Tommy

By

Phyllis Handley

At the age of fourteen Thomas began his working life as a farm labourer. "You will be our third generation, to work for the Cliftons on this farm" Harry proudly told his son. Six years later after the out break of World War Two, Thomas joined the army. In a small way that was of some relief to his mother, who often said "Well I'm glad our Tommy joined the army to do his fighting. At least his feet will always be on firm ground. "

After twelve months their son's letters from the far east suddenly stopped coming and at first his parents couldn't understand why. There were rumours then eventually official confirmation, that Thomas was a prisoner of war.

Thirty-nine months later his parents received another official letter, informing them of Thomas's repatriation but, because of his general health he would be staying at one of their military hospitals. If they so wished his parents were at liberty to visit their son at anytime, and included some general directions on how to find and reach the place.

Harry asked Mr Clifton if he could exchange his day off from Sunday to Saturday as no buses ran a service anywhere near the hospital on Sundays.

"Let's leave things as they are" Mr Cliton suggested "It will be easier all round if I take you both in my car on Sunday afternoon. Anyway I want to be one of the first to welcome him back. Did they tell you what is wrong with Tommy? Any mention which prisoner of war camp he was in?"

"No. Nothing like that. But thank God he wasn't in Belson."

Thomas knew Mr Clifton was bringing his parents to visit that Sunday afternoon and he recognised them as soon as they entered the ward. Sitting on the edge of his bed he began waving and calling "Mum, mum. Dad, dad I'm over here" because he was so physically weak and over come with excitement every time he stood up his legs buckled, and he sat down again.

It was his mother who reached him first and without any hesitation, both were kissing, crying, and laughing with relief to be seeing each other again.

Harry felt totally useless and didn't know what to do, so he remained standing just staring at his son. Tommy had gone completely bald and Daisy kept stroking his skull and repeating "Never mind baby. Never mind you're home."

Tommy was so thin that Harry felt too frightened to touch him and kept looking at Mr Clifton for help, but he was just stood there with tears rolling down his face. Mr Clifton knew the feeling of shock and grief when he lost his eldest son on D-day but, this was different. In total disbelieve he stared at Tommy, and wondered where his big strapping farm hand had disappeared to. Where was that man he had watched grow up from a baby? A patient in the next bed asked him "Are you his uncle?" And Mr Clifton found it easier to lie so replied "Yes."

The man moved his body to make room for Mr Clifton to sit down "Here you are mate" he said and gave him a towel from his bedside locker "It always affects people the first time they see us. We've been told it's shock, so you cry if you want to, we're used to it."

When Harry saw Mr Clifton sit down, he finally moved and sat on the other side of Tommy. Gently patting Tommy's boney knee managed to whisper "Hello son."

Eventually Thomas was allowed home, and like many others he didn't talk about his years of existence on that Burma railway. And like many parents Daisy and Harry didn't know what questions to ask and thought it best that ‘The least said, the sooner mended'

But like many parents, one of them was always by his bedside every time his screaming and shouting woke him up from a bad dream. Regardless of the weather his bedroom window would be opened and Thomas would quietly sit there, while two cups of tea were made and brought back upstairs. These would be drunk in silence except for an odd flutter from the candle. His bed would be remade and he would get back in then apart from the words "Good night God bless son" theirs was a comforting and healing silence.

For the first few weeks after his return home, no one could understand why Thomas always began sweating and shaking whenever he tried to eat a ‘proper'dinner. His parents would feel helpless as they watched him leave the table, put on his jacket and then go for walk across the fields. After a few hours he would return, say nothing and carry on as usual.

It was Daisy's common sense and determination which finally solved his eating problem. By elimination she worked out it was root vegetables. So one day she only gave him meat, peas, cabbage and gravy with a big slice of bread. He ate and enjoyed the lot and finally wiped his plate clean with a second piece of bread.

After that day Thomas's health and physical condition improved and providing no root vegetables of any kind were put on his plate he continued to eat everything. In his own time, Tommy gradually increased his working week from two mornings to a normal six days.

Harry also discovered that Tommy could dig their garden but, couldn't plant any seeds or harvest any root vegetables without shaking, sweating and suddenly walking away.

Mr Clifton never forgot his first sight of Tommy in the military hospital. So he made sure all of Tommy's work never included anything which would upset him.

