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Safe Haven: A Story Told in Letters

A true story compiled and retold by Ann McRae using letters from Margaret Jones.

Safe Haven:  Jones – Pate Correspondence during World War II

Read the entire story here, as narrated by my mother, Betty Pate:

Betty Pate:

Two young strangers became my little brothers during the War. They arrived at my parents’ farm, near Brantford, Canada, in the summer of 1940. I was sixteen. The boys, Barry and Stewart, were eight and six. Four years later they returned to England, leaving an enormous gap in my life. Even at the time, in the shadow of war, it seemed extraordinary for children so young to be so far from their parents. Decades later I still viewed it as nothing less than astonishing.

The boys’ home was a farm not far outside of London, England, near Wolverhampton. Their parents, Howard and Margaret Jones, were unknown to me, although Margaret was my second cousin. My father used to say “second cousin once removed” as if that explained everything. When I was very young, I thought “removed” referred to the distance across the Atlantic, not the rungs on the ladder of generations.  To add to my confusion, my father frequently referred to “our Scottish cousins”, to distinguish them from my mother’s many Canadian-born cousins, all of whom also had Scottish origins. This reference to Scottish-ness only muddied the waters for me: Margaret was indeed Scottish-born, but her husband and sons thought of themselves as English. I stubbornly thought of the boys as my English, not Scottish, brothers.

The Transatlantic adventure for the boys began with some very awkward correspondence between our two families. Margaret Jones wrote to my parents, whom she had never met, in June 1940, following up on an exchange of letters between our fathers, Andy Pate  and John Wilson. These men were the sort of cousins who  had visited each other, crossing the pond, as my father said in a rare moment of humour, every ten years or so.  John Wilson  knew my parents well. Not so for Margaret: it was clear from her letters that John had worked hard to overcome a mother’s doubts about entrusting her children to people she had never met.  He had not entirely succeeded. Anxiety flowed through Margaret’s pen.

Although my father corresponded regularly with his Scottish and English cousins, it was my mother, Mary Pate, who negotiated the removal of the boys from the English countryside to safe haven in Canada. She felt the situation required a mother-to-mother conversation, which I came to appreciate later.  I was a young teenager when the War broke out. I only a shadowy grasp of how the boys came to arrive. Later, my mother shared the letters with me.

Mary Pate:

That poor young woman, Margaret. She was so formal and apologetic in her first letter to me, as if it was her fault to be living in a country threatened by War. She seemed mortally embarrassed to be seeking our help, even though my husband Andy had first broached the idea to John before war was declared in 1939. 

In 1940, people spoke of “the duration” in a tone of resolute optimism about England’s ultimate triumph. Almost everyone we knew had relatives living in the countries at war or serving in the Canadian armed services, or both. No one wanted to speak of the possibility that the war could turn out badly for England and its allies,  which would change everything.  That outcome  was too horrible to put in words — not while the children were listening, at any rate. It was unpatriotic to voice any but optimistic thoughts. Privately, most of us had fears.

Margaret’s father John was very worried because Margaret and Howard farmed near London. If London was attacked, or if the war went badly and the Germans invaded, well, no one really knew how to finish that thought.  I could tell from Margaret’s tone that her pangs of guilt were not just about imposing on us or about being far from her children, but also about her duty to serve her country. It was as though those who had relatives in Canada were behaving in a cowardly way, in seeking safe haven for their children.

It was a hot day in late June when our daughter Betty found Margaret’s first letter in from the postbox at the end of our lane on her way home from highschool.  The haying was nearly done and rain was threatening. Andy and the hired man were  out in the field with the wagon. Betty left the letter for me, and she and Jim changed their clothes and went directly to the field to help get the hay into the barn.  I had no one to share this exciting letter with until after dinner. I read it  aloud to Andy while the kids were washing the dishes.

Here are Margaret’s words:

                                                                        ‘Netherfield’

                                                                        Landsdowne Ave.,

                                                                        Oaken, Codsall,

                                                                        Nr Wolverhampton

                                                                        ________

                                                                        16 . 6. 40

Dear Mr and Mrs Pate,

                                    I wish to follow up Daddy’s letter, (which I hope you have received) with one of my own! In fact I hope it has been digested by now —  + in any case I suppose the idea of parents here wishing to send their children to a real safety zone, does not come to you as a surprise. —

                        The idea of the colonies has been with me for some time. I have been urgently approached to give my services as a trained nurse + so we are faced with having to give up our home. But the hundreds thinking and feeling as I do, cannot carry on the winning of this war effectively unless our “useless mouths” are beyond thought. I think I see my duty clearly now + my way of doing the best for my boys is to try to send them out of the country, + our link with Canada makes me look there for help + advice!

