Letter from C L Fackrell to his daughter Margaret



Letter from C L Fackrell to his daughter Margaret


Writes to her from India on second Christmas away saying he is well looked after but would prefer to be with her at home with all the family. Ask her to pray that he will be home next Christmas. Writes of his activities and adds poetic vision of war in the desert. Mentions he is at college in India and describes his current activities.




Temporal Coverage



Three page handwritten letter and envelope


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CL Fackrell Lieut.
Free Xmas Letter Card.
[two ink stamps]
Margaret Hodel Fackrell,
Milford House,
108, Main Road,
[underlined] SIDCUP. [/underlined]
[underlined] England. [/underlined]
[underlined] “C/O KARACHI AIR”. [/underlined]
[page break]
[underlined] From Lieut. C.L. Fackrell (G 12) – 1 MA, Dehra Dinn (U.D.), India. 9/11/42. [/underlined]
To my darling daughter Margaret,
From her daddy in India.
Sweet Capsie,
For the second time I am away from you at Christmas, &, just as at the first time, the Bara Sahib who looks after us has been pleased to put me in a place of peace & comfort; yet, even so, little one, I tell you truly that I would [underlined] very [/underlined] much prefer to be at home with you, & your Dearest-of-all-Mummies, & the Grannies, & Gran’pop – all our loved ones at “Milford” & “Strathmere” - , & would willingly exchange my power & plenty for the hazards and discomforts of a home under the shadow of war. Do you say in your prayers, my pretty one, “Please may Daddy come home for Merry Christmas next year” - & he’ll never go away from you again.
[underlined] What [/underlined] a lot has happened to us – just you-kind & me-kind, eh? – since we had our last little chat: you have grown into a big girlie, mischievous & full of fun, just as your
[page break]
[underlined] 2 [/underlined]
Mummie [sic] & Daddy like you to be, with soft-as-silk fairy hair – or is it the Sun which makes it look like that? – looking a trifle [underlined] too [/underlined] serious most times, perhaps, yet [underlined] very, [/underlined] very much like your Uncle Ken when he was little; playing with pussy, dancing with Doggyy, chuckling & chattering - & very lovable.
And Daddy? He was soon changed from the serenity of Cyprus to the severity of Lyrenaica, with sand-storms & ‘shell’-storms & salted water & scorpions; all bombs, & no beer; battles, & no bread; with the mercyless [sic] sun above, & the mercyless [sic] rock beneath, & the mercyless [sic] vacancy all around, save for wrecked machines - & wrecked men; giant machines, wee machines, flying machines, crawling machines, iron machines – but all war machines - & wrecked men: things, dear one, that you [underlined] must [/underlined] never know, & we pray God you [underlined] will [/underlined] never know, nor anyone ever, any more.
But in all this, in a place from which all ideals had fled, & all the prizes of civilisation in exile, there was one who never ceased, every day, to think of you, & those around you, & was sorry for your fears, & trials & hardships, & thereby held fast to faith, faith that he would be spared for you; & sure enough a miracle one day sent him back “post-haste”, to go way over the sea to the great & wonderful land of India, there to go to “College” & prepare for a new station: and now your Daddy is an Officer, & expecting that the next year will be a re-currence of the events of the last. But we shall win through, for each others sake – won’t we, pet?
For the present, life is wonderfully easy: I have a temporary appointment as the Colonel’s [indecipherable word], & have a desk next his in the grandest of all the offices here; have to be present (dare I say “work”?) from 1030 – 1.30, & 3 to 5, feeling [underlined] ever [/underlined] so important (!), & spend my evenings in my bungalow – after a bath, & tea, & maybe writing letters to Mummy; maybe an hour w/ my pal, studying Urdu; sometimes Choir practice – newly formed this very week; Dinner in Mess at 8.30 – then (except for an occasional film) then do I settle in my armchair, w/ my pipe; & read or think; & read Mummy’s stories about you and Biddy & Sam-pig & Scottie & Teddy & Blue Duck – [underlined] and [/underlined] mud-pies! - & wish so hard that I could pick up my little ”Mick-in-wee-dungarees” & squeeze her tight in my arms, & hear her tell me about Danson Lake, & planting cabbages, & picking flowers, & mimicking Mummy & taking Mumsie for walks, & visits from Grandma & Gran’pop, & Uncle Ken who loves you as much as I, & how you “make eyes” at him & Uncle Gordon – oh! so much. And so, sweet lassie, we must pray hard that next year we may truly say to each other – “It’s a Happy Christmas.” From Your Loving Daddy.
[page break]
CL Fackrell Lieut.
“In English.”


C L Fackrell, “Letter from C L Fackrell to his daughter Margaret,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed March 1, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/26482.

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