大象传媒

The following is a letter written by Raymond Le Page in 1945, at the age of 18, to his parents in Guernsey, after five years enforced separation due to the occupation of the Channel Islands by the Nazis.

Ray was evacuated along with hundreds of other children (but not his younger brother) to England, the first time he had ever left Guernsey, and he had no contact whatsoever with his family during the entire five years.

Shortly before the end of the war, he had enlisted in the British Army, and it was while on a troopship bound for India, early in 1945, that he began the letter. Taking several months to complete, the letter was finally sent just as the cessation of war in Europe, and the liberation of the Channel Islands, were announced.

This is the second part of a verbatim typed copy of the original hand-written letter sent by Ray to his parents and brother. The original hand-written version is currently in his possession at his residence in Painswick, Gloucestershire, having been discovered in his mother鈥檚 private papers after her death in Guernsey in 1985.

It is now nearing the end of April, and being Sunday afternoon, with little to do for a change, I am once again going to spend some time writing. Once again, I鈥檒l try to pick up the threads, and carry on with my story.

While I was at Inverness I went to Edinburgh on a three-day War Office Board, to be selected to take a commission. I passed, and consequently went to Wrotham, in Kent, to begin my training for this commission. It was here that the question of India first came up. We were asked for volunteers, as the army out here was badly in need of more young officers. I would have gone immediately, but hesitated for a long time on account of the desire of mine to get home to Guernsey as soon as possible after the liberation. After interviewing the Brigadier, however, I found that if I didn鈥檛 volunteer, there was a 10:1 chance that I should be sent out here regardless of what I wanted. Therefore I volunteered, and went on embarkation leave to Leeds and Chester. From here, I went to an assembly centre in London, along with all the rest of the lads who had been with me at Wrotham, and after a really wonderful ten days in London, we embarked at Liverpool for India. The journey out was very long and tiring, but more than made up for all the hardships by its interest. Even in a troopship, travelling half-way round the world is a marvellous experience.

The train journey from Bombay up here to Mhow, Central India, was just about the biggest eye-opener I have ever had, I think. The whole conception of life is different here. Time seems to have no meaning or significance. It is indeed a land of contrast, this India. A land of hunger, poverty and incredible living conditions, too. But again, the details can wait till we can chat about all these things later on. Here, at O.T.S., living conditions are perfect. What with servants, etc, I really am thoroughly enjoying it. The climate is very hot, but it鈥檚 preferable to the freezing cold I experienced in Bonnie Scotland 鈥� at least in my estimation. The training is pretty hard, and it involves a lot of brainwork, something I had got rather unused to in the past 10 or 11 months in the ranks. Sometimes, too, the responsibility of taking men into the battlefield, and maybe having their lives in your own hands, is a little frightening.

Yet, if it is thought by those who should know, that I, and others of my age, can do this duty, then I shall try to carry out my duties as an officer to the very best of my mind and body. It will be a hard task, but we are fighting for a great cause, and we have all to put a great deal into it if real victory is to be ours.

I shall once again go off at rather a tangent, but there are a few more thoughts I鈥檇 like to express before closing this letter.

The first is this. A number of people who knew me before I joined up, were of the very firm opinion that I should be very sorry that I ever joined up. That there were many possibilities I might not come back was one which was never put forward, but at the back of their minds. It was too hard a life. I was probably ruining my 鈥渃areer鈥�. All these, indeed, were possibilities, but no more; even if they had turned out to be facts, they would have been, and still would be, worthwhile. But let me just deal with the last one. If my career is ruined, I shall only be one of many who will be in the same position. And again, I believe a man must make the best of the circumstances at any given time. Don鈥檛 think I threw away great possibilities 鈥� it was done with a great purpose. The possibilities are still there, too. I can still take up my scholarship after this war is over, that is, if circumstance proves providential. At the moment, I can make no definite plans at all, there are too many things which might affect them in the future, and things are so insecure in this world today that it鈥檚 best to let things take their course, and grasp opportunities as they come.

As for being sorry I joined the Army, I鈥檝e never been so glad of anything in my life. It has made a man (I hope) out of a boy. It has made me self-confident to look after myself and others, too, and more than anything, it has made my thinking and actions more mature than would have ever been possible under any other circumstances. It has given me a chance to live with and study people of every temperament, means, and of a number of nationalities. It has enabled me to make the best of friends it is possible to have. Never before, or in the future, will I be able to feel such 鈥榗amaraderie鈥� as I do now, and have done since the spring of 1944. Such experiences as you, Dad, will know, are not easily forgotten, and rarely underrated.