                        The decision to write even before the Government has made any statement on the subject is not a sign of panic, but I think you’ll agree that it is time for action. As you know, I am not writing to say, “please Mr and Mrs Pate will you take my boys + look after them for the duration :” – bur I write to you because you are a valued friend of Daddy’s, + a man whose opinion + advice I can trust.

                        If this correspondence had been started a few weeks ago I should have wanted only a reply on general lines .. e. g. The feeling of the Canadians on the subject of taking children + the reasons in favour + against etc… but now because I see my duty clearly + as it is action we want, I am hoping for some definite proposals and promises – I am writing elsewhere but would like to mention my preference for a farm for Barry and Stewart – I am hoping you’ll find someone who’ll be able to say “I’m willing” + as communications are irregular + uncertain could you arrange to cable? I should be most grateful!!

Before any definite decision is made on either side we shall have to agree on finances. We have reason to hope for help in passage – and surely you will be able to indicate an appropriate figure for keep etc. – They are fairly well fitted out with clothes for growing lads, + I should think that it would be best to arrange a boarding allowance with a separate clothes account (the method adopted at Boarding Schools). I”d like to say that we are willing to make sacrifices to do our very best for the boys + as long as there is an England + all that (+ a Scotland, of course!!) whoever takes charge of the boys need never fear to be out of pocket.

                        This is not the time or the place to talk about Barry + Stewart at any length but you can guess that we think a lot of them to come to this decision. Incidentally I’m not one to those mammas who think her children perfect but Howard thinks the world of them. Barry is 8 this last week. Stewart was 6 in Feb. – they are complete contrasts in make-up. Barry, sensitive, gentle, excitable, intelligent, but with no imagination although he is sufficient unto himself in his world of books + nature. Stewart, full of action, very quick + bright+, as his school mistress put on his very first report “such a sensible child”. Yes he is sensible + strong + daring + full of imagination but I’m afraid not so manly as Barry. Stewart makes a real commotion over any trifling hurt or inconvenience. Barry bears everything stoically.

                        Isn’t this war a great tragedy? .. We sure have a big job on now, but even by the time this reaches you anything might have happened! Up til now only our worst fears have been realized but I hope France will be able to hold on a bit longer. — Yes a great tragedy but we mustn’t look back at the moment on what might have been nor repeat the “I told you so’s” that we as liberals have said. — “Go to it” as our slogan says. –

                        I feel that I have taken quite a grave step in writing this letter but I place every confidence in your advice + now that I have made my decision + seen my way clearly there must be no turning back. –

                                    Thanking you,

                                                Yours Very Sincerely,

                                                            Margaret Jones

                                                                        (Wilson)

                                                            ________________

Mary Pate: Andy and I had no hesitation. The next day it rained, so he left off haying and made a mud-spattered trip to town to send a telegram, while I composed a letter providing Margaret with reassuring details of what we could offer to her boys.  The cable would arrive within a day, and would permit Margaret to begin making travel arrangements. The letter was my effort to offer calm reassurance. We had no intention of charging board or of accommodating the children anywhere other than our own farmhouse.

A flurry of arrangements followed at Margaret’s end.  She posted a letter to us just three days before her departure date, to provide the details of her travel arrangements, and of course a brief telegram in case the letter went astray and she were left standing on a train platform in a strange city. She and the boys were on board the ship when we received this letter:

Netherfield

Landsdowne Ave.

Oaken

Wolverhampton

20th July ‘ 40

My Dear Mr. and  Mrs. Pate,

It is now a whole week since your letters arrived – – your charming wonder letters!! – – why I have delayed so long in writing I can’t explain – – probably because there is so much and  yet so little to say! – so much on …shall I call it the emotional side, but I’m too Scotch to express it! – – so much on the practical side and  yet so little that is definite!

 Yes! No matter how our plans work out – your generous response so willingly expressed will be something to remember for all times! – Our thanks and  appreciation are difficult to convey – – almost impossible, so as this is not a time for words perhaps I’d better leave it at just “Thank you” in the meantime.

