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Monthly Archives: March 2019

16 March 1919 – Ted to Gertrude

March 16/19

 

Dear Mother

Very many thanks for a letter from you today dated 12th Feb, only just a month ago; splendid is’nt it. I also had 5 letters from Nell, all written while the dear child was staying at Delaford. How awfully good to her you all were, & ever so many thanks for it all. She thoroughly enjoyed herself & loved being with you – and she appreciated so tremendously the little things you gave her, that purple & white shawl, & that stool with “Teddie” on it (in daisies is’nt it?) I know it so well. She writes ripping letters about her visit, & let’s hope I’ll be there next time.

How cold you have been, frost an’ all, and skating. Here it has been, as I’ve told you I expect, very mild all the winter. It is lovely just now, & just perfect on the banks of the river here. The orange blossom is just coming out & the air is quite heavy with the smell of it. They got a lovely crop of oranges here, & we have lovely home-made marmalade for breakfast every day. You can see all the trees in front of the building in this photograph-

Mr Robbins been to see you! Talk about raking up the past! And now you mention Michael I remember him being born & called after the church was’nt he? or rather after the Saint, via the church, would probably be more accurate. I wonder if he’s had any more news of him.

So you’ve got on to Jim at last, & you say you think he might have been home in a fortnight after writing your letter. Perhaps by this time he has come & gone again. It seems I’ll be the last to get home, if Topher gets home in April- Dick & I came out here more or less the same time in ’15 did’nt we, but he’s been back since of course, so I think it’s really time I came back for a bit-

Yes, England seems a sorry place at the moment, strikes an’ all, & I’m sure we never get one quarter of the news in the papers. One hears stories of street fighting, complete with casualties, in Glasgow, & various other disturbances everywhere. But let’s hope it’s only the work of a few scatterbrained agitators, & that soon the British workman – a good fellow at heart, I firmly believe, but easily led by attractive impossibilities & a glib tongue- will settle down to his normal life. I hope too he gets better housing & possibly shorter hours.

The relief from war-strain must be so great, that the masses – with their lesser education and new-found pocket money – naturally suffer from a strong reaction, & I don’t think there’s any fear of Bolshevism at home.  I may be quite wrong, as one gets so out of touch with things, & the papers hide the truth so & serve up strike pills in such liberal helpings of jam that it’s very hard to arrive at the real truth. Whatever it is, & however long it lasts, it must indeed be very inconvenient for you all-

How you made me laugh about Nell’s ration book being left at Tyler’s! She’s always leaving things about, remember she lost a bag in a train or taxi one day in London with me! I must come home & look after her, I can see that-

Sorry to hear old Drew has got so old. He’s certainly not spared himself in the war, & he’s had a good many anxieties I expect, so I’m afraid it’s inevitable that he should have aged a bit.

It’s lovely here on the river front, sitting in the shade of the orange trees, with lovely flowers all round, sweet peas, cornflowers, & great tall hollyhocks. And we can watch the big ships go by, coming up the river empty & going down a day or two later with cheering crowds of demobilized Tommies aboard. And the river is full of fussy little motor-boats too, containing joy-riders mostly I fancy but they make the scene a lively one.

Well, I start for India tomorrow, in the hospital ship VARELA- We get to Bombay in about 6 days I think, & then go into hospital there, & there we are “boarded” & they decide what to do with us, sick-leave, or back to duty, or whatever it is. I am, I hope, saying goodbye to Mesopotamia, at anyrate for the summer. Being invalided out of the country means, I suppose, that I lose my job. I’m sorry in a way, but it is made easier by the fact that the whole brigade is now – all the regiments whom we fought with in that last show have gone back to India, & all my friends have left.

And on the whole I want to get back to the regiment. I think I’ve been long enough away. I should like to get home for a bit this summer, & then bring Nell out to Lansdowne to a nice peaceful existence after the strenuous life of the last few years- But “Man proposes” etc, & I’m too old a plaything of Fate to make anything in the way of elaborate plans as far ahead as this.

So don’t expect a letter from me yet awhile, as these moves always interfere with one’s posts a bit. Write in future c/o Cox Bombay. I expect you will get a W.O. or I.O. wire saying I’ve been invalided; I’m not cabling as it takes nearly as long as a letter for a cable to reach home. I’m feeling alright, but not very strong, but am much better all round & only want a good rest to put me right.  I simply could’nt stand another hot weather here. There goes the tea gong – it’s like boardship life here, we live from meal to meal!

Best love to all

yr loving son

Ted

 

Goodbye Mesopotamia!!


http://www.stmichaelscamberley.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_George_Square

Varela (half-way down)

http://www.merchantnavyofficers.com/Troopships.html

http://www.englishclub.com/ref/esl/Sayings/Quizzes/Mixed_7/Man_proposes_God_disposes_915.htm

 
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Posted by on 16 March, '19 in About

 

3 March 1919 – Ted to Gertrude

March 12/19

Beit Nama

Basra

 

Dear Mother

Very many thanks for 2 letters from you which I got yesterday, dated 29th Jan & 5th Feb- We got 2 mails quite close together, & another is expected shortly I think. I had heaps of letters from Nell, & lots of papers from you, for all of which many thanks.

I arrived here about 5 days ago- It is an officers’ hospital and convalescent home & there is room for 200 officers here, & it was generally pretty full when a large force was maintained out here, but now there are only about 30 of us here. It is a large house about 5 miles South of Basra, & is most awfully comfortable. Nice big rooms & wards, nice sisters -and very pretty! – & nice doctors. I am in the hands of a man called Felling, a consulting physician in peacetime with a house in Harley St. A Barts man who knew Uncle Will very well- However he can make nothing much of my case, bar that I am unfit to serve out here another hot weather. He thinks I’m worn out & have been too long at it without leave.