The Army too, makes you realise how good are the simple, homely things of life. Never before have I, or any others of my friends with whom I have talked intimately, felt or thought as we do now. Especially since coming to India, have we realised this. My greatest ambition in life now, is to have a home, with a family of my own, which I can love with the great love I feel within me for something, which, as yet, is not mine. At the age of eighteen, this may be somewhat of a startling statement to make, yet I feel much older in my thoughts and hopes. Surely there is no greater blessing in this life for a man than the reciprocated love of a good and lovely woman. And surely there is no lovelier thing than the face of a little child. It may be I shall not find these till I return to my island home. It may be that I will. My greatest hopes are yet to come.

Strangely enough, it is here I find I have changed the most, and this in the last four months or so. In 鈥淏lighty鈥�, I was all out for a good time, and I can鈥檛 say I didn鈥檛 get it. Nor can I say that I don鈥檛 want it now, but there are things now which would supersede mere pleasure and good times. There is real and great happiness even in this sordid world, if only you can find it.

Looking back at what I write, I find that there are many things I have written and many I have not. There are many things I think now which neither you nor I could have thought when we were at home together. But times have changed, and my mind has been broadened more than even I sometimes realise by the experiences I have gone through in the last five years. But it will probably be best to wait till we can talk by our own fireside again, till we can feel ourselves as one, before we go into all this. A letter has certain restrictions, one can鈥檛 say everything one would like for one reason or another. Let鈥檚 hope the time is not far distant when Phyl, Arthur, Alma and I are all walking with you and all at home over the Common and down along the beautiful bays and rocks I have so clearly in my mind just now. The news of the war in Europe is great, and it surely cannot be long now before Guernsey is once again the free land it used to be. I myself have great hopes that the islands being liberated, I shall be able to get compassionate leave from India, when my course here finishes in September and I become a 2nd Lieutenant. If this turns out, I shall be the happiest man in the world.

I know too, that it will come as a shock to you when you learn that I am in the Army and so far away. I have tried to show you just why I am, and I know that you, who have been so brave, will in your hearts believe that I have done the right thing and know that it is worth while.

Tell all this to Reuben too, for he will be a young man now. How I have missed him, too, his kiddy pranks and always happy face. When I have met Phyl, or Alma, or Arthur, we have often talked of him, wishing he could have been with us. Yet this was not to be, and his, as so often, was to be the hardest lot of us all. God bless him!

I feel that I must close now for good. There is little more to say in a general letter like this 鈥� there will be days and days to talk when we meet again. So, until then, I shall say au revoir. My love goes out to everyone at home, and especially to Granp猫re, of whom I鈥檝e had no news other than that he was ill. So until the day comes when we meet again in 鈥淢ontreuil鈥�, my love to you all,

Your very loving son,

Ray

4 May 1945

Praise God! At last this terrible war in Europe is over, and my own little home will be free. Darling Mum and Dad, and Reuben too, what must be your feelings now that you will, after so long, be free? I shall probably never be able to gauge them, but how terrifically happy I am for you all at home. I can鈥檛 tell you how I feel exactly, it鈥檚 just a little too much for words. But I thank God, as I have never done before, for your deliverance. It was last night that I heard Churchill, that great old man, say over the radio 鈥渁nd our dear Channel Islands will be free!鈥�

There is a Jersey boy here with me in the same Company, and it was as if a great load had been lifted from our shoulders. And now, my one great desire is to get back home, for at least a little while, to see you all once again. We both, this Jerseyman and I, are going to raise heaven and earth to get compassionate leave at the end of the course here. It won鈥檛 be before the end of August, but if I can even get it then, there won鈥檛 be a happier man on God鈥檚 earth than I. So God bless you, and here鈥檚 looking forward to our reunion in 鈥楳ontreuil鈥� in the very near future. I shall send this letter through Chester to make sure it reaches you. I shall also write a short one sometime today or tomorrow and send it direct in the hope that it will come straight through.

Well then, till we meet again, all my love to you all at home (how lovely that word sounds) and pray God it will be very soon when we are one again.

Your very loving son,
Raymond.

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