"We grumble and carry on as best we can, which, I suppose, is how wars are won, and at long last it looks as if we are going to win this war someday"
This is a letter from my great grandfather, Henry Pleming (born 1877) to his younger brother John, who had immigrated to Canada. Henry was an Air Raid warden in Ramsgate, Kent. The letter is written on Oct 3rd 1943, and contains a mix of family chat, what it was like living through the war and anecdotes about air raids and spotting formations of bombers overhead (from both sides).
Transcript:
My dear brother,
Again I gird up the old loins for your birthday letter, overdue as usual. We received your letter and Dot's photo on time, very pleased to get them. Dot is a real Derry, reminds me of mother in her young age. We were glad to know you are all well and going along alright despite the war and rationing. We shuffle along, much as usual, getting enough to eat of sorts, but rather hard up for milk. However, we grumble and carry on as best we can, which, I suppose, is how wars are won, and at long last it looks as if we are going to win this war someday. Jerry has left us alone lately. This is not exactly a healthy place for enemy planes, too many of our lads about. Of course, we get the jolly old siren wailing the alert and all clear, but we don't take much notice of that. So far this year, we have had 148 alerts, so you can see that if we took them seriously, we should not do much in the way of work. It is not too pleasant to be woke up in the night by the siren, particularly when you can hear Jerry droning about overhead. We had some unpleasantness a few nights ago. Siren, stuff going up and bombs coming down in the distance, Jerry coming nearer and us in bed waiting for it and wondering if it was our turn for the high jump. Maud didn't like it much. She hung onto my arm and said, "I wish I wasn't so frightened" and that is real courage. Nothing much happened. Jerry was on his way home after unloading elsewhere. I have the idea that they do this sort of thing for practice. Just load up with a few bombs and have a go at a S.E. Coast town, as the BBC calls it. You can imagine that we see lots of planes going and coming. Yesterday afternoon, while playing bowls, I must have seen more than a hundred big bombers, little bombers and fighters, and a bunch of big bombers is something to see and hear. And our bowling season is almost over. It is too dark to play of an evening now. Saturday afternoon is the only chance I get. The season has not been too good. Our greens are on the cliff. We get all the wind that blows. We have played in rain, thunder, lightning and gunfire with an occasional spot of bother out on the water and enjoyed it all.
I am still doing a bit in the home guard, fairly good at shooting and bomb-throwing but not much at running. It is soon a case of bellows to mend if I do much of that. We had a do on a while back, about two miles from here, near where St Augustine came ashore in 954, or whenever it was. Dot knows I expect. There was me, doing a turn at sentry go about one in the morning, with the siren going, searchlight sweeping, dear old Jerry up aloft. Such I was wondering what the [unknown] [unknown] and all the other blokes that had been just about there would have made of it. Or me with my Sten and tin hat, especially if Jerry had put a shell over from the French side just there.
Our town is looking livelier lately. People are coming back. Some of the schools are opening and the children are about the place. A very pleasant change too. The town was a dead place in 1940, when the children had gone, and more than half the people too. No motor cars. Those were the times when we used to sit on the cliffs of an evening, watching our planes dropping flares over the water, on the lookout for the invasion that did not come off. Just heard the 9pm news. Our lads have been giving Jerry another doing. I heard the bombers going over this afternoon. I think this is about all for now. I wish you as many happy returns of your birthday as you are likely to want. You are 65 not out, according to my reckoning. I shall be 67 next year with luck, eheu fugaces [quote from Homer expressing regret at the passing of time] you guys. Never mind. We have not done so bad. My kind regards to Kathleen, Dot (B.A.) Alan and Lily. Keep your tails up as we try to do.
Goodbye, H
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English (UK)
