1940 - "Things begin to hot up"

In terms of relentless bombing, London was probably the worst place to be during the Second World War. My English "dad," Aubrey - who lived smack in Victoria at the time, once told me that he joined the Royal Navy because it was a lot safer than staying put in London. Children were sent to the countryside or as far afield as the United States and Canada. Beyond that, Londoners just dug in and carried on.

Walter and May were in the diggers-in/carriers-on group. By 1939, Doug had joined the Royal Engineers (Walter went with him to enlist since Doug was underage). But Walter, May, and Ron stayed put at 23 Clifford Road, Mortlake. Both Walter and Ron were working at Kingston County Hall, a daily 10-mile round-trip on their bicycles, and according to Walter:

In 1940 things “began to hot up.” I went off duty this particular night, Ron had already gone home. On my way home, I heard a tremendous crash. I thought that cannot be far away. I arrived in my dugout at 730pm as I didn’t hurry home. When Ron and I cycled to Kingston next morning, I was amazed to see our large tree outside the canteen, and the canteen also had been blown to smithereens, so I got away in time. Lucky me! We lost our stoker in that blast, but not much damage was caused by it.

Ron was kind enough to share some war stories with me when we visited last spring. I'll pass them along in due course, so stay tuned for the incendiary-in-the-kitchen story and the bomb-on-the-bridge tale.

I'm currently researching details of WWII bombings in the Mortlake/Richmond area but am having a hard time finding statistics online. If anyone can point me to a good resource, I'd be much obliged.

1939 - Preparations and changes

May and Walter, Mortlake, 1930s

Walter's job as school caretaker ticked along fine until 1939, when the impending war began affecting basic services, including Walter's school.

The War in 1939 descended on us, and the school children were all evacuated to surrounding seaside resorts, or other towns more inland. Our boys went to Reading and I had an empty school. All the girls went to another school, and I stayed on to keep the school clean and be on duty. It was quite an easy time for me, but not for long! One morning, I had a letter from the County Hall in Kingston asking for my presence to be interviewed for a post of Hall Keeper at the County Hall. It meant more money, and I had to cycle to Kingston each morning and return at night – a distance of five miles. I got traveling allowance weekly, and I found this duty very exacting, blackout of windows being the chief precaution. This was 1939 September.

Ron stayed at home with his mother, and he joined the Air Training Corps. They used our school as a training establishment. Ron loved this work. He was 13 years of age now. He was learning to play the drums. Air Raid Shelters were provided for us to instal in our gardens for protection against air attack, but I hardly stayed in it. Things were rather quiet during the end of 1939. Ron eventually left the Air Training Corps to come and be a messenger boy at the County Hall. There were three boys and they took it in turns, taking people to the different departments.

When I spent the day with Ron last May, he shared some great war stories that I'll pass along in future posts. Suffice it to say that with all that Walter had been through in his life, several years of blackouts and bombs falling on Mortlake was nothing for him. He'd been in the trenches of the Great War and the Germans weren't about to get a second shot at him. More about this later.

Remembrances of Christmases Past

Though Walter and I exchanged Christmas cards and I sent him little gifts from 1977-1980, he wrote very little about the Christmases of his lifetime. The previous post concerning Doug's death on Christmas Eve 1974 was the lengthiest Christmas tale in his letters to me. I suspect Sheffield Children's Homes holidays were not that remarkable, since he only mentioned it once:

The Christmas of 1902 passed by without any regret, as we were unaware of the spirit of the occasion. The time had come to think more of my school lessons, as I realized I would be leaving school next year.

Interesting observation, "we were unaware of the spirit of the occasion." I often wonder if he heard from his mother and brother Fred during this time. Did they visit Sheffield at Christmas, or stay put in Folkstone? Did Walter, Bert, and Harry gather with John's family at all (since his parents and siblings lived in the Sheffield area)? If not, why not? Did anyone communicate with little Annie (per Walter, she was in a girls home in Whitley Bay) during Christmas?

Walter's next mention of the holiday is Christmas 1910, as a soldier in the 2nd Lincolnshires:

The regiment returned to Aldershot [after attending funeral of King Edward VII] and we settled down to our normal duties again. Field training, which eventually led up to autumn manoevres, took place which concluded in November. Christmas Leave took place, and on the return from leave, the regiment were to prepare to leave Aldershot to go to Portsmouth.

From Portsmouth, the regiment headed to Aden, where it's posted until 1912. After returning to England, 2nd Lincs settled back in Portsmouth until August 13, 1914 (and we know what happened then). Here's all Walter wrote about the famous Christmas Truce of 1914:

And at Christmas 1914, we were in a village called Kemmel, where we were found accommodation in the farmhouses and outhouses of the villagers. It was on this day that Queen Mary’s gift boxes were issued to us containing pipe and tobacco. I didn’t smoke, so I kept mine in my kit.

Walter survived Begium, returning to England with a foot injury May 1915. By Christmas of that year he had been selected for the Machine Gun Corps. He wrote two little bits about that Christmas in his letters:

In October 1915, I was chosen with other men to become a party to go home to be trained as Machine Gunners in the Machine Gun Corps, which was being formed in Grantham, Lincolnshire. I arrived there, and we were taken to Belton Camp, a large estate belonging to Lord Brownlow. It was a quagmire, and duck boards had to be laid to walk on. This was another Christmas!

Then this:

After I returned to Weelsby Camp [after Clopton War Hospital and marrying May] I was chosen to go to Grantham to join the new formation of the Machine Gun Corps in Belton Camp Lord Brownlow’s estate. And I might say, it was in a state too. Mud, mud, everywhere! This was November 1915. Men from all regiments converged on this camp, but soon as always everything works out like a jigsaw. Christmas was spent in the Camp, and we had to improvise the best we can. We were living in huts, heated with coke stoves.

