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#1: The War Cloister Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:03 am
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“So, old chap, is there anywhere particular you’d like us to take you whilst we’re here? Your housemaster asked us to have you back by six o’clock, but that still gives us plenty of time - and it’d be good to make the most of it seeing as this’ll be the last we’ll be seeing of each other for a good few months.” Jem looked at his son and smiled. He was proud of David: the boy obviously had plenty of friends amongst his classmates, was getting stuck into plenty of school activities and, now that he was of an age to be thinking seriously about his future, was knuckling down to hard work and near the top of the form lists.

It was hard to believe that it was nigh on thirty-five years since he’d been a pupil here himself. Like his father had been before him, and his grandfather before him. In fact, David was the seventh generation of Russell men to be educated at Winchester College – and, hopefully, there’d be many more to follow.

“We’ll write as soon as we get to Canada, of course.” Madge’s voice, addressing David, broke into his thoughts. “To both you and Sybs. And remember that if you need anything – anything at all - you’ve only got to get in touch with Uncle Dick and Auntie Mollie or Uncle Jack and Auntie Joey and they’ll see to it: they’ve assured us of that.”

David nodded. He wasn’t actually concerned about himself: barring unexpected disasters, he was sure that he’d be absolutely fine during his mother and father’s absence. But he was worried about Sybil: he knew that she was breaking her heart at the thought of being parted from their parents and from Josette and Ailie, especially as she was still convinced that everyone blamed her for Josette’s accident.

Still, at the same time he understood what a great honour it was for his father, who’d worked so hard and achieved so much, to be invited to attend this conference. Even some of the masters had remarked on it: there were still several of them here who remembered the famous Sir James Russell as the tousle-haired schoolboy he’d once been. David grinned widely at the thought of his father being put in detention, falling foul of the prefects or being sent to the headmaster’s office. His Auntie Margot had often referred to her brother as having been “such a scamp of a boy” and he had the distinct impression that his father, for all his distinguished academic record, had got up to more than fair share of pranks during his time as a pupil here. Then again, he and his friends weren’t behind the door in that respect themselves. Schoolboys didn’t change that much over the years, he supposed!

Pondering on the question he’d just been asked, he was about to suggest a nearby tea shop - renowned for offering the best cakes in Winchester, bar none - when he saw his father looking round at the buildings behind them with a nostalgic look in his eyes, and smiled. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “There’s a smashing tea shop not far from here, but why don’t we go for a wander round the school first. Go on, Dad – I can see that you’re dying to have a look round the old place! Admit it!”

Jem laughed. “I wouldn’t mind,” he confessed. “So long as it’s all right with your mother, of course.”

“Fine by me!” Madge assured him. “I wouldn’t mind having a look round the place myself. I’ve heard so much about it from both of you, and from Rix as well, that it seems strange that I’ve never actually seen it with my own eyes. Come on, then, David. Lead on!”

Last edited by Alison H on Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:09 am; edited 1 time in total

#2: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:05 am
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“Well, a few things have changed since my day; but all in all it’s pretty much as it was!” Jem remarked. “That bit over there, though: that’s new; I’m sure it is. I’ve got no recollection of it at all.”

“It’s the War Cloister,” David said carefully. He said no more, not wanting to suggest either that they go and see it or that they didn’t - just waiting for his father’s reaction. Although it wasn’t something that was ever really discussed, he’d been aware ever since he’d been able to understand such things that that many of the fellows with whom his father had once shared classrooms, common rooms, sports pitches and dormitories had gone away to the Great War and never come back. And he knew that their names would be amongst the many inscribed on the memorial, constructed during the early 1920s, to which had been added during his own time here the names of those former pupils of the school who’d fallen during the 1939-1945 war. Suddenly the atmosphere of what had until then been a jolly afternoon had changed completely; and he stood there in silence, sensing his father’s pain and wishing that there were some way in which he could alleviate it.

“Jem?” Madge put her hand on her husband’s arm gently. “Jem – if it would be too difficult for you to see it then we don’t have to. We could just go straight for afternoon tea, or we could go for a drive round first, or … we don’t have to go and see it, Jem. It’s your decision.”