   Now about arrangements this end – I shall not weary you with the story of contradictory orders – – wasted forms – – the sudden remake of plans etc. Etc.- – you can just guess that all movements to and  from this country are very indefinite. The only definite fact I can tell you is that the plans are in hand for Barry, Stewart and Malcolm Ferrier to come accompanied by me. – – If, in the first place, I had seen it is my duty to accompany them, we should have sailed last week, but it has been a struggle to come to that decision. I won’t say I have arrived at it under pressure – – that would not be true. – but  Howard, Daddy, and  the Ferriers (my sister Jean is Malcolm’s mother – I think you knew that) are delighted and relieved! I might just mention that the one fact that has helped to convince me that I’m maybe not “running away”…and has curbed my desire to “Go To IT”, is that I know that I have not fully recovered from the operation I had last year. I’m absolutely well and feel grand but I have to put the brake on in time to avoid any trouble.

   Of course I’ll get back here as soon as I see the boys settled and I hope I shall be a real help. I am not coming on a pleasure trip and  surely it will be easier for you if I’m there to help in the strangeness of new surroundings. –

   Obviously I need not write at any length about the boys under this new arrangement, but as you are probably deciding about the “billeting” I feel that I ought to say just a little.

   Well firstly I must answer your question of Barry and Stewart staying together. Actually, the fact that I am willing to leave all such arrangements to you- – and also agree that the burden must be made as light as possible…answers that question. I ought to say that they get on very well together (which does not always follow in a family) although they are so different!

It would be better for everyone if Stewart was where there is another child (or children). Barry will be contented anywhere – he is a very easy child to manage and yet being so sensitive needs sympathetic handling (I’m afraid he’s going to miss his Daddy who is wonderful with him). Stewart is not made in such a fine grain as Barry but is really more attractive. Both are very obedient.

In any case I supposed they’ll be fairly near each other and I am bringing their bicycles.

Now Malcolm is a fine lad – – a great big chap (9 ½) – very bright – – very strong personality – – – He was a very wild difficult child but has responded to his school training and is a pleasure to have about now! The very fact that he is at Boarding School has made him very adaptable and he will settle down anywhere – – he has knocked about too much to be affected for long. He is actually staying with me now on holiday so having 3 together makes them a bit of a handful especially as I don’t like but curb Malcolm too much as he is on holiday. – I might just say that he is not enough older than my 2 boys to be tolerant and of course he doesn’t understand Barry. Perhaps the best way I can put it is that Barry has no guile at all.

   I suppose that all that remains to be said now is that I shall cable you from the ship when and if we are ever on it… I shall get in touch with my 2 young girl cousins –

you may know of them – Linton the name, whose parents are both dead) to meet us in Toronto in passing through and will communicate with you again from there. –

   The money restriction was rather a blow but my husband is wiring to you some suggestions on that point. We are allowed £10 per head and I suppose there will be one or 2 things they’ll need for winter which are unprocurable here. I am doing my best to rig them out.

   And now yes, I must confess it – I am looking forward to seeing you all!— We have set our faces in a certain direction and now we dare not look back. If I waver at all it will only be in secret. I hope you are all well. – All our family are fine and Daddy is very very busy. I hardly ever see Howard, he is so busy and we are just a bit weary with uncertain nights. – All meantime then –

Yours very sincerely

Margaret (Jones)

P. S. it was a change to have letters written on only one side of the paper as yours. Paper is rationed here!

Mary Pate:  Their ship arrived in Halifax on August 20, 1940. The journey to the train station in Brantford took two more days. Margaret indeed stayed to help the boys to settle in, staying much longer than she had intended.

The news on the radio occasionally reported enemy attacks on convoys of ships. I feared that a return crossing would put Margaret’s life in danger, and dropped many hints about having her stay for “the duration”. Margaret’s struggle between maternal instinct and patriotic duty played itself out at our kitchen table, and in long orchard walks which became a real pleasure to me. I wasn’t sure if I was much help to Margaret, but there was no need for us to supervise the children.  Jim and Betty took on that novel task with teenage gusto and creativity. 

In the end,  each had to fight the War in her own way, and Margaret made her choice: By December, now secure in her trust of our family and the boys’ welfare, Margaret resolutely arranged her passage back to England. Her ticket was on the Bodegraven, one of few merchant-navy vessels that permitted civilian passengers. She stayed at our farm for a poignant Christmas with the boys, departing to visit her cousin in Toronto on December 26. Two weeks into the New Year, she travelled to New York, expecting to sail directly to Swansea, leaving on January 17, 1941.

