Mar2015_MY BILLY HAD TO GO

It’s 7pm, 14th February, 1915.  Billy was going to buy me some red roses and he’d promised me that we’d go out for dinner on Valentine’s Day to our favourite café nearby.  We have our special spot, a table where I can see the people walking in if I sit facing the street.  Billy likes to face the other diners.  We often go there for dinner.  It’s a tiny place, with bright plastic tablecloths and plastic chairs, and although the curtains are frayed they’re bright too.  It’s all we can afford.  It wouldn’t have mattered as I’d be with him.  But …he’s not here.

Billy is my husband and I’m so lucky to have him.  He’s tall, with bright blue eyes and a broad smile.  We laugh a lot as he comes home from work with funny jokes.  We got married on New Year’s Day, 1914.

I remember how he suddenly stopped in his stride as though the soldier pointing from the poster saying ‘Your Country Needs You’ had actually spoken to him.  Yes, Billy, your country needs you, but we need you too.  We’re going to have a baby!

When he saw that poster he turned to me and said ‘Em, I’ve got to go.  You know that, don’t you?’

I shook my head, suddenly teary.  ‘But, Billy, what about us?  What about our baby?’ I choked.

‘It’ll be alright.  I’ll be home before you know it,’ he answered.

I stared at him, but his blue eyes were gazing ahead as if they were looking into his future.  His mind was made up.  I swallowed my tears and tried to be brave.  The next day he left the house early and was gone all day.  He’d enlisted, had his medical test and had come home with his uniform, his kit as he called it, and he’d had his beautiful curly hair shorn.  He seemed to have changed already and had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he’d already left.

‘We’re going to North Africa’, he said.  ‘It’s going to be a real adventure.  What a way to see the world!  I’ll take you and the boy, if the baby is a boy, back to visit when this little battle is over.’

By 10th February he was on his way.  The breeze fluttered through my white hanky which I held up as the ship slowly took him away.  Tears were blinding my eyes but I waved until the ship was only a tiny speck on the ocean.  Finally I turned and walked away forlornly.  I found myself sitting in our café at our special table.  I was even in my usual chair where I could see the people walking in.  I imagined Billy was opposite me.  I couldn’t go home yet to our cosy little cottage.

Mum and Dad live on a sheep station.  No phone connection.   I couldn’t tell them that my Billy has gone, that he’s gone to war.  I wondered if I should go home to them but then I thought this war would soon be over.

That first night was lonely.  I cuddled Billy’s pillow for many hours until I eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.  Some days later I realised I had to get on with my life, so I went to see the kindly old supervisor in the local biscuit factory and got a job.  The women who I worked with were worried about their men, too.

After work each day I’d go and sit in our café and think about Billy.  I’d sit in my usual chair and pretend that he was opposite me, telling me the jokes that he’d heard that day.

On 20th March I got my first letter.  I ran to the café where I could read it at my favourite table and pretend that he was opposite me.

Dear Em,

I hope you’re okay and not fretting without me.  I bet you’re blooming like a beautiful rose.

Em, I didn’t know how hot it could be until we got to this stinkin’ place.  The sun blazes fiercely and seems to be bigger than in Down Under.  It’s hot and sticky and the insects make us scratch so much we bleed.  You wouldn’t want to see the spiders – you’d be terrified.

The locals try to steal our food and anything we leave lying around so we have to keep an eye on them.  We’ve chased a few away and they just turn around and grin at us.  Cheeky buggers!

The only exciting thing about Egypt is the pyramids.  They are huge.  I’d love to climb up one of them, but we’re not permitted to leave the camp.

We’re exercising each day and trying not to get bored, but we’ve been here for ages.  They seem to have forgotten us.  The camp is busy and we have lots of New Zealand soldiers with us.  We’ve made up the word ANZAC, which means Australia and New Zealand Army Corps.  Pretty clever, eh?

The guys reckon we’ll be off to ████████ soon. as the ████████ are building up forces.

That’s all for now, Em. I miss you lots.

Billy.

I cried.  Then I read it again and cried a little more.  I put the letter close to my heart, feeling his words burning into me.  I was a little distracted at the factory that day.  The Supervisor came up to me with a kindly smile on his face and said, ‘Now, don’t you go worrying about your husband’.  I smiled at him bravely, knowing that I would never stop worrying.

Life went on.  I went to the factory every day, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Billy.  He was in my thoughts, and in my dreams.  I missed him so much.  The baby was getting bigger and I was sure it was going to be a boy.  Billy would be proud.

