VILLAGES IN ENGLAND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 16 November 1940, Page 8

VILLAGES IN ENGLAND

NEW ZEALANDERS FIND GOOD QUARTERS WHERE WALLS OOZE HISTORY OF RACE. FINE SPIRIT OF FRIENDSHIP. (From the Official War Correspondent attached to the N.Z. Forces in Britain).. OCTOBER 24, 1940. For years to come “England” will mean for some thousands of men of the Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force a little village in Kent. Not always the same village: there are some ten or a dozen sharing the honour, but only one in the mind of each man. Our spell in the field, ready and waiting for an emergency that so far has not come, has brought us as near to the heart of English people, and to the kernel of village life, as we could ever hope to be without prolonged residence in the country. As evidence of the spirit of friendship between the troops and the British people a letter for a sergeant in one of the rifle battalions is eloquent evidence. He had made friends with the village schoolmaster; and here is the letter the schoolmaster wrote him: “Dear Sergeant H, —The news is around that you fellows are leaving the village for another ‘unknown’ destination. Without probing into official secrets, we are very sorry indeed if it is true, as the whole village has developed a rather extraordinary affection for you all, and will be sorry to lose you. This is perfectly sincere, by the way, and not mere hooey! “If any of the fellows have children at home, we have some little things from the school we would like to slip in as mementoes, if they are suitable. They are only little crocheted things, but stand for a lot. They will, at least, let your kiddies see how much ours appreciate what the Dominions are doing, and assure them that if they themselves are ever in trouble, help will not be very far away.” (Here follows a paragraph suggesting a meeting at the schoolhouse to inspect the articles). ,

“If the news is true that you are shifting, tell the fellows that the whole village is sorry and hopes they’ll come back again, perhaps in happier times!” The battalion has not left the village; but in war nothing is permanent, so some day it will have to go. Then there will be sorrow on its side as well. B — is its village, just as L —, and O —, and another L —, and H—, and S —are the personal villages of neighbouring New Zealand units. When friends in the First Echelon tell us stories of their first meetings with the Arabs, and Cairo, and the Nile, we shall feign to pity them for having missed these picturesque corners of England whose very walls ooze the history of our race. We shall recount —and possibly enlarge upon—the tales the villagers have told us of their “characters.” Of the stranger who comes down every weekend, and who says he has a job in London, but whom all the gossips suspect of being a fifth columnist. Of the retired colonel who stamps around in the Home Guard, screwing his monocle ever more firmly into a deep-socket-ed eye, and telling everybody how they did things on the North-west Frontier, where war was war. Of little Miss X, who lives all alone, is reputed to spend her days and evenings in constant meditation on the Book of Revelation, and has never unpacked her furniture since she came there twenty years ago, for fear the end of the world should catch her unprepared. The village is fond of Miss X, but. it does wonder what she proposes to do with her furniture when that great day comes. Mention of furniture brings one to the front-line quarters of “B” Company of the Rifle Battalion. All its members are in one house. Officers have one bathroom, non-coms, and men the other three; but there is never congestion, because they have also hot and cold water in their bedrooms, and snappy shaving-cabinets with lights behind the mirrors. The house, one of the War Office's recent commander’s belongs to a naval officer who was commander of a cruiser which accompanied us for almost ten thousand miles of our journey over. His wife and four young daughters have gone to a quieter and safer county “for the duration.” But the wife was naturally anxious for the welfare of her beautifully-kept new brick home. Bedroom furniture was collected and locked away in two rooms. The fine big lounge it was intended to leave untouched, but to keep it locked: there was plenty of room elsewhere in the house, so the War Office agreed. Then the lady heard that the first occupants were to be New Zealanders. She asked to meet them; and the company commander went along. He was entertained in the lounge, and as he was leaving the hostess asked if he and his officers would care to use it while they were in the house. If so. she said, they were welcome to do so, so long as the military understood it was an ■ exception: when the New Zealanders moved on, the room would be locked. She had discovered the captain was musical, and suggested he might care to use her grand piano. So now if a visitor is asked over to "B” Company for a meal he can be sure of music afterwards. And the way those fellows of all ranks are taking care of the house would surprise their own mothers!

These kindnesses, little and big, are typical of the good folk of B —. Practically every home there is open to one or more of our boys. Many of the more humble are old homes, without modern conveniences. So people who have newer houses, with bathrooms, “doublebank.” They have made their own friends among the troops, and ask them along. But also they ask along their friends’ friends, to have hot baths. Or they hand in their names to the village canteen, run for New Zealanders by local helpers in the Women’s Institute Hall, and invitation tickets for baths are there issued to men who apply. The tickets give- the name of the householder oil ering the bath, the address of the house, and the times it. will be convenient to call. Aftei- the bath there is often a cup of something hot, and a seat by the fire for a yarn. Will it be any wonder if men who have enjoyed such hospitality, thinking long afterwards of England, think first of the village of B—?