On Friday, 31st December 1943 Ron (the writer of the letters that form the basis of my book) left Stourbridge in Worcestershire*, England, where he had been staying with his girlfriend Betty at her parents’ home. He was travelling by rail to join his military Unit, REME, in a remote part of Kent at the end of his Christmas time leave. The rail journey was long and arduous, but Betty’s mother had given him some sandwiches for the journey. This is what he said about them in his first letter to Betty in the New Year. [The sandwiches] came in very handy as I had no opportunity of getting food on the journey at all.
When I read that I wondered if he appreciated that whatever she had given him had made a dent in the rations for her family? I then discovered that he would have been issued with his own tokens whilst on leave, so perhaps her mother took advantage of those instead. Whatever the situation, food was precious, with bread and flour-based products being particularly so.
Bread itself was not rationed at that time, although that possibility had been considered 12 months previously, when Lord Woolton, the Minister for Food had urged the public to use potatoes as a substitute for bread. White bread had been a staple in people’s diets, but much was wasted, and the production of wheat by British farmers was insufficient to meet demand, necessitating importation from Canada. With Germany’s U boats in the Atlantic threatening the transportation of wheat and other supplies by the Merchant Navy, Lord Woolton was prompted to appeal to the shoppers’ conscience – ‘idle nibblers‘ were, he said, ‘nibbling at the very soul of our ships and the very lives of the bravest men we have got.’
To eke out the stock of wheat, a wholemeal loaf, sometimes with other home-grown cereals such as barley, oats and rye, and with added calcium and vitamins, was introduced. The ‘National Loaf‘ was initially unpopular, but it was not until after the war had ended that bread and flour needed to be rationed.
I imagine that the bread for Ron’s sandwiches was cut thinly from one such loaf (i still have the knife my grandmother used to cut bread), sparingly spread with margarine or butter (which was rationed) and probably filled with fish-or meat paste, then wrapped in a brown paper bag.
It was July 1946 before bread was rationed in Britain under the Food Rationing (Bread) Order 1946. This was at a time when the German population was close to starvation after the war, and America had to reduce the amount it could supply to Britain in order to help maintain basic nutrition (barely 1000 calories/day) for the population in the American zone of occupation.
Now, 75 years later, we may well be faced with shortages of grain and other precious commodities once more as Russia’s war with Ukraine continues. Ukraine is considered to be the ’bread basket’ of Europe, producing wheat, barley and maize, as well as being a major provider of sunflower oil. As we drove through the countryside (in Britain) yesterday, we commented that the vast fields of rapeseed, with its acid yellow flowers and pungent smell marking a time of misery for many hay-fever sufferers, will be a particularly valuable commodity this year as the war in Ukraine affects global food security.
Bread & flour rationing was effective from Sunday 21 July 1946. Dedicated ration books were issued, with the ration being measured in units of ounces per day, referred to as BUs (Bread Units). Allowances related to age and other factors, which were explained in newspaper advertisements issued by the Ministry of Food. ’Food Facts No. 314A’ explained that children ‘from birth to 4years’ (hopefully no-one gave bread to ’babies’!) were to be allowed 5 BUs, children aged 5-11 years had 9 BUs, while those aged 4-5 had an extra half BU. Adolescents aged 11 to 18 had 13 BUs, a ’normal’ adult had 9, a female manual worker had 11, (as did a pregnant woman), while her male counterpart had 15.
Although it was not necessary to register those ration books with specified bakers as had been the case with other foodstuffs, it was deemed ( by the baking trade?) preferable to do so, leading to confusion and dissatisfaction on the part of shoppers.
So how did people work out the allowances? Well, a small 14oz (ounce) loaf was 3BUs, whereas a large 1lb 12oz loaf was 4BUs. Three pounds (3lbs) of flour was 9 BUs, half a pound of cakes, buns or scones were 1 BU. Oh yes, then there were the ration books themselves. There were some with ’L’ coupons, or ’M’ coupons. Buff books had ’G’ coupons, blue books had ’J’ coupons, green books had ’F’ coupons. Then there were BUX and BUY extra coupons for children, adolescents and married workers.
Are you with me so far? No? Well, a Lanarkshire (Scotland) baker would have understood you. In a newspaper article on Sunday 30 June he said that he thought housewives were ”bamboozled” (what a lovely word) by talk of ounces, coupons and units. I confess to being bamboozled too. However, he attempted to make it easier to understand, explaining the system and the value of units.. He added the advice to spend units on small cakes or cookies (6 for 1 unit), ‘morning rolls’ (4/unit), or ginger bread or sultana cake (half a pound in weight for 1 unit) – these were, he said, more nutritious than bread as they contained eggs, fats and sugar. [Sunday Post – Sunday 30 June 1946 page 6 https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0000566/19460630/045/0006? browse=False&noTouch=true Accessed 20 April 2022]
If, as seems to be the case, that we are faced with shortage of certain foodstuffs in the wake of the war in Ukraine, I hope that we will not be presented with such complex and cumbersome means of equitable rationing. And I hope and pray that this dreadful war will end soon and that Ukraine and her people will live in peace once more.
This morning I was reading something I’d written, which resonated with the situation in Ukraine and it seemed timely to share it. The post will be about bread, and wheat shortages – in the 1940s, but relevant again today.. I checked to see how long it had been since I last posted anything on my blog. I knew it had been a long time – it transpired that it was the beginning of October last year. Six months ago! Aside from the effects of the Coronovirus pandemic disrupting our lives in so many ways, events at home (accident-surgery-recovery & rehabilitation – my other half, not me) led to another adjustment in lifestyle, where writing a blog went on the back burner. So also did work on my book.
I’ve now finished the first very rough draft of volume two of my book – covering the period January to December 1944. A great sense of achievement – quickly followed by despondency. Something wasn’t right about its structure, and some writer friends offered to read it. I’ve yet to have feedback from one of them, but three of them pinpointed the problem and one offered a solution. So I’m now restructuring it, and proof-reading/editing at the same time. It was earlier on today, when I read what I’d written about a scenario involving bread, that I saw the topic for my first blog for 6 months.
If you were following my blog earlier, please accept my apologies (& explanation) for my absence. I hope you will enjoy my next post, and will continue to follow me.
There are 200 letters written by my soldier, Ron, to his sweetheart, Betty, one of which, dated 11 April 1944, marked the beginnings of censorship of letters in the Second World War. “This is being written in haste because censorship of mail comes into force from midnight and I must get this last uncensored letter to you sweetheart” he wrote. He added that “letters are censored by the unit offices and I do not like the idea of them reading my very personal correspondence so henceforth my letters will be commonplace, except for one letter per week which will be sent in a ‘ Green Envelope’ and is uncensored by Unit Offices – can at least feel a little easier then, they are only liable to censorship in London.”
The ’green envelopes’ that Ron referred to were Army Privilege Envelopes – these were ’self censored’ with the soldier declaring “I certify on my honour that the contents of this envelope refer to nothing but private and family affairs.“ It was stated that correspondence in the envelope “need not be censored regimentally.” However it also stated that the “contents are liable to examination at the Base”.
From thence forward, his letters carried the mark of the Censor, together with his service number, rank, & name, (his ’closed address’) written on the inside flap of the letter. These measures were intended to mask the troops’ locations and movements, although some letters written before he was sent overseas carried a readily identifiable postmark such as the one shown here from Brighton & Hove, on the South Coast of England.
I should make it clear that I am only talking about the postal service relevant to Ron, and his time as a REME soldier with the British Liberation Army 21st Army Group in the European theatre of war, particularly the Western Front in France, Belgium and the Netherlands. Whilst censorship rules applied equally to the other Armed Services, the arrangements for postal collection and delivery differed in the Navy, RAF, and in other theatres of the war. Censorship at a different level applied to the Press, but that was irrelevant to Ron’s correspondence and so not covered here.