The children received their letters and packages from her before we got our next letter, but it was worth the wait; Her story of travelling with a naval escort, was more exciting  than any wartime newsreel, but also chilling:

                                                                Codsall

                                                                        Nr. Wolverhanpton

                                                                                    2 / 3 / 41.

My dear You — + all

                                                You may not be as surprised as I am to realise that I have been home for over 3 weeks, + this is my first attempt at writing! — I had nearly 2 weeks of being important but quite useless, but now that I’ve started being useful I seem to be swamped with things needing urgent attention. – –  How quickly one falls into responsibilities again.. Truly it is hard to believe that I was away for 6 months.

            Your letter enclosing 2 for me arrive yesterday so I have fairly recent news that you are all well – –  + the very welcome news that the parcel had arrived safely (you’ve probably realized that the 3rd pair of breaches are for Malcolm). On hearing that it had not been posted till Dec., I was very hopeful.

But first of all to give you a little news of the trip- – – None of us expected to be crowded on a small ship for over 3 weeks, when we left New York – – nor did we expect to call at Halifax for 24 hours! – – Yes – – after all the formalities of getting across to the states, we called at Halifax, which was trying for me – -but actually what it amounted to was simply that no women are (or were) being taken from Canada. Twenty-two passengers at New York (11 men and 11 women) …most of the women were like myself .. (mothers leaving children).. then 2 nurses for the American Hospital, Britain – 2 ladies accompanying husbands coming to England on leave (one was the British Consul from Brazil) – then the one who made the trip for me – a Mrs. Makeham- –  a lady of 72 – who was Miss Ida Coward  before her marriage.. the Aunt of Noel Coward. – –  She was a delight!! I sat with her for meals + was in the cabin while her experiences + true anecdotes of people I’d heard of or seen on the stage, were an endless interest! – –  She had a single cabin (of course)+ I was fortunate enough to have one too + there were only 4 single altogether!!

            Most of the American men passengers were doctors – – Three for the American Hospital and the others voluntary – having responded to an appeal by Britain for Doctors from America. Then there was a Dispatch Carrier from Washington – – complete with Dispatch case fastened to his wrist. (It used to amuse me vastly to see him going for his bath with the bag still fastened to his wrist) + a pistol in his belt! He has been making trips regularly + has been torpedoed + bombed!

             We crawled from New York to Halifax with the Fog Horn going all the time + weren’t feeling too bright especially when we were told that there would be no shore leave in Halifax. We got to Halifax about 10 a.m. on Monday + at 4:15 we were told we could go ashore for 2 hours. Ten of us rushed to get ready, and after 3/4 hour in a tug (we were right out in the basin) we explored Halifax for 2 hours. It isn’t much of a place + it was snowing overhead + icy underfoot but somehow it developed into being very hilarious + when we got to the wharf at 7 p. m. everyone was feeling jolly + friendly!! A good thing we were good natured because it was 9 p. m. until we got hold of a launch big enough to take us + the 19 passengers from Halifax out to the old “Bodegraven”[1]. We were cold + hungry + dinner was over + no provision made for a meal so we just had to ransack the pantries!! – anyway, whether it was the Canadian element or what  – –  the whole ship had a wonderful atmosphere for the whole 3 weeks!! – We were short-handed – –  + shocking service + as the ship was built to accommodate only 24 passengers – most of the Canadians had bunks in crew’s quarters that had been fixed up – –  but there were no complaints +  no bad-feeling at all. The Canadians were engineers + are over something to do with armaments).

            The “Bodegraven” is a Dutch Freighter just over 9,000 tons – so you may imagine how different everything was compared with the troop-ship I came over in. – –  All the crew were Dutch except 1 officer – 3 stewards- – + the gunner! Then there were some Chinese + the officer’s steward was a negro – a topping fellow. There were 21 merchant-ships in the convoy – convoyed by 3 corvettes 1 armed converted cruiser. The cruiser left us when we met the British Destroyers about 5 or 6 days from home.. I don’t know when I should have got weary of the trip – but travelling in convoy was most fascinating + never failed to thrill me. – –  I got on to the Bridge before dawn most mornings + saw first one ship then another loom up out of the grey as the light got slowly brighter. – –  the storms (+ we encountered 3) only added to the pleasure. I have now really proved that I’m an excellent sailor + felt grateful not to be laid low like some of the ladies. The biggest effort was getting washed + dressed when the roll was 35º – –  but really I loved it  + felt awfully well. Our chief exercise was skipping because the deck was so small but it was amazing how quickly the days went. We had some very good bridge – darts –(no gambling) + some grand musical evenings. There were some excellent singers amongst the Canadians + we sang until we were hoarse. Believe it or not I was the only pianist on board.

