Love Me Tender

The news that night, though, wiped out worries about the weather, for there had been heavy troop movement from Austria to Slovakia and fanning out along the Polish border. Seventy Polish Jewish children arrived in Britain, where they would stay with foster parents until they were eighteen.

‘Poor little devils,’ Kathy said. ‘They’re coming to strange people, strange language and strange ways. It must have been a wrench for the parents, for they might never see them again.’

‘At least this way they’ve got a chance,’ Barry said. ‘Hitler’s record with Jewish people is not good. Oh, and thinking about children reminds me, have you picked up the gas masks yet?’

Kathy flushed. The very thought of putting one of those strange contraptions on her children terrified her. But then she remembered what had happened to her father, his lungs permanently damaged with the mustard gas he’d inhaled in the Great War. She knew she’d have to overcome her fear if there was gas about – to protect her children, at least. ‘In this downpour?’ she said indignantly to cover her unease, and added, ‘I’ll go up tomorrow.’

‘See you do,’ Barry said. ‘It’s as well to be prepared.’

It seemed everyone was getting prepared, for on the news the next day they heard that Paris had begun evacuating people, children first, and the Poles had issued a call-up to all men under forty. At home, the government issued guidelines on what to do in an air raid, black-out restrictions were about to come into force and Kathy and her neighbours were kept busy making shutters and curtains for their windows.

By Thursday, the navy had been mobilised, and working on the assumption that fire could cause as much damage as bombs, people were urged to clear their lofts and attics of junk and keep a bucket of sand or dirt on every landing.

On Friday the children who were being evacuated left from the school. Lizzie went with her mother and Danny to watch them marching out of the playground. In the event there were not many of them, twenty or twenty-five or so, Kathy thought, together with two teachers. The children had haversacks on their backs, or suitcases or carriers in their hands, gas masks in cardboard boxes slung around their necks and labels pinned to their coats. They were singing ‘Run, Rabbit, Run’ and waving and shouting like mad as they got into the waiting buses to take them to Moor Street Station. It all looked tremendous fun. Lizzie wished, just for a moment, that she was going too. But she knew her mammy needed her.

On the news that night, they learnt that German tanks had invaded Poland. The towns of Krakow, Teschan and Katowice were bombed before dawn, and Warsaw suffered a heavy bombardment and had many, many casualties. Chamberlain issued an ultimatum to Hitler to pull out of Poland or face the consequences, but Hitler had not replied.

‘This is it,’ Barry said, and indeed it was. The call-up of men under forty-one would begin immediately and the black-out became law.

‘Bloody right,’ Pat said. ‘They can’t back down now.’

‘Well, why don’t they declare war and be done with it?’ Sean said. ‘Rather than all this pussy-footing around, we should have taken Hitler out long ago.’

‘Oh, listen to the big boys,’ Bridie sneered. ‘Jesus, when they have you all in uniform, you can go over there and show the others how it’s done.’

‘Be quiet, Bridie,’ Pat said quietly.

Bridie bristled. ‘Oh well, if I can’t express an opinion, I’ll be away home.’

‘Ah, stay a while,’ Kathy said. Really she wished Bridie far enough away, but fearing Pat would get the rough edge of her tongue later, she said, ‘Have a drop of tea before you go.’

‘No,’ Bridie said. ‘I’ve got Sadie next door giving an ear to the weans and she likes me to pop in with the news, so I’ll be off now.’ She looked across at Pat and said sharply, ‘And you be in at a reasonable hour.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Pat in a fake American accent, and gave her a salute.

Bridie glared at him and slammed the entry door, and Pat remarked to no one in particular, ‘Should have her in the bloody army, if you ask me. She’d make a good general.’

Kathy spluttered over her tea, but she said nothing. She had wondered if Pat ever got fed up of his wife’s constant carping, but he’d never said anything about her before. Pat met his sister’s eyes over the wireless and smiled at her as he reached for his coat.

‘Are you away?’ Barry asked.

‘Aye, but not home,’ Pat said. ‘Bridie can order all she likes, but I’ll go home when I’m ready. I’m away to The Bell.’