I was intrigued by the idea that Ron may have sent coded messages to his sweetheart and the idea took me back to my youth when I longed to receive a letter with S.W.A.L.K. (Sealed With A Loving Kiss) on the envelope. I never had one – neither did Betty in all the letters from Ron. But perhaps he had sent her coded messages about his feelings in different ways. I recalled exchanging coded messages with friends, using numerals in place of letters, (a = 1, b = 2, c = 3 etc), or writing in lemon juice, invisible once dry, but revealed over a naked flame – I lived life dangerously (and got into trouble!). Perhaps they were hidden in other acronyms? Several popular ones were names of countries – would I find ITALY (I Trust And Love You), FRANCE (Friendship Remains And Never Can End), HOLLAND (Hope Our Love Lasts And Never Dies) or even BURMA (Be Undressed Ready My Angel) I wondered. The simple answer to this is “Yes” but Ron had not intended there to be any hidden code. They were simply and honestly the names of those countries, each with significance in the war. In September 1943 he wrote how much he was longing for leave, but said that he mustn’t grumble whilst all the other lads are fighting like the devil in Italy. On 7 August 1944 he wrote Well dear I am in France at last,; in April 1945 he was now in Holland; and his only references to Burma were very clearly legitimate references to the Country, and its place in the war with Japan. At the end of August 1944, in one of his Privilege envelopes, (the uncensored letter coming up sweetheart) there was little in the letter that would have attracted the attention of the censor – and there were no hidden messages in the word Burma. The biggest worry at the moment is that the younger blokes may be sent out to Burma at the end of this affair he wrote.
A newspaper article headed ‘H.O.L.L.A.N.D. beat censor’ suggested that some censors were slow to catch on when it came to acronyms. The article read: ‘CATCHWORDS on letters sent by soldiers to wives and sweethearts at first gave censors a headache. They thought they might be a code giving a particular location. They soon learnt, however, that they meant “How Our Love Lasts And Never Dies” and “I Trust and Love You.” Other expressions used are “B.O.L.T.L.P” [sic] ” and “S.W.A.L.K.” ‘‘Better on Lips Than on Paper ” and “Sealed with a Loving Kiss.” Many soldiers vie with each other over the invention of the best catch phrases, but until the censoring officers get educated ” they are scissored.” Manchester Evening News Monday 13 November 1944 page 8
There was no emphasis on certain letters such as I have done here to spell out the word ‘censor’; there were no indentations, no strange marks, no strings of numerals. Whether or not there were any in Betty’s letters to him, there is no way of knowing.
When I was researching at The National Archives in Kew, UK, I came across a ’Brochure for Use of Overseas Censorships. Postal Censorship’‘ Issued by the War Office of HBM (His Britannic Majesty) which gave examples of the different ways in which secret messages could be disguised in innocent looking letters. I made copious notes, hoping that they might help me to find ‘hidden’ messages in Ron’s letters – back home I could find none. There was no emphasis on certain letters (such as I have done here to spell out the word ‘censor’); there were no indentations, no strange marks, no strings of numerals.
Censorship also applied to civilian letters, but we have no extant letters from Betty to check whether or not there were any in her letters to him. Betty was a shorthand typist however, and it seems quite possible that she would have slipped some shorthand words into her letters in all innocence. In the absence of Ron making comment about this however it seems unlikely.
In all of Ron’s letters there was only one where the censor had used scissors to cut out a section. What it contained is a mystery. Whilst he may have bent the rules from time to time, there was no blatant threat to national security contained in his letters. He was either conscientious about abiding with the rules, or was fearful of the consequences if caught out, or, as seems most likely, unaware of such possibilities. Or perhaps he did not see the need. In August 1943, writing from a military address, he asked someone to post his letter to Betty away from the camp, as there is a censorship around here and one has to be careful – the inward mail is also censored so please make no remarks about what I’m starting to say. He was trying to wangle a few days leave to coincide with hers, and was proposing that she write to him, giving the impression that she was his fiancée (whereas they barely knew each other having only met 5 weeks earlier). Working in the office one day he had managed to fix his own leave to match hers.This was less an issue of any breach of censorship , more one of deceiving his senior officers as well as a breach of privilege!
On 18 May, while he was still on home soil, he wrote this to Betty: Have a lot more I wish to say darling, how I miss you and everything but have’nt the time at the moment will write again tomorrow sweetheart. He had also said that his mother would be writing to Betty and keeping you up to date with her news, things I’m not able to mention here unfortunately. I hazard a guess that his mother’s news was connected with the location of her house, within the 10mile restricted zone along the South Coast, and doubtless witness to the preparations for D-Day which would take place on 6 June. Censorship applied to letters written to soldiers as well as from them. .
The fact that his letters would be read by an officer who knew him inhibited Ron in his early letters after censorship came into force, although later he was more relaxed. Occasionally he wrote two letters in a day, such as those written from France on 18 September 1944, one using a NAAFI Letter Form, which was read by the Unit’s censor, the other in a Green Army Privilege Envelope, which had the ’Passed by Censor’ stamp but had neither been opened nor read by the censor. The first, written ’during the lunch hour’, was short, necessitated by the lack of time and the lack of space in the NAAFI letter form. It contained oblique reference to ’the usual arguments’ with his Sergeant (there was a long history of conflict between them) – perhaps he intended that the censor, who may well have been a senior officer, would read and act on it. His second, which began ”…here is the unabridged version of my feelings for you my sweet…” ended ”All my love dearest, I love you – always will.” I had noticed that although Ron frequently signed the letters using ‘Love’ he had never added the usual symbol for kisses – the letter ‘x’ or even a row of x’s. Perhaps it never occurred to him (although surely Betty used them?) but perhaps the same rule applied that said sailors in the Navy should not use them or other signs and symbols as they were capable of being used as a code to avoid censorship. (Shields Daily News Tuesday 25 February 1941 page 3)
Ron and Betty had only been exchanging letters since July 1943, and their relationship had faltered with a period of separation early in 1944, followed by reconciliation just over two months later. Periods of leave when they could meet were infrequent and short in duration, and so the development of their relationship was largely dependant on the exchange of letters. These became even more important when he and his REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) Unit were mobilised to Europe in August 1944. The Unit followed the progress of the Allied forces in their drive towards liberating France, Belgium, the Netherlands from Nazi occupation, and the chances of Ron being able to take any leave was increasingly unlikely. The liberation of the occupied countries took precedence over romance.
Ron was not alone in feeling inhibited by censorship, particularly when someone from his unit would be reading his letters in their role as censor. In a column headed ’The Forces Write’ in the Daily Herald, three Staff Sergeants complained that ”… censorship of letters by our own officers causes a great deal of embarrassment to those of us who like to write those little intimate passages to our wives and sweethearts which means so much to parted couples.“ They suggested that Army Chaplains be tasked with censoring mail, or that all mail should be sent to the Base Centre, or for mail to be exchanged between different units, to ensure impartiality. They also suggested that there should be an increase in the number of what they called ’On your honour’ envelopes, the green Army Privilege envelopes, which were allocated at a rate of one per week. (Daily Herald Monday 10 April 1944 page 2. Courtesy of the British Newspaper Archives) I have not been able to find out if their suggestions were followed up, but from the end of September 1944 the frequency of mail bearing the Unit censor stamp and signature reduced while the frequency of circular ‘Released by Base Censor’ stamps increased as did the number of Privilege envelopes. Betty was not the only recipient of his letters of course – letters to his mother and occasional ones to friends also made their way to Britain, passing through different stages and forms of censorship and postage. Perhaps the Army did respond favourable to the suggestions of those Staff Sergeants.
In writing this blog (and my book), I have tried to understand the way in which the Army Postal Service operated but I am not a military historian, and only have a rudimentary understanding of the structures of the Armed Forces so I apologise in advance for any inaccuracies.
The shield-shaped censor stamps, surmounted by a crown and numbered 14877 and 11921 , were, I believe, the stamps of the REME unit that Ron served in – they certainly travelled with him, with occasional change of name of the officer using them. The censor whose name appeared on the envelope also signed the end of the letter contained therein except for those in the Privilege envelopes. It was in one of his last few letters that I learned that the rank of one censor was that of Lieutenant and that Ron clearly got on well with him. He makes no mention of the other men whose signatures appear so regularly.
Most of Ron’s letters were written ’during the lunch hour’ or at bedtime, and occasionally whilst at work. Ron was a Clerk and frequently wrote about sleeping on the office table, the office being a truck converted for the purpose. He often grumbled about interruptions, not just when he was working in the office and at bed time when “...a whole mob descended” making writing a letter “…almost impossible.” His letters paint a vivid picture of him sat at a desk, or sitting up in bed, writing with Betty’s letters alongside him, and as we know (because he said so) he often struggled for something to write about without her letter to prompt him, constrained as he was by censorship..
