*This is inspired by the new film Dunkirk. Even thought the story line does not follow the one of the new movie, it does involve Harry's character - but as himself.*
"I'm in the mood for love simply because you're near me
Funny but when you're near...
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(Castle Combe ^)
"I'm in the mood for love simply because you're near me
Funny but when you're near me, I'm in the mood for love.
Heaven is in your eyes, bright as the stars we're under,
Oh, is it any wonder, I'm in the mood for love."
This had to be my favourite songs, the tempo, beat and instruments all swayed together; fitting in so well. It was my favourite record to play at home, dancing around slowly with myself and sometimes with my friends who paid a visit. But the dances. Oh the dances. That was one thing I missed during the war, because the atmosphere did not seem the same. But surprisingly, they were a lot of fun; of course seeing the nice army officers were not so bad. For most were pleasing to the eye, but I was too young of course. Since moving to Castle Combe at the age of 16, due to the war, things did not particularly seem the same again.
My father had been killed during the First World War and I never met him. My mother was very depressed since his death, so they say. I do not remember my mother; she died when I was nothing but a small child. Therefore I was in the hands of my grandparents on my father's side. They were the best influences I could ask for. I had been sent to boarding school as soon as I turned age and was very eager to be able to learn and gain an education, which most people found most peculiar; for women should not console themselves in things that could ruin them. That is what they said. Which did not phase me in the slightest, for I enjoyed having a never ending thirst for knowledge – my grandfather would always praise me and call me his "One of a kind girl".
I had been in London at boarding school, therefore during the war I was made to come back home to my grandparents – who allowed me back with open arms. Castle Combe was a small little village, which had a small river that ran around it, alongside a huge beautiful forest on the edge of the small place. I always enjoyed going there, with a book in one had; finding a tranquil area to sit down and read my book, listening to the wind rustling the trees; the birds chirping away – making me feel less lonely. Those times were the best.
During the war, we did not have a lot of bombs go off near us. However we did see the German aircraft fly over occasionally, which indeed did terrify me. There was hardly anybody living in the village during the war, for most of the men had been sent off to fight in the War. I would help out my grandparents in the shop, where times were rough – some people came in starving. But of course, the rations were needed to be abided by in order for everyone to be able to be healthy and actually eat.
Lots of the women stepped up during the war to take over the men who were fighting, to keep some order within the village. We had our own Home Guard, which I am very proud to say how my very own grandfather was the captain of the Home Guard, which we were all incredibly proud of – especially him.
Now it is 1945, the war has indeed ended, but there is still a lot of poverty and suffering from all around the country – even the world. Due to it being winter time, it made things a lot harder to obtain any food. For even though the war was over, that did not mean that food was to magically appear again – which I think people forgot. Our farmer, Robin, had a son who was in the army, fighting in Normandy in fact. I used to play with him when I was young, but I have not seen him for years, 12 years to be exact. His name was Harold, but most people called him Harry; he was 2 years older than me. But I always helped Robin and his wife Anne do any work that needed to be done. They also had a daughter, Ginny and she was a lot older than me and had a husband who too had left to war. Ginny had a small child, who was only 4 years old. He was so gorgeous and had such a cheeky face, but was a lot of fun to be around. I used to look after him in the evenings, when Ginny would be at her WI meetings.
It was 19th October 1945 and it was in the newspaper that the men from across sea were slowly making their way back home. Ginny had told me they were expecting Harry back anytime soon, they were the fortunate ones to be able to see their loved one once again. Unfortunately, Mrs Baker who had just lost her husband had found out that her only son had been killed in Poland. She was so distraught, for the poor widow had now lost her only legacy. Grandma had tried to help her out as much as she could; always inviting her to the house to have some dinner or supper. But she always refused. Perhaps she wanted to mourn in peace and everyone new that; totally aware that her wishes should be obeyed and carried out – ultimately to be left alone in peace.
They had published an article today, speaking about the extermination camps all across Europe for those who Hitler seemed "different". Grandad never wanted to speak of it within the four walls of his home, because he did not want to upset the household with such depressing and painful news. But that did not mean, the upset and distraught behaviour did not come from mine or my grandmothers hearts. In fact sometimes it made it a lot harder to forgot, because you were not allowed to talk about it.
Grandad every morning would come downstairs and kiss me on the head; then grandmother and sit down, reading his newspaper, the local paper boy John gave us every day. John was only 9 years old but was a dear sweetheart, who would always try and flirt with me. Obviously not in a serious way, more of a cheeky child humour. Whatever the case, he was a dear and never seemed to make me stop smiling while talking to him. He had been so brave. After all, his father was in one of the camps in Poland, but there had been no reports on his wellbeing – his mother, Alice, thought the worse, but always tried to keep a brave face. She was always in the shop, trying to fend for her three children, John, who was the oldest, Samantha, who was 5 and little baby Mary, who was only two years old – not much of a baby anymore.
As I helped Grandmother clean up after breakfast, Grandfather had opened up the shop and I went down to help unload the deliveries we had for the month. Grandfather would normally help the bakers that owned the shop next door, because the owner's son had been killed overseas – he was a pilot in the RAF. He struggled and grandad, being the true gentleman he was, decided to give him a hand during opening and closing times. In return they would try and give grandfather an extra loaf, which he would take and give to Alice, for herself and the children. She would always try and give it back to Grandfather or try and give him some money, but he was so selfless and wanted nothing in return.
Stacking up the shelves sometimes caused great difficulties, due to the fact I was not that tall and had an average height. Which entailed me not being able to place the jars of pickles on the top shelf, I would always have to get a box to stand on, to give me that extra boost. As I began to stack the shelves, Grandmother came out to help clean the place up just as we opened up. Every morning we would put the radio on and listen to the jazz bands playing their tunes, which grandmother and I enjoyed so much. We loved Glen Miller and his band that played every Friday evening and I can ensure you we never missed the broadcast. Vera Lynn was also one of my favourites, which was currently playing on the radio. I could not help but dance around when listening to her and also singing along to every lyric.
Once I began to mutter the words, the church bells went off. During the war, it was forbidden to play the bells, as it would give you a way to the enemy. So it felt weird hearing them again. But we would normally hear them on a Sunday. So why today? Grandmother looked at me and motioned me to go outside to check, while she stayed in the shop. I slowly walked out to see a crowd gathered around the main square. I brushed my hands on my apron and walked to where the other people were. To be noisy and find out what was happening. It always amused me in this village, because your business was everyone else's business. So of course you heard the mutters and gossips of those who were gathered, coming up with different solutions as to what was going on, due to the fact they could not see.
Suddenly a car sound comes from in front of the crowd and the sounds of screams. Screams of happiness. I looked around to see Alice pushing through the crowd and then I follow after her. I see the army truck in front of me and I gasp, trying to run to Alice to stop her. Few men walk out the car, but the sounds of cries of joy come from their family's mouths and the sound of cries from those who have not seen their loved ones walk from the car. As I see that Alice's husband James has not been one of the four men from the car, she falls to the ground crying. I rushed to her side and tried to help her up, but she started to scream and kick; I didn't know what to do. She hit the ground beneath her and I tried to calm her down, but she was not having any of it.
I felt a hand on my arm and I looked up to see someone so familiar. I frowned slightly, confused as to who it was. Who was it? I rattled my brain but I could not do think. Another scream came from Alice's mouth. The man bent down and lifted her arm over his shoulder, then turned to me.
