All these wonderful stories that appear under my name, are recollections of World War Two, and are written by the ladies and gentlemen themselves. They all appeared under the titles: 'War Memories' and 'Girls on the Home Front'. Thanks to the ´óÏó´«Ã½, they should now live on forever.
Forward from 'Girls on the Home Front'.
How time is flying. Already we are talking years since I first sat down to put together your collective reminiscences of a world at war. I for one, never realised just how much time and dedication I would need, to actually produce that first manuscript, and gain the interest of a reputable publisher, in what we knew would be a most interesting book. Thankfully, as we learned together about the difficulties, and the stumbling blocks that I’d almost broke my neck on, ‘WAR MEMORIES’ finally invaded the shelves of book shops nation-wide; some shipping out to Europe, Canada and even as far as Australia.
‘GIRLS ON THE HOME FRONT’, the second book in the series, is for the ladies. It has been an infinitely portentous, yet wonderfully exciting adventure, gathering together this special collection, as we all know just what ladies are. Some of these stories, stories that began as just casual remarks, once touched upon, rapidly progressed into epics. One tiny splash of ink scribbled on a page that was to flow across five decades, unfazed by time and distance to become a very informative and narrative masterpiece. I learned quickly, that these ladies could write as captivatingly as they could talk and believe me, it wasn’t to be long before they procured my fullest attention.
As the photographs began to arrive on my desk, my imagination was far from halted - only fuelled - as I at last could fill in the missing faces from my adventures. The months alone, in my own little attic, reading typing, amending and adding, painstakingly rummaging through each story over and over again, began to have the strangest effect on me. I experienced life alongside these girls as each written moment was relived. I stood and watched, whilst many of them were forced to leave their childhood behind as so much of the world became ravaged by war. A most frightening and worrying time. individual story holds out its arms for recognition here, and individual story cries out for recognition here, and deservedly so. Even now, after all these months of work I still feel their embracing presence; I still feel their commanding authority and most of all, the sheer insatiable ambience of a closeness that I have never felt before.
What is the reason for such clarity of memory? Is it due to the fact that this war which had raged across the globe for so many years, had demanded such intense sacrifice and extreme emotions of the World’s youth that it is so impossible for them to forget? Or is it just simply as I said earlier? Time passes by so quickly: Five years, fifty years. What’s the difference? It was only yesterday?
Prepare yourself now for a journey through life as it really was. You will not come across the glamour of the big screen here, nor its phoney plastic heroes; or for that matter, those strange and compelling characters of the well versed professional writers imagination.This, I will tell you, is for real.
At the end of the day when all is quiet, sit down and put your feet up. When you know, that there will be no disturbance whatsoever, put that cushion behind your head, switch off from your day’s routine and switch on your reading lamp. Let your fingers come into contact with the very soul of the book to enable the release of its powers. Touch carefully, touch lovingly and its absolute intensity will take you.... It will take your mind, it will take your body, in fact it will take your whole being back to a time, that we more fortunate ones could only ever, - more normally - imagine. But be warned.....You’d better pack your gas mask.
Ian Billingsley.
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