In his letters he often began by saying that he had received a letter from Betty and the date she had written that letter. Sometimes he praised the postal service, at other times he was critical. In September 1943 he wrote that the mail is badly delayed due to its passing thru the censorship channels – its a great pity that can’t be helped. In one of his letters written on 18 September 1944, now in Belgium, he wrote that he had only just received hers dated 6 September. Early in November 1944 he wrote that the mail is coming through in record time but two weeks later The mail has failed to get through on time once again as we have had no letter for four days now, only parcels and newspaper packets – poor show. Now the Army Postal service as well as censorship played their parts in this couple’s lives – delays to her letters reaching him affected his morale, delays of his letters to her and to his mother raised anxiety and fear. .
My understanding is that the Royal Engineers (Postal Section) were responsible for the worldwide Army postal services. In Britain, the Home Postal Depot (HPD RE) first established shortly before the outbreak of war, had had several moves from London to Reading and then Bournemouth, the latter being closer to the continent to better serve the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) in France & Belgium. The proximity to Europe was a ‘double edged sword’ however – although not a direct target for the Luftwaffe, Bournemouth was on the route back to Germany from raids on the industrial areas of the Midlands, and on several occasions ’tip and run’ raids, when excess bombs were jettisoned to lighten the planes’ payload before returning to Germany, landed indiscriminately on Bournemouth. Between 3 July 1940 and 16 April 1941, 41 raids resulted in injury, loss of life, and considerable damage to property.
In May 1941, the depot, renamed the Home Postal Centre (HPC RE), was relocated to Nottingham where it remained until 1947. Letters addressed to soldiers, using their ’closed address’ c/o APO England, were redirected by the GPO (General Post Office) to one of 6 Army postal Distribution Centres based in London, Bristol, Leeds, Crewe,, Edinburgh, and Belfast and from there they were despatched to Base Post Offices, then to Field Post Offices and finally to the soldier in his unit. There is an interesting account of the work of the Home Postal Centre in Nottingham by a Dorothy Pope, a former member of the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) on the BBC site ‘WW2 People’s War here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/19/a4694619.shtml
On the continent, a Base Army Post Office (Base APO) was established at Cherbourg in September 1939. A series of APOs and Field Post Offices operated along the lines of communications. From mid-November 1944 many of Ron’s later letters has the postmark ’8 Base Post Office’. Ron’s unit was attached to Canadian forces, and on one occasion it was postmarked Canadian A.B.P.O (Army Base Post Office). Many of his letters now carried the circular ‘Released by Base Censor’ – the REME Unit censor had more important things to do perhaps.
The main Base APO (No 8) was initially established in a barn at Crepon, NW of Caen in Normandy. As the Allies advanced through Normandy, into Belgium, it moved to a warehouse in Antwerp and thence to Brussels in March 1945. In July 1944, 30 days after D-Day, a 2-way airlift system was established between the UK and airstrips in Normandy. These were linked by a complex road transport system with Base APOs and Field Post Offices. The journeys taken by Ron’s letters to Betty, and conversely Betty’s letters to Ron were along complex routes, all at a time of conflict. Field Marshall Montgomery is said to have declared that an army can march for several days without food on the strength of letters from home. The Army Postal Service was crucial in providing such sustenance.
In researching Censorship on one hand and the complexities of the Army postal service on the other I have been frustrated by the limitations of internet searches and my own library of books – I long to get back to The National Archives, to the British Library, to the National Army Museum, to the REME Museum, where I would be able to not only find more general but detailed information, but would also be able to explore the War Diaries of the different APO’s, of Ron’s REME Unit, and possibly be able to locate the censors whose names appear on his letters. And maybe read their accounts of life as a censor.
Finally, as has often been the case when I have been needing some insights or trying to clarify my understanding of the military in the Second World War I have turned to RootsChat (www.rootschat.com) – a free family history forum site. I am indebted to those members who gave me little insights into censorship during the war – one related to the US Army, another to Australian forces. One spoke of how his uncle, a Lieutenant in the Army, given the role of censor, carried out the task in his spare time, and even censored his own mail. Another quoted from a newspaper from the British Newspaper Archives which amused me and which led to me finding another amusing piece in a different newspaper. I will finish with them. [I have added *** to indicate the thick line that the censor used]
Puzzled Here is an extract from a letter received from the office of the Base Censor to a young Australian subaltern: “With reference to the jigsaw puzzle you posted to Miss *** of *** you are advised that a great deal of time and trouble had to be devoted by this office to putting the puzzle together in order to ensure that it contained no violation of security regulations. Your parcel was duly forwarded, but you are requested not to send similar gifts in future”. Liverpool Evening Express, Wednesday 21 Mar 1945 p 2
Ceylon is straight out of Hollywood —high mountains. dense forests, thick green undergrowth, brown rivers which make one think automatically of crocodiles, snakes and even ***. We have three of these *** working in the camp, picking huge trees with their trunks just as if they had seen pictures of how it ought to be done. Yorkshire Post and Leeds Intelligencer – Friday 28 April 1944
This photograph of three young women having a picnic with three un-named men dates back to July 1944. I have added masks to their faces to protect my copyright of the photograph, but that factor is loosely linked to the subject of this blog – wartime friendships and wartime secrecy
The legend on the back of the photo which I found in one of my aunt’s photograph albums, says ‘American CSA Convalescents Malvern 1944’ and the full names of the three women – I will use their first names only: Nellie, Olive and Betty.
Betty was my aunt and the recipient of the letters from her soldier fiancé Ron which form the basis of the book I am writing. Ron had some unexpected 48hour leave on Friday and Saturday, 28 & 29 July 1944, and on Saturday 22 July he wrote to ask Betty if she could spend the time with him. This was at a time when Ron was still in Britain, but anticipated being sent overseas within a matter of weeks. The following day he said My brain is beginning to remember one or two things about my suggested weekend. Is it the weekend you were going to Malvern with the CD or are you visiting Ken and Lichfield. Although only dated with the year, and in the absence of Betty’s letters, I have nevertheless been able to pinpoint the photograph to July 1944, through this and later letters from Ron in which he responded to her letters.
Subsequent letters confirm that Betty honoured whatever commitments she had previously made (including a visit to see ‘Ken’ in hospital), and so did not meet Ron. There is no further mention of her Malvern trip, but part of Ron’s letter written on Saturday 29 July had a section missing – my guess is that it was removed by the censor, and in light of what I have learned about the circumstances that took Betty and her friends to Malvern, I can imagine that in her letter she told him more than she should have.
So what were the circumstances that led to this picnic? The words ‘American’ and ‘convalescents’ are crucial to understanding why the men were there. In 1942, in advance of the planned invasion of occupied Europe by the Allies, American troops began arriving in Britain, initially intended to provide a defensive force in the absence of British men who had been conscripted to serve with the British Armed Forces. When America then joined the European Theatre of operations, around 73,000 members of the American armed forces were committed to ‘Operation Overlord’, the invasion of occupied Europe by the Allies which began on D-Day, 6 June 1944. More followed in their wake. In anticipation of high casualty numbers, they began negotiations with Britain to set up hospitals for their troops.
The word ‘hospital’ in military terms describes a team of medical and surgical staff and their equipment and supplies rather than the place where sick or injured people are treated. It is the latter meaning of ‘hospital’ that I refer to. Of the 94,100 beds that were required, 51.220 were to be accommodated in newly constructed installations, the rest in a range of modified buildings. There were 5 American hospitals in the Malvern area – at Wood Farm, Brickbarns Farm, Merebrook Farm, and two at Blackmore Park, each run and staffed by American personnel..
I know nothing about these three men (I have assumed a third who was the photographer) – which military service they belonged to, which hospital they were patients at, what brought them there, whether they returned to active service after their period of convalescence and rehabilitation etc. Neither do I know how Betty and her friends came to be there – although no great distance from where they lived in Stourbridge (approximately 55km), travel by public transport would not have been straightforward or cheap. It is possible that one of the other two women drove a car (Betty did not), perhaps justifying the journey under the VCP (Voluntary Car Pool) provisions at the time of fuel shortage and restrictions on travel, but these tended to be confined to local journeys. It is far more likely that they were transported, along with many other young women, by bus or coach. As Ron referred to ‘CD’ (Civil Defence) perhaps she went as part of her voluntary role as a Civil Nursing Reserve. Or perhaps my assumption that the picnic took place in Malvern was wrong – that the word ‘Malvern’ indicated where these convalescent men came from, and that they had been brought to Stourbridge?
