Family Of Four: 44 - It Has Come
...As a family, we were not surprised as were so many others that England and Germany were at war, for Uncle Raymond, Mummy's only brother, was a Captain in the Territorial Army and he had told Daddy for some time that he was sure it would come. He and Auntie Ethel had only recently returned from a holiday in Germany and it had been made very plain to them how the Germans felt, many actually spitting at them, so that they were disgusted and heartily glad to be back in their own country...
Mrs Vivien Hirst recalls the beginning of the first World War.
Mrs Hirst's memories were gathered into a book, Family Of Four, by her nephew, Raymond Prior.
Daddy and I were walking together along Edgerton one August morning in 1914 when we passed an acquaintance who raised his hat. Daddy turned beaming to me. "Bibs, you are growing up! No gentleman takes off his hat to a little girl. Mr. Shaw is regarding you as a big girl now so you must remember to nod and smile as Mummy does."
This did not stir me at all. For one thing I did not want to grow up, I was perfectly happy to remain as I was, still only a child. Daddy, too, had forgotten my expansive Mr. Moxon who had given me a far more impressive salute for years.
I turned this over in my mind but was startled at that very moment to see a newsboy across the road, running towards us shouting loudly "War! England declares War on Germany. War!" and all else faded from my mind.
Daddy beckoned the boy over to buy a paper, his look grave and preoccupied, and almost snatching it he turned to the huge headlines across the front page. "So," said Daddy, "it has come."
War! What, I wondered, would that mean? I thought of the old wars of the history books, the arrows, boiling oil, and later cannon balls, any of which would be dreadful to encounter. But those were all outdated long ago, big guns taking the place of the little cannons we sometimes saw placed for decoration on terraces and steps. I wondered afresh what war could mean.
Little did any of us then know what a modern war entailed, how frightful would be the bloodshed, and how long the strain on those left at home. Little did the gallant youths know what was ahead of them as they rushed forward to volunteer, filled simply with a sense of adventure and a stirring of patriotism, many adding years to their ages just to be in at the battle.
As a family, we were not surprised as were so many others that England and Germany were at war, for Uncle Raymond, Mummy's only brother, was a Captain in the Territorial Army and he had told Daddy for some time that he was sure it would come. He and Auntie Ethel had only recently returned from a holiday in Germany and it had been made very plain to them how the Germans felt, many actually spitting at them, so that they were disgusted and heartily glad to be back in their own country.
In time, a mansion, Royds Hall, was given over to the Belgian Refugees, and a Military Hospital was built in the grounds. Mummy took Doreen and me to visit the wounded and we handed out cigarettes.
It was a hutted hospital, the beds being arranged along the sides, and I passed from bed to bed thrusting the packet onto the occupant with the utmost solemnity, speaking no word. It was my first visit and not surprisingly I was overawed by this different world.
One soldier called out "Come here little girl, come and speak to me," but covered with shyness I stood immovable, a good two yards away.
"Don't be shy, little girl, you are not shy," the soldier persisted, laughing gently. He wanted so much to make friends, but I left him there, forlorn, and passed along the beds, no good at all as a sick visitor!
Doreen, being older and very friendly, did her good deed more successfully, and both of us, Mummy too, received tiny squares of handkerchiefs, edged daintily with lace, "Belgium" or "A Gift from Belgium" being embroidered in a scroll along a corner.
I only remember the one visit, mainly, I think, because I still recall the lonely soldier, so far from home and family, and still feel a little regretful that my shyness did nothing to cheer him.
Once, when we heard a hospital train was due, I walked with Nurse down to the station to see the wounded arrive. Lines of ambulances were drawn up before the entrance. We could not get close, so great was the crowd, but as an ambulance passed it was received with cheers.
I waved and cheered with the rest, but after a while I grew silent, for the pale, haggard faces of the men sitting in the doorway staring at this enthusiastic throng with empty expressions, made me ashamed. I felt as though I were looking on a scene which should have been quietly hidden from sight. It was suddenly an indignity to be there.
I tugged at Nurse's arm and coaxed her away, to her indignation, for she was eagerly enjoying the stir and the noise. She questioned me, rather angrily, and I tried to explain my feelings. Nurse reasoned with me, pointing out that it would not be right for the brave boys to be received without a welcoming cheer, but I could still see those wan faces and I was sure that the men, themselves, were disliking the whole proceeding.
Mummy suggested that we should collect a big bundle of our toys to take to the refugees and this was a sad visit, all the faces looking weary. Even the children showed no sparkle, just gazing at us without a sign or a glimmer of a smile, and although they had a large rocking horse and other impressive toys, they looked as though they had lost the desire for play.
