LETTERS FROM THE GREAT WAR
ForewordLetters from my Grandfather before his capture
Letters to my Grandfather before his capture
My Grandfather's account of his capture
My Grandfather's diary as a prisoner of war
Letters from my Grandfather after his capture
Letters to my Grandfather after his capture
The journey of the field ambulance
Letters from my Grandfather before his Capture
¶1
Postcard, 21.5.1915 ; postmark: Lindfield
Dear FDR & H
Arrived 5.30 AM ten hours on train. Prettiest place I have ever seen. We travelled during the night from 7.30 PM Southport. Will write later and send address. Love to all, Frank.
¶2
…health when I come and we ought to have a good time together.
I've just been listening to one of the chaps reading a bit out of the 'News' (London) about Warsaw, that the Russians are still holding it and the Germans are bringing 75 cm guns and more troops from the West. I met two RAMC men from Horsham on Sunday and they said they came from a big convalescent camp there over one thousand wounded there. They told me that most of the convalescents were being put in such camps instead of hospitals, all the hospitals all over the country were being cleared ready for a big offensive in the West. It reminded me of these drafts, these will have been taken from all over the country too. They'll start soon and time they did. Russia has retreated as far as is safe.
Well I'll be able to talk a bit soon so I'll close. Love to all, Frank.
'Pimple' in real life was at Crowborough at the sports the other day, Randle.
This must have been written 31.10.1915, the day the Field Ambulance moved to Crowborough, and the day of Randle's death.
¶3
Postcard, 27.2.1916
Dear Mabel
Delighted with your parcel the things are fine. I will write to-morrow and enclose the money. Weather same here, snow now about 18 inches deep where it's not been walked on. I'm sorry it's so cold in Manchester, it makes it miserable in the shop I expect. So you and May are manageresses now, take care you lock up at night or you may find somebody under the bed. Best love, Frank.
This would be from Crowborough. (See photograph p. 62). The shop would be Auntie Emily's drapery.
¶4
Postcard, Colchester, 16.6.1916
Friday, 7 AM
Dear FMD & H
Out on a bivouac, slept in a wood last night and am writing this from our home made shelter. Had no letter for a week perhaps one at barracks. Weather cold but rain kept off fortunately (no tents). Too cold to sleep much last night. Continuing our journey this morning I don't know where to. Drop a line soon, they may send letters on from barracks. Best love to all, Frank.
¶5
Postcard, 6.7.1916
Thursday 6th
Dear FMD & H
Couldn't make up a letter so am sending this old post card (of the boxing night at the YMCA at Crowborough: Bomber Wells in the ring with Mick McCormick 5th Manchester) to let you know I received papers, thanks very much for them. Still doing well at front, though seem to be letting the French take the brunt again, more brilliant charges by the Scots and other 'cracks' after the poor Lancs have cleared the way I see, at Fricourt etc. Fine weather here now. Some rumour about here, tell you in letter. No more at present. Waiting to see you all again, until then best love from Frank.
¶6
20th September, 1917
Tent 8.30 PM
Dear FMD & H
I hardly know how I'm going to reply to all your letters, I've had them all and read them through a few times. It's true I've only had time for short letters and I'll risk a bit of explanation. The chap on the ward with me took sick and I was left to manage alone, it was a bit stiff but had to be done as we were very shorthanded through sickness. I got a bit run down, but did alright and now I've got someone with me again so will be able to write as usual. My old pal from the ward and Wilf Bradley who I've been with from joining have left us and been sent down to the Base sick. I was very sorry to part with them, but they may get to England with luck. Albert Ormrod is still here. I am quite well and not having a bad time, so don't get thinking I'm in the trenches because you only get a short letter. I'm a long way off at a Rest Camp as I told you. We've heard that leave is coming soon and has practically started, we go in batches a very few at a time and it will take time to get through us all, it may be one month or another eight or nine but it's there and that's like a whisper from heaven. The last parcel was in good condition and good as ever and I got all the letters and also Dora's long one before it and the 'John Bull' with the others. Miss Wagstaffe has sent me a nice little box of Cadbury's Chocolate with a short letter saying she's sending some cigs through the 'Daily Mail', I thought I'd never hear, I must reply as soon as possible. Well I will answer all your letters during the next day or two in the evening when I come off duty. It's fine to hear you're all well at home, I trust I'll find you so when my leave comes round. It will be candles out in a few minutes so I'll close and write to-morrow. Best love to all and God bless you, Frank.
'John Bull' was a popular magazine. It still existed during my childhood. Miss Wagstaffe was the survivor of the Wagstaffe sisters of Knutsford, close family friends of Dr Henry Gent. It was expected that one would marry my great grandfather.
¶7
Postmark: 13.11.1917
Saturday, 10th November, 1917
Dear FMD & H
Thanks for your letters, Dad's and Mabel's, which came safely, the 5 Fr also. I'm sending this to-night to all, I intended writing separately as you wanted, but there's no time as we're going up the line early in the morning for another do, in the same place as the last. So don't be expecting another letter for a bit. I'll send as many field cards as I can, so you'll know how I fare.
I enjoyed your long letter about the trip, dad. I'd like to see those places, I didn't know there were such so near to us. You did wonders and it speaks volumes for your constitution after what you've been through, that you should be able to outstay practically young men like W. H. and test Henry, I don't know how you manage it, you're a marvel, you know, but nothing saps the vitality like a long drag the same as that tramp, so be careful not to overdo it. I think I'd have been fagged out after it and it would have to be very interesting to induce me to do it voluntarily. I don't wonder at that envelope being burst open, it was very weak and too full, it's a wonder nothing was lost out of it. yes, I wish you would ask Edith to knit the socks, I'll keep 'em alright if they're good uns and wash 'em myself. I'll need them for the cold weather, they wouldn't be a great deal of use to go up with just now, as the ground is so awful feet are never anything but swimming in water. Write as often as possible, it will help to cheer me up while this stunt is on, to know that you're thinking of me. I hope everything goes on happily and comfortably at home, but Dora will see to that and I wish Mabel and Dora the best of luck in their new roles. I'll let you know as much as possible afterwards and if I get the chance I'll write you, Mabel, as per usual. Well, I'll get some sleep while I've the chance so good night and God bless you. best love to all, Frank.
His father must have been to Liverpool, to visit his brother's family. (Fred had died on July 17th, 1917). Henry was Fred's son (not the same person as Harry, his younger brother). Edith was Henry's sister, blind in one eye, and hence a spinster. He was surprised at his father's walk because he had been crippled by a tram in 1909.
¶8
Postmark: 26.11.1917
Friday, 23rd November [arrived Wednesday, 28th, night]
Dear Mabel
Just a few lines as promised I've just had a do in the line and am now a little way back for a rest and will be going up again to-morrow. I've had no post since the parcel and the registered letter. I suppose it will be waiting for me at Headquarters. I wish they would send it up for us, it's rotten being kept waiting and knowing there's a letter and perhaps a parcel here.
I've not heard from you Yet, Mabel, since you got your new Place, I hope it's a Real good one and you're happy there. It seems a good bit since I heard from you or Dora.
It was strange Dora should ask about Sid Forster and I should mention him last letter, he was badly wounded last time up. A big shell dropped near them while carrying a stretcher and killed one of our lads and wounded Sid and another. That was day before yesterday. It's hard lines, we shall miss him very much. I'll tell you about the place some time, it's the last word. Still, I reckon we shall have finished with this part soon and leave will have begun, one of the other Ambulances have drawn for it so it mustn't be far off. Well, I'll write again as soon as I can and I hope I'll get some from you all sent up. The weather has improved and it's not cold for November and that's a God send. I trust all are well. Best love to all and God bless you, Frank.
This is one of the coded messages: he was now at Ypres. There is a photograph of Sid Forster on p. 29.
¶9
Sunday, January 6th, 1918
Dear FMD & H
This is the first I've written since your parcel, I seem to be getting out of writing nowadays, it's getting such a job. Your parcel was extra and I enjoyed it very much, I didn't expect one so soon after the one at Xmas, after that letter you sent me from Rose Hewitt's I thought it was theirs, but that hasn't come yet, may as well give it up now. I was congratulating myself on getting something out of them too. Your little loaf always comes at the right time, we've had very little bread lately, mostly biscuits and eight or ten to a loaf. If you know how to go about it you can manage to buy some French war bread if you happen to be in a village or town and we've had pretty fair and given the ridiculous travesty of food called Army biscuits the go by. That reminds me of the cutting you sent, Dad, about the food in France, it was very exaggerated, the war bread is really good, but you seldom see much pastry in the patisserie shops, and cake is beyond our pay. We spotted some once and went in and asked how much, it was a piece about four inches square, ordinary currant cake, 2Fr 70 they wanted (2s 3d) Two fried eggs and a few chips cost 2 Fr to 2 Fr 50 and the chap who got 3Ú4 lb of steak must have worn powerful glasses. But I think they must be better off for stuff here than in England from what I've heard, there are certainly no queues, you can always get the food by paying their price, and I must say they don't pay as much as the swaddies do, most of them inflate the price for the especial benefit of the British soldiers. Well Dora, it isn't quite too late to acknowledge your letter I hope. I'm looking forward to seeing Eva some time, she must be one of the best. What a treat it will be to get a short leave, I'm anxious to see for myself how you all are, it's a long time to be away and I suppose I'll be sure to notice some changes. Harry more so, twelve months makes a big difference in a boy of his age; still, I hope everything is running as well as ever. Meanwhile I'm waiting for that wonderful period called 'sweating on leave.'
I got the 'Sunday Chronicle' to-day, dad, my post has been thin as yours I think, but I can't grumble as I give no one any opportunity of writing.
We are still in the same place, strange to say, but I will let you know if we go up again, though I don't think we'll go right up this time. We haven't had a bad time considering the job we're on and where we are and we've had an issue of a leathern jerkin which makes a big difference on our beds at night besides being fine and warm for the body, and also socks for the boots, not bad eh? That is two of the chief wants supplied, it's getting quite a good war. A pleasant little incident occurred last week, we all got an invitation to a free […] concert quite unexpectedly, it seems we had treated some strangers who happened to be far from home at the time of our Xmas do, to our dinner and the 'disgraceful' scene after it and they must have told their unit which is only a very small one with the result that they felt grateful for our hospitality and gave us a great concert and a rum issue and we had a fine night.