As well as the Americans, an influx of people from other parts of the country placed a demand on local services and on the local population which had conversely been diminished in number by the conscription of many adult males into the Armed Services. Malvern had changed out of all recognition for its residents, as was the case in so many parts of the country. New war-related industries required workers who needed accommodation as well as the evacuees from other parts, but in May 1942 an influx of some 2000 men and women, not wearing uniforms of any kind, descended on the area. They were accompanied by 100 Pickford’s removal vans containing their belongings and, unknown to the general population, laboratory equipment. They attracted suspicion and hostility and were despised by many locals, some who considered that they must be conscientious objectors. They were in fact scientists, who had moved with their families when the Telecommunications Research Establishment was moved from Swanage in Dorset after the German radar station at Bruneval, near Le Havre had been invaded and a German Würzburg radar system and its operator had been captured, Reprisals from Nazi Germany were anticipated and the whole enterprise was cloaked in secrecy
One voluntary organisation which stepped into the breach to support the war effort in general, and the visitors in particular, was the Women’s Voluntary Service for Civil Defence in Malvern – WVS, of which there were two branches – Malvern Link and Malvern Urban. The latter were heavily involved in supporting the American hospitals. The monthly narrative reports completed by the organisers for each branch have been a mine of information, as has the Curator of Malvern Museum of Local History, who informed me that ‘…Movies and American-style variety shows were enjoyed as were concerts at Birmingham Town Hall…’. She also informed me that ‘…Dances were also held, with young women being brought in by bus from Worcester, Upton and beyond…’. Perhaps ‘beyond’ included Stourbridge. The Malvern Urban WVS reports for 1942, 1943 and 1944 make reference to American troops, and a letter of appreciation from an officer of the U.S. Army in January 1943, referred to picnics and dances the previous year. The dances were ‘by invitation’, with the WVS playing a role in recruiting dance partners who were ‘hand-picked’. The hospitality provided by WVS, and the excursions to places of interest were rewarded by the appreciation and generosity of the Americans, who were described in one report as being ‘very nice people’, ‘a very generous race’ who ‘suit us well.’
The women of the WVS were also involved in catering for the military and scientific communities, serving around 1000 people an hour in the Winter Gardens restaurant.
Between 1944 and the summer of 1945, over 79,000 American servicemen and women were treated in the five hospitals – thousands were discharged and returned to duty, but nearly 49,000 were deemed unfit and returned home to America. It is worth noting that figures taken from the Census of 2011 gives a total population for the Malvern Hills as 74,631, and for the town of Malvern, 32,900. http://www.visitoruk.com/GreatMalvern/. An article in the Gloucester Echo in November 1944 referred to the population of Malvern being 17,812. I have been unable to reconcile these differences, but they serve to illustrate the impact on Malvern with the itinerant and long-stay arrivals. I wonder how long it took to revert to some semblance of normality after the war ended?
From April 1944, the Malvern Urban WVS reports by the Centre Organiser were cloaked in mystery. Quite why these reports should suddenly be so secretive is unclear – the report for April 1944 was completed by a different person from previous ones so perhaps she was more sensitive to matters of security – or maybe instructions to that effect had come from on high? Reference was made to Malvern now being ‘a closed area‘. The April report included ‘certain places‘, a ‘member of a certain country‘, ‘Salute a certain person‘, a letter ‘from a certain source‘, another letter from ‘a certain man in a certain district‘, and a parcel of books for men ‘in a certain service‘. In June, a section entitled ‘Excursions (Dash) Welfare for (Dash) Allies‘, reported that ‘.. We are planning excursions to take the (dash) to see the beauties of the district‘, the itineraries for which were ‘...made the subject of advanced talks by the (dash-dash), so that the (dash) shall gain the most from their trips.’ I wonder if Betty, Nellie and Olive were sworn to secrecy? If she had written to Ron with information about the men from Malvern and he had quoted from her letter, the censor may have decided it was too sensitive if it fell into the wrong hands. ‘Careless talk costs lives’ was the mantra on many posters issued by the Ministry of Information.
As has so often been the case when I have looked at Betty’s photographs, they have intrigued me to try and understand the story behind them. And so often they have taken me off at a tangent away from what I know of Betty and Ron’s stories, but always they have given me further insights into the contexts in which their story plays out, in this case life on the Home Front. The WVS narrative reports in particular paint pictures of astounding levels of service and rôles provided by the women – and in this instance a very powerful rôle in supporting our wounded American allies so far from home. I wonder what happened to those three men – were they fit enough after their convalescence in Malvern to return to duty, fighting for the freedom of European civilians whose cultures were so varied and different from their own? And did they survive to tell their folks back home of the hospitality of the Brits in general and Malvern in particular? I hope so – and I hope they remembered with pleasure Betty, Olive and Nellie and the day of their picnic.
Last year, shortly before the second Covid lockdown, we bought a campervan – the only way we could envisage being able to take holidays in safety.
Image courtesy of pixabay.com
We managed a break of ten days – when it rained every day bar two – then lockdown came and it’s been parked up waiting for us to venture away from home again. It’s the third such vehicle that we have owned – each being fitted out by Autosleeper, this current one is a Ford Transit conversion. Preparing for us being able to take a break we have recently had it serviced, and once again familiarised ourselves with this home-from-home (that’s maybe an exaggeration – our house is much bigger, but you get my drift.) It never ceases to amaze me how much can be packed into a relatively small space – aside from the rear seats that can be made up into a double or two single beds, there is a kitchen area with an oven and hob, a fridge, a toilet and shower room, a room heater, a wardrobe and all manner of storage cupboards and drawers, and we have bought an awning to give us extra room and somewhere to leave wet clothes in our unpredictable climate. Although lighting and power can be obtained from the back-up battery, we choose campsites with electric hook-up. I must give a plug here for the Caravan and Motorhome ClubNorth Africa Campaign and their ‘CL’ (Certified Location) 5 pitch sites which offer all that we need – access to a fresh water supply and electric hook-up.
I’m pressing on with the second volume of my book – this one devoted to Ron’s letters to Betty in 1944. I was reminded of our van when I was writing about the British Army Exhibition in Birmingham (UK) that my aunt had visited in April 1944, just over 77 years ago. Whilst the exhibition had been running, there was also a display of two of General Bernard Law Montgomery’s campaign caravans that Betty had visited. The display which ran from 25 March to 15 April was to raise funds for the benefit of the Duke of Gloucester’s Red Cross and St John’s Fund, presumably through donations rather than entry charge.
Earlier, in February 1941, during the North Africa Campaign, the Italians surrendered in Libya, and a caravan in use by the Italian General Annibale ‘Barba Elettrica’ (Electric Whiskers) Bergonzoli had been acquired by the Allies. It was used by the then Commander in Chief of the British Army, Lieutenant General N. M. Ritchie and later by General Auchinleck. Lieutenant General Montgomery then acquired it when he assumed command of the British 8th Army in Egypt in August 1942. He used it as his living quarters until the end of the North African campaign in May 1943 when he acquired his second caravan from another Italian General in Tunisia. Upon his capture, General Giovanni Messe had told Montgomery that Rommel had also used it. By that time, Montgomery had been promoted to the rank of General, and this new caravan became his living quarters, with general Bergonzelli’s caravan becoming his office..
After the British 8th Army’s victory in Tunisia, the caravans had been overhauled and reconditioned (possibly by REME*) – one fitted onto a British Leyland Retriever chassis, the other onto an American MACK chassis. They accompanied the General through Sicily and then Italy, and were sent to Britain when Italy finally surrendered in September 1943. They were again serviced, in readiness for Operation Overlord, the Allied invasion of occupied North-West Europe in June 1944. A third caravan, which was to become Montgomery’s map room, was then purpose-built by the British Trailer Company based in Manchester, UK.
On his return to Britain, Montgomery, together with the US Army General Dwight D. Eisenhower, began planning Operation Overlord – the event that would become known as D-Day. Montgomery offered the two Italian caravans for public display until they were needed again, to help raise funds for the Duke of Gloucester Red Cross and St John Fund. He chose Birmingham as the first and only venue outside London, because of his close association with the Royal Warwickshire Regiment (Birmingham being in the county of Warwickshire at that time). The Map caravan was presented to the General on 17 April and was not on display to the public.
