Chapter 104

From the Memoirs of Grace Bailey -

Hub looked very handsome and grown up in his white dress cap and blue jacket and bell bottom trousers. I hardly recognized the gangly thirteen-year-old boy who had been so angry and in so much pain after his father's death. Now, he seemed much happier and at ease with himself.

I told him that it seemed that joining the RCNVR was the right decision. He looked at me thoughtfully. "It was the only thing I could do. We both know what Hitler and fascism are. Besides, I have no right to make war profits from my stock in the family mining company if I sit safely at home while others risk their lives for our country. I once told you that this was my generation's struggle, and it is. I just hope that by crushing fascism we can make sure that your child never has to fight in a war."

I had to brush away tears on hearing that. "I'm proud of you, Hub. I know my brother would be too if he could see what a fine young man his son has grown into."

… I asked if he was remembering to write to his parents. He assured me that he was. He had just received a letter from Max that very day. When I asked him about the contents, he reluctantly admitted that his stepfather also had something to say about his joining the RCNVR. His letter tried to give an inkling of what war was like based on his own experiences. I was surprised. From what Honey told me, Max never talked about what he had been through with the Canadian Corps in the last war.

"I think there's a reason for that," said Hub frowning. "He makes it sound pretty gruesome. Maybe I should just give you the gist of his letter."

I nixed that idea. "Whatever he has to say can't be worse than what Van told me about his experiences in Spain or what I actually saw in Barcelona."

Hub shrugged his shoulders and fished the letter from a stack of five or six on his writing table. Then he handed it to me to read. What Max had to say was surprisingly bitter coming from the cheerful, good-natured man I knew.

Max Sutton to Hubert Bailey Feb. 1, 1939

… When I joined the army at eighteen, I thought I was bound for glory, adventure, and manhood. Adventure turned out to be lying in a muddy shell hole soiling my trousers because I was so scared that the next bullet or shell meant my finish. Glory was just a word they put on monuments for the poor devils who didn't make it back. I saw what war does to boys. It doesn't make them men. It does everything in its power to reduce them to animals without sympathy or compassion, only a raging hunger for survival.

Don't misunderstand. What my friends in the Canadian Corps and I did had to be done but it wasn't life. It was a walk through the kingdom of death. It was only when I returned home and became a teacher that I truly began to live. It was only when I met and married your mother and became a father to her children that my life became complete. What I am trying to say is that you don't become a man by fighting and killing. You become a man by living up to your responsibilities to yourself and to others.

I have seen the kindness and respect with which you consistently treat others. You have a decency and a maturity in you beyond your years. I am confident that you will not let the hardships and cruelty of war take them from you. Hopefully, being in the navy, you will be spared much of the grinding misery that my friends and I went through in the infantry. However, no matter where you go from here, no matter how long and hard your road, your mother and I will always love you and we will always pray that God will be with you through all fear and danger.

From the Journal of Grace Bailey - vol. 4, 1918/Jan.-Feb., 1939. Feb. 3, 1939

Elaine was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Hub and I came down. She asked me if I wanted to see her tools. When I said yes, she sent Hub off to tell her parents that she and I would be along soon. When we were alone, she looked at me unhappily and said, "I suppose you're right about housework. I just don't want it to be all I do for the rest of my life."

My heart went out to the poor girl, she looked so dejected. "I don't want it to be all I do for the rest of my life either. However, for some women that's all they need, especially if they're doing it for those they love."

Elaine took my meaning. She wouldn't have looked so miserable with guilt if she hadn't. Hopefully, she will be more respectful of her mother in the future. I gave her my most enthusiastic smile. "Why don't you show me the work you do enjoy doing?"

She brightened instantly and led me by the hand into the garage. She also showed me her mother's car, a 1935 Pontiac sedan. Her joy as she explained how its standard six engine got almost as much horsepower as the previous year's straight eight was a beautiful thing to see. I wish her parents could see how much being a mechanic means to her. Some parents are so reluctant to see that their children are growing up and the time has come for them to choose their own paths. I hope I'm not that way when my child is Elaine's age.

Hubert Bailey to Honey Sutton, Feb. 3, 1939

… Aunt Grace was glad to hear that life was easier between me and Elaine now that we talk about cars most of the time instead of how she doesn't want to hear a word I have to say. "She could be a nice girl if life would just give her some space to breathe." Then came the hint.

"Maybe even worth getting to know better."

"You're going a little fast, Aunt Grace. Work and the RCNVR take up all my time."

She wasn't fooled by the excuse. "And you miss Anna."

I admitted that it was true. I couldn't understand why she smiled so brightly until she explained that she had news of Anna from Al Cohen. She is reunited with her family. They are all safe in America. I don't mind telling you that I'm relieved.

Grace Mainwaring to Max Sutton Feb. 3, 1939

Here's hoping this reaches New Bedford before I do. I finished your latest draft of Miner's Son tonight and just couldn't wait to tell you that it was one of the most deeply moving things I have ever read. Your rewrite of the ending to reflect what actually happened when your father was dying is what the play needed. It finally rings true all the way through.

I just wish you could have it produced without taking the chance of hurting Del. It would be too easy for me to condemn him for refusing to visit his father on his deathbed. I haven't lived his life or suffered what he suffered.

What you and he went through as children was heart wrenching. Your father really makes me appreciate my own. Father spanked me with the hairbrush a couple of times and was harder on my brothers. However, he often found another way and never laid a hand on us on a whim or because he was in a bad mood. We respected his discipline, but we didn't live in the kind of day in/day out mortal fear you evoke so vividly. Sorry to go on, but, when you're going to be a parent, you think a lot about how you were treated as a child and how you hope to treat your own child.

I will speak to Mother about her threat to refuse to give her speech to the king and queen when they visit New Bedford unless I'm allowed to be part of the I.O.D.E. delegation. As the only one of the town's two founders who is still with us, her presence on the platform is vital.

Next Week: Burdens and responsibilities. Good news and shame. Parental concern. Toppy's big surprise.