Well, I think I've told you all the news for the present. We haven't had a thaw yet and the snow which fell about a fortnight ago is still on the ground, beaten hard like glass with a few extra downfalls since, and it freezes every night, but it's nice to think we're getting through the worst of the weather. Don't be long in writing. Good night and God bless you all. Best love, Frank.
This is a bit of a Gotha which came and bombed us one night at &emdash;&emdash;, that unhealthy place we were at a few months ago. He dropped some bombs nearly on us and then they got him in the searchlights and blazed away like wildfire. He crashed down about a mile further on and the pilot and bombdropper were killed. The fabric is supposed to be non-inflammable.
'Swaddies': swad was a dialect term for a soldier. Eva is, of course, Eva Neild, later my grandmother.
¶10
[The last before capture]
France
[Tuesday] 19th March, 1918
[arrived 22nd]
Dear F M & H
I got your grand parcel yesterday, the one with the cakes from Sam Sharp's and the bun loaves, all were A1. I believe you must be making a great effort to send all these things. I don't know how you manage it. Now we're getting very good food here at present and it isn't fair you should make yourselves short to send me stuff. We get nothing like what you send of course, it's all miles superior in quality to what goes here, but still we get enough and therefore I don't expect the expensive boxes you keep sending in spite of what I say.
Well, we may argue it out before so long, for I think I can tell you pretty certain that I'll be home before the end of April, a big allotment has come through, they're wakening up and not before time. I don't know whether you've heard or seen it or not, but it was given out in parliament that any soldier who hadn't had leave before his first twelve months had elapsed in France, was either under penalty of field punishment or had contracted venereal disease&emdash;that looks well for me and for most of our unit, for that matter, doesn't it? Wilf Bradley went early this morning and has promised to give you a call, if able that is, it passes like a lightning dream they all say when they come back. Twenty men go this month and eighty next, and as I'm about ninety now, it's a cert. if nothing happens, I can't realise it. Another thing is the weather has changed completely, it's like summer now and even hot in the sun. I wish I'd more time for writing, that's the worst of it, we're at it all day messing about, twelve hours and there's little chance in the hour or two at night in the billet. But I've just heard that I'm going up to the Advanced Dressing Station to-morrow morning, not as a stretcher bearer, as a dresser, so I'll have more time there, it's quiet there.
Well, I'll close for to-night and get some sleep, it will be in the early hours in the morning we'll go. I'll send a letter or a card to-morrow certain.
Good night and God bless you all and best love, Frank
Of course, my grandfather never got his leave. This was the night before the big attack by German forces.
Letters to my Grandfather before his Capture
¶11
6th September, 1915
Dear Frank
For a long time I have not written but now I have some news. Football has started, United played away, City played at home they played Stockport County they won 3&endash;1 because Henry and Fletcher the backs played well. All the players wherever they were born or used to play have to play for their team for instance Smith plays for some other team. Beale has left. He has gone to Dundee Mew plays where he born Chelsea's goalkeeper Molyneux I don't know how
From Randle&emdash;he died on 31st October, 1915.
¶12
Tuesday, 7th September, 6 PM [1915]
My Dear Frank
I haven't much to say this time, but will fill up the rest of Randle's paper. I am glad we are having hot weather again, and you will like it better than the cold. This is truly 'Sweet September' I wish we were down with you for a week… but if we had come we should have only been a day or two at each place, I don't think I could stay at Dorking and I should have to pay for being anywhere but Southampton. I hope you are keeping well and that you will winter in England, in any part of it. They have had bitter cold in France during that cold spell and the Dardanelles is a mystery. I don't like you to go there.
I have been to-day to a house that is 'on view', previous to sale of furniture to-morrow, it is a beautiful place, Oakfield House, Burnage Lane, Levenshulme (this side of Stockport Road not grandpa's side). It belonged to your grandmother's cousin, John Taylor, the brewer of Ancoats (near the Star Hall, where you played). I went for ancient recollections.
I was at a party at his house about
his daughter's birthday or s
can guess Levenshulme was a
then. I don't even remember h
there would be nothing but wa
Well it was a great party,
impressed, they were wealthy
publican element always i
was a handsome girl, bu
and diffident in those days.
assert myself or stand upon
Father's professional position
dead and Mother and I were living
Well, I have never been at the
to-day, had even lost all reco
was. John Taylor's daughter mar
who was there that night, who
confident and assertive than me.
long ago. Now her father go
left I don't know, but house and
mansion in its grounds, sold
they must have lived there forty
Do you remember me trying to f
at Ansdell when we were
that was his sister, also Mothe
This and the previous letter are written on one folded sheet of paper. A piece has been torn off, but it is still possible to understand what is left of the letter. His mother was married from her cousin's house in Manchester in 1847.
¶13
Sunday, December 9th, 1917
Dear Dolly
My sincere apologies for the length of time I have taken to answer. It did not think it was a week since you had written, never mind a fortnight, anyhow, better late than never. Well, you sent me a fine long letter last time, and the sketch of yourself was very like (I. D. Y.) While I am writing this we've got a gramophone on playing 'Two sad grey eyes' and it reminds me of your singing it here that Sunday&emdash;do you remember? Mabel got it off a young lady who is at Brown Bros. She wanted to sell it and some of the records, so Mabel got dad to buy it (marvellous to say) and they went up for it yesterday afternoon to Ashton where the young lady lives so that in spite of 'The Sisters Do Nowt' we've got music in the happy home. Who is the youth? Mabel was busy recognizing you when she descended to lovely earth with a resounding bump. It was funny. We were all on our lonesome, as you saw. Not that that is anything fresh, for we always are now, except when with Eva, for we never see any boys now at all, and were quite surprised to see one last night viz the one with you. I thought you went out with your mother every Saturday night. If I had known I could have made plenty of appointments for M[abel] and I to see you there, that is when you haven't anyone to see. You glowered fearfully at me last night every time I caught your eye&emdash;what's the row&emdash;what's the row at all, at all.
Frank has been in the firing-line again but is having a short rest at the base at present. He writes to say the things he has seen are worse than anything he has ever read or seen, even worse than the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and there's some terrible experiences written by him. Well, we've just got back from seeing Eva off on the bus and it's divilish cold out tonight. I've a long, long list of woes to recount, firstly: Frank does not expect to get leave for Xmas. We've just smashed the gramophone through over-winding it, and it won't act. We've got no currants, raisins, sugar, lemons or anything for Xmas, so we'll have to do without lemon cheese, mincemeat, plum pudding, Xmas cake and trifle this Christmas. I'm a cold miserable wretch this weather with chilblains and am going villainously ugly. Am frightfully short of cash and still owe lots. The decorator hasn't been when expected and we've had the stair carpet up and our bedroom stripped for two weeks now, and have to go to bed in a room that echoes on bare walls. I've wasted four hard-earned bob on a rotten hat. Both my feet go in on all my shoes, so I'll have to be wearing irons soon. Am fed up with being at home. Well, I feel a bit relieved after that little lot. I think everyone gets a bit fed-up at times&emdash;don't they? How are you going on for Xmas fare? Well I'll have to finish now, and will perhaps be able to write a more cheerful letter next time.
Yours to a cinder, Dora
I don't know who Dolly was, just a friend. The letter does recapture my Auntie Dora's personality, and the atmosphere of the Gent family household. There is a reference to my grandfather's experiences but, of course, no details.
¶14
This is the account of his capture that my grandfather wrote for his Regimental History which was published in 1930. He based it on the diary he kept through 1918.
2/3rd East Lancashire Field Ambulance
The Story of a 3rd Line Territorial Unit,
1914&endash;1919
The following account of the experiences of a Prisoner of War has been kindly written by Private F. Gent. It throws interesting light on an aspect of the war most of us luckily escaped.
As described in a previous chapter, upwards of twenty NCOs and men of our Unit were taken Prisoners of War at the Advanced Dressing Station, Templeux, situated between Bernes and Peronne. On the morning of March 21st, 1918, an intense bombardment was set up by the enemy, and it was soon very evident that something of no mere importance was about to happen. A thick mist lay over the surrounding country, making the work we were doing a matter of the utmost difficulty. At this time we were working in support trenches and quite close to the front line. As we groped about in the mist, gas shells were coming over in great and ever increasing numbers. Well I recall a young Infantry lad, limping badly, crying out, 'The place is swarming with Jerries!' It was terribly true. The overwhelming numbers of Germans had, by sheer weight of men and guns, proved that the tenacity and courage of British troops was of little avail when our line was held by a much lessened force.
In our work of succouring the wounded we chanced to let on a rudely-built dugout and had hardly entered the hole when shouts were heard above. Intuitively we were aware that the voices we heard were those of the 'Jerries,' and at any moment we fully expected bombs to be hurled into our midst, but by some stroke of good fortune the worst that happened was two or three shots that hurt no one. After a hurried consultation the seven or eight of us decided to go up into the open and take our chance. On gaining the top of the dugout, the sight confronting us was eerie. Looming up like spectres in the mist were a score of grey forms, each pointing a bayonet at our defenceless bodies. Machine guns were rattling on all sides, and every moment we fully expected being mowed down. We were made to stand in a circle and a German NCO detailed a party of men to take charge of us. A tremendous bombardment now commenced&emdash;probably from our own guns&emdash;and the 'Jerries,' who had no great liking for our artillery hurried us under cover. We were searched, and afterwards, much to our relief, we were marched back through the lines of the advancing enemy.