At the exhibition, the caravans were accompanied by the drivers of the vehicles, who had their own tales to tell about their time in the desert, in such close proximity to the revered General. I wondered why Betty had shown interest in them – where some might have been interested in comparing British engineering with American, or the bodywork of the caravans themselves, or with talking to the drivers about their experiences in a desert war, Betty might have been more interested in the internal fittings and evidence of Montgomery, the war hero’s presence.
The outward appearance of the caravans was unremarkable – but inside was a different story. The plywood bodies with camouflaged external canvas skin like many other military vehicles gave no hint of the interiors, which were lined with oak veneer. The first caravan – the office caravan – was equipped with storage cupboards, a desk, a sofa bed, and a toilet compartment with wash basin and shaving mirror. Photographs of the German Generals he was up against – Rommel (the ‘Desert Fox’), Kesselring and Von Runstedt – helped him to think about how each of them would react in response to his move against them. If, as General Messe had claimed, Rommel had used the other caravan, perhaps even slept in it, then maybe his acquisition of the vehicle became symbolic of the victory he was determined to achieve. Spartan in its simplicity, but nevertheless comfortable, the second caravan had a grey carpet, and was equipped with a water cooler, electric lighting, an inbuilt bed, a wardrobe and a full bathroom suite – a far cry from the images of sleeping on straw palliases in draughty barns or tents, or bathing once a fortnight in cold water that Ron had written about.
The caravans are currently at the Imperial War Museum’s Duxford site – there is an interesting illustrated talk entitled ‘Monty’s caravans – a Field Marshall’s Home from home.https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/montys-caravans-a-field-marshals-home-from-home. [Monty was promoted to the rank of Field Marshall in September 1944]I
Betty was all too aware of the importance of General Montgomery. He was often mentioned on the radio and in regular newspaper articles about the progress of the war in Africa, and she had seen him on Pathé News at the cinema. No doubt she had seen the films ‘Candlelight in Algeria’ and the documentary/propaganda film ‘Tunisian Victory’, both released in March 1944, with a glimpse of one of Monty’s caravans in the latter. Africa seemed such an exotic place and the General such a celebrity in her eyes – it would feel like stepping into a film set. On the back of one caravan was a child’s toy duck picked up by his adjutant Captain Noel Chavasse in a Sicilian street – perhaps she had asked the driver about it? And then there was the naming of one of the caravans ‘Jungle Goddess – Audrey’ after the wife of its driver – she could identify with that. Mounting the steps to look into the General’s sleeping quarters, she could see a Bible alongside a photograph of hisson David, both little domestic touches that she could relate to – she too had photographs of significant men in her life – her late brother Cyril, and her soldier fiancée Ron, who was serving in REME.*.
The caravan display was a huge success – 63,000 people viewed them in Birmingham, many of whom had also visited the Army Exhibition which had been open from 10am until 8pm every day. When she enthusiastically told Ron that she had been to an Army Exhibition – his response was less than enthusiastic;- well – that would be my idea of a busman’s holiday – food – the Army does pretty well – we had fried chips and scrambled egg for tea today – pretty good he wrote. Such a contrast between their views and experiences.
So, when we finally get away for a break in our little motorhome, will I be reminded of the part that Monty’s caravans played in giving us our freedom 77 years later? And when my husband and I sit under our awning, gazing out at a rural idyll in England or Wales, with the sun gently setting, will I be reminded of the places those caravans went and the roles they played? I suspect not, but I hope I never stop appreciating the ingenuity in their design which may have inspired out own, and that I never stop appreciating our ability to travel so freely – Covid permitting of course!
Saturday 20 March 2021, marked the start of Spring according to astronomical calculations*, when night and day are equal in length. This is the Spring, or ‘vernal’ equinox. [* the meteorological definition of four seasons based on the Gregorian calendar marks Spring as starting on 1 March]. It is not my intention to explain this in any more detail, others are far more adept at doing so than I, but it is pertinent to my book and the experiences of Ron and Betty during wartime. If readers wish to know more about the Equinoxes and Solstices, I commend this article in i news https://inews.co.uk/news/science/spring-equinox-2021-when-date-vernal-meaning-first-day-explained-917634
So what was the relevance to Ron and Betty? In his letter to Betty written on Easter Sunday 9 April, in 1944, Ron asked if she’d had a good Easter – his use of the past tense presumably projecting forward to the time that she would read it. On 18 May 1944 he asked about her friend Pat’s visit at Whitsun. These two events are closely linked in the Christian and secular calendars.
The date for Easter Sunday is set in relation to the Spring Equinox, and falls on the first Sunday following the first full moon after 21 March, which was 9 April in 1944, 4 April this year, 2021. Whit Sunday being another important Christian holy day, taking place on the 7th Sunday after Easter Sunday – 28 May in 1944, 23 May in 2021.
In April 1944, Ron was stationed with his REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) Unit at Portslade in Sussex on the South Coast of England, . He thought it unlikely that Betty would ‘take a rest, not if I know you.’ a commentary as much about her voluntary work as a Civil Nursing Reserve and as a Services Canteen assistant (both were in addition to her full time work as a shorthand typist with GWR, Great Western Railway) as it was about her social life.
To him, the holiday was a nuisance because it delays the mail, the only contact we have – hoping for a letter in the morning darling. The GPO (General Post Office) were delivering mail to the armed forces still on home soil at that point. Postal arrangements for Good Friday, Saturday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday seem to have varied across the UK, with Good Friday being an official Bank Holiday in Scotland, but it is unclear if that was so in the rest of the country. It seems that in some (but not all) areas banks were closed, and many newspapers were not printed on Good Friday or Easter Monday. As far as postal services were concerned, telegrams would be delivered on Good Friday as on a weekday, normal Sunday services (ie one delivery a day rather than two) for post & telegrams would apply to Easter Sunday and Monday. The disruption to the postal services was perhaps not as drastic as Ron feared.
The issue of public or Bank holidays and holidays in general had been debated in Parliament several times since the outbreak of war. In 1942 and 1943, debates in the House of Commons recognised and stressed the importance of ‘moderate and well-planned holiday breaks’ that were ‘subject always to the emergencies of the war situation and to the urgency of particular requirements for output’ including munitions. In March 1943, as well as an annual holidays for workers being limited to no longer than one week, there was to be a one-day break on Easter Monday, Whit Monday, and the August Bank Holiday, with two days at Christmas or the New Year. The Government regretted that ‘they ask that, as last year, there should be no cessation of work on Good Friday’. In 1944 the Ministry of Labour and National Service called upon all managements and workers engaged in war work to continue production during the Easter holidays with not more than one day’s break.. The Good Friday holiday was cancelled and the Football Association requested clubs to comply with the Ministry’s request not to play football on Good Friday. One newspaper, the West Sussex County Times, reported that although Saturday, 8 April would not be a general holiday, the Government had recommended that this day should be an approved holiday for industry subject to the exigencies of the war situation’.
Betty had had two days holiday, but in light of the above it is unclear to me which two days she had taken as holiday. As she normally worked Saturday mornings as well every weekday, perhaps that counted as one of the days, or maybe she was able to take the day following Easter Monday, making it a long weekend.
Ron wrote to her again two days later, thanking her for the Easter card she had sent him – it was very sweet of you – never occurred to me to send you one Betty-Lou – in fact I hardly had a chance to realise it was Easter. He also warned her that future letters would be subject to censorship. This was the period leading up to Operation Overlord, the Allies’ planned invasion on the coastal areas of occupied France, later to be referred to as D-Day. Betty said she’d had a ‘lazy time’, going to bed at 3 in the afternoon one day because she had been kept awake by her sister’s baby (me). She had also worked for 6 hours at the canteen on Easter Sunday – not my idea of a quiet time he said. Although it was very hard work in the canteen, it did provide Betty with a sense of ‘doing her bit’ for the war effort, and where many soldiers, sailors and airmen had benefited from her efforts, so also had she benefited from the social life it afforded, which was in sharp contrast to her somewhat confined clerical work in an office. Flirtatious exchanges surely matched the welcome delivery of meals and snacks to these men!.