Some of the Canadian boys manned the anti-aircraft guns when we were in the zone dangerous for bombing + took their job very seriously – – Wet or fine they carried on. The Captain was very grateful, but fortunately we had no aeroplanes except our own. – –  The Dutch crew were very gallant although one felt that some of them were not altogether pro-British. It may be a narrow view but nevertheless human to sometimes kick against risking their lives daily to bring supplies to a country who is virtually being forced to starve the Dutch women + children. Then they’ve no reunions to look forward to at the end of the trip altho’ several had letters at Swansea  – –  Just imagine getting into Swansea of all places, but we got ashore on a perfect day + before the big bombing attack! – –  it has had a rough time 10 days ago but I heard that my ship was alright. – –  It had a longish stay in Swansea for repairs caused by the storms.

It would have been trying for children on such a small ship in such rough weather – –  + really dangerous for old people. Mrs. Makeham wisely kept to her cabin. I’m glad the boys had such a wonderful trip out but I must advise that if the trip home wasn’t exactly comfortable, it was vastly interesting.

 England depends for her existence on those little ships ploughing slowly through those heavy seas. Gallant, brave little ships!

            Well, I find my little circle carrying on much as I left them – But they have acquired an indifference to sirens that I have not learned – –  + although everyone seems bright there is certainly a deeper feeling of difficulties ahead. – –  The food problem gets more acute every week. – –  in our district there is no fruit, no chocolate, or sweets, no cheese– –  – – There are plenty of vegetables + of course still some tinned fruit but most people are wisely conserving that for more urgent times. – –  Jam, syrup, etc. are all very scarce – –  the most plentiful foods are bread (so far) – oatmeal + potatoes!! – – We get our full ration of the rationed foods + I think that actually I am eating more than I was before I left for Canada. – I haven’t recovered from the appetite developed on the trip – – but there is not the variation we are used to. – – One can still get quite a good meal in a restaurant e.g. – soup, poultry + heaps of vegetables + pudding (usually apple pie or tinned fruit and custard) + coffee. We have eggs from our own hens but they are very scarce.

            The black-out is very depressing to come back to but already I’m getting used to it.

            Howard is still on night duty alternate weeks at the First Aid Post but is fairly well. I have been in the office this week helping with the coupons for the Rationing for Feeding Stuffs. – –  There is a tremendous lot of work involved – – + all for nothing! – –  I realise how difficult things are for Howard in business – – people are getting impatient + difficult to manage. – – + then there are always so many trying to break the law all the time – – or at least refusing to obey the law if it irks them or affects their pockets. Howard is so honest – – so hopelessly honest that – – well sometimes I wonder that he manages to be a fairly successful man in business.

            You have head about Daddy’s hip operation of course. I think that we can call it successful but the leg is not very strong yet, but the absence of pain is a great relief. He cannot drive the car yet. I was over for nearly a week driving him round. – – He has called on me several times since – – in fact yesterday I rushed over to Shifnal[2] as soon as I could get away + it was dark (7 p.m.) before we got back. It was a stormy, blustery March day but today is delightful- – bright, clear + bracing but not too cold. – I keep imagining you still have snow with you. – I wonder if you do!

The crocuses are nearly out here – – with the promise of other spring flowers – – + then the summer but one is almost afraid of the good weather coming. – – But I must not start talking about probable war developments in this letter or I’ll never finish. I must try to let you know though that I’m sure I did the right thing to come home – – – Even now that the first excitement has passed (+ really no one has time to make much fuss even if they would) + my thoughts naturally turn many many times to the experiences of the last six months + all that I left in Canada, I know that the only thing I could do was to come + share the burdens of war here! – All my people seem to be of the same opinion + yet when I was with you there seemed to be so many arguments against it. – – Howard admits that the thinks about the children more, now that I have left them – – but is never tired of hearing every detail I can remember. – –  good or bad!! – –  Of course he thinks that you are all wonderful – – but then that is my opinion too!! – – All the parents I speak to, envy us having our 2 safely away leading a normal, healthy life! – – And if you know, neither Howard nor I feel that we shall be parted from them for very long – – – although he takes a very serious view of the task ahead without being pessimistic.

