Ten days later Cliff was back in Camp again.
“My dear Dorothy,” he wrote.
“Hello my dear, how are you now? To be frank with you, I’m as cheerful as a funeral. I miss you terribly, sweetheart.
“Thank God that we can at least write to each other.
“We had a good trip, though, and the train arrived at 1.30 this afternoon. My Aunt, Uncle, Cousin and friend Mrs Rigby met Mum and I on the Auckland Station and took us up to Auntie’s for tea. I was glad to have time to visit them. We persuaded Mum not to go to the Station to see me off because we knew she would have a bad time in the crowd.
“She broke down when I was leaving but Mrs Rigby stayed behind with her, so I think she would be okay.
“Auntie and Uncle saw me off in the train. Mum thinks I don’t love her so much now that I love you, but I honestly didn’t dare to make a fuss of her, or I would’ve broken down myself.”
Dorothy was his first consideration, he said. He didn’t know whether that was right or wrong, but it was natural.
He’d picked out a Bible text for Dorothy’s mother. “We are going to read it every Sunday night if humanly possible while I’m away.”
It was Matthew Chapter 6, from Verse 9 — the Lord’s Prayer.
Cliff didn’t have an Old testament with him, so Dorothy had written the 23rd Psalm out to carry with him — “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” — in the same clear, confident hand she had all her life.
It would be more than four years before they saw each other again.
Life continued at Camp with sessions of infantry training and wireless instruction. Cliff reckoned he was becoming quite a good operator now.
“We have just had morse practice and I was reading close on 40 words a minute. Only two of the class got 100% copy. I read it all but missed writing one or two words. I can’t write it fast enough. With plenty of practice I should get it all soon.”
The current rumour was that they would be going to Singapore.
On March 11th, only two days later, he wrote that the C/O had told them they’d be going to Egypt to finish their training, and would be based near Cairo.
But apparently nobody really knew, and anyway he shouldn’t be telling her. A few days after that he reminded Dorothy of the code they’d worked out between each other. Sandy meant they were headed for Egypt. Maryanne meant the Islands. England was Sarah. “If it’s Singapore I’ll say something about singing a song. Somehow I think it will be Sandy.”
§
He wanted to read their engagement notice in the paper but they didn’t get the Herald in camp — could she send him one? He was enjoying the cakes and biscuits from her Mum and Gran, and sending the tins back, some of them fairly battered.
He was very pleased with the cigarette case Dorothy had given him, and said he’d carry it above his heart. His own Mum and Dad had given him a mouth-organ. And could Dorothy send a photo of her Mum and Dad?
He wanted her advice. He’d been confidently sending his love to her mother in letters for months, but what was he supposed to say to her father? Could she assure her Dad that he had Cliff’s sincere … “what word should I use?”
§
Cliff was glad they’d been able to restrain themselves on leave, but, oh boy, would they make up for it when he got home! And what would their first infant be? A boy or a girl? Don’s wife Hilda was expecting. The population was going up steadily.
By the 13th he’d read the engagement notice.
“Glad you like your ring, sweetheart. I was pretty doubtful at first, although I picked the one I thought the nicest.”
He didn’t know whether she realised how much she’d be sacrificing by marrying him. It was impossible to know where they’d be living. He was far from wealthy and they wouldn’t have a car for a long time. He’d seen enough of life to know what a struggle it could be — but you could get a lot of fun out of struggling, and the sooner it started the better.
“Of course I know we will be happy. My faith has never disappointed me.”
Writing to her was hard.
“There are about 30 men in here, all talking, the wireless is going full blast about 5 yards away and one finds oneself listening to dirty yarns, answering questions and arguing on all sorts of subjects while trying to write. There is absolutely no privacy in the army.”
§
The men got out on local leave a bit. Cliff and a few mates bought a little boat and went sailing. The wind dropped and they had to tow it the last few hundred yards. Afterwards they went up to the McKenzies for a hurried tea, and were driven back to the train in a ramshackle Austin so small you could almost pick it up and carry it. They got a puncture on the way. He’d learnt a fair bit more about sailing, and how to spell yacht.
§
Their departure date was still uncertain, and it looked like they might still be in Camp at Easter, in which case they’d get five days leave. Cliff said he was looking forward to it, although the blokes had talked about not being able to cope with another round of goodbyes.