As has so often been the case when I have used the British Newspaper Archives for my research, I came across this snippet of information that not only adds to the canon of social history of the time, but also resonates with the year that saw shortage of goods (including toilet rolls) when the arrival of Coronovirus led to panic buying at a similar time in 2020. In Evesham, Worcestershire, it was reported that a baker had only been able to bake a proportion of his usual Easter time Hot Cross buns because of a shortage of staff and materials – many of his staff had either been called up to serve in the Armed Forces or to undertake war work in factories or in the fields. Where normally he would have produced between 20- and 30-thousand buns, in 1944 he had only baked 2- or 3-thousand. He had sold out within an hour of opening and had closed early at mid-day, leaving many would-be customers disappointed. [Evesham Standard & West Midlands Observer Saturday 15 April 1944. Courtesy of the British Newspaper Archives]
The next date in secular calendars was the Whitsun bank holiday – with Whit Sunday being another important Christian holy day. Whit Monday was, at that time, a Bank Holiday, and fell on 29 May in 1944. Inextricably linked to the Easter date as Whit Sunday was, the Bank Holiday was also a movable feast, causing confusion, and long after the war, in 1971 the Banking & Financial Dealings Act moved the Bank Holiday to a fixed date, being the last Monday in May – although Whitsun was still commemorated in the Christian Church, Whit Monday then ceased to be a Bank Holiday.
Betty’s work within a major railway company made her mindful of the need to keep this crucial means of moving men, machinery and stocks rolling, although she would have been oblivious to the specific reasons at this time. As a citizen, she would also have been aware of the continuation of the ‘Holidays at Home’ initiatives set up in 1940, and would also have been aware that since 1 April 1944, the area along the South Coast where she and her friends traditionally took their holidays (and where she met Ron) was now strictly out of bounds to visitors. Restrictions on movement applied to an area up to 10 miles inland, stretching from The Wash in Norfolk to Cornwall. According to one newspaper however this had not deterred some people intent on visiting Chichester during the Easter week. I quote directly from a newspaper at the time:
‘QUIET HOLIDAY TIME It would be difficult to imagine a quieter Bank Holiday than that which Chichester , experienced on Monday, particularly during those hours of the morning when the .bus routes are usually in full use on a holiday. To what extent the travel ban affected things it would be difficult to say. because there were other conditions which militated against the likelihood of any great rush make excursions within the allotted area of movement. During the Easter period, including the eve of Good Friday, there seem to have been a good many train travellers who tried to ran the gauntlet. According to the week-end papers, the idea appears have got abroad that not much vigilance was be feared if travellers could manage land at a station just inside a banned area, after which the bus services would do the rest. The idea, did not work to any extent at Chichester, where pretty good observation was kept at the railway station, and a goodly number of holiday travellers did not get beyond the station precincts. A remark overheard in a bus, “We haven’t been stopped so far,” and the reply. “We’re not there yet,” suggested that there were at least a few who succeeded in entering the area. . . .” [Chichester Observer Saturday 15 April 1944. Courtesy of the British Newspaper Archives]
Now 77 years later, we have been restricted in our movements throughout the Coronovirus pandemic and the periods of Lockdown. And as was the case in that report about people flouting the rules to achieve their own ends when the country was in crisis, here in the UK while we are still in Lockdown, there are some who are bent on flouting the rules, ignoring the stay-at-home and social distancing imperatives. Plus ça change!
First of all, let’s be up front. I’m not going to divulge my first name just yet – it will be revealed in the second volume of my yet-to-be-published book (which I am in the process of editing), but I will divulge the name by which I am known – Ann Kelcey with ‘Ann’ being my second name. If you’ve wondered why I’ve called my website blog ‘Brewin’s Girl’ it’s because Brewin was my Dad’s second name – a name he disliked (his first name was Frank) – but one by which he was known when he served in the RAF during WW2. Since my book is set in WW2 and some of the letters refer to Frank, it seemed an appropriate nom de plume. And my joke – and tribute – to my late father.
What I will divulge however is the source of my first name. It was an advert for a product, Reckitt’s Bath Cubes which my mother and aunt had seen in a magazine (or so I thought). When I was born my father was training with the RAF in Canada so was not around for the sort of discussions that might have taken place in normal times about naming his first child, as must have been the case for so many of my parent’s generation. My aunt was living with my mother and together they chose my name in his absence. I was told the story several times during my life – to be named after a bath cube scarred me for ever!
It not only intrigues me now that neither my parents nor my aunt are around to ask, but is also relevant to the story that unfolds in my book, which contributes to the social history of the time. I began a search for adverts in newspapers from the months and then a few years before my birth by using the British Newspaper Archives, a wonderful resource that I’ve used over and over while writing my book. Finding magazines from the time was less easy, particularly during the Coronovirus pandemic and its necessary restrictions on travelling and accessing archives. But the newspapers looked promising. Some of the adverts for Reckitt’s Bath Cubes were little more than column ‘fillers’ with embellished borders between other advertisements in newspapers, and made basic claims such as making bath water ‘magically soft’, ‘as soft as rain’, or ‘as soft as Satin’, or that they cleared skin of toxins, toned muscles, calmed nerves, all whilst smelling nice. Other far more interesting adverts carried a narrative, with stylised drawings of one or more people usually in bathroom settings, and it was clearly one such advert that was responsible for my name, but I was still unable to locate the specific one. Determined to find it (I can be like a dog with a bone once I get going!) I contacted Reckitt Benckiser Heritage and they came up trumps – with a high-res image of the advert and several others, and they consented to me using it in my book. It was one in a series that were basically (name) goes in (to the bath – which had Reckitt’s bath cubes in of course) and (a more elaborate name) comes out. As an example, in September 1938 (several years before I was born) ‘Molly goes in’ and ‘Margaret Elizabeth Jane M.D., F.R.C.F. (Eminent Physician) comes out.’ So the story I was told all those years ago was accurate, as was my memory of it which was even more reassuring! (By the way, my name was not in this particular advert, neither did I become an eminent physician).
I found it encouraging that the female character was given the status of an ’eminent physician’ in similar vein to others in this series (eg headmistress, radio announcer, government consultant), but sadly there were other less favourable stereotypes, such as a proclamation that George was ‘very like a man’ for taking the last Reckitt’s Bath Cube, with a general implication that these bath cubes, and the purchasing of them, was the province of women, at least in the early years of the adverts. I was initially appalled in one advert to be reminded of marriage vows that perpetuated the notion that a woman became the property of her husband upon marriage. In January 1928 a laughing woman was throwing a sponge at her husband. She said ‘Take that! You promised to cherish me – and you go and steal my Reckitt’s Bath Cube‘, to which he retorted ‘You promised to obey me too, and so after this you buy them and get enough for me.‘ Through my research however I concluded that this particular one was a social commentary, as in the previous month, December 1927, the revision of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer (in the Church of England) had been debated in Parliament and rejected. One significant aspect of the debate was that of the revised forms of Matrimony and Baptism. It was only in the previous year that women were allowed to own property, and the issue of the wording where the bride promises to ‘obey’ her husband was still contentious. [From Hansard:- That, in accordance with the Church of England Assembly (Powers) Act, 1919, this House do direct that the Prayer Book Measure, 1927, be presented to His Majesty for Royal Assent. The House divided: Ayes, 205; Noes, 230. https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/commons/1927/dec/prayer-book-measure-1927.]
This may have been co-incidental, and although other adverts can in retrospect be perceived as social commentary, it appears unlikely to have been intended thus at the time with the exception perhaps of this particular one. But there are others where it is possible to trace changes in society, albeit retrospectively.
The description of one young lady who transformed from ‘Pen’ to ‘Desirée Penelope, Debutante, just presented at court’ in May 1939, tells of a 200 year old tradition where young women were presented to the Monarch at the Royal Court in what was effectively a marriage market for eligible young women and men. This continued for another 19 years before Queen Elizabeth abolished it in 1958, so was appropriate at the time of the advert.
With apologies to the original artist!
