"He Called Me His Girl" ~ Part two

The memories of the precious moments with Rosemary guided him through the waiting and training; the dream of returning to her. Writing from Abbey Lodge, Park Road London NW8 he describes the memories of one of their meetings to share the sunset:

 ‘I remember the evening in the headland [Borth] with the mist drifting past, blotting out the rest of the world, there was a beauty in its rawness and I shall always remember how thirsty I was and how I felt particularly ravenous eating the bread and butter you brought. Then after that we had the long walk up the hill, it really was lovely, finished with our goodnight embrace. I went in a dream up the rest of the hill as I rode down through the mist to the little church. I could just as easily have been on a magic carpet floating through the clouds. They are indeed beautiful memories and I am so happy that you are reliving them with me beside you in spirit...It looks like I won’t get any leave for another six weeks, so we shall have to hold our heads high and believe in each other through our letters…in my daydreams I envisage us meeting again in Clarach’.

 

Camping at Clarach

 Like many of his contemporaries, for one time only, he was able to return to Aberystwyth briefly to steal just a few days leave before being stationed back in London. Arriving back in Clarach, they camped and walked and cherished those precious moments.  The letters are painful to read; they bravely realized that the inevitable departure would have to be tolerated for an undetermined period of time before they could meet again. Life and the halcyon days of sunsets at Aberystwyth would never be the same. He voiced his unhappiness at the inevitable departure:

‘Leaving you at the platform at Borth felt terrible.  Just as though a beautiful dream had come to an end, only to discover that everything was very true, I was leaving you for a very long time. I have never felt so much like crying as I did when your form disappeared into the mist as the train left the platform, it focused me. Your love for me is really deep rooted but oh, the look on your face. I felt I was being so distant towards you, yet I wanted to be so very, very near to you- why was it not good weather?We have no need to say good bye, we will be together always.’

There was an understanding between them that after finishing his studies and graduating, Fred would want to continue to fly and travel. He was one of a few graduates chosen to be trained and try for his wings in north America. I am not sure why he was sent to Nova Scotia in Canada initially or why he left his studies early from Aberystywth. He still had a year to finish his degree. In his letters he mentions his dreams of being able to see the earth from above.  One of the letters from overseas described the exhilarating changes of the landscape and his new cultural experiences that would never have been available to a farmer’s boy from New Radnor. He compared and reflected upon this bizarre dual life and the opportunities that the war had brought.  

Letters describe his journey by boat across the Atlantic as if he were a geographer. They travelled in a flotilla. He articulates seeing the phosphorescence bloom on the sea from the ship; the stormy conditions that made most of the crew retire to their bunks and his optimism of achieving his dream; to see the earth from the view of a bird:

‘I am writing this well into the Atlantic, there has been a storm raging since we started. The wind is blowing at gale force and the ship, although quite big is tossing almost like a cork. Some of the boys are pretty ill and wishing we would be torpedoed…I like to sit up top all day watching the other ships all tossing together. The conditions are crowded, I spend a lot of time queuing in the canteen for chocolate, sweets and fruit. It is difficult to find somewhere to write, every niche on the ship seems occupied...It is a marvelous sight to see allied ships steaming in to the sunset; sunsets to rival an Aber sunset.’

Rosemary shares local news from Aberystwyth and his College. In a reply to her description about the news of the pier closing and the dances being moved to the examination hall in the Old College, Fred notes his surprise at the condition of the floor of the dance room and that the dancing would have been better than the ‘stuffy pier’ anyway. Later, in a letter when he was travelling (November 1941; it is unclear where Fred was, as letters were opened and inspected and they were discouraged to add dates to letters) he was eager to keep the connection between them, he penned: 

'Please go on describing Borth and its surroundings in its different moods. To me here under the shimmering haze [I believe he had been transported to America by then]  it instills a freshness one can lose so easily. Your descriptions are so vivid, you gave me a complete picture of Borth in it’s Autumn coat, a picture which makes my heart swell with pride of the land to which I belong.’
 

