘And it’s very well written.’

After a while Steve stood up. ‘This is our stop.’

Alf hesitated at the door of the museum, so Steve took hold of his friend’s arm and pulled him inside. ‘You’re not going to make me go in on my own, are you? This is your work and they’ll probably want to talk to you. We’re going to do this together.’

There was a man sitting by a table, and Steve went straight over to him. ‘I’ve got something the museum will be interested in.’

‘Oh?’ The man looked up expectantly. ‘May I see it, please?’

Steve placed the writings in front of him and watched as he started to read.

After only a few minutes the man was on his feet and gathering the papers together. ‘Please wait here.’ Then he disappeared through another door.

‘Told you,’ Steve said smugly.

‘He’s just trying to find a polite way to get rid of us.’

‘We’ll see.’

It was nearly an hour before the door opened again and a man of around forty came towards them.

‘Officer,’ Alf muttered. ‘I can spot them a mile off.’

‘Who is Mr Hunter?’

‘That’s me, sir.’ Alf stood up. ‘And this is Mr Cooper. He took the trouble to put my writings into some sort of order.’

‘My name’s Stanton,’ he smiled, shaking hands with them. ‘I’m delighted to meet you both. Would you come into my office, please?’

When they were seated, Stanton wasted no time. ‘I would like your permission to keep your diaries so I can read them properly. I’ll take good care of them, Mr Hunter.’

Alf nodded. ‘That’s all right by me, sir.’

‘No need to call me sir. I’m retired now.’ He turned his attention to Steve. ‘Were you in the Army, Mr Cooper?’

‘No, the Navy.’

‘Really?’ Stanton leant forward. ‘Do you have diaries as well?’

‘Never thought about it, but after reading Alf’s I wish I had done the same.’

‘Indeed. Would you consider writing one now? We’d be very interested.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Steve grimaced. ‘I’ve been trying to forget it.’

‘I understand. Now, if you would come and see me next week, I’ll let you know how we can use this material.’

He hadn’t believed the Imperial War Museum would be interested in his account of war in the trenches, but when the time came to go and see them again, Alf had to admit that he was quite excited. If they thought his diaries were good enough to do something with, then that would give him great satisfaction. It would also help to restore his belief in himself, and that was something he badly needed.

Stanton met them as soon as they walked in. ‘Come into my office. I have good news for you. Your memoirs have caused quite a stir, Mr Hunter.’

‘Told you!’ Steve murmured in Alf’s ear.

On his desk was a neat manuscript, and he slid it across to Alf. ‘What do you think of that?’

The two men studied the top few pages, and then looked at each other in amazement.

‘Those are only proofs,’ Stanton explained, and we’d like you to look through them carefully and let us know if you want to change anything.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to it and have tea sent in for you.’

‘Crikey!’ Alf muttered when they were alone. ‘What’s going on, Steve?’

‘Looks like they’re going to make it into a book.’

‘Never!’

Steve grinned. ‘We’d better get on with the checking.’

For the next two hours they worked, totally absorbed in the task, and didn’t notice when the tea arrived.

‘I can’t believe this is my writing,’ Alf said when they had finished.

‘It is, and all they’ve changed, as far as I can see, is the layout.’ Steve sat back and took a deep breath. ‘I knew it was good, mate, but put into print like this it’s brilliant.’

‘That’s our opinion as well,’ Stanton said, coming back into the office. ‘Are there any changes you would like to make?’