Since the first bombs on an unprepared Hull that had pulled Nora, William and Eleanor from their beds and out into the streets, and another unexpected raid early in 1916 when much damage was done and many citizens were killed and injured, the furious inhabitants quite rightly complained, with the result that within a matter of weeks a contingent of civil defence personnel arrived to put in place anti-aircraft guns and powerful searchlights.
In April the city was visited again but this time it was ready and waiting, with the Big Lizzie warning buzzer blaring and guns set. The Zeppelin was caught in the searchlights and hit, dropping thousands of feet and releasing only one bomb, which caused devastation among buildings but no fatalities, before it moved off over the Humber and out to sea. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps now that Germany had been given a warning there would be no more bombings.
But that uneasy peace didn’t last very long and another aircraft crept in again during the darkened hours before an early dawn, returning from a mission raid elsewhere and spitting out its remaining cargo on outlying roads, railway lines and buildings, causing death and destruction and terrifying the vulnerable inhabitants.
‘Whatever can we do?’ Nora complained as they sat down for supper. ‘There’s nowhere to shelter. I’ve heard that some people are spending nights out in the fields outside the city because they don’t feel safe within it.’
‘I’ve heard that too,’ William said. ‘We’ve also had more customers coming into the bank and drawing out their savings in case the bank is hit and they can’t access their money. They’d always get it back, of course, but perhaps not immediately!’
Nora looked at him in dismay. ‘Oh, my word! Perhaps we should think of going to Pearson Park after all?’
William sighed. ‘We might give it some consideration, I think. We could put in extra security for this house and not tell anyone what we’re doing, because there have been vandals entering empty property; perhaps leave a light on overnight, as long as it doesn’t show outside; and buy camping beds and spend the nights at the park house. At least you’ll never be late for work, Eleanor,’ he said, in the vain hope of lifting their spirits.
‘If we had a dog, Sally and I would feel perfectly safe to be left on our own,’ Eleanor suggested, ‘and maybe Mary and Daisy would stay too sometimes. We could share a bedroom; we wouldn’t mind.’
‘We’ll see about the dog,’ Nora said vaguely. ‘It’s just something else to think about. And Mary won’t want to stay; she has a husband, don’t forget.’
Eleanor went up to bed just after nine as she always did, as she had an early morning start. William turned to Nora. ‘So what’s worrying you, m’dear? Are you thinking about Oswald?’
‘I am, as a matter of fact,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We haven’t had a letter for a month, nor a telephone call.’
She had been pleased when William had had the telephone installed but now she worried when she didn’t hear from Oswald or Lucy, and although William frequently pointed out that very few places would have private telephones they could use, it didn’t lessen her anxiety.
‘He said he’d be moving off at a minute’s notice, didn’t he? He’ll be in touch when he reaches a base, I expect. Remember, he might be at a military training camp without access to a telephone.’
‘Or even pen and paper,’ she said ironically. But he had no answer to that.
Oswald had been waiting for his orders to leave for France for months and was growing increasingly impatient, even though he was heavily involved in important scientific work. The eminent scientist John Haldane, having reached an agreement with Lord Kitchener over the type of respirator needed to keep the troops safe during a gas attack, had been overruled by the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, who had had previous experience of another type of mask used by the Navy which in the scientist’s opinion was useless and gave no protection whatsoever. Now the race was on to invent a more efficient mask and to discover the root and effects of the different types of lethal gases.
Oswald had been moved several times to various laboratories in the London area and was now preparing for the transport of the mobile X-ray machine, therefore assuming that his posting to France or Flanders was imminent. He wrote another letter home, reflecting that he hadn’t received one from his mother or William for a few weeks, even though he had written to them; he’d placed the last one on the desk of one of his colleagues asking him to post it for him with other laboratory letters as he had to rush to catch a train. There was never time to find an office telephone that wasn’t in use.
In the letter he told them that his journey might be imminent, and asked them if they’d heard from Lucy. He wanted her address urgently, if they knew it. No one seems to know the whereabouts of anyone, he wrote. Life is in a state of flux.