He had previously described to Rosemary that he yearned to travel and grasped the unique opportunity to train for his wings in the United States.  His main goal though was to fly; he admitted, that the task of winning the war was the secondary aim.  Departure was now certain after all the months of waiting and marching along the Embankment. In a short note from London, before he was sent to Canada, he then travelled by train to Alabama, USA to start the serious training and embracing the new skills of learning to fly:

‘The deed’s done. I am now an airman, my uniform was issued today… we have started to wear khakis [dull tropical uniform] I think we are the first to come in uniform. When we arrived it was Armistice Day so we marched, 200 of us… people seemed to be impressed by the way we swing our arms. The streets were crowded, every vantage point from the tall buildings seemed to be occupied with people.’ 

After a short spell in Alabama, Fred moved and was stationed in Florida. Again, it is unclear why he was moved to other barracks. The envelopes and paper, once in America, Arcadia, South Florida and Canada, were written on paper with a letterhead embossed gold insignia; Rosemary received sweetheart brooches from him. She exchanged postal gifts, sending him poems and a tiny sprig of cherished edelweiss she had collected from Switzerland, gathered from the mountains from a pre-war holiday as a child with her parents. Is this why she used to sing Edelweiss to me as a lullaby at bedtime?

His correspondence is filled with descriptions of dances and his new experiences and music fills the letters. He enthusiastically compares the dances in Canada, Alabama and Florida to Wales; he describes the thrill of learning the jitterbug, enjoying the quality and abundance of food; the free and easy lifestyle afforded by the British airmen, but always making sure to let her know that Rosemary was ‘his girl’. His letters reiterated this:

‘the girls here aren’t as sincere as you, Rosemary…The girls are impatient to do their boogy-woogie and jitterbug; waltzes seem rather irksome to them…' and later, ‘It hurts me terribly to think how much I am enjoying myself  here and there you are stuck in Borth having the dullest of times.’

The later letters are filled with elation of being in the air and the final letter describes sorties and the skills he had to prove before gaining his wings. They are joyful and confirmed that he was now fulfilled after the very long wait, but still mindful to remember that Rosemary was still studying in her final year in Borth, and encourages her to focus on her studies.

 ‘I do wish I could have been on the castle grounds with you, viewing Pen Dinas, Consti and Clarach cliff and of course, Venus’.

They both agreed to look in the sky for Venus. My mother continued to do this in later life but never explained why.
      
Fred was then transferred to his final air base, in order to complete further training at an airbase at Arcadia in south Florida, USA. He described flying over the flat muddy landscape of pools and seeing the shadow of his plane on the earth below, reflected in the everglades. A mixture of joy and sorrow fills his letters; he yearns to see Rosemary again, asking for her patience and apologising for his uncontained enthusiasm.  

 ‘We had a lecture today on the geography of north America and we had a large map up in front of us. It was the first time I think I really realised that I was at the very moment on a spot in the south-east corner of the continent and that I was really separated from you by sea. During the week when we were confined to barracks we might be anywhere on earth, even in England, but when we get out at weekends, we soon discover that we are in a land different from England in many ways.’

 ‘I had a taste of life about which I had heard so much.  Just after posting last week’s letter, I got picked up by a family who already had two of our boys with them and after having tea, we spent the better half of the night honky-tonking…I suppose it is similar to our road houses, a few miles out of town, where people spend the evening drinking and dancing. Music is provided  by a glorified radiogram, like the one in that terrible amusement place in Terrace Road opposite the Coliseum… The dancing was terrible with everyone, taking just any sort of steps. It was a long way from the King’s Hall with Evered Davies Band and you.’

His final letter to Rosemary contains the description of him gaining his wings as a ‘red letter day.’ But he goes on to write from US Army Corps, Maxwell Field, Alabama:

‘but it started badly, by losing your edelweiss you sent to me and I had a really terrible feeling, that my heart had been emptied of something, or if I had been holding you and you had suddenly been wrenched from me. The edelweiss held such a lot of sentimental value..I am always yours, Cheerio my dearest.

 

Fred reading a letter from his parents

The day Fred gained his wings, and completed his first solo flight, he took part in the traditional ceremony which was to dunk newbie pilots in a swimming pool by fellow air cadets - one might describe it as ‘high jinks’.  Fred was a poor swimmer, he suffered cramp and was unable to get to the surface in time. He drowned in seconds in an unnecessary ceremony which resulted in the tragic loss of a promising life.

