Evie’s War

This perceptive short story by Liz Goulds takes place against the background of conflict.

MARCH 31, 1917 Dearest Wilf, I’m hoping this letter finds you safe and well. Please find enclosed socks and mittens to keep you warm in your dugout. I knitted them myself.

Not much goes on here. It’s been washday today, so I’m exhausted. Father and Reg are now working at the pit, and their clothes are a devil to get clean.

Mother relies on me more and more, and has taken to going to bed every afternoon. The young ones have been playing up but she just closes her ears to it.

George Peake came home on leave last week and asked Ethel to marry him. They’re trying to arrange it as soon as they can.

I wish we could have married before you left. That way I could have been in our own little house for when you get back.

Last week a group of ladies showed up and gave a talk in the town hall about girls volunteering for their society. You’d get a uniform, and it was to do all sorts of work: driving, cooking, cleaning, waitressing. Mother said straight away that she couldn’t spare me, so that was that.

Take good care of yourself,

Evie.

****

April 11

My dearest Evie,

Thank you so much for the socks and mittens. It is wonderful to have something dry to put on. It has rained here for the last two weeks, and our dugout was flooded. Even now the floor is ankle deep in water, and muddy drops are falling from the roof.

I’m so tired, as I haven’t slept for three nights. But we are due to be relieved soon, so I’ll be able to get some sleep without the roar and screech of shells coming over.

Write and tell me all your gossip, and keep your chin up. The war must be over soon, and before you know it I will be home and we can marry.

Your loving sweetheart, Wilf.

****

April 20

Dearest Wilf,

It does so worry me thinking of you out there. You mean the world to me, and I don’t know what I should do without you. If only this dreadful war was over and we could be together again.

I am having a very dull time of it here. I have had to take on most of the jobs as Mother seems to be getting worse. Her temper seems to be violent, and she rants and raves at the slightest things. Father doesn’t say anything, as usual.

Hurry back to me, dearest boy,

Your loving Evie.

With any luck the war would be over soon, and they wouldn’t have to depend on letters . . .

****

May 19

Dearest Wilf,

I feel I must write to you again as I haven’t received any letters from you. I know the post can be a bit hit and miss at the moment, but I feel ever so anxious. I don’t know what I should do if I lost you.

I shall be relieved to get a letter, sweetheart.

Evie.

****

June 7

Dear Miss Spencer, Your fiancé, Wilfred Stratton, was admitted to this hospital yesterday evening suffering from wounds to the right arm and shoulder. He feels poorly, but sends his best regards and asks you not to worry.

I shall write again soon to let you know of his progress.

Yours sincerely,

R.M. Denton (Sister)

****

June 11

Dearest Wilf,

I am so glad that you’re safe. I got Sister Denton’s letter last night and was much relieved. I have been out of my mind with worry and thought the worst. I hope you are not in too much pain, dearest, and you must tell me if there is anything you need.

I have important news. I have been called up by the Ministry of Munitions to go to work in a new factory they’ve built a few miles away. I’m going to be earning £3 a week!

Mother is in a state as she does not know how she will cope without me, but Miss Prince has kindly offered to pop in and keep an eye on her.

Your ever-loving,

Evie.

June 1919

Dearest Evie,

Sister has kindly allowed Nurse Chilcott to write this letter to you on my behalf.

You are not to worry, my darling, because I am getting along nicely and don’t have any pain. The hospital is pleasant and the nursing staff attentive and jolly.

They provide us with lots of games and distractions to keep our minds off war.

I think of you and look forward to coming home and having a long rest.

I expect I shall get moved to a hospital in England in a few weeks’ time, and then I will be nearer to you.

Please send some smokes.

Your Wilf.

****

July 5

Dearest Evie,

Nurse Chilcott is writing this for me.

Thank you for the smokes and the box of chocolates – they must have cost you a bob or two.

I am getting on splendidly, so there is no need to worry. I am up for part of the day now, doing puzzles with the other fellows, and Nurse Chilcott is teaching me to play bridge.

I am enclosing a snapshot Nurse Chilcott took of me the other day; I think you’ll agree that I look in the pink.

Wilf.

****

July 13

Dearest Evie,

Just a few scrawled lines with my left hand to say I am back in Blighty! I have been transferred to the Royal Hallamshire.