So I reckon he and May celebrated their first married Christmas apart - Walter at Grantham, May in London.

There are no more mentions of Christmas until 1919, when Walter was stationed at Jamrud Fort, Khyber Pass:

Our commanding officer used to have all the mules on parade, and we had to ride them bareback. What a penance the was! We could hardly walk when we returned to camp, and we were sore for days. One of his little whims I suppose. We spent 1919 Christmas in this God forsaken place under canvas but we got hardened to this way of soldiering.

Fast-forward 52 years - quite a gap in the Christmas memories - to the year 1971, his first since May's death. It was an unsettling time for Walter, that time between selling the house in Mortlake and his decision to go to Royal Hospital Chelsea, and I think that's reflected in his rememberance of the time:

When I had got settled in Bedford [with Doug's family], I was like a lost sheep. No outlet, only to take Mary’s poodle for several walks each day. I got to like Sambo, and he got to know me too. But what a life! Ron had by now bought his bungalow in Kenilworth and he had to start from scratch. It is quite an experience for anyone to settle down in civil life when leaving the services, coming out in the cold world. When Ron did eventually get established, I told Doug I would like a change, and to spend a little time with Ron. This I did until the Christmas of 1971. I then returned to Bedford but in September 1972, I returned to Ron in Kenilworth. Alma had her grandma staying with her, which didn’t make matters any better for them. I had to devise some form of escape from this subservience which I was under. I laid in my bed at night thinking what I could do for the best.

It was during his nighttime thinking times that he decided once and for all to go to Chelsea. I'm glad he went - I'd've never met him otherwise - but it makes me sad to think of his struggling to figure out where he fit in after all he'd been through in his life.

He was proud of his duties as guide and verger at the Royal Hospital's famous chapel. He loved talking to people and was an outstanding guide, I'm sure. And as I've mentioned before, I went to the Harvest Festival at the Royal Chapel one year and got to see a very solemn Walter carry the scepter during the procession (pictured above).

I attended Divine Service each Sunday, as I had to carry out a very dignified duty in carrying the Scepter in front of the Chaplain during the singing of the first hymn. Royalty have attended on Founders’ Day which is held in honour of our Founder Charles II every first Thursday after his birthday, called Oakapple Day. He passed away at an early age of 55 years in 1685. I have had the honour of meeting the Queen Mother, Duchess of Kent, Prince Charles, and although I was not on duty when our Queen was the Governing Body, I had the pleasure of seeing her while on parade on Founders 1975. I was on duty on every third day. There were many important religious ceremonies carried out. The Harvest Festival, The Remembrance Day, Christmas Day, and several memorial services were performed. We were responsible for the security of the Chapel on the completion of the day’s duty, and the keys were taken to the Guard room for safe custody.

And so ends the season of Christmas according to Walter's letters to me. He always got a kick out of my cards and gifts (usually handmade ornaments of some kind) and seemed to enjoy the holiday. But he never revealed much about the Ghosts of Christmas Past in his letters to me.

Christmas 1974: A death in the family

Ron, Walter, and Doug Wildgoose 1946

By December 1974 - his second Christmas at the Royal Hospital Chelsea - Walter was well settled into his new life and home. But Christmas was not to be a joyful one for the Wildgoose family:

1974 Christmas Eve my colleague and I visited our Chapel cleaner to give her a Christmas present. On our return, I rested in my room at about 10pm, as we were not due to go to the service until 11.30pm. A knock came on my door, and it was the Chaplain. I remarked “It was not yet time to go to the service !” “No! Mr. Wildgoose, I understand, but I have some sad news for you. Your granddaughter phoned the Hospital to say that Douglas (my elder son) has passed away during the early evening.” I was shocked, and the Chaplain asked me to come down to the vestry so as to phone Ronald in Kenilworth. Having done so, Ron informed me that “Young Shirley,” Doug’s daughter had phoned him with the news. Ron told me to not to get overwrought, and the Chaplain told me to rest. (Christmas Day was a sad day for me that year of 1974.)

Doug's death left only Walter and son Ron, as May had died on her 81st birthday in February 1971. I'm happy to say that Ron is still healthy and well in Kenilworth. I spent a day with him when I was in England in May. I brought him a bound copy of Walter's letters, and he showed me family photos, many of which are on this blog (thanks to my handy digital camera!).

Christmas Truce 1914, Part I

As mentioned a couple of posts ago, Walter didn't write much about Christmas 1914 - only that he was in Kemmel and received the Christmas box from Queen Mary with a pipe and tobacco (doesn't mention anything else that it might've contained).

The Christmas Truce of 1914 is one of the iconic moments of the Great War, and much has been written about it. As with all historical events (and everything surrounding World War I, it seems), folks are constantly fighting of the reality of the situation. Some say it's been romanticized; some say that it really was the "Oh, shit, what are doing here?" moment for both sides that many reported it to be. One central fact seems to be that the truce afforded the chance to clear and bury the dead in No Man's Land.

Here are a few good resources on the truce:

An interview with Stanley Weintraub, author of Silent Night: the Story of the World War I Christmas Truce (2002)

Background on the personal account by illustrator Bruce Barinsfather that disputes the sentimentality of the event.

The Long, Long Trail website has a page listing the British and German units that took part in the truce, along with other interesting links.

A new French film, Joyeux Noel, has the truce as its focal point. I don't think it'll be in the US until March 2006.

I've titled this post "Christmas Truce 1914, Part I" - so be on the lookout for parts 2, 3, and so on. If you know of strong resources on this topic, please let me know - I'm always on the look-out.