            Now I know how difficult it is to get the boys to write + we won’t expect too much. I have a lot of writing to tackle, but I cam going to make a big effort to get at it seriously during the next week or 10 days. After that I shall start writing to Barry and Stewart regularly even if it is just a short note. We talk of them every day – – + I think of you all more than once every day – – – I’d like to mention you all separately Andy, Mary, Marion, Betty, Jim – – + of course Jeanette + I shall certainly try to write to Marion very soon + then I’ll get round to Betty one week. I hope Jim’s boils did not return + that the persistent colds improved!.

            You know they didn’t really believe here that I had got a passage – – especially after the wording of your cable. It was a good thing, since the crossing took so long!! – –

             I have not spoken much this letter about the boys – – or asked questions about you and yours, but I think I ought to finish how. I thought you’d like to hear a little about the trip – – although it all seems a bit of a dream already. Did I really cross the mighty sea? – – those towering waves – – in a little ship – battered but safe – – but taking 3 long weeks? – – And yet it doesn’t feel a bit far to Brantford – – honestly it doesn’t! – –

                        Heaps of love

                                                Margaret

P. S. My big worry at the moment is that my luggage has never arrived!! – it got side-tracked coming from Swansea + cannot be traced. There has been a lot of luggage- stealing in the black out; It is not only worrying but most awkward. I just refuse to believe that it won’t turn up.       

Mary Pate: Margaret’s letter to us for the next four years were sparse, as she and Howard used their rationed paper and stamps to write to the boys. Some letters were written in pencil, which really caused us concern about shortages and economies in England. We probably knew as much about the progress of the War, and  of England’s bleak prospects, from radio and newspaper reports, as they did. Howard and Margaret, and all English farmers, felt the urgency of keeping the troops and the cities supplied with food, even while most of Britain’s farm labourers had crossed the channel in uniform. London’s high school students, both girls and boys, were sent by bus to help farmers bring in their crops. Hints of these arrangements slip into the letters that Barry and Stewart received from home, but of course their parents did not want them to worry about the hardships, the rationing, the long working hours, and the uncertainty about the future. With her children safely far away, Margaret worked a second job as a nurse, while Howard attended civil defense activities including distributing rationed goods,  every evening when it was too dark for field work on the farm. 

Howard’s letter to the boys in November 1942 conceals some of the anguish he obviously felt at not being present. At the best of times, and when living in the same house, children can be scarcely aware of the day to day rhythm of their parents lives. I did my best to get the boys to write of their school progress and their sports activities, but it was clearly a burden, especially for young Stewart. Barry and Stewart began to treat me like an aunt or mother, although I was always addressed as “Mrs. Pate”. Howard’s letters strove to bridge the painful chasm of  time and distance with details of the crops, the chickens and lambs, and news of their neighbours. 

Many British school-children were sent to Canada or the United States during that decade: some were accompanied by a parent; others were sent in organized, chaperoned groups. Those who had relatives in comfortable financial circumstances were the most fortunate. Barry corresponded with school chums (as he called them) who were also living with Canadian families. 

Margaret became my lifelong correspondent, and eventually I was able to visit her in England. Even then, decades after the war, stores of the privations in British homes startled me. She told me of scraping together every bit of butter and sugar that was meant to last for weeks, and making a cake for Barry and Stewart when they arrived home in 1945. Rationing for civilians in Britain continued for many months after the war, but she wanted a proper welcome. The boys found nothing out of the ordinary, of course, as it was common to have baked goods in Canada for the entire period of their stay with us. It took them years to grasp what they had avoided by living in Canada. 

 During wartime, people made many willing sacrifices, but some hardships were the cruel result of governments desperate to hold things together. Citizens of Britain were restricted in how much money they could send to their relatives overseas, even for the care of their own children. Margaret was distraught when this restricting made it impossible for her to send money, but she occasionally sent clothes or other gifts. As a farm family, we experienced some shortages, such as white sugar, but kept ourselves well supplied with food. Other families who took on “war children” were caught flat-footed by the constraints. Barry did not tell us at the time, but we later learned that one of his friends had a very meager diet and threadbare clothes for three years. For growing children, this added pain and indignity to the separation from parents.

I probably berated my own teen-aged children more than I needed to, constantly reminding them that it was a privilege to be able to produce our own pork, beef, milk, butter, and maple sugar, while our city friends relied on ration cards. Farm children had to do more chores, and ours grumbled a bit, as normal teenagers do, but they were uncomplaining for the most part. We wanted for very little during those years. Many town families, and even some rural families, might have been stretched to take on additional children to clothe and feed.