Nurse Chilcott says it is one of the finest hospitals in England, and they will soon get me using my arm again.

She writes that conditions are awful at the field hospital, with many bad cases coming in.

They are desperate for bandages, blankets and other such ordinary things we take for granted.

Visit soon,

Wilf. July 21

Dearest Wilf,

Sorry I haven’t had time to properly reply to your letters. I’m working 12-hour shifts, six days a week and am dead beat.

The work is dangerous, and the chemical we make can explode if it gets impurities in it, so we’re not allowed to wear any jewellery.

We even get searched for hairpins on the way in. You should see how we keep our hair back in our ugly mob caps – you wouldn’t want a snap-shot of me!

I look a fright, what with the uniform as well! Shapeless flannel trousers and a thick, belted tunic.

We get tuts of disapproval if we wear our trousers in the village. Old Mr Young said it was disgusting to see our ankles!

The grinding-house girls are such a jolly lot, and the site is so big and busy. We’ve got a dance hall and tennis courts, and we go for a dance when we come off shift.

I’ve never eaten so well -– the canteen serves lovely food, much better than at home.

Anyway, must get some shut-eye,

Evie.

****

August 20

Dear Wilf,

Thanks for your letters. Sorry I’ve not been able to visit, but I’m afraid there are no holidays at the moment due to the desperate need for munitions.

Your mother informs me that you are progressing well.

Evie.

****

September 19

Dear Wilf,

Thanks for your letter. I saw your mother on Wednesday and she said you’d been asking after me. I’m fine and I’m sorry I have not been able to visit you yet, but it is almost impossible to get holidays.

Recently there was an explosion at the factory that killed three girls from our village – Edie French, Nellie Burrows and Vera Marriott. Do you remember them? They were buried side by side in the churchyard with full military honours. It was so sad, but it made me proud of what we’re doing.

I feel I’m doing my bit for the country, and it’s made me think that, after this war is ended, I would still like to do something.

Evie.

****

November 13

Dear Evie,

I really am feeling most neglected. All the chaps in here have had visits from their sweethearts and still you have not been to see me. Is there anything wrong?

Mother said she saw you last Sunday walking out with a group of girls and chaps from the factory.

I will make do with Nurse Chilcott’s visits if I can’t have yours. She has returned from the Front and has got a job here, so she’s been popping in to see how I’m getting along. Love to all at home,

Your Wilf.

****

November 22

Dear Wilf,

I’m sorry not to visit but I have been so busy, especially now I’ve been made forewoman. Enclosed some smokes and my new address as I’ve recently taken lodgings.

Evie.

****

January 3

Dear Evie,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you managed a break over Christmas. I don’t know how to write this. I’m afraid I have fallen in love with Emily, Nurse Chilcott. I suppose it began in France, when she nursed me back to health, but I’ve only recently realised my feelings for her.

She is a smashing girl: confident, witty and attentive.

I know it will be hard for you, and I am aware of my promise, but I hope in time you will understand that these have been extraordinary times, and I think it changes a man.

Hoping that I have not wounded your heart too much, I wish you every happiness.

Always your loyal friend, Wilfred.

****

January 8

Dear Wilfred,

A year ago your news would have broken my heart, but it’s true – I think the war has changed both of us. I’m not sure that, if your offer of marriage was still open, I would take it.

You see, I have been happy working, and I’ve felt so much freedom, and I should have to give that up if I were married. So it is not with a heavy heart that I release you from our engagement.

Ever your friend,

Evie.

****

January 14

Dear Nurse Chilcott, Happy 65th birthday! I hope you can enjoy it, and that the shelling has subsided.

You were right in your reading of the situation with Evie. I’ve released her from our engagement, and have taken the blame so that she can live her life without feeling guilty.

She really did have a demanding and domineering mother who kept her for a drudge. Like you said, it was inevitable that, when she tasted freedom and independence, she would want to keep hold of it.

Thank you for your help in agreeing to be named as the other party. I think it unlikely you will get any trouble from this.

Hope all is well in France. Mother is teaching me to knit, so we, and any of my fellow injured soldiers who are capable, will try to knit those hot-water bottle covers and pneumonia jackets you so desperately need.

In your debt,

Wilfred Stratton.

The End.