“Of course we’re going to see it,” Jem said tersely. “If that’s all right with both of you. I need to see it. I need to … to pay my respects. It’s little enough to do, after all. When I’m still here, here with my wife and my son when so many others …” He stopped, and cleared his throat loudly. “David? If you’d show us the way, please, I’d be very grateful.”

David nodded wordlessly and began to make his way over towards the marble structure, his parents following a few steps behind him. “This is it,” he said awkwardly and, he was aware, rather unnecessarily once the three of them were standing in front of it. He saw the stricken expression on his father’s face and looked up at him, a lump forming in his own throat. “I’m so sorry, Dad. Did you … did you know many of them?”

Jem was standing in front of the memorial, his fingers tracing individual names inscribed on the white marble. Madge and David stood little to one side, close to each other, uncertain what to do. They exchanged a helpless glance and Madge wondered whether or not she should say something; but suddenly Jem began to speak.

“He had the bed next to me in our dormitory in my first year here,” he said abruptly. His finger was resting on the name “Edwards” inscribed in the middle of one of the long columns of names. “Old Ted. Tall fellow. Dark hair. Good at history. Hoped to become an Oxford don and spend his life in academia, I think.” His finger moved further down the same column. “And him, Ginger Forsyth … he used to be my partner in chemistry experiments. We nearly blew the lab up between us once. The master gave us both a good thrashing. Not that we didn’t deserve it. But he was a brilliant scientist. No-one else ever had a chance of topping the form chemistry lists with Ginger there. He’d have gone on to do great things if he’d lived. I’m sure of it.”

His fingers moved along the columns of names. “Now Harry Harrison … he always planned to go into the Army. Came from a long line of military men, you see. His elder brother fought in South Africa. Picked up some Afrikaans there: he taught me to speak it a little when I stayed with them during the summer holidays once. They died on the Somme, him and his brother both, within days of each other. I wrote to their parents when I heard; but I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? What could anyone say?

“Now old Jackson here … him I can’t imagine in the Army at all. He was such a quiet, peaceful sort of fellow: you could never get into a fight with him even if you tried. Planned to go into the church, I believe. He’d have been well suited to it. Some fellows are. You have to be for that sort of thing, I suppose.” He shook his head. “And Tubby King. Every term without fail his mother used to send him back to school with a huge cake in his tuck box, and he used to hide it away and make sure that we all got a piece the first night back. How Matron never worked out what was going on I’ll never know. Jolly good cake it always was as well. Jolly good cake. He won’t have got anything like that out in the thick of it in France and Belgium. Nothing like that at all.”

He moved to the right and pointed to a name at the top of another column. “Lewis major. Our class joker, you might say. Got up to all sorts. Even the masters used to laugh. And Morris there… he was a terrible dunce at lessons, truth be told, but what a cricketer. Hit me for six sixes off one over during a practice match once. What a fool I felt, but no-one had a chance when Morris was batting. We all used to think he’d play for England one day. Who knows – maybe he would have done. In fact, I’m sure he would have done. And Nosy Parker there: he wasn’t nosy at all but you’re bound to get a nickname like that when your surname’s Parker, I suppose. He was a prefect during my first year here. Sorted out some trouble when one of the fellows in our year was being picked on by some of the others. Firm but fair. He’d have made a fine officer. For as long as he got the chance to.”

He took a deep breath. “And old Roberts – now not only was he in my form, and we found out that our fathers’d been in the same form as each other when they’d been here. Some of the other chaps used to josh us about it – say that we’d have to carry on the tradition, make sure that our sons were in the same form as each other. But he never had a son. Died in the mud at Passchendaele. He was so young. So very young.”

His voice broke. “They were all so young. They’d only have been in their early fifties now. Most of them would have been married, with children. And who’ll ever know what they might have achieved, in whatever fields they chose, in whatever way? Even of those who came back, so many of them were never the same again? Arms missing, legs missing, sight gone – and when I think of all the men I’ve treated for lung problems as a result of mustard gas over the years … and even those who came back whole in body didn’t necessarily come back whole in spirit. I’ve spent so many years trying to save lives, and trying to find ways for lives to be saved in the future – but so many of the bravest men of my generation died when they’d barely even lived.