The earlier illustrated adverts were still focussed on extolling the virtues of the bath cubes and on household stocks of said commodity. The drawings were quite stylised, but they and their accompanying text also tell something of British civilian life in those inter-war years, just as Ron’s letters to Betty do in my book about the 1940s. The advert, illustrated left, from February 1928 featured a man and a woman in a bathroom. He has his hand on the hot water tank, she is looking on with a towel draped around her shoulders. The caption reads ‘Good! The water’s hot tonight! I’ve had a pretty stiff day and shall enjoy a bath especially if you will let me have one of your Reckitt’s Bath Cubes.The water is hot now and I will attend to the fire so that there will be plenty of hot water after you have had your bath. I suggest you buy Reckitt’s Bath Cubes in cartoons of six for I feel we should have a supply in the house always. They certainly make the water soft, fragrant, and refreshing.‘
I deduced from the adverts that Reckitt’s Bath Cubes were deemed in the main to belong to a woman in the household, and frequently featured another woman, man or even children, asking her to lend them one. ‘Dad’ featured in a few of them, but even then he often ‘borrowed’ one from his daughter. ‘Betty where are the bath cubes. Dad can’t find the bath cubes. Dad says he never can. He even went to the length of having a box for himself…Tell Dad he’ll find a new box in the airing cupboard’ [Nov 1928] What lengths some men went to in those days!! He would have had to fork out 2d (two old pennies) for a single one, or 1/- (one shilling, equalling 12 pence) for a carton of six, ‘obtainable from grocers and stores’. Occasional promotions offered a carton of 6 for 9/- (nine shillings)
Other adverts told of a time when neither coal (as the principal fuel for heating water) nor water were restricted. In January 1929 ‘You have filled the bath as full as you like it There is steam on the mirror‘. Although ten minutes was enough to remove the female bather’s ‘acid waste of the day’ and restore her energy in preparation for a night out, ‘Dad’, it seemed, could stay in longer. ‘”Where’s father? Not in his room? Gracious!! Is the man still in the bath!” (July 1928)
Returning to the subject of my name, I was surprised to find that the relevant advert was published in three newspapers, a magazine and the Radio Times some years before my birth – why would my aunt or my mother have kept it so long? One likely explanation is that the first name (of the character before she went into the bath) was that of my grandmother. I then discovered that in earlier adverts a character named ‘Betty’ featured frequently, once as a child, many other times as an adult. Several of the adverts show a man or woman leaning over a bannister rail, calling downstairs to borrow a Reckitt’s Bath Cube, usually from ‘Betty’. ‘Betty’ was the name of my aunt who was partially responsible for choosing my names – she was also the recipient of the letters that form the basis of my book. Although other names were used (Daphne, Mabel, Margaret, Jane, Iris, Cynthia, Geoff, George, Roger, and children Betty & Joan, and John, Joan & Jill) Betty was the most popular and frequently used name. I can imagine then that my aunt kept a scrap-book with the adverts rather than the entire publications.
There is little continuity in the stories, or clear relationship between the characters. Several unnamed men – and women – pondered whether Betty had any bath cubes they could ‘borrow’. In July 1928 it was Geoff who posed the question, but by September 1930 it was Roger (who kept fit by playing ‘Rugger’) who was asking the same question, and ‘Betty’ was portrayed as a child and as an adult at different times
One illustrated series had ‘Before this…then this’, with elegantly dressed dancers preparing for a night out in one popular scenario. In similar vein, ‘After this….then this…’ scenarios where the ‘before’ activities included a young woman playing tennis (Typing, Tennis & Tango was her lifestyle), another battling the crowds outside a department store Sale. Others were either aboard a tube train hanging on to a strap for dear life, or were trying to board a busy bus after a hard day’s work in the office. Although aimed primarily at busy women, men were also featured including Dad who had been gardening, another dad whose wife tasked their 3 children to take his mackintosh off (John), run and turn on the bath (Joan) and fetch the Reckitt’s Bath cube (Jill) which was in a new box in their mother’s bedroom. A rather grumpy elderly man with receding hair and sporting a very full white moustache that was fashionable at the time, demanded to know from Betty where the Reckitt’s bath cubes had gone – he would have to ‘read the riot act to you girls’.
A Reckitt’s Bath Cube bath was a pre-requisite for a night out with girl friends, or with male suitors, at least two of whom wondered if they’d been stood up when their girlfriend was late. Looking dejected, one man wondered if perhaps his girlfriend was late because her mother had detained her, but thought it more likely that she had stayed rather long in the bath – a regular occurrence. He would give her another ten minutes. Another man is slumped in an armchair, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, his hat and gloves by his feet. ‘Let him wait!’ is the caption, with the information that mother has just said that ‘Cynthia will be down in a minute.’ Cynthia was, of course, still in the bath.
Adverts also appealed to parents, mothers in particular. Children who were frightened by ‘water coming out of the tap like a roaring lion, with the ducks and goldfish swimming on the terrible waves’ then got out of the bath ‘like a fairy that’s had a bath in a flower’ according to Mother. Mother, of course, knew that if her children were dirty after playing outside (in a wheelbarrow) she could tumble them into a bath with all their ducks and boats and of course a Reckitt’s Bath Cube! Not only did it make the bath a tonic, but it also helped the water to dissolve the dirt, and when you let the water out it would take all the dirt with it without leaving the bath grimy below a dark high-tide mark. It won’t even leave the ‘little scamps’ with some of the dirt still in their pores. It will free their skin and freshen them up. And how they like it! “Smells Lavender, Lily of the Valley, Verbena beautiful, Mummy, like flowers. Isn’t it lovely and smooth!” I wonder how many pre-school or primary school children nowadays (or then?) could name such garden flowers?
The illustrated scenarios continued in the early years of WW2 up until October 1940, although the stories were changed less frequently than in pre-war years, when several different versions would appear in the same month. In 1942, householders were instructed to limit bathwater to 5 inches per family, per week, and to paint a black or red line inside the bath at the 5″ level – a practice the King instructed should be carried out in Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle. Gone were the days when a bather could fill the bath as full as they liked, typically 8 inches deep. The illustrators of the earlier adverts could have had a field day, playing on this, although there is no evidence that they picked up on a much earlier report that might have inspired a mischievous response. According to the Baths superintendent at the Victorian Baths in Southport, Lancashire, the sale of bath cubes was up seven times on the total of the previous year , which he put down ‘to the partiality of the civil servants evacuated from London from scented cubes in their bath’s each week.’ (May 1940)
As the war progressed, I have been unable to find any illustrated adverts for Reckitt’s Bath Cubes – or even the ‘filler’ type with its embellished border – and the name ‘Reckitt’s’ seems to have disappeared too except where they have been listed as a prize. Bath cubes are frequently referred to, but different manufacturers are named. Reckitt’s had merged with J & J Colman in 1938 – perhaps the absence of adverts was a casualty of the merger as well as of the war. There was a new style of advert however which appeared to read more like a news item. A newspaper cutting dated 1940, had the the heading ‘Pine Cubes for Parcels’ which was followed by this text:- “Don’t forget to include a few Reckitt’s Pine Cubes in the next parcel you send to your soldier man. They’re madly popular with the troops. You see they’ve discovered that one Pine cube added to a hot bath and taken after an endless route march or other endurance test takes away all stiffness and fatigue. Keep a store ready for him when he comes home on leave, too. Reckitt’s bath cubes are made in other perfumes – Lavendar, Lily of the Valley, Verbena and Essence of Flowers – but that’s your cup of tea.” The notion of the troops luxuriating in a hot bath must surely be far from the truth for many, even in the UK. In one letter written by Ron in 1943 when he was stationed near Canterbury he wrote this: Worst trouble here had been getting a bath, and during the week my pal Taffy and I had to bath together in cold water at the Toc H. It was really laughable the two of us in the one bath shivering in the water. Still we did feel clean after it, first bath we had been able to have for a fortnight. No mention of Reckitt’s – or any other – bath cubes!
In June 1948 it was announced by Reckitt’s Colman that the toilet preparation quota had increased and that the product formerly known as Reckitt’s Bath Cubes would in future be marketed under the name ‘Bathjoys’. The illustrated ‘before’ and ‘after’ advertisement campaign was revived, although in the example illustrated by me here, there are no longer any claims to social status.
[My illustration left comes with apologies to the original illustrator!]
So dear reader, that is my account of how I got my name. But not what it is!
And why the reference to use of exclamation marks in the title to this post? Simply because they appeared so many times in so many of the Reckitt’s Bath Cube adverts – and are a sharp reminder to this writer who is guilty of overuse of this particular punctuation mark.
Back to editing my book – and checking for exclamation marks!
This is the first snowdrop of the year, taken in our garden in Shropshire UK on 2 January. A writer friend described them as ‘persistent little spikes which push through hard ground – a good metaphor for the hard slog’ that writing non-fiction is all about! Another friend, whose comment prompted me to go out in search of this beautiful little flower, said that they always give her hope. They do indeed give me hope, and a reminder that so long as we look after ‘Mother Nature’ she will continue to delight us and remind us that, like this flower, we can overcome many obstacles that come our way.
