I
recently posted a blog about an autograph book I have that belonged to Doris Freeman (Dolly) a Member of
the WRAF, stationed at Lympne in Kent in World War One While reading some of the poems before further research, I realised that as well as the usual "ditties" and quotes, there were several poems that were written by friends of Dolly that relate to their experiences in the War as it was happening. I thought it would be fitting to publish these - in their own way as important and authentic as the so-called "War Poets".
As the old Christmas time will come back to us
And Pa will cease directing cab and motor bus
Girls will leave there (sic) war-work
And ma won’t sugar hoard
Second […..] in “civvies” gather round the board
Loud will be the laughter ; mirth will never cease
When we rest in honour and a British peace
Looking round the table face with pleasure lit
Pa will say a triumphant “well, we did our bit”.
A Rae
What I love about this poem, is how it describes the different roles in her family! "Pa" appears to have worked in transport, "ma" did her bit (for the family anyway!)by hoarding sugar! The girls did their war work - and they could ALL say a triumphant "well, we did our bit" . Wonderful!!
Alice
Rae was a mmber of the WRAF from 18th November 1918 to 11th October
1919. Although she is in Dolly's book, Alice's records show that she
enlisted in Edinburgh and discharged in Farnborough. I think she must
have spent some time seconded to Lympne. Alice was born in 1892 and she
is described as a "fabric worker" presumably as part of the frame of
aeroplanes. Unfortunately I have been unable to trace her in other
records.
When War is here, a danger nigh,
God and the Soldier is the cry;
When war is over; and all things sighted,
God is forgotten and the soldier Slighted
Miss G Poole WRAF Lympne December 6th 1918
This is a quite scathing comment on the world that soldiers returned to and relatively soon after the end of the war. Perhaps this poem shows that already the sacrifices of soldiers has been forgotten. Very moving.
Gladys Mary Poole was born in 1895 and enrolled in the WRAF on 1st July 1918 in Birmingham and was discharged from Lympne on 13th September 1919. She was listed as a "fitter" and her work and character were listed as "superior". I cannot find definitive records for Gladys, although I did find a single woman of the same year of birth who died in Birmingham in 1971.
I pray the prayer that the Easterns (sic) do
May the peace of Allah Abide with you
Wherever you be, wherever you go,
Many the beautiful psalms of Allah grow
In days of labour and days of rest
May the love of Allah make you blest
I touch my heart as the Easterns (sic) do
May the peace of Allah abide with you.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1924.
Although this is a poem by a well known poet, I found it really interesting that it was in the autograph book.. It was written after the War. Does this mean that whoever wrote this had served with Muslim soldiers at the Front? It is such a peaceful and respectful poem. Unfortunately, no signature!
When the cold is making ice of the marrow in the bones
When your (sic) shaking like a jelly fish and your feet are dead
as stones
When your clothes and boots and blankets and rifle and kit
are soaked hell to breakfast
And the dugout where you sit is leaking like a basket
And upon the muddy floor the water lies in filthy pools 6
inches deep or more
That life feels cold and its rabble and all the World is wet
You’ll always get this [ ] somehow if you
go a cigarette.
"Sam"
I thought that this might be the work of an established poet, but cannot as yet find a published version of this poem. To me, it really does conjure up images of a pretty grim life - and yet there is a glimmer of something cheerful at the end - the much covetted ciggie! I do wonder whether Sam was a soldier as he is bringing up some authentic images. I believe that Roberet Frost had use the image of ice in the marrow of the bones but I cannot find the full poem in the autograph book mentioned anywhere else. Very sadly no name or date!
You should never point a gun at a little boy in fun for lots
of people that are dead,
have died with bullets to the head
C C Walters 16/11/22
And finally, a rather succint and grim little ditty! I wonder if the author had seen plenty of soldiers who had suffered such catastropic injuries. Sadly I cannot trace "C C"I really enjoyed reading these poems. I have dozens more entries to research - many with names. I can't wait to further research the woman who signed herself "Mad Mabs" .. I know who she is!