I am therefore being invalided to India in a day or two. They won’t send me home from here, as I am Indian Army, & I have to go to India- Is’nt it sickening, as I don’t know what will happen now & my chance of leave home seems to be dwindling away once more. I have’nt had a day off for 3 years & it’s rather a blow to have to come to hospital & be invalided.

But if I stayed here in my present condition it would do me no good, I should only become a worse – possibly a permanent – crock, as I am sure to get touched up with dysentery again- I don’t feel it’s my duty to you or Nell – now that the war’s over – to run unnecessary risks of health now that what one may call “the Imperial need to stick it” is not so strong: I feel my duty is to myself & my relations now and I should only ‘go sick’ sooner or later if I stayed on out here, & so become useless to the Empire & a nuisance to everyone else.

That is how I have sized up things, & my general & all my friends & the doctors too tell me it’s no good staying on if it means running a risk of getting really ill; in fact they tell me it’s not right that I should, now. So I have thrown myself on the mercy of the doctors, & they are sending me to India. What happened there I don’t know, nor can I find out. Whether I shall be able to get home from there or not I can’t possibly say- I have by no means lost hope, but the uncertainty is rather trying-

I am feeling much better now, & the aches & pains have gone & I’ve had no more fever. But I am rather a crock still & not up to anything very strenuous. Today I am going in to Basra by launch & shall have tea with Mrs Macfarlane, you remember, the Matron at Amara who was so kind to me in ’17, & to whom you very kindly wrote & sent some Red X things. She has a job as Matron in a hospital in Basra now, so I must try & see her if I can- I expect I shall sail for India in a day or two. I’m not sending any cables at present, but shall wait till I get there & see what happens. My letters are all being stopped at the base, so you can stick to the same address, unless before then I cable any instructions – or 2nd thoughts though, as I am definitely going to India, perhaps Cox & Co is best, so will you do that, in default of other instructions?

So that’s that, & I suppose I have to chuck my job – but one must give up something. I’m sorry in a way, though I think I’ve had long enough away from the rgt & I feel I want to get back. The wrench is not very great, leaving the Bde I mean, as all the old regiments have gone & it is entirely new altogether. I lose pay of course- but… que faire?

Your letter of Jan 29 was a lovely long one & very many thanks for it. What a tremendous lot of trouble you’ve had to find Jim! But you seem to have run him to earth at Salonika at last, & I expect he’s home by now, or at anyrate on his way. (The “Sicilia” has just gone by with 21 lucky ones invalided home from here: they only embarked this morning)

So glad you have retrieved my gold watch at last. I wonder if you managed to get a leather travelling case for it & gave it to Nell? I think I asked you to do this in one of my letters. It sounds a lovely one. I see, by the way it’s a hunter, so it won’t do for a stand-on-the-table one will it after all. But it will do very nice for evening dress if it is a nice thin one as you say. Indeed you had a lot of daughters-in-law staying with you at the time. Nell writes very cheery letters of her visit to Delaford, I am so awfully glad she has been again & she loves being there. I’m so glad she is fit & well, & you all tell me how pretty she is- “It appears” she’s much thinner than she was, but that’s just her growing up I suppose, & she seems very fit & well, so I’m not alarmed-

England seems in a bad way over strikes and things. Really the times are out of joint & I’m thinking India will be quite attractive by compariason for the next 3 or 4 years- It takes such a lot to change the East or to have the slightest effect on age-long customs & traditions, that even a war like this has hardly touched India or its ways & means-

There is a lovely garden here, just along the river front & full of hollyhocks cornflowers & sweetpeas, lovely they are just now. And then there are a whole heap of orange trees, with the orange blossom just coming out, & soon they will be thick with lovely yellow fruit, a wonderful sight. We have lovely home-made marmalade here, made from these oranges. Patients like me who are up and about are roped in every morning to help sisters pick flowers for the wards-

Yes, I got that parcel of good things from Lazenby’s, years ago, & I know I wrote and told you, but perhaps the letter was lost. Anyhow they were awfully good & tremendously appreciated in the mess, & thanks most awfully for them- Rather curious in your letter of Feb 5 you say you are glad I’m so fit, “and mind you keep so” you add. Very sorry, but I’m afraid I failed to carry out your instructions. I’m much fitter than I was when I first came into hospital, but I think a week’s work would bowl me over again. They have not yet managed to give a definite name to my fever!

How I laughed at Dick’s collection of beasts he took to Assam with him! No one but he would dream of doing such a thing & how he explained to everyone in the train I can’t imagine! How he dare! as we used to say. A “Minah” (Rhymes with liner) is a small bird about the size of a starling, & they can be trained to talk just like parrots & are generally supposed to be more amusing-

How I hate all the uncertainty- I mean about being able to get home this year. It’s no good denying it, & I’ve simply got to face facts it is uncertain whether I’ll be able to manage now. Poor old Nell, I am frightfully anxious about it all, & she’s such a dear & so splendidly patient. However it’s good to be alive and well, there’s always that to put in the balance on the other side, & someday things will straighten out I suppose-

Best love to all

Yr loving son

Ted


http://socialistworker.org.uk/art.php?id=28393

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myna

http://www.mynahbird.org/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLlGKhJ4sbs

 
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Posted by on 3 March, '19 in About