As I dug deeper in to the Quality Street box, I found that it  was separated with trays that had held the layers of chocolates and under the lower canopies were  the condolence letters from Rosemary’s family and friends. It made for a heart-wrenching read. Ben Bowen from the Geography Department, Aberystwyth University wrote:

‘We looked upon his absence while serving with the forces as a mere interlude, we eagerly awaited his return …when the war was over.  He showed great promise.’

The news was broken to Rosemary, ‘his girl’, like many other young women experienced at the time, in a formal letter from Fred’s parents from New Radnor. They suggested that they meet briefly in Owen’s Café in Aberystwyth, [now Tesco Express] if she wished.  Her parents travelled down from Lancashire for this emotionally charged meeting. It will have been the first time her parents had  travelled to mid-Wales.  After the brief visit, she wrote again to Fred’s family:

“I wonder if you noticed that there was an extra place at the table on Saturday and I should like to think that Fred was there, pleased to know that we had all met.”

It was Rosemary’s final year of teacher training in Borth. Condolence letters were also sent from her parents to ‘Dear Duck, duck,’ urging her to put her head down and complete her studies.  

Twenty-six uniformed RAF cadets acted as guard of honor at Fred’s funeral, he was buried in Arcadia. The Rector (Frank Brunton, Christ Episcopal Church) described the ceremony to his parents:

'The day was beautiful;  Florida was at its hottest.  The coffin was a myriad of flowers and at the committal the guards of honour; 26 boys in uniform  came up to the coffin and saluted. They stood rigidly at attention through the service with their eyes shut and the tears running down their faces and I had difficulty controlling my own voice.'

His colleague in a letter to Fred’s parents, bravely described his friend and the tragic accident:

'the untimely death has aroused great distress in his squadron, and has hit his friends hard… he was a true example of the best ‘Britisher’, always ready to help us and was often good-humurly (sic) scoffed at, for being the one who complained the least, about any injustice done to us by authorities.'

The Tampa Morning Tribune report on Fred's death

 

Rosemary completed her studies, trained as a PE teacher, returned to Lancashire and started a job as Lead Physical Education Organiser for Preston schools in her county town in Lancashire. Haunted by the needless, tragic death of her first true love, she was determined to leave a legacy to ensure that every child in the Preston Borough would learn to swim whilst at primary school.  She wrote to Fred’s parents in response to the letter with the news of his death:

‘How proud you must be to know he made his solo flight.  To me it means he reached his goal, it is now is up to me to achieve mine and to prove that I too, could never let him down. Today I have made a vow that I shall work to the upmost of my ability to become a competent life-saver. I do not like swimming very much but I will conquer my fear so that perhaps one day I can prevent the suffering of so many parents, wives and sweethearts.’

Rosemary ensured that I too learnt to swim as early as possible; it remains one of my passions to this day. I had no idea of this back-story. Later Rosemary married a veterinary surgeon (my father) and was to lead a very rich and fulfilled life. Rosemary and my father visited Fred’s parents in New Radnor once again, when my father was working in Whitchurch at his first Veterinary appointment.

This innocent sweet box, stashed away in the wardrobe opened up a moment in time; a longing, thwarted aspirations and deep love – two souls separated by 4,260 miles with no knowledge of when they would meet again.  I replaced the letters and ephemera and closed the lid on this sweet box; its story is now told.

This story that could so easily have been lost in time like many already have. It describes the influence that Ceredigion had on two young people. A love of Aberystwyth, the Welsh countryside, hiraeth and how this impacted on a girl of nineteen and a boy of eighteen. 

In 1997 I chose to join my husband who had gained a post in the same University as Fred attended. Rosemary was delighted that another generation would experience this special place over fifty years later. I became the connection to wax lyrical about ‘kicking the bar’, her love of Aberystwyth and Borth sunsets. Among her artefacts I also found poems that she had written to Fred, drawings of Borth and the RAF sweetheart brooches he had sent to her.

My mother travelled to Wales to visit us and stay in our home many times but she declined the invitation to visit Clarach – it was too painful for her, she wished to keep that memory of wartime Clarach private.  Rosemary passed away Rosemary passed away on the 15th September 2019.

 

Mum and me in Aberaeron

 

Blog by Alison Pierse

Images (c.) of Alison Pierse/the Lloyd family