It is only just to set on record that our guards, unlike many we met later, were kindly fellows. Not only did they hand over their water bottles, but they also defended us when passing troops sought to do us injury. Marching through thick mud for what at the time seemed endless hours, proved to be a tiring ordeal, but we managed to find some relief in our amazement at the severe losses experienced by the enemy in this final desperate attack on the Allied lines. We saw guns and men being rushed up with feverish haste. Regiment after regiment passed us on their way to the broken line. As showing the losses sustained, guns were being hauled up by ill-matched teams of horses and mules&emdash;in some cases we saw heavy cart horses harnessed to small mules. At one halt we beheld men cutting up horse flesh for the mid-day meal. On arrival at Estrees we passed into a large field wherein were hundreds of British prisoners, and here our escort left us. Here we were allowed a few hours rest, excepting those of us who were rounded up to assist in the unloading of ambulances. I was not an unwilling helper in this work, and I was gratified to have by my side Will Dibb and Alf McNulty. Later in the day most of our fellows were detailed for work in one of the German hospitals, and in the four days we remained we had probably more experience of hospital duties than we had received on our own side of the line. It was not satisfactory experience. Drugs, dressings, equipment, were all short and of poor quality. Our food consisted of horse meat stew, biscuits, and coffee.
On March 25th, the arrival of wounded ceased, probably because the Germans had opened up hospitals nearer to their advanced position. We were marched to Le Cateau and on arrival in the town had the doubtful honour of witnessing the Kaiser and little Willie, both resplendent in gay uniforms bedecked with medals, journeying to witness the progress of their troops. A handful of cigarettes was showered on us by Willie junior as the royal car passed by. After a short stay in Le Cateau we marched on to a town, far behind the line, Quesnoy, and entered a Prisoner of War Cage containing hundreds of prisoners. A raised platform was in each corner of the field, and on each platform a guard stood heavily armed beside a machine gun. Round the cage marched guards carrying guns spiked with saw-edged bayonets. The display of force was totally unnecessary, as all the British prisoners were unarmed, weary and hungry. Our plight was pitiable. Darkness came on, and after a few scores of men had been housed in barns, the great majority of us were left to bear the discomfort of a night in the cold and never ceasing rain. The following day we had practically nothing to eat and for eight hours we stood about waiting for a train to take us to somewhere in Germany. Through all the tiresome waiting we were splendidly kept in good spirits by Pte. Charlton.
At 11.30 PM, by Charlton's watch, we moved by train, travelling forty in each truck, and five days later we arrived in Germany at a place called Haltern. Several men died from exposure on the journey. In the internment camp we were again searched and questioned closely, but we received little food, indeed meal times were generally occasions for baths, medical inspections, inoculations, and vaccinations. A large number of Russian prisoners occupied the camp with us, and deaths amongst the Russians were of daily occurrence. Much to our annoyance, overcoats were withdrawn.
Drawing the veil over several weeks following, all of which time we were all in a starved and wretched condition, there arrived a day at the end of April when I was marched by an armed guard through the village street of Rheindahlen. I was being taken to a farm. At the time I was mad with hunger and badly in need of a shave. My clothes were covered with mud, but when I reached the farm I endeavoured to create a good impression, and this I did by respectfully removing my hat when I stood before my new employer. My coming had been expected, for a meal had been prepared for me, and I sat down and ate as much as it was safe to consume at one sitting.
I settled down to work on this farm all right, but I never managed to do full justice to the job because I suffered from being unable to speak the language of the farmer. The loneliness of my position and the absence of letters from England were tremendous sorrows, both of which grew bigger and bigger as the weeks rolled away. I found the work very hard, probably because I had never been accustomed to labouring on farms. At every turn I was followed by a guard. One day the fellow lied to the farmer that I had been asleep in one of the fields. Meals were served twice daily, but I never managed to get as much as I wanted, and I am not ashamed to confess that I 'borrowed' a good many eggs. After a few weeks I had become adept in swallowing raw eggs and discreetly hiding the shells.
About the middle of June I was taken away from the farm. At a place near Coln I joined a number of other British prisoners who were working in a Brickette works. Here I was rejoiced to find McNulty in the party. Adjoining the Brickette works was a coal mine and I soon discovered that not only had I been transferred to this place as a punishment for supposed disobedience on the farm, but I was to work in the mine. If it was a punishment, I much preferred my new job, for not only was the food better, but Sundays were rest days. I found many friends in this camp, amongst them being Canadians and French, and one of the latter gave to me a worn shirt and an old razor, both wonderfully acceptable.
The camp contained a number of prisoners who had been here for a long time and we soon discovered that they regularly received parcels of food from their friends in England and elsewhere. Why no parcels were coming through to us was a continual source of worry. The summer went on its way and the rations grew worse and worse. Occasionally we saw the mid-day meal being carried in to the commandant's quarters and we knew from what we saw that he was worse off for food than the prisoners whose rations were augmented by food parcels received from their home folks.
At the end of July a peculiar kind of sickness broke out in the camp. Over 300 men were down the first day and many, especially Russians, went under. During the time the sickness raged it was wonderful how in the camp, which had no medical man, the men looked after each other. Food parcels were pooled and those who were the less ill looked after the very bad cases. After about three weeks the fever (?) abated, but the toll in life had been very great.
My first parcel of food arrived about the time of the armistice and it was welcome. Strange as it may seem, we knew nothing about the ending of hostilities until about three weeks after the armistice terms had been signed. Our first intimation of the event was comical. One morning, instead of being wakened for work at 6 AM, as usual, we were allowed to rise at our own convenience. On going outside our huts, no guards were in evidence. The gates of the camp were wide open and the Commandant told us that we could go. We went!
¶15
The Cages at Le Quesnoy&emdash;written on a scrap of a Christmas card from Mabel
We arrived at Le Quesnoy from Le Cateau at 2 PM, March 27th, under guard of Lancers, after a tiring march of twenty-odd kilometres. It was a typical march day with bitter west winds. We were marched to the cages, just barbed wire enclosures about one hundred yards square in a bleak, desolate spot, and left there. Very soon we were frozen after the heat of the travelling and had to keep running or walking about to keep warm. We got a bowl of soup at 4.30 PM. At dusk a driving rain started and the Germans fell us in and packed us in one or two barns, sheds etc., the only bit of humanity they showed us at this place. I was lucky and slept in an old room on a tiled floor. Immediately dawn arrived we were turned into the cage again and were given some coffee, the usual, very weak and without milk or sugar, and some dry black bread. We remained there all that day, which was Good Friday, and tried all ways to escape the wind; many of the men, South African Scottish Black Watch, wore kilts and had no overcoat. Luckily I had my coat but had foolishly discarded both vest and cardigan the night before capture. A few who had blankets hung them on the barbed wire on the windward side and huddled together behind it; others scraped holes in the ground and piled the earth into a parapet to break the force of the wind and rain. Alf McNulty and I got hold of a shovel and made a hole about four feet wide and two feet deep and made a ridge round against the wind and managed to get snatches of rest, a few minutes at a time, from marching round the cage. By dusk to-night we were getting exhausted, though we had two more bowls of soup that day. We hoped against hope for the sheds again, but time went on and they left us all night in the cage. How nobody was frozen to death by morning is a miracle. I kept walking the whole night and could hardly stand by morning. The coffee and dry bread received as another day wore on somehow and we began to wonder if we'd ever leave the cage alive, when at 3 PM on the 29th we were told we were going. We crowded round the gate and at 4 PM were marched out across the fields on […road?]. By this time it was raining heavily. We gathered from our guards that the train had not arrived. The rain continued and hour after hour passed with no train, until our condition was getting terrible, we'd had nothing to eat since eleven o'clock in the morning and it was now about 8 PM. Men began to drop into the wet soil of the ploughed fields at the side of the road, and the taciturn guards had to keep ordering them up. Things grew worse and the men began to get out of hand, refusing to rise and swearing at the guards; worse could have happened but no one had the strength. The guard changed several times while we stood, drenched and stiff with cold and later… [here there is a section missing] …the guard was doubled. It was not till 11.30 PM that we moved again off the bit of muddy road and it was after midnight when our party of forty entered a cattle truck en route for Germany, after a wait of nine hours. We threw off overcoats and boots and dropped in our wet things, and slept till morning. The next meal was some barley stew at 11 AM, 30th, which put us right. We slept practically the whole of the time in the truck, and it speaks well for our constitution that few of us felt ill effects, though two men afterwards died in hospital as a result of exposure, and some were unable to leave the train when we arrived at Haltern.
Diary kept by my grandfather as a prisoner. This is written on a Christmas card too. On the back page he wrote out a calendar, crossing out every day until October 12th, 1918.
March 21 Taken prisoner at Villerette.
March 21&endash;25 Working in field hospital at Estrees.
March 25 Marched to Le Cateau. Saw Kaiser.
March 27&endash;29 Marched to Cages at Le Quesnoy. Arrived 2 PM (27th). Left 12 PM (29th). Rainy and cold, got wet through in open all night.
Good Friday 28
March 30&endash;31 Entrained en route for Germany, crossed border night of Easter Sunday.
April 1 Travelling eastward into Germany, through Namur, Verviers, Naspraue, Dolhain, Wanne. Arrived at Haltern, marched to Camp.
April 2 Slept the night in huts. Baths, fumigation, settled in barracks compound.
April 3 Breakfast 6 AM. Parade, heavy rain. No cigs and ravenous, medical inspection, vaccination and inoculation. First emergency parcel, great rejoicing, one parcel for two men.
April 4 Routine as usual. Meal from parcel with partner (Alf McNulty).
April 5 Put on Medical Staff, went round dressing wounds etc., felt done up, getting weak. Dodged second dose of Inoculation.
April 6 Went round dressing as before, brighter day, but find time goes quicker dozing inside.
April 7 First writing day Sunday, great trouble in getting a post card, bought one for two cigs at last. Nice little church service in hut, going again tonight.
April 8 Same job. Parcel nearly done despite desperate economy. Very thin day for food, continually hungry. Shared a Woodbine between three. Dodged third inoculation.
April 9 Dressing all morning, very tiring. Things going worse. Men not quite up to the mark, fainting from weakness. Got an issue of one pair of socks (English).
April 10 Wooden Dutch clogs issued, managed to stick to my boots on account of work. Parcel finished. Had tablespoonful of mussels with soup last three or four days.
April 11 Getting more used to diet, but am very weak and have to reserve strength. Dodged fourth inoculation through being out dressing etc. Had bread ration stolen.
April 12 Dressed wounds etc. in the Hospital (Lazarott). Was given a piece of white bread by one of old RAMC men.
