Dear Dad, Mum's Gone.

This story is for the History Competition.
Hope you enjoy!


5. A Letter From Father.

"Once again, the bombing destroyed many houses, buildings road vehicles and families last night. We have just had news in that Coventry was bombed a few nights ago, but the Cathedral was left standing through-out the wreckage. More on the bombing later."


It had been a few weeks since our house had almost collapsed. Mother had been fussy around the house, cleaning, tidying, and blocking out light. Robert had managed to fit in a couple of hours sleep in between school and dinner. Ralph still wasn't doing any better. Luckily, I'd managed to find a shiny coin on the floor, on the curb beside the Caller's house. I managed to buy a loaf of bread, and a bottle of milk, even though they demanded to check my rationing book. I had to pretend somebody had checked it off, even though I hadn't bought anything.


When I arrived home from the long queues on Wallburt Street, I almost trod on a left-over envelope trapped in the letterbox. I pulled it out, and flipped it over, only so my eyes could meet the best sight I'd seen in weeks. Fathers perfectly, neat scribbles! Finally, he'd managed to send us a letter!


My feet pounded across the carpet as I made my way into the kitchen. Mum looked up to the sound of my voice. It was then and there that we felt most at home. I passed over the letter. She tore it open. At that moment, Ralph and Robert's footsteps descended the staircase, and they both bolted into the kitchen.

Mum's eyes scanned the paper. I could hear her breathing hard and fast. When I her eyes left the paper, her lip curled into a sort of smile. She wasn't happy until we'd all read the letter.


Dear My Love and Kids,

I'm sorry it's been a while since I've written. I've had to spend most of my free time polishing up the planes, ready for them to fly up and into the air, ready to battle against the Hun. I'm not afraid to say their name. I have a strange, but positive feeling that all will be well by the end of the war. Something great. I just can't manage to speak it aloud yet. I need to believe.

Anyway, I hope all has been well for you. I know it must be hard, not leaving to be evacuated. I know it must be hard for you, too, my dear, all the cooking, cleaning, buying. We don't have a lot of food down here. It's all been rationed. Times are hard, for the both of us.

I'm sorry this letter has been so brief, and full of complaints, but I hope you understand that also paper, and ink pens, are also being rationed. One page per month, I am told.

I hope this letter has been worth-while for you all. I'm sorry I was not home for your birthday, Nancy, but I wish you a great day, and happy-belated birthday, okay?

I love you all, and wish you luck down there.

Love, your Husband and Father.

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