My Dear Bessie (20 page)

16 December 1944

Dearest,

Yes, the news of Greece has nicely alarmed me, which is putting it very, very mildly, I am afraid. I am not much good at this soldier's wife idea. I try, but I feel I ought to do better, goodness knows what my temper will be like after a week of impatient patience. I have been stormily arguing about Greece at the office, and been thoroughly rude to one of the bosses, ended up by calling him a fascist. He came up the next day and asked if I felt better. He is the why-bother-with-politics type (it only makes you miserable), and I guess he represents the mass weight of public opinion, and I guess I am no improvement, for I do nothing.

Nearly all the press are supporting the Greek people apart from the
Telegraph
and Beaverbrook, all progressive sections are downright in their condemnation of the Churchill policy, but the whole mass I am sure are still behind him and he knows it. Perhaps the idea of the war being extended ad infinitum may move public opinion, but I suspect it is food that will tell. Oh dear, the best of man is in his imagination not in his actions. I suppose Churchill really does believe he is doing right, he must do, or he wouldn't go
through with it. On reading this through it looks rather messy, but I feel rather like that. One wonders so much whether the war has been waged for nothing. Aldous Huxley insists that violence breeds violence and we get nowhere, in fact slip back. Perhaps he's right.

I fully appreciate your position as a soldier, that you could not say anything and cannot now. All I can do is hope that you will be alright, and worry my way through this time as best I can. I am thinking of you, hoping for you, with all that is in me, I too think of that ‘settling down' time for us, though I don't think of it in those terms. For me it is ‘beginning to live'. You want tranquillity now, quite natural, but when you have that, when you have a home of your own, when you have me for love, comfort and peace, always there, always behind you, you'll want to fight the good fight with even greater strength. Whatever you'll want to do, I shall fit in, and try and answer your demands, whatever they are. You'll make me happy by just being there, in our home, Dearest One.

Keep safe Darling.

I Love You.

Bessie

Bessie (second from left) with friends on the beach, 1930s

18 December 1944

Dearest,

I'm very tickled to find I have not sent you the season's greetings, either by LC or airgraph. Greece has put everything out of my head including Xmas. Don't feel very Xmas conscious anyway. I had hopes of some sort of an agreement, but they have gone to pot today, newspaper headlines say British troops in gloves-off offensive. There is still a lot of agitation here to make the government change its attitude, but not enough I guess. I really feel it's because people are fed up with war, not being informed about what it means to Greece, the average person feels that Greece is being unnecessarily troublesome. I don't suppose you'll get my little packet by Xmas now. Wished I sent an airgraph, I
bought it ages ago and kept it for a suitable date, alack, alack. I hope you won't feel neglected by me of all people. I wonder what is happening to you, what you are doing, how you feel about all this. I received the hanky with one strand of hair, one strand of hair!!! I kissed it and nearly lost it, but only for one agitated second, it is safe now in my bag to carry around, to occasionally touch, as one day I shall touch so much more. You have been so close to me, so close.

I received No. 9 today, which I presume is No. 95 written 10/12. Though I was schooling myself to wait a week, I still kept my eye on the mat; you can't imagine my feelings at receiving the unexpected, and what a lovely unexpected, you Dear Dear Man. I never appeal in vain, when I so need you just that little bit more than usual, you come back at me with such a rush of warmth and understanding, somehow you leave me speechless, to be able to say just the very things I want to hear, and so beautifully. You really are a poet, it moves me to the vision of beauty – us in tomorrow. Christopher, you Darling, my heart is bursting. You have soothed me, caressed me, in such a lovely way, I gasp and gasp at the wonder of you, that you should have sensed so much.

You do not know how much these words meant to me: An England that I knew, and in my fashion loved'. I needed those words from you, more than anybody.