Any wartime hardships on our farm were eclipsed by Andy’s illness. He felt unwell early in 1943, and struggled on but eventually was too weak to do any farm work. When cancer was identified, there was nothing that could be done. He was very ill by the winter of 1943. He died early in March, 1944,  leaving our youngest, seventeen-year-old Jim, to manage the farm while also attending agricultural college. It was a dark time for me. I scarcely remember how Jim rose to the challenges that life set before him.  I do know that I could not have coped without the support of my neighbours, my brothers and brothers-in-law. Betty was finished high school, and should have been away at university, but she stayed at home and took secretarial training. I do not remember asking her or even suggesting that to her. She would not say, but I think one of my sisters prevailed on Betty to stay home, partly for the sake of the little boys. All of my family helped Jim keep the farm running while I was enveloped in a cloud of grief and weariness. The bouncy, noisy, cheerful presence of Barry and Stewart probably keep me going, from day to day. Margaret was far away, powerless to assist, but heartbroken over this sad turn of events.

Margaret Jones:                                    COPLEY,

                                    COPLEY,

                                                 PATTINGHAM,

                                                            WOLVERHAMPTON

Monday, March 13th, 1944

My Dear Mary,

Your cable took a week to come so it was Saturday when we had your news – – a whole week – – + an unforgettable one for you – – Even this afternoon I thought (for of course you have all been our only thought all week-end), “no, I can’t write to Mary yet awhile” – – but sat down to write to Barry + Stewart! And I just couldn’t start – – I just have no idea how my boys will react to death – – how they will react in a family bereaved + grief-stricken. And then I knew that you were the only one I wanted to write to, even although I have nothing to say that will help you in any way. How can I even begin to know how you feel? I can talk about blankness + unreality + pain but what does it all really mean? – – You have to come through your dark vale alone + in spite of the lights that those who love you try to shine, it is a dreary road for a while. —

I suppose this is where I should be talking about Andy + I would like to try to express my abounding admiration + respect for him – – but it’s really only you I have in mind

– – – There are so many things I’d like to say about you that I am choked! – – I’ve never been used to making speeches – – – but it is unbearable to me to know that one so kind, unselfish, + sympathetic as you should be having all this trouble + I can do nothing to help – – I hope you are well though, Mary, + I’m sure Marion + Betty + Jim have been wonderful. – – I hope that Andy did not have to suffer too much + that you [were] spared that ordeal – – I don’t want to intrude even slightly into what belonged to you + Andy alone, but I must tell you the impression that Howard + I have had this last year – – That is, that you + Andy “lived” that year, knowing of the parting ahead – – It’ll be something for you to remember always – –

I can’t expect you to write very soon but it will be wonderful to hear from you – – Soon we must talk about what your outlook is now about Barry + Stewart – – The daily round has to go on + although your gallant family are ready to fight for you now, they’ll be needing you even more than they did before  + there will be business decisions to make etc. Etc. – – Barry + Stewart mustn’t make  your burden heavier – – Who ever would have dreamt when they came, that Andy wouldn’t be there to bid them God speed on their homeward journey? – – It is good to know that they were part of his family for 3 years though, + they’ll always remember him + as they grow older, realise more, what a good friend he was! – – Who knows what far-reaching good will come from Andy’s influence on them? – – I like to think, Mary, that it was an inspiration to send them to you – – we were so sure that it was a good idea, that there must be some reasons for it —-

   I’ll write again whenever I hear from you – – Love to you all with a special thought + prayer for yourself —  Margaret

P. S. I’m enclosing just a note for the boys.

                                                 PATTINGHAM,

                                                            WOLVERHAMPTON

Monday, March 13th

My Dearest Boys,

                    This is just a short note this week because I wanted to write to Mrs. Pate – –  You see I’ve been thinking of her more than of you since we had the cable about Mr. Pate. – I hope you have both been able to help her a little. — –

                    And you have lost Mr. Pate – –  that means you have lost a very great friend – – a fine Gentleman who has been more than good to you. –

                    People die every day of course, but it is always a sad loss when someone like Mr. Pate dies – – A loss to his family, who love him and a loss to the community where he was of great use. Someone will  have to take his place – Jim will try to do so – so you’ll have to try to take Jim’s place won’t you? – –

          By the time this reaches you the skating and sledging will be over for another winter – –  yes and I think that this “Second Front” we are all expecting will be on the go – –  I think, if Mr. Pate could have chosen, he would like to have seen the end of this dreadful war – – I hope that it won’t be very long now- – maybe even before the corn we are already planting has been harvested – – yes, the seasons come and go, war or peace, life or death, and the spring work is in full swing. . .

