The War That Came Home

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To reduce this sense of separation, leave was granted to lift them out of the monotony and dangers of active service. William Davies, who was living in London at the start of the war, remembered civilian reaction to soldiers who came home on leave in the early months. Fellows were coming home on leave.

They were to me, especially as a young chap in the early days, they seemed demi-gods with their mud from the trenches still about their persons and tired-looking — brown but tired-looking — faces. Jack Dorgan of the Northumberland Fusiliers was sent on his first home leave sooner than he had expected. Our battalion went to France in April and in the first week in June the colonel sent for me. He retained fond memories of being home on leave. Every 10 months to 18 months — sometimes longer, sometimes shorter but usually about 12 months — we came on 10 days leave.

First thing we had was a bath and a clean-up; after that we used to make merry. Then, returning after the end of our leave back to the old job again. The intervals were not long. Mind you I only had three leaves in four and a half years, only had three leaves.

But it was nice to be back and to be made a fuss of, and that is one of the nice things I remember about war. Oh, you were treated as a hero. Oh, they were glad to see you, you were made very welcome. Because people appreciated in those days what a soldier was doing. Well as you can imagine, it was great to be back home again from the trenches. But it was not quite what you might expect. Because when I came back here at that time, well Wolverton and Bradwell was more like a ghost town because all your mates had joined the forces. So there was hardly anyone about. Charles Quinnell had mixed success in re-adjusting to his old routine during his leave from the Royal Fusiliers.

The first night I came home, I got into my old bed and do you think I could sleep? And one of the first things I did was resurrected my old bike; pumped the tyres up; oiled it; cleaned it; and I rode round the old country, visiting the old scenes that I knew in peacetime. And that to me was the most enjoyable thing. The best time we had was when we had leave. As we were never very far from Paris, we could come back for our leaves. I lived in Paris at the time — we could come back in Paris. And of course, owing to our uniform, we had the great success with the girls!

So we could go out nearly every day with the same or with another girl and went to theatres and all that. The civilians of course used to be very fond and rather proud of the airmen. But others had further distances to cover, and leave periods included the journey home. And we had to stand at the side, only six of us. We were so disgusted we simply turned away and walked away.

That meant neither Gough nor I could get home that night — we had to spend the night in London. And when J Reid of the Gordon Highlanders was granted leave in mid, he spent a good deal of it travelling to Scotland. One day, when I was sitting in the front line, there was this orderly come up from the orderly room and he asks for Sergeant Reid. Well I was only three and a half days in Huntly and then I had to go out back again! As well as leave being automatically assigned, it could be applied for in special circumstances.

The delay in getting news from home meant British officer Tom Adlam was initially frustrated at being unable to get back quickly. But remaining at the front eventually led to its own reward. I was unfortunate because my dear mother died while I was out there.

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They applied for me to come home on leave. I advise you to stay here. Another reason for securing special leave was for a wartime wedding, as Basil Farrer discovered while serving with the Army Pay Corps in Nottingham. I know nobody in town; will you be the best man? I want a best man.

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After the wedding we went and had a drink at one of the houses. Never heard or saw him again. The frequency of leave given to those on active service varied. But there was nothing definite, not like there is now — 14 or 7 days every 3 months. In January I got my second leave — that was 14 months after my first leave.

I carefully put my finger on the trigger.. I imagined what it would do, paralyze or kill me. Would I go to hell? Would I be left unrecognizable? God, where are you? In a matter of seconds, my life flashed before me. Memories sped across my mind at a torrential speed, our wedding, our life in Germany, hug and embraces over the years. Thoughts of my two children floated to the surface; their births, their impish smiles, contagious laughter.

Suddenly, I awoke from this foggy state like being wakened from a dream. I took my finger off the trigger and laid down the gun, upset that I had contemplated carrying out his request.

The War Came Home with Him

I had to stay for my girls; protect them from this man who had lost who he was. I glared at him. He rocked his leg loosely, back and forth, over the other, entertaining himself with his phone. In a twisted stream of pervasive thoughts, I believed that I had failed him; I lacked the courage to pull the trigger. I shook my head in disbelief of my own thoughts. Teetering on the edge of insanity, how would I move forward?

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I felt like I could no longer breathe. Blindly voyaging through some kind of hell, I was dancing with the devil. God had forsaken me.

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My husband was still fiddling with his phone, as if we were merely interacting in a normal manner. He seemed to have no care, fear, or confusion of the request that he had asked of me. This weighed on me with such force that it felt as though he had already killed me; there was no need to pull the trigger. I had died inside.

I remember the first day I met Wes. We were both eighteen, young and full of life. I had just started working at Target. There was attractiveness about him that I had never encountered. He had blonde hair that was neatly cut, a golden tan, and a muscular build that indicated athletic ability. His face was soft and tender with a chiseled jaw that slightly jutted forward.

A pool of colors, blue, green, and brown danced in his vibrant eyes. He wore a red shirt, khaki pants, and a cross necklace which dangled from his thick, strong neck. The silver cross drew my attention, and I peeked at him from my register. His determination appealed to me as he moved about the registers cleaning, training, and offering friendly service to customers. He came over to introduce himself and offer his help with any questions. My attraction may have been easily perceived, although I was not outwardly attempting to flirt.

I had just gotten out of a destructive relationship with another guy and was not looking for anything serious. Yet, this guy seemed different, and I found myself thinking about him, watching him throughout my shift that evening. I knew nothing about him. How old was he?

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Was he in a relationship? Was he in college? My next day of work, my questions would soon be answered as he asked me out on a date. My heart raced. I accepted, attempting to appear more resistant to the offer than I felt. I had prayed that if this guy was for me and it was God's will, he would approach me.

Five Came Back

As he did just that, I was more excited than I had been in my entire, young life. We agreed he would pick me up at the apartment I shared with a friend. I felt as though I was floating.

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