The next morning when he arrived at the laboratory, his immediate superior gave him his instructions. He was leaving that night on a troop ship. Although a biomedical scientist, he had specifically asked to serve as a combat medical technician or operator of the mobile X-ray machine in a medical unit attached to the RAMC.
The use of these machines had been pioneered by Marie Curie and the French, who had been at the forefront of developing the motor-driven units; the intrepid and fearless scientist Marie Curie had driven one of the wagons to the front herself, and by so doing had given Oswald the opportunity to go anywhere to assist and support. This, he’d thought, was his way of serving his country without raising a rifle to kill.
For quite some time he had worn a badge on his coat lapel to show that he was engaged on important war work, but somehow it didn’t seem enough and he had often felt hostile eyes upon him, especially those of women old enough to be his mother, as if querying why he wasn’t in uniform as their sons were. Now he would be. It had already been issued and was hanging in his wardrobe at his lodgings waiting for him to wear.
He shook hands with his white-coated colleagues. Some of them thought he was mad, leaving important scientific laboratory work to risk death or injury; his reply was that to learn by knowledge and experience on the battlefield might be more effective than experimenting in a research laboratory. He admitted only to himself that there was another reason.
He arrived back at his lodgings by lunchtime to change and pack the few belongings he would require, notably the gas respirator, encased in a satchel, several field dressing packs that he put in his breast pockets, warm socks knitted by his mother, handkerchiefs from Eleanor – and something from Lucy; he looked about him and picked up her last letter, though it had arrived several weeks ago.
He had been provided with a large rucksack for his greatcoat, which he packed as it wasn’t a cold day, and at the last minute he put in a woollen scarf and gloves; winter, he thought, might be back before he was. Finally he dressed in full uniform, putting on vest, shirt, trousers, socks, puttees, and leather boots, then the jacket with the red-cross patches on each shoulder, the leather belt, and last of all the stiffened peaked cap with the badge of the RAMC.
He opened the wardrobe and looked in the long mirror behind the door and blinked. It wasn’t him. Couldn’t be him. He was the lanky, floppy-haired, myopic boffin. Abstractedly he pushed his spectacles up his nose; this fellow with the shorter haircut – for he’d called into a barber’s shop on his way back – in an itchy khaki uniform and a cap that hid half his forehead was someone he didn’t know, but whom he had seen many times out on the streets, marching in formation with his comrades, whistling or singing patriotic songs to the cheers of flag-flying onlookers.
Instinctively he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, and then, putting his gas satchel over his shoulder and his rucksack on his back, he went downstairs. He’d already paid his rent to the landlady and left her his parents’ address in case of any letters, although what he meant was in case she should hear that anything had happened to him, so he didn’t expect to see her again before he left, but she came out of her room at the end of the hall when she heard his booted footsteps.
‘Oh.’ She put her hand to her chest. ‘Dr Thornbury – erm, captain? I hardly recognized you.’
‘I don’t recognize myself, Mrs Thompson,’ he admitted. ‘And it will be lieutenant for the moment, although we are not officially given a rank in the RAMC. I’m a medical technician and not carrying arms, but only medical supplies.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ she observed. ‘So we’ll see you back in one piece when this awful war is over?’
‘I certainly hope so,’ he said, seeing no point in telling her that anyone out on the battlefields could be at risk of a stray bullet or a dose of gas to choke them to death. ‘If there’s any post—’
‘Oh! Yes, a letter came in the afternoon delivery. Here you are.’ She turned to the hall table where a solitary letter was waiting on the polished surface.
He took it from her and, glancing at the handwriting, put it safely in his pocket to read on the train journey to the ship where he would join his fellow travellers and collect his medical equipment.
‘Thank you, Mrs Thompson. I’ve been waiting for this, and hoping it would arrive before I left.’
He put out his hand to shake hers, but she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘You take great care now,’ she murmured, with a catch in her voice.
‘You too, Mrs Thompson,’ he said, moved by her reaction to his departure. ‘No going out dancing on a moonlit night; and head for the pantry if you hear those Zeppelins above you.’
‘I will,’ she nodded, as if now guided by someone in authority. She opened the front door for him and he stepped jauntily down the steps to the footpath, hitched the rucksack higher up on his shoulders, and began to whistle.