I dedicate this to my writer friends who are so supportive, encouraging, and talented – WriteStuff and Blue Boar Writers in particular – as well as to so many other friends who do the same. They know who they are.
In my last post I referred to the uncertainties surrounding the arrangements for Ron and Betty to be together at Christmas, in part imposed by his service as a soldier and hers as an essential worker and war-work volunteer, but also by his desire to spend some time at his family home with his mother and brother, the first time that this would have been possible since 1938, the year before the start of WW2 and Ron’s conscription into the Army. As I have been writing my book, with Ron’s letters to Betty forming the scaffolding around which their story unfolds, I have been only too aware that in the main we only get to see one side of their story, as Ron was unable to keep Betty’s letters. After they met and began to exchange letters in July 1943, it becomes apparent that on many occasions Ron wrote his letters alongside ones he had received from her, so that as well as telling her about his life on Active Service, he could answer her questions or comment in response to what she had written. Alongside the many photographs Betty left behind, I have insights as her niece as well as family anecdotes, so that sometimes it is possible to envisage the letters she may have written, or to imagine little scenarios of her life on the Home Front. Through his letters we also get glimpses into his mother’s life, and I have been able to get further insights during correspondence and conversation with his niece, the daughter of his brother. I now offer two entirely fictional scenarios, arising out of these.
The first has to be that of his mother, after she had received a letter from Ron. Ron’s mother is Maude, her husband Bill (Ron’s stepfather), her younger son Ken.
In Newton Abbot, Maude is enjoying a cup of coffee with her friend and neighbour Dorothy Barnes. ‘Sorry it isn’t real coffee Dot’, Maude says. Dorothy picks up the bottle of Camp coffee . Dorothy: ‘I don’t mind. This isn’t bad stuff. I’ve brought a couple of ginger flapjacks’. Maude: ‘Is that the recipe you got from the Gazette? I really like it. You don’t use eggs, and now that the boys and Bill are away I don’t use much sugar. There’s a recipe I saved for Canadian War Cake. Ron’s with the Canadians now, so I’ll make it for Christmas.’
D: ‘He’s coming for Christmas then?’ M: ‘Yes, the first time in five years. I’m so excited – Ken’s going to be home too.’ D: ‘You must worry about them both.’ M: ‘I do especially Ron. I think they’ll send him overseas soon…’ Maude begins to cry. D: ‘Whatever are you crying for now?’ Dorothy asked, resting a comforting hand on her friend’s arm. M: ‘It’ll be the first time he’s home for Christmas since this damned war began. But what if it’s his last?’ Dorothy was lost for words
The second scenario is as I imagine Betty when she received one of his letters with his plans for Christmas. Betty had picked up his letter when she left home in the morning and had read it on the train to Birmingham, where she worked in one of GWR (Great Western Railway) offices.
“What’s up Betty?”. Her colleagues would have picked up on her low mood. “You’ve got a face as long as a fiddle. It’s Christmas soon.” “Then you’ll see that gorgeous young man again”. Betty starts to cry. “Maybe”. “What do you mean ‘maybe’?” B: “He keeps changing his mind about when he’s coming and I told Ma and Pa he’s coming on Christmas day which caused a row with Pa. Now he says he’s not coming until Boxing Day, and that’ll give Pa another opportunity to criticise him. I hate men!”
These scenarios are probably not so very different from ones played across the world in the lead-up to many other occasions normally associated with religious and even secular festivals during 2020 at the time of global pandemic, and will doubtless play over and over again as we inch slowing forward in the battle against Covid-19.
As I began to write this a few days before Christmas 2020, many people in the UK, like so many countries around the world, have had their hopes and plans for family Christmas gatherings dashed as our governments respond to Coronovirus and to the new strain of Covid-19. This brought to mind several of Ron’s letters in the lead-up to Christmas in 1943 and into the New Year, 1944.
In November 1943, Ron was still in the UK with his Unit in REME*, which was at that time located in Clacton-on-Sea, on the East Coast of England. While there he developed a dental abscess and when the Unit moved to Eastbourne on the South Coast at the end of the month he was admitted to hospital where he spent the first week of December. Before leaving Clacton he wrote to Betty to say that Privilege leave, which was awarded in recognition of the time that a soldier had served in the Armed Forces, had been recommenced after being temporarily suspended, and that he might be able to get home for Christmas. Do you have any time off over the Xmas hols he asked, or can you work & take time later. This would be the first time he would have leave at Christmas since 1938 and so he would need to spend some time with his mother and brother in Devon but clearly also wanted to spend time with Betty. Betty worked full-time as a shorthand typist with GWR (Great Western Railway) in Birmingham, as well as voluntary duties as a Civil Nursing Reserve with ARP/CD (Air Raid Precautions/Civil Defence) and as a canteen assistant at one of the Services Canteens. She would have to apply for leave from each of these.
A series of letters followed in which uncertainties about the leave position would sorely test this young couple’s relationship. His period of hospitalisation threw doubt on him being able to take his leave at Christmas time, and in any case Betty thought the chances of her having time off were poor. Leave has definitely started now and all I can do is hope for the best he said on 7 December, adding In any case it won’t be Xmas week, so I shall be able to spend most of my time at your place, suits me fine. The following day, having been discharged from hospital, he wrote to say that to his surprise his leave had been definitely fixed for Xmas. Actual dates are from the 21st to the 30th.
That word ‘definitely’ would prove to be equivocal.
If there is any truth in the notion that history repeats itself, it certainly seems to be doing so 77 years later. On 16 December our Prime Minister said that there were [definitely] no changes to the plan to allow up to three households to meet together in a ‘Christmas Bubble’ for up to 5 days. It would, he said, be inhumane to cancel Christmas. Three days later he did just that for people living in areas of greatest risk (Tier 4), and for all other areas (Tiers 1 to 3) such meetings were to be restricted to one day only – Christmas Day. As well as those in areas designated as Tier 4, there were very many people who would now be unable to spend time with their families. Personally I felt that the idea of a 5-day (& even a 1 day) ‘Christmas bubble’ was ludicrous, with potential for even more viral spread, and subsequent impact on the National Health Service and its hospital staff in particular. I had little sympathy for those who bemoaned the restriction of their liberty and ‘human rights’ – just as Betty’s role with the railway was essential in WW2, many staff in key worker groups (eg Care Homes, Emergency services such as Police, Fire & Rescue, Ambulance, Prison, Hospitals) had obligations to work their shift to care for others in much the same way that they had always been, but now with added pressures and heightened personal risk. I’ve yet to hear any of them moaning that their ‘human rights’ were being denied – they would adapt, as they always had, to celebrating family time together at a later date.
When I refer to my book, I use the strap-line ‘War doesn’t stop for Christmas – or for love’. Equally, Covid doesn’t stop for Christmas
So, Ron detailed his plans, which included spending the first part of his leave with his mother in Newton Abbot, Devon, and then travelling up to Birmingham on Christmas Day morning. Betty said that it was grand that his leave had worked out for Christmas, but 6 days later he had changed his mind about his plans, arriving in Birmingham on Boxing Day, when Betty would meet him and they would travel together to her home in Stourbridge. It would be rather bad for me not to stay at home for the Xmas dinner with the family, I know you will understand he said. But did she?
His letter written on 22 December was not franked until the 23rd, so would have arrived on Boxing Day at the earliest, and possibly even on Christmas Day itself (yes, there was a postal service on Christmas Day!), but he had also sent a telegram on the 22nd which would have reached her the same day. As was the nature of telegrams it was very brief and to the point – Arriving B’Ham Sunday Midday Please meet me Happy Birthday love Ron
Betty’s birthday was on 23rd December. Did she perceive the birthday greetings as an afterthought? And what of his mother? Did she understand his need to be with his sweetheart?
My next post will be my fictionalised version of events from the point of view of Betty and of Ron’s mother.
In the meantime, I wish all my readers a Happy New Year in 2021, as I do to all of the key workers who sacrificed their family get-togethers at Christmas and at other religious and cultural festivals for the greater good. We have needed you more than ever this past year, and will continue to do so.
As I finish and publish this post, in this household we are celebrating the news that the Oxford University/Astrazeneca vaccine has been approved for use in Britain. So my thanks and congratulations go to ALL of the people who have made this possible, be they volunteers who processed data or who volunteered as ‘guinea pigs’ for the drug trial, or the scientists who worked so hard to see it to fruition. We owe so much to these people.
"Boil for 3 hours" 