          Daddy says he is writing to you —

                    All my Love,

                              Mummy

                                        xxx   O   xxx

Postmark:

Wolverhampton, Staffordshire

March 14, 1944

received: April 6, 1944.

Betty Pate: My mother’s extensive family were a great help to us. After a delay to remain with my mother, I left to study in Toronto at the end of the war. My widowed mother strove  on her own to secure all the permits to allow Barry and Stewart, by then 11 and 9, to travel by rail from Brantford to New York, and depart by ship without an adult. I got a letter advising me of their train schedule from Brantford to Toronto. Of course it was expected that I would meet them, help them to change trains and see them off on their way to Buffalo and then New York. By themselves.

I don’t know what undid me more: was it the idea of sending them, unaccompanied, on a Transatlantic journey? Was it the loss of two dear boys who had become almost like real brothers, in the  time that they were in our home. I waited with them on the noisy platform at Union Station,  where normal conversation was nearly impossible.  By the time they had boarded, with much enthusiastic waving, my throat ached from the effort of not crying. I was the last of all of our family to hug them and send them off.

If the boys were sad to leave or anxious about travelling  unaccompanied, the excitement of adventure and of returning to their parents carried the day, especially for Barry. He remembered his parents clearly. Stewart allowed himself to shed a tear or two, as his recollections of home had dimmed a bit. He saw “Mrs. Pate” and me as surrogate mothers, and Jim as his own oldest brother. I was not at home to catch my brother shedding a tear, and he would never admit to missing the boys.  He used to joke that, after then were gone, they were not cousins once removed but twice removed. This I dismiss as a young man’s bravado: he was as attached to those young ruffians as I was.

My mother was astonished by young Barry’s sang-froid as he cheerily helped her pack his belongings into the British valise he had brought with him four years earlier. While Mother fretted about the travel details, Barry reassured her: “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pate! We’ve done this before, remember?”  But of course he had not: nearly four years earlier, Margaret managed all the paperwork and made all the connections, and now an eleven-year-old was in charge. What could possibly go wrong?

My mother worried needlessly, as was her nature. Barry and Stewart Jones, my wartime brothers, set off to complete their adventure, by train and ship. Reunited with their parents after an uneventful ocean crossing, they quickly returned to English farm life and school. They were teased for their Canadian way of speaking and for the Canadian wardrobe that had replaced their outgrown British school-boy clothes.

 At first their letters were enthusiastic and detailed and included drawings.  I heard their voices in my head as I read them. Then, gradually, their lives moved on. The Pate Farm also moved on, with Jim in charge, me away at school and no more children riding bicycles up and down the lane. I suppose my life moved along too, but I carried the pain of saying good-bye to the boys. They had made a home in my heart in a relatively short space of time. 

Eventually, Barry became a doctor, and Stewart went into business. In 1962 a letter arrived to inform me of Barry’s death from a heart attack. I wept freely, as I had not let myself do when we parted on the train platform in Toronto almost twenty years earlier. 

Stewart Jones, 2016:

 In 1940, at the height of the war, when aged 6 my brother (aged 8) and I were invited to stay with the Pate family at Brantwood Farm in order to escape the rigours of the war in England. The Pates were related to my mother’s family, the Wilsons, both originally from Scotland.

From the outset the whole Pate family were enormously hospitable to us and treated us very much as part of their own family, and we were made equally welcome in the wider community as well. I really do have wonderful memories of those years in Canada in spite of the background of the war and the separation from my own parents. In particular I remember Betty with love and gratitude because she was the one who was living at home during this period and spent the greatest time in looking after us and being part of our growing up at such a critical time. She has since said that she regarded us as her own brothers and that is how it felt to us at the time too. Betty entertained us, taught us how to behave and taught us the value of contributing to the overall welfare of the family, all in her own lovely way and in spite of being only a teenager herself. Betty was very much a part of our growing up  and I have always been very grateful for that. 

 Ann McRae:

Stewart Jones’ comments were read at Betty’s funeral in 2016.


[1]     The Dutch steamship Bodegraven was torpedoed and sunk by a German u-boat on July 2, 1944. See this site for a photograph: http://uboat.net/allies/merchants/ships/3278.html

[2]     Shifnal – a village in Shropshire NorthWest of Wolverhampton.