April 13 As usual. Said to have finished quarantine, but not removed. Second parcel, one between four men this time, and one small tin of bully between seven. Given some broken biscuits Army type at Hospital. Red letter day indeed.
April 14 Shifted quarters, all separated to different Barracks and Groups. RAMC and RSB's put together in one hut. Food 100% better since Belgians were moved (viz. Belge books). Church 2.
April 15 Food deteriorated again, two basins of soup like water and couple of 1Ú2" slices of bread.
April 16 Went to Hospital again, very little to do. No nourishment in soup at all, had two tablespoonfuls of mussels. Feeling starved and downhearted tonight.
April 17 Busy at Hospital for a change. Brought clogs and shirts and pants and were issued with them. Had to give in overcoat after 31Ú2 years. Rumoured leaving place tomorrow.
April 18 Breakfast at 4 AM, coffee and usual bread. Left Dulmen by truck at 10.30 AM. Crossed Rhein at Bonntor at 6.30 PM. Next meal at Bonntor at 10.30 PM (eighteen hours). Very cold in truck during night and packed like herrings. Glad to get to Limburg at 5.30 AM.
April 19 Arrived fine town of Limburg at 5.30 and marched through to Camp and had huge bowl of mangel and barley. Had enough to eat for first time since capture. Mangel stew again for dinner, and maize meal sweetened for tea. Issue of stale British rations, biscuits, mouldy bread and tin of tripe and onions between eight. Relished them all.
April 20 Breakfast 6 AM coffee and bread. Walked about outside till dinner to keep warm. Curious cow mixture for dinner, all chopped greens etc., solid but not filling. Issue of soap, barley and mangel for tea. Better food than last camp, but filthy lousy billets and one blanket.
A continuation of the diary, written on a German Prisoner of War's letter form.
May 8 Very hot day. Gendarme reported me to farmer for going to sleep on job in field, which was a lie. Had a bit of a row and told farmer straight gendarme a liar. Finished just after 10.
May 9 Thursday, Ascension Day, like Sunday (nix arbeit), good job, absolutely dead beat this morning. Walked over in afternoon to see pals at Hilderach, lovely little spot.
May 10 Work lighter through row with farmer, not on speaking terms. Also discovered my little thefts are detected, through boy who is a little spy and jackal, duly noted. Feel rather ashamed and decided to stop. Miserable day for me.
May 11 Talking to farmer again, though can't understand much. Worked in garden very hard till 9.30, and then cows.
May 12&endash;17 Nothing special occurred, all as usual, had some stiff days, days fearfully long, but a week soon goes.
May 18&endash;26 Everything going as ever. Friday the easiest day up to now. Weather gone very cold and stormy all at once, no work in the fields. Expected some post to-day, Sunday, but disappointed again. Getting paid every Sunday 3 marks 60 pfennig to-day, bought cigs, soap and pencil. One of pals taken off farm for tailoring work, only Alf and I left in district. In terrible state for underclothes, one shirt torn and ripped, and one cardigan too lousy to wear. Got huge appetite, never can get sufficient, yet eat as much as others, they're tight.
May 27&endash;29 Helped to plough field for Cappus plants, dug up one end, terrific work. Noon and night planted the Cappus, three thousand plants in one field and another smaller one for six of us, finished in seven hours continuous work. Had grand supper to finish at 9.30: mashed potatoes, soup and lettuce.
May 30 Thursday. Holiday, flags and decorations, religious procession for Catholics in all villages, fine shoe, lanes lined with flags and sprigs and strewn with sweet-scented flowers and leaves along the ground. Called to see Alf in afternoon, after a visit from him in morning, going in wood to boil some eggs.
May 31 Loaded manure from cow dump and horse dump, cleared both in day, nine huge cart loads, from 8 to 8, then spread in field till 9 then [………paper creased] hardest day yet here and of course in my life.
June 1 Finished spreading manure and then planted cappus for rest of day, a much easier job.
June 2 Sunday again, Alf called this morning, told couldn't go walk but went to spite them and nothing said, rotten lot. Went for razor to barber but had none to sell, so let us shave ourselves in fine shop. Went for walk with two fraulein at night and spent most of night with them (visitors from Rheydl). Expected some post to-day, but getting sick with always being disappointed.
June 3 Overslept a trifle and had to be called three times. Felt bad in stomach and sick, but stuck work. Ate little dinner and had row with lad and clouted him, thought it would be serious. very ill and had to lie down in afternoon. Caused quite eruptions. Old cat said I was dodging work. Did cows and went to bed without tea or supper. A wretched day in which the people proved their character, shouldn't like to be ill too often here.
June 4 Quite right again, worked in fields all day, working from 6 to 10 practically every day now.
June 5 In fields again to do with sheep [?]
June 6 Did some early hay making, beautiful day, finished a little earlier.
June 7 Worked in Bonen (bean) field the whole day, very monotonous all alone. Grand day again. No spuds to-night, seemed short.
June 8 In the forest the whole day gathering up dry mould from under the roots of dead trees for the cow stall and afterwards fine manure. Then double cartload of grass, nearly 11 when finished.
June 9 Started miserably for Sunday, homesick fit. Three visitors at night speaking English, had fine time. Piece of rhubarb cake for tea. One of friends is going to send me English-German Dictionary, gave me lesson in German. Treated better to-day than for a long time, and I've been telling boy […] Limburg etc., etc. Still nothing from England.
June 10&endash;16 Had bad time at farm, unpleasantness etc. Shifted suddenly on Friday 14th to Grouenlnich near Coln Briquette works. In hut with ten English, Aussies, Canadians etc. and pal, fine to be with lads again, very kind, had several gifts, but food at camp as usual bad. Worked in pit Saturday.
June 16&endash;23 Worked in pit every day but Sunday off again. Not too hard at all, very dirty, looking after length of railroad for big mining machine. Many gifts of food from pals, and two shirts each and razor.
June 23&endash;30 Another week's work down the pit Saturday six of us carried three hundred sleepers, also some line sections, dead beat. Had some salmon to-day, Sunday. Stew awful, but have to have it to keep hunger off. Still no packets.
July 1&endash;7 Worked on Bagger Machine all week, hard, gruelling work, choked and blinded with coal dust, Saturday night very welcome. Got some hard, stale and mouldy bread from chaps, soaked and baked in oven, and enjoyed immensely with some sardines, and also dry. Still no post, now 31Ú2 months.
July 7&endash;11 Some very hot weather. Soup wretched stuff this week and not had anything from other chaps for some time, practical starvation and getting very weak again. Soup made from turnip tops, some common beans like stewed grass.
June 12&endash;13 Two very hot days. Getting fearfully weak still. If no parcels soon will go under, nearly go to sleep standing up. Had two accidents 13th, got trapped in stomach between trucks in morning and had arm injured in afternoon. Mac also had foot run over and had to leave work and is lucky in getting Hospital job in future.
July 13&endash;15 Nothing fresh.
July 15&endash;22 Sickness broke out in camp. Three hundred men down. Helped to take temperatures. Ill myself, in Hospital Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Diet some thick macaroni and bread for all day. Lost appetite and eaten nothing but dry bread and water all week. Fearfully thin and weak, can't work, have to dodge.
July 22&endash;23 Still at work, but can't eat, miserable condition, weigh about eight stone now, soup and jam impossible to eat, vile stuff. Oh, if packets would come. Managed to do hard day's work on Bagger to-day, goodness knows how, got drenched this afternoon.
July 29 Worked again to-day, everything as usual. Raining every day.
August 4 Sunday again, off this time. Got some stuff from Limburg pending parcels arriving last Sunday night.
The diary is written in pencil in the tiniest possible handwriting. The work was hard on the farm, and he was isolated completely from companions, except on Sundays, but he did manage to spend much of one Sunday night trysting with Alf McNulty and two Rhinemaidens. He much preferred his time at the briquette works, though.
¶17
Meals on well-to-do German farm where they work hard from 6 in the morning to 10 and 11 at night
Breakfast Coffee made from burnt oats without milk or sugar, two or three rounds of black bread smeared thinly with a kind of black treacle made from turnips.
Dinner Thin vegetable soup and potatoes boiled, with a little lettuce and vinegar or potatoes and cabbage mashed together. About twice a week 2 oz of meat, smoked pork or boiled mutton with this.
Tea Three half rounds of black bread and three of best bread if which the flour is made from potatoes, the smallest suspicion of a smear of butter is put on and the usual treacle and coffee.
Supper (10.30 PM) The best meal of the day. Meal soup made from grain with a little milk like very…
¶18
Instructions to Prisoners of War.
…alteration in the ill treatment will cease until the English government has consented to the Germans' request. It is therefore in the interest of all English prisoners of spite to do their best to enable the German government to remove all English prisoners of spit to camps in Germany, where they will be properly treated with food, good clothes and you will succeed by writing as mentioned above and then surely the British government shall consent to Germany's request for the sake of their countrymen. You will be supplied with postcards, paper and envelopes, all the correspondence in which you explain your hardship will be sent as express mail to England. Your address Name Rank Battalion POW
Gefangenlager Wahn, Germany
I presume these were the instructions from the Camp Commandant to the newly arrived prisoners of war. Express mail never seems to have materialised&emdash;it always took around two months.
¶19
On back of Christmas card from his father; the two previous items are written on inside.
Read this while a prisoner 26th May 1918 and wonder what the future will bring, how soon will I see England again.
¶20
The blue postcard, announcing his capture.
I am a prisoner of war in Germany
Captured 21.3.1918
¶21
Dülmen i. Westf., the 7th April, 1918 [arrived 13th May]
Dear FMD & H
Quite well and in comfortable quarters and being well treated. I'm allowed one post card a week and one letter a fortnight, full letter next week, all news as possible. Will you send a little money, enquire at Post Office, and some cigs if possible. Cheer up, all is well and I'll be exchanged in six months or before, I'm on staff medical duty at present. Write at once, I believe it takes a month to come. Very best love to all and God bless and protect you, Frank.
