Free My Dear Bessie by Chris Barker Page A

onthe stage. I threw dice, burned £1 notes, tore up playing cards, tied knots in rope, tried to extricate hoops, picked eggs from my pockets. The queerest thing of the lot was when he said to me, ‘Say, come out McTavish’ and told me to put my hand down my shirt. From my sweaty breasts came a dear little chick. He told me three more names, and I extricated three more. A bit of hard luck for the chicks, but Egyptians are very cruel to animals, and not much less vicious to their fellows.
    With you as my companion, anything would be wonderful. This would have been wonderful too.
    Love,
    Chris

    Chris in Alexandria, 1944

3
    Into the Blouse
    17 June 1944
    My lovely Bessie,
    What do you think about us starting to number our letters? It is a good check-up, a missing number is easily spotted. I shall not commence it unless you wish it. I don’t want you to think this is pedantry, but I think we will find it useful. Don’t say ‘Yes’ if you think it is just a silly idea of mine. We number our letters home. Have reached No. 56 this year so far.
    I am sorry that the actual start of the Second Front should be such a real stab for your consciousness, and then again, I am not. I want you to be aware of the terrible things that are happening, yet I want to shelter you from their consequences or prevent you looking too closely. Look at my Mother’s jumbled-up homeliness: ‘… your usual two letters haven’t arrived this week. I suppose this invasion is causing the delay, the day before and all night there seems planes about, woke your Dad up, they are going over in hundreds today as well. I hope you were able to get some goodshows in and pictures, I shall not go this week, don’t seem right somehow not knowing that poor old Charlie may be lying dead somewhere, it is a worry …’ (and later she again mentions Charlie (my brother-in-law, a sailor), and her thankfulness that we are not involved).
    This war, at close quarters, is very bad, but the historians will record it as just another war. Perspective is invaluable. Seek it, be thankful you are not making all the sacrifices, and do all you can for those who are.
    I love you.
    Chris

    29 June 1944
    Dear Bessie,
    I thank you for the ‘Yes, yes, yes’ acceptance, the honour that you have done me, and the confidence you have reposed in me. I promise to do all that I can, at all times, to forward our union, to work for your happiness and to care for your interests. I shall try hard not to be wilful, unheedful, thoughtless, I shall try to be considerate, kind and helpful, and where I fail I shall ask and expect your forgiveness. I think we can be very happy, and I hope we shall always try.
    I hope the flying bombs have been a good way from you. My mother is usually very good, but she doesn’t write very happily at present. I think it is the ‘uncanny’ part of the thing which is worrying her although that is actually its weak point. All we can hope is that their range is very limited and that progress in France will steal their launching bases.
    Don’t ever think this feeling between us is ordinary. Always regard it as something big, real, living.
    I love you.
    Chris

    2 July 1944
    Dear Bessie,
    I am hoping to get at least one letter card from you tomorrow, but will say a few words now. Actually, there is a lot I have to tell you. First there is the autobarkergraphical tale to be told in outline, and then I wanted to tell you about events since I left England in some detail.
    My Dad really grew up without any idea of home life. Until he met my Mother he hadn’t any sympathy or kindness shown him. His father was a drunken wretch, his mother died at his birth, having had (it is said) nineteen previous children. He spent someof his time in the workhouse, ran away a number of times, had a really hard life which ‘made a man of him’, but also prevented him acquiring some of the gentler habits which