“And when it was finally all over, they told us that that was it – the war to end all wars. That it could never happen again. But it never ends, does it? Not much more than twenty years after it was over… well, just look.” He moved to the section of the memorial bearing the names of the men killed in the last war. The Second World War, as people were calling it. Which made the Great War not the war to put an end to war but the First World War – the first of how many? He stood in front of the newly-inscribed names in silence.

#3: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:07 am
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David moved to stand beside him. “He - there, near the top of the first column, Abbott, - he was the elder brother of one of Rix’s friends, the one who stayed at the Quadrant over half term. And there, Dalton … his son’s in my form. And Goodman, R B – he was our housemaster’s son. He was shot down in the Battle of Britain. He doesn’t talk about it in front of us – our housemaster doesn’t, I mean – but everyone knows.” He paused. “Everything you’ve just been saying, Dad – there’s a story behind every single one of these names, isn’t there? And this is just one memorial in one country. When you think of all the people who were killed …”

“Bob Maynard, for one.” Madge said sadly. “Evvy Lannis’s fiancé. Flora and Fiona MacDonald’s brother. Marjorie Redmond’s husband – and her little daughter as well: so many civilian casualties too. And the people who died in the camps …” She wiped her eyes, thinking of Herr Marani who’d been such a good friend to them all, and of Luigia di Ferrara. Of Herr and Frau Goldmann, dead before the war had even begun in scenes she’d never in her worst nightmares imagined could happen in peaceful Spartz. And of all the people whose fates she didn’t know and in all likelihood never would know. And of those who’d survived the horrors of war and had to live daily with the recollection of everything they’d seen and everything they’d been through – in a world that even now was very far from being truly at peace and probably always would be.

Suddenly something struck her with such force that she couldn’t think why she hadn’t realised it earlier. “There’s room left,” she said. She looked at the memorial in front of her. “There are so many names – but look how much room there is. Look how much of it’s empty.”

“That’s for the names of those who are going to die in the conflicts to come.” She didn’t speak the words out loud, but both her husband and son knew what she’d been going to say; and Jem glanced at his teenage son and shuddered.

“Dad? Both of you: in fact.” David looked from Jem to Madge and then back at Jem. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve mentioned it to Sybs already, but I wasn’t sure if … but I’ve spoken to some of the masters here and they said that if I knuckle down and work hard then I should have a decent chance … of getting into medical school. I’ve decided. I want to be a doctor. Like you are, Dad. I want to spend my life trying to preserve life. If I get the chance – and I’m going to try my very, very hardest to make sure that I do.”

He looked long and hard at the memorial and then turned at his father again. “And don’t think that I’ll ever forget that it’s only because of people like men whose names are written here that I’ve even got that choice. That any of us have got any choices. Because I won’t. And I’ll remember every word you’ve just said. Both of you. I’ll remember about the fellow who was good at cricket, and the fellow who brought cakes in his tuck box, and Mrs Redmond’s husband, and … and all of them. Every one of them. I won’t forget.”

“I’m glad,” Jem said quietly. “Because none of us must ever forget. Remember them – remember all those who fell, in both of the horrific world wars of this century – this century which promised so much and which went so terribly wrong - and in all the other wars and conflicts that have been fought and which continue to be fought. Remember them all. Remember the words that are inscribed on so many war memorials, David –

“When you go home
“Tell them of us and say
“For your tomorrow
“We gave our today.

“Don’t ever, ever forget.”

#4: Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:56 am
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Quote:

That’s for the names of those who are going to die in the conflicts to come.” She didn’t speak the words out loud, but both her husband and son knew what she’d been going to say.....

How prophetic, but how true - and how many have died in the conflicts around the world since the end of World War II. Let us never forget any of them. Lawrence Binyon's verse remains as true today as it was when he wrote it:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

This is a most moving tribute, Alison. Thank you for reminding us so strongly that the world of the Chalet School was not immune to the suffering and losses of two World Wars, both military and civilian, and for creating such a poignant piece to mark November 11, 2007.