Tommy never married, although he had been a 'lady's man' before the war. He didn't become a hermit or unsociable in any way but he never started a conversation or went out of his way for anyone's company.

As a young lad Tommy sang in the local church choir and was always known to have 'a good pair of lungs' but, after the war he never went inside any church, and regardless of the occasion, could never be persuaded to sing again.

After Harry's stroke Tommy and his mother nursed him at home for several years. When Harry died, some of the villagers thought it was very unusual that he only had a crematorium service before being cremated but, they willing admitted, it was good when Tommy stood up and said, 'some nice things about his dad.'

Five years later on Easter Sunday Daisy suddenly suffered a heart attack, she was taken into hospital and within three days she died in Tommy's arms. Daisy's funeral arrangements were the same but to a slightly bemused congregation this time Tommy unexpectedly stood up and started to sing the carol Silent Night. Then after taking their lead from the vicar, everyone joined in. Except for Tommy there wasn't a dry eye in the crematorium, yet no-one really understood why they were crying.

Tommy continued to work on the farm and live in the same cottage for the rest of his life. Gradually all the farm cottages were modernised with a bathroom and electricity but other than a radio he never bothered to buy anything electrical.

The cottage garden was completely transformed and replanted with fruit bushes, and one Silver Birch tree. Tommy couldn't eat all the fruit himself so he asked his neighbours to 'help themselves.' No-one understood the significance of the Silver Birch other than Tommy often sat on the grass beneath it.

Tommy kept the cottage and himself spotlessly clean. He gradually gave away or burnt anything he didn't use or need, and everywhere was painted white. Whenever any carpets and mats wore out, they were never replaced, so eventually only floor boards and tiles remained.

The kitchen furniture consisted of one family size table, two kitchen chairs and one armchair. It was the only room to have any curtains at a window, yet the cottage always felt cosy because his range fire never went out.

Tommy was sixty seven when he died, but he did not die alone. Even his death was very similar to his life, quiet and without any fuss. One evening he told his neighbour that he felt tired and was going to bed early. Later that evening her instincts made her want to go and see him. When she telephoned the doctor all she could say was "I don't like the look of him."Their local doctor was kind enough to understand her vague diagnosis, but also knew she wouldn't waste his time. After his examination the doctor said "His body has had enough, and he is giving up. Let him go peacefully.

The younger generation of the Cliftons arranged his funeral at the crematorium Amongst Tommy's few possessions was some recent letters. They contacted each one to tell them of Tommy's death and where and which day the funeral would be held.

At the funeral service some villagers were surprised at the number of strangers who came to the crematotium. They instantly had respect for an elderly gentleman who with the aid of a walking stick limped to the dais and spoke to them. He briefly explained that during World War Two some of the British military had experienced a rather bad time while serving as prisoners of war in the far east. "But we survived." He said triumphantly "And it's thanks to Tommy that many of us survived afterwards. When we were repatriated back to England, it was necessary for many of us to stay in hospital. While we were there Tommy suggested that for the rest of our lives we should all keep in touch with one another. Not reunions. But by letter. Between ourselves we did a lot of talking in that hospital ward, finally coming to the conclusion how, in their own way, everyone suffered during the war, and now it was all over they would just like to get on with their lives."

He went on to explain that over the following years it had been a relief to write to each other. It didn't matter what anyone was worried about whether it was medical, financial or even matrimonial problems. Someone would know or find out the answer to that particular problem. "If you like we were the original Self Help Group."

After the funeral the Clifton family invited everyone back to a buffet lunch they had prepared at their farmhouse. It was while they were there and talking to Tommy's old comrades that many of the villagers began to understand him better. One man told them that he would miss receiving his regular letter from Tommy because Tommy's letters always made him laugh and cheered him up no end. Another told them how Tommy had risked his life to steal a bit of stinking rice, and then shared an equal half with him. "They buried him in a hole for that. Two days in that heat buried with just his head sticking out of the ground. It's just something you can't or even want to forget" he mumbled.

Some books have been written and even a film made about the Burma railway which must have mentally helped a large number of people. But, perhaps it was the book that couldn't, and now, will never be written, that would have helped the likes of Tommy and his family.

So when it comes to remembrance day and you only buy a poppy because you think you should, or you didn't know how to refuse. Think of Tommy. Try to think of him for one second, then smile, and buy a poppy in memory of Tommy - please.

The End.

Phyllis Handley.