§
On the 24th they’d just got back from a 22 mile route march, about 17 miles of it on steep hills — up Moonshine Valley and down the other side, then up Hayward Hill and back to camp. They band played them home for the last three miles, which was a blessing.
“We did very well. Only two of Div Sigs cracked up. Others were pretty near it and we had to take their packs and help carry them, but they stuck it out. I feel worse now than at any stage of the journey. Now that I’ve cooled off, my feet are very sore.”
§
By Monday night on the 31st the news was firming up. The Mauritania was in the harbour. There was a lecture where they were told what they should take overseas with them, and their address for mail:
5th Reinforcement
2nd Divisional Signals
2nd N.Z.E.F.
Middle East Force.
The C/O was pretty sure they’d be boarding the following week and bound for the Middle East — putting an end to any hope of Easter Leave and seeing each other again — but please don’t tell anyone about this! It could be just another rumour, and they’d been told not to divulge anything.
Very occasionally they could speak on the phone. There wasn’t much he could talk about but he did like hearing her voice.
Meanwhile they were packed up on trucks for a day/night radio exercise, setting up and moving their station regularly, spending a sleepless night in an old shed, doing their own cooking and working the radio in shifts. They carried on with this until lunchtime the next day, grateful to one good lady from a farmhouse who’d sent them out tea and scones’
§
Then, at last, on Thursday night, the 3rd of April:
“Our advance guard goes aboard tomorrow. Sunday leave cancelled. We will probably go aboard Monday and sail some time early in the week. The Mauritania and New Amsterdam are the ships in port. I hope we go on the New Amsterdam. She is a beauty.
“We handed our sets over to the Quartermaster’s Store along with our tin hats and respirators etc. We can’t be having any further training here. All our equipment has been returned now.”
That day he got a parcel from someone in Hikurangi — he didn’t know who as there was no message — a pair of hand knitted socks, cigarettes, chocolate and so on. “Very acceptable indeed”.
He’d try and ring her over the next day or two, but he’d have to post this letter now. There was a terrible row going on. Two chaps a couple of feet away yelling. Just bedlam.
Dorothy must have sent the advice he’d requested as he signed off by asking her, confidently, to give his love to both her Mum and her Dad.
§
On April 4th he wrote that he missed her terribly.
“I daren’t think about it too much. Please don’t let us be sad, sweetheart. Although we will be far apart we will be in each other’s thoughts all the time. Distance can’t separate us. Our love can grow stronger than ever and it will prove itself by the tests it will stand. Our disappointments and our hardships will make fine men and women out of us. If we are of the true steel these trials will serve to make a stronger.
“We have absolute faith in God and his goodness and know that Christianity will win in the end. Peace and happiness must come and we must be a patient and wait for it. This war seems a terrible calamity but even though it is against the word of God he will turn it to his own use.
“…It isn’t only good for us, but good for all, that we should try to forget about ourselves for a time and work for the good of the world and humanity. It’s going to be hard, and we individually can do so little, but success depends upon the effort we put into the small things doesn’t it?”
He broke off to speak to Dorothy on the phone, then continued:
“I simply cannot say everything that is in my heart. It won’t put itself into words. I have to harden myself and grit my teeth and tend to the job in hand, when I’m simply longing to give myself to your love. It’s better for us to harden ourselves a little. One has to.
“This letter may be kept back for a few days until we are well out to sea. They do it to prevent information spreading too quickly. The engineers were marched out a few minutes ago. They go aboard tonight. We arise at 4:30 am and go aboard later in the morning.
“I’m very glad Mum is okay. Honestly I was scared to speak to her on the phone. I know she is taking it very hard and I can’t bear it.
“We are going to be on the top deck of the Mauritania. We should get good quarters. We should have a good time on board once we overcome the seasickness.
Things are going to get tough over the other side at times, sweetheart — but please, darling, don’t even think of that. I am going to come through, sweetheart, as I said before. I can feel it in my bones. Some won’t, but you have faith, haven’t you dear?”
He wrote a “simple, humble” prayer for the two of them, hoping she’d add to it so it would be truly theirs.
“When I think of you now, I think of you as my wife. It seems much more appropriate, and I like to think of you in that way.”
“Now then, let’s keep our chins up, smile and carry on.”
He sent a postcard after boarding, feeling fit after a swell dinner.