‘Wait,’ Barry said. ‘I’ll come along with you.’ He glanced over at Kathy and said, ‘OK?’

‘Fine, but I’ll likely be in bed when you get in,’ Kathy said. ‘I’m beat.’

‘You on, Sean?’

‘You bet, lead the way.’

When they’d left, Kathy sat thinking. She wasn’t tired really, but she was depressed. She faced the fact that in a day, two days, bombs could be raining down on England’s cities, killing, destroying and maiming. Her husband and brothers would be there in the thick of it, and she began to shake with a fear deeper than any she’d experienced so far.

Saturday’s news bulletin depressed Kathy further. Poland was fighting for its life. Many towns and cities had been attacked, with heavy civilian casualties, and even an evacuation train carrying women and children had been blown up. It seemed no one could stop the German monster sweeping Europe, and Kathy wondered if Britain would be strong enough. The only cheering news was that the Empire was on their side: Australian troops had arrived in Britain, New Zealand had promised support and Canadian forces were being mobilised. A report from the prime minister was promised in the morning.

That night in bed, Barry said, ‘This is it, old girl, you know. After tomorrow, life will never be the same again.’

‘I know.’

‘I knew it was coming, but I wish to God I’d been wrong.’

‘I know that too.’ Kathy gave a sniff.

‘You’re not crying, are you?’

‘A bit,’ Kathy answered with another sniff. ‘Isn’t a war worth crying over?’

Barry gave a laugh. ‘I’m damned if you ain’t right,’ he said. ‘But for now, what are you going to give your husband to make up for the fact he’ll not be sharing your bed for much longer?’

Kathy smiled and said, ‘I’m sure I’ll think of something.’

THREE (#u8da00b38-980b-59b4-ae84-f21bfeb441be)

After all the storms, Sunday 3 September 1939 dawned sunny and warm, a perfect late summer’s day. Kathy was up early and got breakfast just for Danny, as everyone else would be taking communion. ‘The broadcast is at eleven, isn’t it?’ she asked Barry.

‘Aye, and you can bet every person in this land will be listening in, and we’ll be no exception.’

The church was fuller than usual and Kathy wondered if they were all praying as fervently as she was. Peace was out of the window now, and Kathy sat head in hands, almost overcome with sadness at it all. There was little chattering in the porch that day, everyone wanted to be away home to get the dinner on so they could listen to the broadcast.

Just before it began, Kathy was startled by how still it had become outside. She glanced out of the window. The streets were deserted, no baby cried, no toddler shrieked or chuckled, and no dog barked. Even the children seemed to know what an historic moment it was, for they’d picked up the atmosphere from the seriousness of the adults. So many people were crowded into the O’Malleys’ house that Lizzie and Danny, as usual, had crawled under the table, but even amongst such a mass of people there was an uneasy silence, and Kathy realised she could hear no tram rattling along Bristol Street, nor the drone of the occasional car or the clop of horses’ hooves. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting, and then they heard the dreaded words.

‘I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of Ten 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.’

For a moment there was silence, and then everyone began speaking at once, saying that it was only to be expected and that the Jerries needed teaching a lesson. Underneath the table, Lizzie told Danny, ‘We’re at war.’

‘What’s that?’

Lizzie wasn’t sure, but no way was she going to admit it. ‘Oh, it means there are lots of soldiers about,’ she said. ‘And guns and bombs and things, and Daddy might have to go away and fight bad people.’

‘Oh,’ said Danny, mightily impressed.

People were dispersing back to their own homes, Lizzie noticed, peeping out from between the chair legs, until there was just Auntie Bridie and Uncle Pat with Sheelagh and Matt between them.

‘Well,’ Pat said, looking across at Barry, ‘I’m away for a pint.’

They exchanged a look that Kathy didn’t really understand then, and Bridie snapped scornfully, ‘Away for a pint? Any excuse for a drink, you. It’s nothing to bloody well celebrate.’

‘Oh, let them go,’ Kathy said despondently. ‘I’m away to Mammy’s anyway. She’ll feel it badly, and Daddy too, with them both remembering the Great War so well. Are you coming?’