¶22
14th April, 1918 [arrived 3rd June]
Dear FMD & H
This is the first chance of writing, unless you got the blue postcard, which I don't know whether reached you or went to the War Office. I shall be allowed a letter every fortnight and a post card every week, so you will hear every week from me. You see by above where I am, but I will address to Mabel now and again and let her know how I go on. Well, dear ones, they got me on the 21st March and we came through some dangers through the mercy of God that day, we were marched across no man's land and right back and then left for duty at a German Field Hospital, about twelve RAMC lads and two Medical Officers. We were treated with respect and every consideration here and worked tremendously hard for five days and the food was plain and rough but plentiful, we got the same as the Germans themselves. After that we were sent with many more prisoners, Infantry etc. etc. a long march to a guarded building, fed, and slept, and next morning another long march to an open cage. Things had changed now, we were prisoners. At the hospital we had no armed guard and went about at will almost, we spent a bad time in the cage and then entrained for Germany and landed at this camp. I've kept a diary of everything and will continue to, so as to show you afterwards. We are in comfortable quarters here and at present under ten days quarantine, bathed, fumigated, vaccinated, inoculated etc. then we'll be put on different jobs. I with two others have been put on the medical staff of the Camp and have been going round dressing the last two days. We get our food augmented by parcels from Prisoner of War Funds, an emergency parcel we've already had, bully beef, cheese, dripping, tea, cocoa, milk, one parcel between two, it isn't much but a God send for all that. You won't be able to send me any boxes from home now, only through some Prisoners fund. I hope you'll make enquiries and see what can be done; letters I don't think there's any ban on, so you know what to do, all. Well, this is my 25th day and in six months I will be safely home again, this is quite true, there are several RAMCs here about to be exchanged after five months and others have gone before them they knew, so buck up and don't worry. I'm with four more chaps out of our Ambulance and our work will keep our minds occupied to a great extent. If you can send a little money and some cigs do, but food is the most urgent, it's a bit thin at first, but when settled down alright. Very best love to all and God bless and protect you. Your loving Frank.
¶23
Postmark: Dülmen, 13.5.1918
Pte A. E. Ormerod
2/3rd E. Lancs Field Ambulance
RAMC
BEF
France
14th April, 1918
Dear Albert
A line to tell you the lads and myself are safe and sound. Dibb, Chapple, McNulty, Taffy Thomas, Moir and some 2nd F.A. are here, I don't know where Sergeant Miller and others are. Well, Albert old pal, we've been through a lot, but are settled now and I'm on the medical staff of the Camp. Let me know if you're alright and who's copped, we're quite in the dark, how did Parkie go on? Being treated better than I thought. Best luck Frank.
See ¶72. This postcard was forwarded to his father reaching him in August.
¶24
Postmark: Limburg, 25.5.1918
5th May, 1918
Dear FMD & H
Nothing reached me yet. No chance to write, no paper or cards through all travelling and changing. I am now on a farm in Rhineland, dropped on my feet again you see, beautiful country. They are the hardest working and most economical people on this earth. I work on the farm, cows horses and fields [c. six lines obliterated by German censor][last line in pencil illegible]
¶25
14th June, 1918
Dear FMD & H
A letter at last, but little time to write it. Well, more changes, I'm now at a factory, coal and briquettes, only came to-day but it looks like mining, but it will be easier than the farm. Seven weeks on a farm has altered me for the better with good food, but the work! 6 in the morning to 10 at night, at it like steam all the time was killing until you got used to it, you may guess. I don't know the reason of the change, the food will be different, but I believe it's a step towards exchange as RAMCs go from here. It isn't because I didn't work, I worked like a black on the farm. A strange experience it has been, isolated from week's end to week's end, not able to understand anything and never hearing a word of English, also knowing nothing about farming, it was extremely difficult to get on at all, but gradually I picked up the lingo and gained strength for the work, though misunderstandings were always occurring and I didn't get on well. I had just the same food as the farmer, wife, boy, family at same table, nice bed etc. The window was barbed wired and I had to report to the sentry every Sunday, which was the only time I saw Alf McNulty, my only pal (128, Sewerby St) I heard that strange language English. On Sunday I could go a walk in the woods and country which were beautiful. That may be the reason I'm here as they were afraid of us escaping with so much liberty and so near to Holland but I shouldn't have risked that. I was well off at the farm and working hard knowing that as soon as proof came through that I was in the medical Corps (Sannatator) the deutsch government would keep their pledge and see I was exchanged. I fully expected being at the farm for the season as my work was good and always getting better as I learnt but I expect it's all for the best. It's with sorrow I leave the farmer, he was a fair good man to work for, though some of them used to make it miserable for me at times. At present I'm among friends, twenty-odd English chaps here getting pals and good natured as ever, of course, I sadly missed company at the farm. What a treat it will be to get a letter from you, it will be a tonic to see the dear old writing again; three months is nearly up now, I shall be hearing any time and I'm living for it, I pray every night all is well and that I shall see you all as usual again before so long and I believe it will be answered. I'd felt the change coming for the past fortnight. What notice did you get? That I was missing, or missing believed prisoner or what? I got it through as soon as possible. I got a German officer at the Hospital where we worked at first to promise to send a post card I gave him, did you get it? The post is frightfully slow. I've written you every week except last when I could get neither post card nor letter, the lads here have been kind enough to give me this, they cannot do too much. I tell you, it's good to be among comrades again, food and cigs they've given us from their scanty store. The French are also the best of friends, made us coffee and gave us a tin of sardines between the two of us. Well to-morrow we start work here for better or worse, though it cannot be harder and it's only a twelve hour day which should be a lazy life for me now. So until next writing time I must close as I've written a great deal and [……]
Good night and God bless and protect you all. Your loving Frank.
Excuse hurry, lucky to get a letter card, but better next time.
¶26
Postmark: Limburg, 10.7.1918
23rd June, 1918 [received 13th August]
Dear FMD & H
Just a post card this week but I can tell you this has been a change for the better [three lines obliterated by German censor] They have been real comrades, given [Alf?] and I two shirts and a razor and many articles of food etc. and it makes things far happier than the farm to be with them. I'm only anxious about you and once I start hearing can bear it all until the good time comes. We're in a hut with the other English and seventeen French all tres bon, all the rest of the concern is done by Russians, the whole country is full of them. Well, over three months gone and quickly too with so many adventures, another three months and old 69 I can feel it coming. Till then God bless you and protect you, Frank
'69' is home: 69, Lloyd Street South.
¶27
30th June, 1918 [arrived September 26th]
My Dear FMD & H
I'm allowed one letter a fortnight again now, and the boys French and English have given us some post cards and letters. It's even harder to know how to write here than it was in France you may guess and I thought that bad enough. I wonder whether you've received all my letters etc.
I haven't heard from you yet, nor received any parcels from the Prisoners of War Help Committee, though some of the chaps in another compound who were captured in March have started getting parcels, but it's from you I'm so anxious to hear.
Well, I'll just tell you briefly how I'm faring here and risk it getting through. [ten lines obliterated by German censor]
We have two hours for breakfast one hour for dinner in which we have to come to the hut and go back, about one mile each way and half an hour from 3.30 till 4 and finish at 6 at night. We get a big bowl of soup at 12 and the same at 6 when we finish and about 8 oz of bread with a little jam or sausage at 8 PM for the next day's issue. We aren't allowed out of the little compound in which our hut is situated, of course, except to go to work and we are constantly under guard, but all the guards are decent fellows and never bother us. We manage to keep cheerful in spite of the restrictions and conditions, though of course it will be better when your letters and parcels and the Help Committee's start coming, the Frenchies and our chaps spend lots of time cooking and warming stuff from their parcels, toasting their army biscuits etc. and it's rather hard to have none of your own, though they've been very good and we've had little bits of extras from them at times. And we're all good company, in the same boat as it were, all I've to do is to copy Mr Micawber and wait for something to turn up and the sooner the better, all we hear in the way of exchange is hopeful, there are no RAMC men here but us two, they've all left after a month or two, so I believe that when proof comes through from our War Office that we are non-combatant (and we know how long it takes from our experience) that I'll be home again. I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to that first letter. I'm looking out every time any post comes now and it gets a bit disappointing. Some of the men get so many cigs a month through some firm like Martins, you used to send them to me in France, I wish you could do the same, the comfort of a smoke you get to want more and more. If you haven't sent the money I asked for at Dülmen, don't now, because it's practically of little use, as we can't spend it to any advantage.
Well, I must close until next Sunday's post card and by then I expect to have heard something from you or had some post at any rate, so God bless and protect you all.
Best love from your loving Frank.
¶28
Postmark: Limburg, 1.8.1918
[Sunday] 21st July, 1918 [arrived 24th September]
Dear FMD & H
Was too late with my letter last week, but there was nothing new. I've had the 10/- you sent [two months' journey] dated Princess Road 14th May and I was very thankful to know you'd heard from me by then. Nothing else has arrived since, but it's a start and I was very grateful. More next week.
God bless and protect you all, Frank.
¶29
Postmark: Limburg, 7.8.1918
[Sunday] 28th July, 1918 [arrived 24th September]
Dear FMD & H
I received your letters on Friday night, the first ones. To think you never heard from the War Office. It has made a world of difference to me since I got your letter. I'd been afraid of bad news and was very anxious. Goodness knows where the parcels are the RAMC have sent, not one has come yet, though most other regiments have got them through to their men who were captured same time: G.W. Parkinson was a good pal in France, I thought he'd been captured. Awfully sorry about Ivy. Keeping well and fit. Letter next Sunday. God bless you, Frank.
The reference to his cousin Ivy is in response to his father's letter telling him she had been diagnosed as suffering from incipient consumption (see ¶47).
