PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg
Winter of 1914, we made a parcel for Albert – a block of Ma’s sherry-soaked Christmas cake, two packs of Woodbines, a bar of Fry’s chocolate and a hat she’d knitted herself.
‘He’ll need summat warm over there.’ She carressed the stitches, brown and thick as our Albert’s flop of hair.
I hadn’t told her what I’d heard whispered down the pub – the ankle deep water, the bodies lain still and stiff in No Man’s Land till bombs turned them to Flanders mud … the rats.
She slipped a card in too, signed ‘your loving Mother’.
‘That’ll warm him.’ I tried to smile.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See the pic and write a tale. Visit Rochelle’s site to share and to read the other stories.
Notes
Woodbines – at the time, a popular brand of cigarettes mad by the Wills tobacco company here in Bristol. Cigarettes helped with morale in the trenches and were also used as currency.
I was going to use the brand name Five Boys chocolate but didn’t quite have the word count. Five Boys was made by Fry and Son – another Bristol company – and was famous for the image on the front of the wrapper, see below.
Heart wrenching, Lynn and beautifully written, as always.
Love to you on Christmas.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ah, thank you Moon! And you have a wonderful Christmas and a peaceful and happy New Year
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure, Lynn.
Thank you for your wishes.🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike
…And no doubt a multi-coloured hat will help him blend in when he’s peering up over the trenches!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Haha! Good point, Martin. Thanks for reading
LikeLike
Very nicely crafted, not too sentimental but not glossing over the horror of it all. I remember Fry’s chocolate cream bars, though I’m not sure whether Five Boys was a current product or just something from the past. Merry Christmas, Lynn.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks so much Sandra. I’m glad you felt it hit the right tone. Apparently Five Boys wasn’t withdrawn until 1976 but I certainly don’t remember it either – probably why they stopped making them. Hope you have a brilliant Christmas too, Sandra
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully evocative as always Lynn. What would the Mothers have done if they had known the truth about what they were sending their sons into? Wishing you a Merry Christmas 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes indeed. The naivety over the truth of war must have helped some loved ones of those serving at the Front. No such luck for the families of servicemen today, sadly.
Thanks Iain. You have a brilliant Christmas and a gret 2018
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great work, Lynn. Seasonal, horrific, unsentimental. And the list of products gave it the authenticity it deserves
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much Neil. I’m so pleased you felt it hit the right tone. All the best for Christmas and the New Year
LikeLike
Wonderful period details, but the universal emotion still dominates — heart-wrenching!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much Joy. Glad you liked it 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Lynn,
You skillfully and subtly set the stage of the era with key words. As always, apt descriptions and emotions beneath the surface. I tip my knitted cap to you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Rochelle! I’m so glad you liked it. Thanks so much 🙂
LikeLike
Beautifully done, Lynn. 1914 was just the beginning. The summer of that year was noted for its unusual perfection, day after glorious day of golden sunshine. The winter brought the battles of Givenchy and Ypres that killed more than 100,000 a month. A foretaste of the hell to come. All of that is implied in your story, a sense of foreboding that hangs over every word.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a world changing time, wasn’t it? The first taste of truly mechanised, global warfare. I do think the psychology of the survivors must have changed too, the old comforts swept away, the knowledge that any horrors were possible now. Thank you for your kind, insightful comment Josh.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brilliant, once again, Lynn! I echo everyone’s comments in the not too sentimental, wonderful descriptions, key words… you know. What you do so well!
Merry Christmas!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, thank you Dale, very sweet of you. Hope the holiday season has been kind to you – have a great 2018
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely and heartwarming. I have one of the WW1 Christmas tins
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Bryan. That tin must be very special to you – a treasure indeed, considering all it has been through and witnessed
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed it is. My father’s brother died in the Somme.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a treasure it must be, Bryan. A lovely thing to have
LikeLike
Beautifully and skilfully written, with no glossing over the horror, and with the importance of family love gently emphasised. Masterly, Lynn.
Yes I remember Fry’s Five Boys. The images were in relief on the chocolate as well as on the wrapping.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Penny. I’m so glad you felt the tone was right for the story. And I’m so glad you felt the emotions coming through at its heart. I don’t remember the Five Boys bars, but I know they were iconic. So sad we no longer make chocolate in Bristol anymore
LikeLike
Beautifully written story, so deep and sad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much and thanks for reading
LikeLike
What a sad story. I remember my Gr. Grandpa telling stories of the trenches and the horror therein. He got pneumonia and almost died. While he was recovering in an English hospital, the nurses taught him to embroidery. He sent my Grandma a hankie with the year 1914 embroidered on it along with some flowers. I carried that hankie on my wedding day, and it’s still tucked into my cedar box, too fragile to touch anymore.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s such a beautiful story, Jelli. How precious that handkerchief must be to you – what an heirloom. Thank you for sharing the story Jelli
LikeLiked by 1 person
So sad… sometimes mothers need to be shielded from news… maybe in the end he made it despite the horrors (and a hat would be needed)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true, Bjorn. Sometimes, what is the point in knowing the truth when there’s nothing you can do to help. I’m sure most of the men wouldn’t have wanted their loved ones to know the horrors. Thank you for reading
LikeLike
Once again you have set the bar high. This piece is lovely, wrenching and thought-provoking. Thanks for being one of the FF gang. You are truly inspiring. Merry Christmas.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, thank you so much for the lovely comment. I can’t imagine how hard those years were for the men who lived and died there – truly a living hell. Such a pleasure to have met you through FF – I always look ofrward to reading your stories, Lish
LikeLike
Realistic picture of the hopeful family with shadows of the truth.. trench warfare was horrific.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true, Christine. One of the closest things to hell on earth mankind ever invented. Thanks so much for the kind comment
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awwe, war is so cruel for everyone around, I have no idea why it still continues to thrive and prosper. Lovely poignant story, loved the ‘period’ touches.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much. Sadly, with each new generation comes a new reason to defend or conquer, a fresh lack of empathy and fellow feeling. Thanks so much for reading
LikeLiked by 1 person
You put us right there in the moment, Lynn. There are some things Mother is better off not knowing–and I’m sure the package from home, and her note, warmed him in those trenches.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think you’re right on all counts Russell. Mother would have been comforted to think of her boy and his tin of gifts from home, a little human warmth in such a cold place. Thanks so much for the kind comment
LikeLike
‘We’ll never tell them,
They wouldn’t believe us…’
The big cover-up. Beautifully written.
