Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Stapelton Tench Eachus

I chose a diary entry from Stapelton Tench Eachus.

26/12/18

I here once more take up my pen, to jot down the objects and scenes with which I may come into contact during the closing days of the titanic upheaval, which has rocked and badly shaken the whole framework of civilisation and indeed the very world itself. Many months have elapsed since last I made any notes and now as I am penning these I find myself sitting at one of the dining tables at the Salvation Army rest for soldiers in London, Blighty. Am on my way back to France after 14 days furlough and seven days extension which was granted to me by the Royal Engineer Records Chatham. In spite of many thing I have spent a really pleasant and enjoyable time, at the old home in Stafford, in the company of my father, Sister Doris and my little treasure boy Derrick. I left Stafford this morning with my little boy at 11.37 am and went first to Warwick where I left Derrick in the care of Mr. and Mrs. Kendrick at 48 Avon Street. I think that these forced partings from the little chap, who is so dear to me, have caused me deeper and more cruel pain, than all other pains that I have known. If there is such a thing as love in this world, it must be surely just like that, how little Dux is loved by me. Left Warwick at 5.58 pm and arrived at Paddington at 9.10 pm. Took a bus to Victoria station and passed by the Marble Arch and Saint James Park, which was profusely decorated with flags and bunting in honour I suppose of the visit of the American president, who arrived today. At Victoria station went into the free buffet, and had a sandwich and cup of tea. Wreaths in the evergreen and other laurel decorations were hanging up everywhere and welcome greetings to the soldiers were emblazoned in large letters upon the walls, one inscription ran something like this “We pray for all who have died and we thank all for bringing us victory and peace” another ran “Welcome home the nation thanks you”. Was directed by a gentleman to board a small motor lorry, which had two seats down the centre and a roof, something after the style of the well known Irish “stage coach”. This vehicle took a party of us to the pace where I am now and where I have engaged a bed no 182 for the night for the price of half a shilling.


I got the diary entry here.

No comments:

Post a Comment