¶30
30th July, 1918 [arrived 12th September]
Dear FMD & H
I told you in my post card that I'd got your letter and Harry's and I was very delighted to receive word at last. You should have had word from the War Office very soon to say I was missing. I expect you thought it was all up with me that's why I tried to get something through to you as soon as I could, one post card was sent on March 27th from Le Cateau as we went through that place, and the next from Dulmen, which is the one you got. You must have been to endless trouble and it's a wonder my parcels are so late, as they must have got to know through you very early that I was a prisoner, I can't understand it. But still, I suppose they're mixed up somewhere and on Sunday they sent some stuff from Limburg for those who hadn't got any parcels yet and I got some oatmeal, tea, sugar, bully beef and tinned maconachie and a tin of jam with a small packet of biscuits and I can tell you I've enjoyed life this last three days. I'll do my best to get you a pipe, but we can't get out at all and our money is in check form, all the same I'll manage it. Did I tell you, I had a fine new pair of boots ready for bringing home when I came on leave and I left them with Edward, and I expect he had to leave them when they evacuated, so that's off it's sad to say. Your second 10/- came on Sunday I got 12 marks for it [six lines obliterated by German censor] If anything happens as regards being repatriated I'll let you know at once, these moves happen very suddenly and our time is nearly up here I think. Yes, Pontefract was captured the same day as me but I never saw him. George Parkinson was a particular pal at the time in France. I thought he had been captured too. I shall drop him a post card. Oh yes, my wallet, cigarette case and photos are still intact though the worse for wear, I've stuck like glue though everything else has gone for bits of food. I can't say how glad I was to hear you were all well as ever, may God keep you so. I'm in good health and bucking up now and as well as ever except for dropping a little weight. I weigh about 8 st in my clothes but when my packets come I'll soon put it on again, all the English prisoners look fine and plump and healthy [looks like it]. I've had to rush this so please excuse it. Well, I must finish quickly and try and make more time next letter. Thank Harry for his letter and I am looking forward to Mabel and Dora's also, as Harry says they are writing.
So I'll close with best of love and God bless and protect you all, Frank.
'Maconochie' was tinned meat and vegetable stew for soldiers, a standard item of diet. His reference to his weight is, of course, ironical. Hunger was his greatest problem whilst a prisoner, even when on the farm.
¶31
Postmark: Limburg 15.8.1918
[Sunday] 4th August, 1918 [arrived 10th September]
Dear FMD & H
The second 10/- arrived safely and your letters of June 1st came to-day. It's great to be in touch again. I don't feel so lost. I'm still keeping well but no packets come for me, though nearly everyone else are getting theirs. I wish they'd let you send something it would have been here now. You don't need make the letters quite so short, the other came alright. The address is to Limburg, Fil. 1, not Dulmen now, but so long as they keep coming I can stand the brevity. What are R.[ose] H.[ewitt]'s sending Mabel? Nothing come! Letter next week. God bless and protect you all, Frank.
¶32
Postmark: Limburg 22.8.1918
[Sunday] 1[1]th August, 1918 [arrived about 13th September]
Dear FMD & H
Delighted to get your letter from Dad and M[abel] to-day. I'm glad to hear about R.[ose] H.[ewitt] & Co. it may mean more stuff but up to now nothing has arrived from either lot. Your letters are coming fine now, three from home and one from Dora. If you can send some Capstan cigs please do as they often get lost out of the other packets, you can do it through the Red Cross. Letter later in week. All OK. God bless you all, Frank.
¶33
Postmark: Limburg, 29.8.1918
[Sunday] 18th August, 1918 [arrived 17th October]
Dear FMD & H
I got two letters on the 15th, yours and one from W. J. Parkinson. I don't know him, you've got the wrong chap, Dad. My pal is George W. P. (17? Pinder Street). Well, time is wearing on, five months now. If I'm not moved before this post card reaches you, I shan't know what to think. Could you get to know from Edward if any of the other lads have been returned. Beautiful weather and keeping well. Partner got more parcels and sharing them with me. Mine nil. More in letter. God bless and protect you, Frank.
The letter from the wrong Parkinson is ¶51.
¶34
Postmark: Limburg, 10.9.1918
[Sunday] 1st September, 1918 [arrived 22nd November]
Dear FMD & H
Letter day again but nothing to reply to from you to-day, it's about a fortnight since I got your last letter and then you hadn't had anything beyond my first post card. That makes six letters I've had all told, three from home, two from Dora and one from that J. W. Parkinson (whom I don't know). There is nothing fresh [three lines obliterated by German censor] The weather is […] pleasant this time of the year here, nearly always raining and none too warm. I wish you could send me some papers, but it isn't allowed, but photos you can send, the other chaps get them. I'd just like to see a letter issue of the 'Weekly Despatch' etc., we hear all kinds of rumours of happenings on the Front, but get nothing really definite, we are told to expect the end of the war in two or three months, is that so? Well no news of exchange or any sign, we seem to be forgotten here. In our paper the 'Continental Times' there was a lot about an agreement of prisoners exchange, but the paragraphs suddenly ceased, did you hear anything of it. Well, my ill luck still clings to me, Alf McNulty is getting his parcels regularly now, and though I've been with him, next name and number to him, ever since capture not a single one has come for me yet in spite of the fact that you say they started sending May 14th, there's only an odd one or two left without now and of course I'm one. I spent two marks on a lottery with Alf McNulty and he got fifty marks prize with the next number to mine. He still has the nice job in the hospital which he luckily got through being sick just when they wanted one, so I may be excused for looking out for a bit coming my way one of these dreary days. My pal still shares half his parcels with me and that makes me more anxious for mine to come. Could you write to the Committee in Grosvenor Square, London and tell them and give them my right address, so as not to delay in Dülmen again if possible. The Northumberland chaps' packets see us through for splendid additions to our food and to-day we had a grand dinner for Sunday, having to work delayed it, that's all. I feel quite different since I started hearing from you and I don't mind things as long as that privilege is still allowed. I reckon patience is a thing I've learned. Well, God grant we may be together again very soon. I trust all are as well as ever, just as you were seventeen months ago, when I saw you last.
God bless and protect you all. Best love from Frank.
Don't forget those recipes Mabel and Dora and keep up the letters all and Harry not excepted.
Five packets came after 1st September, since then they have arrived regularly.
My grandfather always reckoned he was unlucky, whether it was raffles or anything else.
¶35
Postmark: Limburg, 19.9.1918
[Sunday] 8th September, 1918 [arrived Thursday, 10th October?]
My Dear FMD & H
Got both letters from Mabel and Dad. My parcels have started and I've had two fine one from the RAMC Fund London, both sent in July, I suppose all the earlier ones are held up somewhere. Will reply to your welcome letters next Sunday (letter day). Nothing fresh, we must be patient at both ends and trust that all be right soon. I am better off now than any other time since capture, so there's nothing to worry about. Write again soon. Good night and God bless and protect you all. Very best love, Frank.
¶36
Postmark: Limburg, 25.9.1918
15th September, 1918
My Dear Mabel
Just a line as PromisEd yOu'll Perhaps get my LettEr at home as well. I hope your cold is Better it will hAve had time During the time this takes. I had a few days off lAst week but am alright again now and feeling any amount better since my parcels stArted. Yes, it was lonely on the farm, it was awful but that Lot's fine nOw. Write again Soon and I'll answer more fully next Time. Good night and God bless you. Best of love from loving brother, Frank.
Here's one of the secret messages, but I found it hard to decipher.
¶37
Postmark: Limburg, 25.9.1918
Sunday, 15th September, 1918 [arrived 14th November]
Dear FMD & H
I've had Dad's letters dated 15th June and 3rd July and Mabel's dated 8th July, all came week before last. I didn't get one last week, but I'm looking forward for something next week, also from Dora and Harry. Well, I expect you'll be getting some of the post cards I wrote from the farm just now [four lines obliterated by German censor] we've bought some more stationary to-day. Though it's no easy thing here and a lot less freedom I thank goodness I was taken off the farm. Now my parcels have started, I'm not doing at all badly, it makes a great difference, it's a grand novelty at present and something to keep looking forward to. I've had three up to now, all sent in July, I expect May and June's are held up somewhere but will come soon. They are grand parcels, different every time, there are from eleven to thirteen articles in each: jam, butter or dripping, soap, bully beef, pork and beans, meat and vegetables, biscuits, salmon or sardines, camp pie or sausages (and onions), puddings, bacon, Quaker Oats or rice, tea, cocoa or coffee and sometimes milk and sugar besides condiments. We should get a box of bread biscuits every week, which when soaked in water and put on the stove, swell up and soften and are like bread, but we've only had an issue sent from Limburg, no boxes yet, but they all come eventually [one line obliterated by German censor] my parcels have been in fine condition. My pal has got his clothes too, mine will be coming any day, he got three pairs of socks, three shirts and undervests, three handkerchiefs, suit and overcoat, pants, cardigan, boots and braces. So you see we are looked after like spoiled children. It makes me feel sorry for the Russians, Rumanians, Servians etc., the French and Belgians and Italians do get something but we are the best off people in this land. I see you say the four months is up, Dad. Yes, the six is almost up now and no sign, but as long as we all keep safe and well, we ought not to grumble, just bear up with patience, I've not much time to worry and I'm glad of it [two lines obliterated by German censor] I'm sorry I never got those […] sent just before I was caught, as long ones aren't allowed now. So you got my first postcard from the farm and that was all they let through. Oh, well, it's nothing, it can all wait. I got your letter Mabel and am dropping you a card to-day, instead of this letter, you know. I don't know how I'll go on about R[ose] H[ewitt]'s parcels, only so many are allowed, perhaps the money is going to the RAMC Fund instead of the Lancashire POW Fund as the three parcels I've had have come from the RAMC, Grosvenor Square, London.
Well, it's a treat to hear all are well at home, that is a mercy I pray for every day. That's the next best thing to seeing you and I trust it won't be long before that happens. Anything you want to know and I can tell you of course I will do, so don't fail to ask in your next. All your letters have come intact so far, nothing crossed out. Photos are allowed and I long to see some, Dora and Harry must be grown up by now, it seems to me. Well, the longer away only makes the joy greater when the good time comes along. Write often, I must close now.
Good night and God bless and protect you all. With best love from Frank.
¶38
Postmark: 3.10.1918
22nd September, 1918 [arrived 22nd November]
My Dear FMD & H
Very delighted to get three letters yesterday, Mabel's and two from Dad. Besides I've had a parcel from RAMC and one of biscuits, a good week, eh? I'm in hospital at present, had a slight accident [two lines obliterated by German censor] I've had a nice week's rest [………] I'm right, it was only outward injury, very welcome, in fact, for a change. Your letters haven't broken any rules, for I've had them all good […] I'm looking forward for the 200 smokes you've sent, we're very short. Yes, I was disappointed about letters for long after that, it was a bad time but happy enough now, it is wonderful how well your letters come. Letter next Sunday. God bless and protect you all. Best love, Frank.