LikeLiked by 1 person
How true. They probably didn’t think people would want to know, so much ‘stiff upper lip’ ness in those days. Thank you Jane
LikeLike
They didn’t want to upset them either, I imagine, but given the way the shell-shocked were treated, they wouldn’t have wanted to appear cowards either.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, true. Much less understanding back then of the psychological trauma caused by war.
LikeLike
Much more deference too. If your betters told you to do something you didn’t query it or complain afterwards.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true, we all knew our place in those days! Have you read Pat Barker’s Regeneration series of books? Some intereting things in there about how the symptoms of shell shock differed between the classes, how working men survived better psychologically because they were used to extreme hardship throughout their lives. Worth a read if you haven’t already
LikeLike
I did read one or two. Started off enjoying them then decided that they rather depressed me. I’ve become a unicorns and talking animals sort of reader 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Haha! Yes, I know what you mean – I think the earlier ones are the best anyway. Yes, bring on the unicorns and talking animals! https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/oct/15/return-of-the-unicorn-the-magical-beast-of-our-times
LikeLike
Well, maybe not the pink glittery unicorns, but the big wild white ones I’d go for any day over slag heaps and Depression.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I’ll give anything pink and glittery a miss too! But some untamed, noble beatie? Much more like it
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike
Simply beautiful and thank you for taking me back with your mention of Five Boys!
Click to read my FriFic!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure Keith. Thanks so much for reading 🙂
LikeLike
I still imagine he would love getting all of it….
Mine: https://kindredspirit23.wordpress.com/2017/12/22/tend-to-your-knittin/
Scott
LikeLiked by 1 person
Me too. Thanks so much for reading
LikeLiked by 1 person
So sad – and things like this must have happened. Well crafted story.
I’m going to resume writing stories with FF in the New Year.
Happy Christmas!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Susan. Look forward to reading your FF in 2018 🙂
LikeLike
Some survived in Flander’s Fields. Maybe. . . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true, many did. Let’s hope Albert was one of them. Thank you for reading 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’ve captured the mood of this just right. Very sad and poignant. Nicely done. Have a good Christmas, Lynn
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Michael. Hope you had a good Christmas and have a great New Year
LikeLiked by 1 person
A heartrending story, Lynn. I could feel the sorrow. I hope he survived after all. I liked the period references you added to make it more real. My dad was on a troop carrier during WWI. He said he joined the U.S. Navy to keep from wading in the mud. Good writing. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2018. 🙂 — Suzanne
LikeLiked by 1 person
Talking to your dad about WWI must have been extraordinary, Suzanne. And he was right about the mud – horrifying. Thanks for sharing your story and for reading. All the best for 2018
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful, sad and haunting, Lynn. And thank you, too, for the historical notes that followed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Jan. And thanks for reading 🙂
LikeLike
Such a sad horrible time but I love the way you wrot this and especially that last line!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Dawn 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
A tragically atmospheric story about the war that was meant to be over by Christmas. Have you ever thought of writing a story around Neville Chamberlains promise of “Peace in our time” in 1938? http://www.histclo.com/bio/c/ind/ch/chamb/nc-scrap.html
“Five Boys” was still around in the early ’60s. We used to get it from a vending machine beside the Odeon cinema. Oh my days, I’m old 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve always felt sorry for Chamberlain. Easy with hindsight to condemn the man as an appeaser, but surely no one then really knew the full horror Hitler was capable of and who wanted to plunge the world back into the nightmare of a world war, with the memories of all that loss still so fresh? Poor man. It’s an interesting subject, true enough. I don’t remember Five Boys, though I feel sad that my adopted city has lost its chocolate manufacturing – Fry’s, Elizabeth Shaw, Cadbury, all gone. I don’t feel so sorry about the loss of our tobacco industry of course …
LikeLiked by 1 person
I didn’t know Elizabeth Shaw used to be manufactured in Brizzle. Laura’s fiance used to be a maintenance worker for Cadbury…
LikeLiked by 1 person
So sad, the story of the Cadbury factory at Keynsham. When the sale to Kraft was muted they claimed they’d keep making chocolate here and within a short while of course, the plant was closed. We still have a company called Guilbert’s, but they’re very niche. Still, everything changes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’ve lost almost all of our traditional industries here. It was especially sad to lose Brannams famous pottery, and Shapland and Petter’s furniture manufacturers. I’m not good with change.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a cliche, but it’s sad we don’t make anything much anymore. Many manufacturing jobs were hard, boring and badly paid, but importing everything from elsewhere is truly a terrible idea. Maybe as Asia has to improve its working conditions and raise pay (which I hear is beginning to happen) it will prove more cost effective to make things here again. I hope so
LikeLiked by 1 person
That would be good, although I don’t want Asians to lose their jobs due to pay rises…
LikeLiked by 1 person
True, but it’s hard to think of a world where someone isn’t losing out in some way. Sad either way
LikeLiked by 1 person
yes. And there’s something else that should be thrown into the mix – the word is over-producing and over-consuming…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true Jane
LikeLiked by 1 person