The weeks went by and I didn’t hear any more from Billy.  I wondered if he’d managed to climb that pyramid in Egypt.

30 April 1915 is a day I’ll never forget.  I woke up early and turned the wireless on as usual.  I liked listening to the dance music.  But, instead of happy music, the announcer stopped the gramophone because the Prime Minister was going to speak.  I ran to the wireless and turned it up.  The Prime Minister, Mr Fisher, read the Bulletin that would darken my morning. 

 

‘AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND TROOPS HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED FROM EGYPT AND HAVE FIVE DAYS AGO LANDED IN GALLIPOL

My hand flew to my mouth and I let out a gasp of fear.  I groped blindly for a chair as I listened to the voice continue on the wireless.

THEY ARE TO HINDER THE ENEMY FROM GUARDING THE STRAITS OF THE DARDANNELLES SO THAT RUSSIAN SUPPLY SHIPS CAN GET THROUGH FROM THE BLACK SEA… MAY GOD BLESS THE ANZACS.’

The room went black and I gripped my chair.  I cried out ‘Billy, are you there too?  Are you alright?’  No one answered.

I went to the factory that morning and somehow got through the day.  I couldn’t speak to anyone, although I knew that the women would be anxious about their men too.  The Supervisor gave  us all a sympathetic look as we left.  The café was busy that afternoon with women gathered, worrying about their men.  Some were sitting together, some alone.

‘Bloody war!’ said one.

‘Yeah!  My Harold thought it would be over before he got there!’ replied another.

‘Oh God!  What will I do if I lose my Arthur?’ shrilled a voice.

‘Don’t think like that!  You have to be strong!’ someone snapped.

I sat in my usual seat and pretended Billy was sitting across from me.  ‘I’ll be alright,’ he was saying.

It was 21st May, 1915, and still there was no news.  The Landing had been nearly a month ago.  Why hadn’t I heard?  If something had happened to him wouldn’t I have heard by now?  I went to the café every day, reluctant to be alone.

On the morning of 3rd June, I heard a knock on the door and the postman handed me a telegram.  Yes, Corporal Smith had been fighting in Gallipoli and ‘had given his life in the service of his country’.  Billy was dead.

The room went black and I fell to the floor.  When I came to I could hear a voice screaming in the background but I didn’t realise that it was my voice.  Gradually I heard another voice and I opened my eyes to see my neighbour bending over me.  My screams died away and I was numb.  She helped me to my feet and I shoved the telegram into her hand.

‘Oh, you poor dear’ she said.  ‘Come on, we’ll go to the café.  You could do with a cuppa.’

She took my arm.  Somehow we got to the café and she sat me in my seat.  I could see Billy on the other side smiling at me.  It was so hard to bear.

***

I went home to my parents and had the baby out there.  I called our son Billy.  Mum and Dad were kind and loving and wanted us to stay, but I missed the city and came back when little Billy was ten.  We often went to the café where I would tell him about his father and he loved the stories.

It is 1 September, 1939 and my Billy has been gone for twenty-four years.  The memories have not dimmed with time – they’ve grown stronger.  His smile, his laughter and his touch are still with me.

Our son has grown tall, with curly hair, bright blue eyes and a broad smile, just like his father.  He has the same cheeky sense of humour too and makes me laugh.

‘Billy, you’re just like your father,’ I tell him proudly.

The wireless splutters as I turn it on this morning.  Billy comes into the room and stops behind me.  Together, we hear the announcement of the Prime Minister, Mr Robert Menzies.

‘FELLOW AUSTRALIANS, IT IS MY MELANCHOLY DUTY TO INFORM YOU OFFICIALLY, THAT IN CONSEQUENCE OF A PERSISTENCE BY GERMANY IN HER INVASION OF POLAND, GREAT BRITAIN HAS DECLARED WAR UPON HER AND THAT, AS A RESULT, AUSTRALIA IS ALSO AT WAR. NO HARDER TASK CAN FALL TO THE LOT OF A DEMOCRATIC LEADER THAN TO MAKE SUCH AN ANNOUNCEMENT.’

I can’t turn around as I hear his words . ‘Mum, I’ve got to go.  You know that, don’t you?’

***

No more, no more.  No more memories!

Well, at least I’ve still got my Mum and Dad.  I’d better dish up the stew, although Mum and Dad won’t want much.  They don’t eat a lot these days so I’ve probably cooked too much for the three of us.  I’ve got to count my blessings, they say.  Bugger these tears…

© 2015 Helen Goleby