The details of the accident are in the diary (see page 16, June 13th, 1918). My grandfather suffered from this injury for the rest of his life: he was never able to straighten out his right arm.
¶39
Postmark: Limburg, 10.10.1918
30th September, 1918 [arrived 22nd November]
My Dear Father Mabel Dora and Harry
I received Dad's and Mabel's letters alright on Wednesday and also one from Edward same time. From what he says the old Ambulance did wonders, getting through an astonishing number of wounded British and German, there was no time to get the equipment away, so all that was lost. I learnt the fate of many pals, some got the Military Medal, some got captured like me, while some were caught in the barrage, so I'm not of the unluckiest. I thought Edward would have told you all about it himself, but I was surprised to hear he hadn't had his leave yet. And I've been blessing my luck at being captured just as I was about to go on leave and I shouldn't have got it after all. Yes Mabel, I know you can't send any parcels like the old ones in France, all you can send is one every quarter or three months, it was perhaps hardly worth it as you say, the only things I want really are razor, brushes, comb, muffler. But, smokes I want you to send as often as possible if you will every month and risk it. Well, Mabel I see you've been decorating the old home, how I should like to see it, it is approaching two years since I last saw it now. You'll have to play some soft touching music, while I recite the 'Wanderer's Return' (The Old Home&emdash;How things have changed etc.) when I come again. Can I swim, well, I could. I got across a lake when we were at Arques in France and did several marvellous feats in the sea at Braydunes, my strokes were breast and back, if I tried any others it depended how deep the water was, the distance I swam for I always sank to the bottom. But still, I was doing well and messed about miles out of my depth. You'll do it both you and Dora if you stick it, it took me a fearful time and it was delightful to feel oneself actually floating for the first time. Alec McCleod's touch is a grand piece of luck nowadays Mabel. I'd give something for it and his place. Well Dad, I knew of no rule about putting both addresses inside, but it perhaps is so, neither have I heard any of the other rules. The only wrong yet was your last letter which had been delayed a little but kindly sent through after. There was a note saying you must write clearer so I hope you will in future, as I can't afford to miss any letters. I hadn't noticed your letter being joggy as you say, what was worrying you at the time, don't worry about me, you have no need to fear, I'm with the best of fellows. I've not heard from Dora lately, or Harry, but I'm glad to hear all is well with them with all. I'll try and write more to them next time after I've heard.
Well, everything as usual here. I soon got out of hospital and only feel a little sore now, which will soon pass off. How are you faring, as well as when I left? And when will the war be over? That's another question. I had better close now, next Sunday I'll send another post card, so until then, good night and God bless you all, very best wishes, your loving Frank.
¶40
Postmark: Limburg, 17.10.1918
Sunday, 6th October, 1918 [arrived 21st November]
My Dear FMD & H
At last it has come. On Friday I had an interview with three representatives from Switzerland and they tell me in a week I shall start for Limburg, then to Switzerland and dear old home. I can hardly realise it, I've been seething with excitement ever since. Well, I've had two letters from Auntie Emmie and one from Dora (and also three more parcels) since I last wrote, so let them know the good news. How long will it take before I finally get home, I wonder, not long once started. Will write when I can on the way. So good night and God bless and protect you all. With my best love, Frank.
¶41
Postmark: Limburg, 25.10.1918
Sunday, 14th October, 1918 [arrived 4th December]
My Dear Father Mabel Dora and Harry
The last letter I had from you was one of June's, this was a bit late bit I've had most of them very regularly and I don't think a single one has been lost. I owe thanks to someone for I should have felt very lost without letters, they've made a great deal of difference. Well, I told you the good news in my post card last week, another day or two should see me off to Limburg and after getting everything settled journey to Switzerland and then home. That's what the men told me anyhow. They said in about a week I should be in Limburg and in a fortnight start for Switzerland, it's two days over the week since they came, so I'm expecting to be off any time. Everything is the same here, the weather is grand for October, although it has been rather cold in the early mornings. We're all in the best of health and living in the hope that peace may soon come to all the countries at war. If we happen to see the German Red Cross men who are coming in exchange for us there will be some congratulations. I had another letter from Auntie Emmie and one from Wilf Bradley. So Edward hasn't had leave yet. Well, the hope that perhaps he had taken that new pair of boots I had for you, Dad, is squashed, in fact I don't suppose he ever got away with them as everything was left, equipment, stores, packs etc. they were so busy with wounded at Bernes, but trifles like that don't matter at all, I shall get some more very probably. All are well at home by your latest letter and Auntie Emmie (whose letter came very quickly and which is by far the most recent) says the same. That's the best news I could wish for, may you all keep so. I have indeed a lot to be thankful for, I'm quite aware of it. I grumble about my luck but it is better to be lucky in the big things than in trifles. Well, I will close for the present. Should I be able to write on the way you may be sure I will as often as possible. So good night and God bless and protect you. Best of love to all, Frank.
Love to Auntie Emmie, Uncle Albert and Ivy and tell them I was very pleased to get the letter.
¶42
Postmark: Limburg, 31.10.1918
20th October, 1918
My Dear FMD & H
I had no letters from you last week and its the first time I've missed for some time. I'm still in the same place, I expect things have been delayed. This is the hardest time, waiting day by day for the hoped for order to go to Limburg. But I don't give up hope, something will happen before long and I shall see dear old England again and be with you all by Christmas. Very wet lately here. Well, better news next Sunday. God bless and protect you all. Best love, Frank.
¶43
Postmark: Limburg, 7.11.1918
27th October, 1918
My Dear FMD & H
Perhaps I was a little previous with my rejoicings for I haven't had the expected order to move to Limburg yet. It was just after I'd had your letter saying you'd heard from the War Office that I was to be exchanged that I saw the Representative from Switzerland. They promised we should be on the way in a fortnight, but although I should know by now that these exchanges take a long time I was over eager. Well, we must trust it will come soon. I've not heard from you for a fortnight. All's well here. God bless and protect you, Frank.
The Armistice was signed a fortnight later, on 11th November, 1918. The exchange never happened: the gates of the Camp were just left open, and the prisoners set off. I presume my grandfather walked to the Dutch border.
¶44
Postmarks: Venlo, 24.11.1918, London 2.12.1918 [arrived 4.12.1918]
My Dear FMD & H
We crossed the Holland border to-day [Friday, 23rd November] I come through Rotterdam and will be home in a few days. Best of love, Frank.
Venlo Saturday
¶45
Postmark: Venlo, 27.11.1918; London, 4.12.1918
Venlo, Tuesday, 6 PM [3rd December (wrong, must be previous week), arrived 6th]
My Dear FMD & H
Just another line while I'm here. We're having a good time, but not allowed out of barracks as most of us arrived in an unenviable state from Germany and we're in a kind of quarantine. So it may be a few days before we leave. We've been supplied with underclothes, good food, chocolate and cigs and been treated with the finest hospitality by the Dutch who think the world of us, but I'm all excitement to get home. I expect we'll have to be rechecked, inoculated etc., etc. before then so it won't be for a bit yet. Very best love, Frank.
¶46
Postmark: Venlo, 1.12.1918; London, 2.12.1918
Venlo, 30th November, 1918
My Dear FMD & H
Still here you see. We're held up for some reason or other. We're alright but I'm impatient to start on the homeward journey. There's about ninety of us put up at the District Casino a fine place and we're looked after by the British Help Committee. About 150 British soldiers are in Venlo all waiting to go to Rotterdam, some have been here ten days. It will be fine if I can get home for Xmas. They'll have to move us as more prisoners come through I expect. Best love to all, Frank.
¶47
Stamped on back: 12.7.1918 Limburg
May 14th, 1918
Tuesday
My Dear Son,
At last I am able to write to you again now you have sent me an address which only arrived this morning, thirty-seven days after it is dated. Well, to begin with I thank God you are safe and well, and to hear that you are in charge of such just and friendly officials. I say again, I am fervently thankful for all these mercies when you might have been beyond our reach from this world for ever. Well, if you only meet with people like my old and revered friend Mr Voigt, the Prussian who came and prayed with your beloved Mother through her last tragic days, you will be blessed indeed, as we know he was a saint on earth, if one could ever be known.
I cannot tell you all my fears and efforts since the 21st of March. After your letter of the 19th I thought you were right in the zone of danger. I went up to Ormrod's many times and wrote to Edward and the Lieutenant Colonel, the British Red Cross, the RAMC Record Offices in Woking and London, the RAMC at Chorlton Road, three people at the Record Office at Preston, the Territorial Headquarters in Salford and more still advertized in the 'Evening News' and yet withal your first post card was as early as any news I got from them all. You can believe how profoundly glad I was to see your own handwriting again. So then I began to make all enquiry if I could send parcels etc and find it is not allowed, but I am told that the Prisoners of War Society has sent and is sending you parcels, but I wait to hear more particulars from you. We are only allowed to send one private parcel per quarter and the things in it are nothing but trash, no eatables whatever. I shall send the two things you mention (cash and cigarettes) you may be sure, but the RAMC Comforts Fund write me that they sent 100 cigs in each parcel, do they or not?
Edward told me the RAMC prisoners were repatriated in four months by mutual agreement between Germany and England, and that matter also I have enquired into most exhaustively and am most pleased to hear by your post card also that it is correct. You were disappointed of your visit home in April, but you have I trust done better than that four two months of captivity has gone already. Well get some of your guards and patients to teach you German and bring me a German pipe home if you are allowed enough liberty to buy one.
Many people have been to see me (whose sons were with you) after my advertisement. A Mrs Pontefract from Chorlton and others and some G. W. Parkinson has written to ask me about you. Is that the red-haired chemist you once had at home? I hear that Edward and Wilfred got your last parcel, it got there some time in April, they say the stuff had gone rather bad but they cut off the outside and ate the other gladly. Will Boor of Bishop Street, whom you knew, was killed this month. Ralph is in London yet. Dora is still at Emily's, little Ivy is pronounced by the doctors to be in incipient consumption, which it is to be hoped is not so. I went to spend a Saturday lately at your Uncle Percy's new house at Eccles Old Road, it's the finest house they've ever had. Arthur and his wife are there too. I don't know where Clarry is now. Arthur is still as dotty and imbecile as ever. I often wish I could run over to see you and have a day or two but I'd be a prisoner too then instead of having mugs of lager with you, so we must wait till you come to us. Have you got your wallet of photos still, and your flask and other things, or were they lost? In your last letter (19th March) you said 'a good allotment had come round,' did they pay it you or not, you told us no more about it?