#5: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 1:23 am
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Thank you Alison.

*Crying but proud*

#6: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 1:32 am
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Thank you, Alison. Crying or Very sad

#7: Author: janem, Location: Ash, Surrey

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 7:42 am
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Thank you Alison. That was very moving.

#8: Author: Mona, Location: Hertfordshire

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 9:05 am
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Thank you Alison. That was very beautiful and moving.

#9: Author: keren, Location: Israel

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 10:06 am
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very moving.

I suddenly was aware of the date when reading this (we do not have a memorial today here)

#10: Author: Elbee, Location: Surrey

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 10:21 am
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Alison that was amazing. It was so moving and poignant.

Thank you.

#11: Author: bethany, Location: Liverpool (mostly)

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 11:14 am
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Thank you Alison, that was a very moving piece of writing, it really made me think about what today means.

I love your David as well, so thoughtful and nice.

#12: Author: BethC, Location: Worcester, UK

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:26 pm
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Thank you, Alison - very fitting.

#13: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 12:41 pm
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Alison this is so good and terribly moving and poignant. Crying or Very sad

Are you going to post it at Freudesheim? I think you should.

#14: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 1:51 pm
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Thanks for that Alison. It was beautifully written and so poignant.

#15: Author: Sarah_G-G, Location: Sheffield (termtime), ? any other time!

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 1:55 pm
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Thank you. That was beautifully written, and I'm crying now. It's so true and real.

#16: Author: Lyanne, Location: Ipswich, England

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 2:22 pm
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Thank you Alison.

I took my sons & nephew to our local museum, there's a war exhibit there. So the older boys, especially nephew were admiring the weapons. Then I took them to the nearby park, showed them the war memorial and asked them to count the names of people from our town who'd died in WW1 & WW2 (only recently added). Nephew refused to count, but Rob counted 30 in each column and 25 columns across, so we estimated 750 service people from our town died in WW2. Out town was smaller then too.

#17: Author: Aquabird, Location: North Lanarkshire, Scotland

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 2:27 pm
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Thank you for that, Alison.

#18: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 2:41 pm
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Thank you, Alison, that was so moving.

#19: Author: Karoline, Location: Leeds, West Yorkshire

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 2:43 pm
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Thank you Alison

#20: Author: M, Location: Winchester

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 2:47 pm
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That was beautifully written and very apt for today. Winchester College would then have been the sort of place that generations would send their sons to so the piece about Jem and his friend visualising their sons there was very true.

#21: Author: linda, Location: Leeds

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:07 pm
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Thank you Alison.

Quote:

"When you go home
“Tell them of us and say
“For your tomorrow
“We gave our today.

“Don’t ever, ever forget.”

That was very poignant and moving. It is good that you reminded us all that each of the names on our memorials was a living, breathing person with friends and families, who would perhaps have gone on to do fantastic things had they not given their lives in the service of their country.

#22: Author: Travellers Joy, Location: Middle of Nowhere

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:11 pm
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Very moving. Thank you, Alison.

#23: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:58 pm
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Thank you, Alison.

#24: Author: Elle, Location: Peterborough

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 4:34 pm
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Thank you Alison.

#25: Author: JackieP, Location: Kingston upon Hull

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 5:14 pm
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Thank you Alison.

JackieP

#26: Author: Catherine, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 5:17 pm
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Appropriate and very poignant.

Thank you, Alison.

#27: Author: Sarah_K, Location: St Albans

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 5:43 pm
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That was absolutely beautiful Alison, and very poignant for today.

(and we'd love it if you'd post it over on freudesheim on LJ, I think it should be shared as widely as possible)

#28: Author: KathrynW, Location: London

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 6:15 pm
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Thank you Alison, that was very moving.

My grandfather went to a school reunion of pupils of his school from the 1930's and 40's and the last 10 or so pages of the booklet produced for the occassion was a list of all the boys that had died during the wars and it was very moving to read the details about their lives.

