– Nella Last, diary entry for Mass Observation
When the Prime Minister spoke so solemnly
and said ‘WAR’,
I thought the shock would kill me.
Eighteen months ago I was in Southsea
and saw the Fleet come in.
Hundreds of young ratings
walked on the Prom and I gradually
became conscious of a look they all had.
I could have rushed up to one and begged him
tell me what he saw that I could not.
My husband got vexed at me
but when I heard the PM
I knew what they saw.
Less concert parties in the mess
than asylum in the quarterdeck for the Abyssinian Emperor.
Less a run ashore amid the snake charmers and jugglers
than feeding refugee babies condensed milk out of ginger beer bottles.
Less a blue picture in a Gib brothel
than watching troops frisk nurses on a Spanish jetty.
Less cocktails on the terrace at sunset
than a Grand Tour city’s flames reflected in the faces on deck.
Less tennis doubles at the consulate
than swerving Stuka bombs heedless of neutrality.
Less comforts at the China Fleet Club, and VD,
than protecting British investments by treating the Japanese with tact.
Less power projection
than turning a blind eye to the executions,
than lying off from a mad, million-man army that believes itself divine
with two gunboats, a bottle of Scotch, and a revolver.