I am looking forward with avidity to your full letter and to hear all the details you are allowed to tell us. You can still write to Mabel as of yore. She will be glad of any news as you used to once remember her. Well I intend to write you each week so you will have a succession of letters after this month passes and you can send each fortnight. I suppose you are attending both the German and English wounded, have you got interpreters and have you difficulty with the language. I shall be glad to hear.
I must close now to get this letter off the same day as yours came, so with my blessing and prayer for your welfare I remain with best love your ever loving Father.
God bless you.
My great grandfather must have been so relieved to discover his son was still alive. He had already suffered the loss of his wife and younger son. His wife's relations figure large in the letter. Ralph Hargreaves was her sister's husband. They lost all their children. he survived the war and they settled in America. Uncle Albert appeared in the pageants with his daughter Ivy, who suffered from consumption. Uncle Arthur sounds distinctly odd. I met Uncle Clarry, Clarry Wilkes, in about 1960, when he came to visit my grandfather who was visiting us at Manley Road. He was suffering from cancer then, and sat on a special ring. I believe his father, Percy Wilkes, was a violin maker. I kept in touch with uncle Clarry's widow Dora for several years. Her daughter married a Czech and had children there. We have lost touch now.
¶48
132, Langworthy Road
Thursday, 12 PM, May 17 1917 [sic]
My Dear Frank
I was delighted to find your last post card when I went home yesterday, with your address and to know that we could at last write to you. We heard nothing of you for a month, and were in miserable suspense. Every time I went home there had still been no letter, then we heard the Germans had taken Peronne, and we knew you were somewhere near. Dad wrote all over:&emdash;to the Red Cross, your CO, Edward and others, and received back a letter from Edward, saying that you had been at a little place called Bernes (or something) when Peronne had been taken, and that you were missing, but that he thought you had been taken prisoner. Well, the idea of you being reported missing was awful, and devilish, it might have meant that you were killed or very badly wounded. Well, three days later we heard from one society to say you were officially reported Prisoner of War. Well that was a relief, at any rate, then better still we had a printed post card from you yourself from Germany. The following day week we had another from you, in your own writing, and then, at last, the last one. If you are as well etc., in all ways as you say, I am thankful you are out of the fighting. By Jove, if it is true that you get back in a few months, home here, it will be worth waiting for. We are all looking eagerly forward to your first letter. As you can only send one letter a fortnight you won't be able to send me any here, so just scribble a line or two for me at the bottom of the letter you send home&emdash;please! Well, if we could write all we felt it would be a dashed lot, but oh! we're awfully thankful you are all right and well and everything Frank old chap.
Matty is now courting Alex McCloud from next door or dashed nearby. I'm still on my own, which suits me best. We are going to have a frightfully busy time this week-end in the shop as Whit Week time is the very busiest of the whole year for us. Mabel and Aunt Frances are coming to help us. It is much the same here, only queues are a thing of the past nearly. Uncle Ralph went to France on Tuesday, at last he has had a final leave. The confectioner's shop on the next block is our enquiry office, because they have two sons who have been prisoners of war for ages and they can tell us this, that and the other. They say that you are not allowed to write long letters to Germany only short notes or they will never be delivered to the soldiers. Is that so? Anyhow I'm not risking any more in case it doesn't get delivered to you which would be awful, but I will write as often as I possibly can. It is now 12.30 PM and I'm writing this upstairs so will write more tomorrow but will get this posted in the morning, so Good Luck, and very fondest love, from your loving sister Dora.
P.S. When you feel a bit off, think you see Scott and Whaley. They have been over here again.
¶49
Stamped on back: 5.8.18 Limburg
Prisoner of War
F. Gent
Group 3 Block C
Comp. 54 Barrack 123
Gefangenenlager
Dulmen i Westf
Germany
May 23rd, 1918
69, Lloyd Street South
My dear Son
I have been looking for your letter ever since your post card came ten days ago but no news yet. We both find it very painful waiting and I wish to write you every week so think it best not to wait longer till yours arrives. We sent you a long letter on 15th May and I sent you 10/- through the Post Office same date, so you will be getting them both, then you can tell me if you need more sending. I have been unable to find out if I can send you cigs myself, but I am told they will send them in the parcel you get from the War Prisoners Comforts Society.
I had a letter from Rose Hewitt asking for your address. I see Mabel tells it to you. I saw Mr Kelly and had long talk. Parcel going to be sent to you and to Frank Hardman, three every fortnight I believe, through the Lancashire Prisoners of War Society so I suppose that will do away with the parcels from the RAMC fund, as they most likely know what names are on the list of each fund. I think it will cost Rose Hewitt £9 per quarter each of you so it is very much to be thankful for.
I am longing to hear from you more fully and more often, and do trust you will be repatriated at the four months' end as per the agreement of the governments.
Mr Clarke's sons write home how fit they are keeping and I read the letters and see their photos and think how much more sensible they are by waiting patiently that fellows who attempt to make the captivity shorter by a little by trying to escape and so risking so much by their folly.
This Whit Week has been intensely hot till today, Thursday. We were going out with McLeods today to Dunham but great thunder storms set in so everyone disappointed. All of us were going, we seem to have got very thick the two families since Alec was over and so keen on Mabel.
I am trying to teach Harry to read a bit, slow work. I put him through Æsop's fables, lesson in reading and lesson in wisdom at the same time, have just been going through the oak and the reed in the storm, the oak sneers at the reed's bending humility in the face of a stronger force. The oak is too proud to bend, so is cast down wrecked, and when the storm has passed the reed bobs its head up again but the grand huge oak is done. Very good moral, eh, never be too proud to yield to the inevitable.
Well things at home about as monotonous as ever, longing for you to be home again. God grant us that joy soon. I don't think there is any fresh news, so with my dear love and blessing I am your affectionate Father. God bless you.
¶50
23rd May
My dear Frankie
Just a few lines to let you know that all is well. I hope you are alright. Have you got the parcels that are being sent to you through the Red Cross? You should have had several by now. Rose Hewett's have written asking us for your address. They are going to see about sending you boxes, three every fortnight. Isn't it good of them? You will have got our letters by now, won't you? We all wrote last week, so I hope you will have had them by the time you get this. Last night we had a terrific storm. The thunder and lightning was fearful, I was awake half the night. We have had some lovely weather though up till now. What is it like where you are? We are all anxiously waiting for your letter. It is miserable waiting for letters, isn't it? I suppose you are getting quite despondent with not having any news from home for so long. It is much worse for you because you are alone, but it is no use we have simply got to wait patiently until the end. It seems to last a long time. It is Whit Week and we were going to have had a day in the country. McLeod's were going to have come too, but the rain put the ky-bosh on it all. We will go tomorrow if it is fine. I think it will be as the glass is going up. Well I wonder if we will get a letter tonight. I hope so. I will write again soon.
With best love from your affectionate sister Mabel.
¶51
Postmark: Manchester, 30.[5].1918; Limburg, 9.8.1918
Private W. J. Parkinson
168, Moss Lane East
Moss Side
Manchester
Dear Friend
Just a few lines hoping you are keeping well. Your Father called and asked me to write to you but for the life of me cannot bring your name to mind but probably it was my brother you knew, but we heard that he was killed six months ago.
I am pleased to say I am keeping fairly well myself but have not properly got over my gruelling yet, and am afraid that it will be a long time before I do.
If you know anything about my brother Bert I would be glad if you could let me know as it would put my Mother and Father's mind more at rest to know what exactly happened to him.
Well as I say I cannot bring you to mind but I have got a terrible bad memory now. Hoping to hear from you soon.
I am yours sincerely
W. J. Parkinson
I have put my private address on as I expect to be home any time.
¶52
Postmark: Manchester, 31.5.1918; Limburg, 9.8.1918
Private F. Gent 354198 RAMC
Nº des Filiallagers 107198 Limburg
or: Group 3 Block C Comp. 54 Barrack 12B Gefangenenlager
Dülmen i Westf
Germany
Friday 31 May 1918
My dear Son
Your post card arrived this morning written Sunday, 21 April stamped Limburg 2nd May, eleven days after writing, arriving here twenty-eight days after that. A weary length of time. I was expecting it every post for the last week, as it was seventeen days since the post card before that one and I thought you were allowed one post card every week and one letter a fortnight, so I thought it would be a letter this time. I have sent you two letters and a money order for 10/- to Dülmen since your postcard on May 13th… Now you say on this post card you are at some other place so I shall put both addresses to be safe. We didn't write as often as possible when we could did we and now we see what it is to be unable to? I don't think we are allowed to send you either papers or photos, tell me if any use getting any for you? Edward writes to ask the news of you. Oh how I wish you were home with us this glorious weather, I was assured you know that the RAMC men of both nations were certain to be exchanged at or near four months as it was the usual custom between Germany and England and you say the same on your post card. How can it be expedited. If I can do anything, tell me. I suppose you have got the parcel from the RAMC Comforts Fund, the first one, I mean. Rose Hewitt is sending through the Lancs Comforts Fund. Eva was here a few times lately but I'm tired of going to Northenden. Mabel has gone to see Dora and Dora comes here most Wednesdays on her day off. I am so thankful you are keeping well and trust you may be allowed to tell me even a few things of your every day life. As you say, one has to possess one's soul in patience, waiting for our letters. Were it not for faith and hope we should be undone. I think I told you Ralph went over to France so Edith won't go over there to see him, eh.
Well it's over two months now, it seems positively ridiculous that it takes four to five weeks for letters to pass to and from the prisoners of both countries. I am sending you another 10/- today same as before through the Post Office. Be sure to say if you get both and if it's enough, and whether you are still on hospital work. I believe clothing is sent out to new prisoners, are &#