18, Balfour St,

Attercliffe,

Sheffield.

18^th June 1916.

My dearest Tommy,

Thank you for your latest letter. Despite the scarcity and usual brevity of your letters you always sound so cheerful and optimistic in them and such things warm a mother’s heart. Is it possible for you to write to me more often? Mrs Simpkin-Watt tells me that her son, Henry, writes to her almost every week without fail. I know Henry is a subaltern and you are a private soldier, and perhaps therefore he has more time to write home, but perhaps you could find the time to write to me a little more frequently?

As an aside, do you ever come across Henry in your day to day duties? You were great chums at school, and it would cheer me somewhat to think that you were looking out for each other.

I know you are still annoyed with your father, for attempting to pull strings with his business contacts in order to have you commissioned, but you must understand that he was only thinking of your best interests, and that he was equally annoyed with you for refusing the offer when it came. It’s all very well you wishing to remain in the ranks, but with your education and background your father does have a point when he says that it is your duty to lead. I must say, however, that I find this bickering about commissions and duty somewhat tiresome, when all I wish for is your safe return.

That said, Tommy, I do have more pressing concerns at the moment. When I was visiting your father’s factory the other day, I overheard some of the factory women talking. Some of the things they were saying cannot be repeated in decent company. But to summarise, they were saying that France is full of dens of iniquity, which trap our brave troops. One was saying that she’d learnt from a friend that French civilians had set up bars called Estimates, where our troops could drink as much alcohol as they liked, gamble whenever they wanted, and, most shockingly, meet up with ladies of the night. To their credit, all the women seemed shocked, and one stated quite openly that if she found out that her husband had been visiting one of these Estimates then she would skin him alive. Another declared that her son would never dream of visiting such an establishment, him once being an alter-boy and all. But the others just laughed, and said when away from home in a foreign country then how could their men-folk resist such temptations and that the French and British authorities should be ashamed of themselves for allowing such establishments to flourish.

Such was my shock at hearing this news; I broached the subject with Mrs Simpkin-Watt when taking our usual Friday afternoon high-tea together at the Victoria Hotel. She said that she’d heard similar rumours a few months ago and had sought assurances from Henry that he was in no moral danger. She told me that Henry had written back to her immediately assuring her that although such establishments did exist, called Estaminet not Estimates, the officers frequented establishments, when off-duty, that were merely cafes and bars and that he had never personally witnessed any gambling nor nefarious goings-on, and that he would never condone such immoral behaviour. Unfortunately, this only served to heighten my own concerns i.e. that is all very-well for the officers but where did the ordinary soldiers go when off-duty?

This is a very difficult subject for a mother to broach with her son, Tommy – I do wish that you and your father were on speaking terms – but I feel that I must warn you against visiting such establishments. If they are as bad as the rumours say they are then I must warn you that by just visiting these places of drunkenness and debauchery then you are in severe danger of becoming disease ridden and morally corrupt, which would damn you for the rest of your days. I do understand the temptations that young men face, and how difficult it must be to resist. But I implore you to think of your future peace of mind, to think of Dora and the wonderful future life you undoubtedly have together, and not to throw away all of that for easy pleasures now.

If not for your father’s sake, then for mine, please reconsider your refusal to accept a commission and thus take yourself, like Henry, out of moral danger.

Your ever loving Mama

Hilda May

© John Sales 2009