I shouldn't really feel anxious about your possible conduct while you are away, because we love so much, we do really care. I know it's just as unthinkable for you as it is for me, my heart is in Greece and nothing else can touch it, but I know of so many people whose lives have gone awry it's a bit horrifying, and I think
you might feel tempted in a lonely moment. I don't mean cheap temptations. No, as I write that, I don't believe it, because like me you don't allow the situation to arise, there can't be temptation when all your heart and mind and body is straining to somebody so far away. No I won't worry further. We are one, we really do care, in each other we can rise above the second rate, you make me feel that. You do brighten the scene, indeed you do, we will, will it so, in those future days, grand days – we trust. Oh we do trust, Chris.

To go out together – knowing that we shall go home together, knowing that we shall pass the night together – to go out together knowing that – I think of that so often, really just belonging – that makes my inside sing, to be together so that I can answer your demands, make my own, just put my arm around you at any time, sometimes in public, would that embarrass you? I know it's rather a possessive thought, but I do feel rather proud that you are mine. I could be rather blatant over that in front of your friends. Am I being too awful, but I can't help that proud elated feeling. To put it baldly, you are a wonderful catch. I want everybody to know you are mine. How do you feel, Christopher, do you feel caught? Joy oh Joy. Nobody else matters really, it's just one of the joys on the side.

I have got to get down to dashing off some letters, and contacting a few people. I have solved one by telephone today, I hope to solve a couple more by telephone, another by a visit, and the rest will have to be letters. Have given up present giving with my pals by mutual consent, thank goodness. In the end it becomes a racket, much too wearing to keep up, most of 'em can't
afford it, so found it kinder to cut it out. It's most awkward this business of being unable to give people anything without they must return it, most natural I suppose, but difficult with present financial straits. Funny how people get the urge at Xmas time for a holocaust of present giving. You should see the crowds in town, all trying to buy what isn't there. Perhaps it's just a day out for them. Dear oh dear what a game.

I wonder how you will spend Xmas, I guess I should feel different if you were here.

Oh! Darling, I Love You.

Bessie

On the day this letter was written, Chris Barker was stationed in Athens' Hotel Cecil. He awoke to shouts from ELAS (the Greek People's Liberation Army), of ‘Surrender comrades, we are your friends.' He wrote in his notebook: ‘At 11.30, ELAS started serious attack: shells, Bren, rifle, mortar. The last was quite frightening … Mortars started firing and got very close … Panic in the passage. “Close the door!” The Bren gunner still outside … got more ammo, then with Bert and Jack sat on the first floor landing. Ordered downstairs, then upstairs again. Bofors or dynamite through end passage. Much glass falling under shelling … Then, suddenly, “Cease Fire!” Joyously, all over the building the cry was taken up …

‘Came downstairs, laid down our warm weapons and was greeted by long-haired partisans, with “Hail, Comrades!” during the dark hour, before dawn
.

‘Led away in small parties while above us the Spits (Spitfires) looked wonderingly on … Walk about 4 miles to a mansion. Lady partisans. Lovely, interested and approving. Water and 2 ozs of bread. Then about 15 mile march through the woods and forest glades. Led away to a mountain fastness blindfolded.'

6

Not Bournemouth

21 January 1945

Dearest,

Not having heard from Deb that your folks have heard anything, I am hanging on to the old old theory that no news is good news. The papers and wireless say that the exchange of prisoners of war has commenced, am hoping that this affects you, gosh I hope so badly. Churchill said in his speech that prisoners would be coming home and that the truth would come out, just supposing this also affects you. Is that too much to hope – to come home, to see you after all this worry, if it only could be true? I hope you aren't hurt or ill, that you have been warm and at least had enough to eat, feel sure you haven't been overfed, for they haven't enough for themselves.

Oh Darling, perhaps it won't be too long before I hear, I wonder how long the exchange will take. They do fiddle so, over these sort of things.

What thoughts have you been having during all this long time? About Greece, I mean. I would so like to know, for it is such
a muddle, politicians lie so glibly about such important things; doesn't make post war years look very hopeful.

Just another missive, Christopher Darling. Keep safe.

I Love You.

Bessie.