#29: Author: Mrs Redboots, Location: London, UK

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 6:25 pm
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Thank you, Alison. Very moving, and very appropriate for Remembrance Sunday.

Oddly, I was in Winchester yesterday, showing the Cathedral to an American friend, and we walked past the entrance to Winchester College - I was at school in Winchester myself and, in the Sixth Form, had lots of friends at the College. Incidentally, I think I'm right in saying that masters are known as "dons" there and boys are "men" - like many public schools, they have a private language all their own, and that's about all of it that I remember, although I remember that all the boarding-houses had an unofficial name as well as an official one!

#30: Author: PaulineS, Location: West Midlands

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 6:44 pm
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The new memorial to those killed since the 2 World War also has spaces for more names. It is planned to update it every six months. Yet we had two wars to finish war.

#31: Author: Fiona Mc, Location: Bendigo, Australia

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 7:21 pm
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Oh Alison that was so beautiful. Thank you

#32: Author: Sugar, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 8:03 pm
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V poignant Alison. Thank you

I am related to 2 men who died in WW1 and I think its really important to remember they are people not just names. One of the men I'm related to died a few days after the Armistice and I can't imagine how his family felt.

Strangely, the village in Staffordshire where my great grandparents were brought up has a war memorial that commenerates those who fought in the war bit DID NOT DIE. It is the only one of its sort in the country and confused me not end as my Grandmothers brother is listed on there! They also have one for the men who gave their lives.

#33: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 9:13 pm
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Thankyou Alison

A very fitting tribute to today

#34: Author: Chelsea, Location: Your Imagination

Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 9:42 pm
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Quote:

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I'm not sure if other countries recite this poem. It was written by John McCrae, a doctor with the Canadian army during the battle of Ypres. The first stanza is now quoted on our $10 bill.

It just seemed appropriate to quote here.

#35: Author: Ruth B, Location: Oxford, UK

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 12:11 am
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Thank you Alison, that was lovely. Sad to think that far too much of that empty space has probably been filled now.

#36: Author: JustJen, Location: waiting for spring training

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 1:15 am
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That was very touching Alison.

#37: Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 5:11 am
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Thank you Alison; that was very moving.

#38: Author: Sal, Location: Walsall / Aberystwyth

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 9:02 am
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Thank you Alison, that was very poignant

#39: Author: Róisín, Location: Ireland

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 10:08 am
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I read this this morning on Freudesheim and thought it was really excellent. Thank you for writing it Very Happy

#40: Author: Lottie, Location: Humphrey's Corner

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 11:14 am
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I've only just seen this, so I'm late with commenting, but it was a very poignant piece, and beautifully written. Thank you, Alison.

#41: Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 3:14 pm
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That was very poignant, Alison, and so well written. Thank you.

#42: Author: babycassied,

Posted: Mon Nov 12, 2007 6:40 pm
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Ditto. Thank you, Alison.

#43: Author: Rosalin, Location: Swansea

Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 4:25 pm
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Very moving Alison, thank you.

#44: Author: Carys, Location: London

Posted: Wed Nov 14, 2007 4:41 pm
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This was sad but lovely at the same time Alison. Crying or Very sad

#45: Author: brie, Location: Glasgow, aka the land of boredom

Posted: Thu Nov 15, 2007 11:49 pm
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Thanks Alison, so very sad, but poignant.

#46: Author: Pado, Location: Connecticut, USA

Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 12:21 am
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Very moving - thank you so much, Alison.

#47: Author: Ronara, Location: London

Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 2:29 pm
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This was very, very moving; I also like how you humanise Jem (he always seemed so very remote in the books).

And this:

Quote:

"When you go home, tell them of us, and say: for your tomorrow, we gave our today."

This, this ... breaks my heart; I can take (and mostly leave) the likes of the Binyon poem (I have never liked that poem; Owen and Sassoon speak of the Great War more easily to me), but I can't ever seem to read the words of the Kohima Memorial without tears.

#48: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Sat Dec 29, 2007 1:33 pm
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Have only just found this, but it is beautiful and moving no matter what the date.
Thank you.

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