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My Fathers Memoirs

Bubbles_Barker

LE
Book Reviewer
My mother never spoke about her time in the WRNS in WW2 much, but in the 1990s she let slip that she'd worked at Station 'X' (Bletchley Park). Before she died in 2005 she gave a few talks at local WIs etc and this is a brief transcript of one of her 'fireside chats', interesting for both her experience of the casual sexism of the Scottish education system in the 30s and early 40s but also the 'selection' process for special duties and how it changed her life. After the war ended she went on to work for the intelligence services until she married my father in 1952 - she was an extraordinary person and a huge influence on my life and career path. Anyway, here it is:

"It’s not easy to talk about the most exciting and formative part of your life when you have sworn to forget it for 50 years. I’m expecting Special Branch to be at the door and take me off to Holloway. When it first came out that I had been at Bletchley Park friends looked at me in disbelief; “How did you get there?!” They didn’t mean to be rude, they were just amazed that a perfectly ordinary little housewife like myself should have been in this hallowed place with the cream of Britain’s brains.

So I went home and thought - How did I get there? I had a good education. I was encouraged and I was in the ‘Champion Class’. I wanted to be a doctor, in medical research, so at 16 I chose maths and science subjects. I was going to be the next Marie Curie. “You will have to take Classics” said the Rector “The science course is only for boys.” So, the following term I went along to the science classes anyway. I didn’t think they’d notice. Well -
when the rector saw me in the class full of boys his florid face turned purple. “Mary Bole, what do you think you’re playing at? You will do as I tell you!” Now this was the rest of my life he was dictating and I thought there is no way I’m going to spend the next year learning something I have absolutely no interest in. So, I left. I went home and told my parents I had left school. My traditional Scottish father didn’t mind – women belonged in the
kitchen anyway. My mother had very different ideas - “Oh, don’t you worry dear. We’ll think of
something.”

That ‘something’ turned out to be a Radio Engineering course in Edinburgh that was taking girls for the first time. When I came out top of the whole class, my mother was beside herself and my father would refer to me as ‘The Mistake in the family’. Now I was going to take the world by storm – I’d got my qualifications! I applied for job after job after job. But no interviews. Until - I started calling myself M instead of Mary on the application forms. Every interview it was, “Oh, that’s not possible we don’t employ women” or “nobody gets marks like this, you must have cheated.”

Finally, they were asking for radio mechanics in the WRNS and I thought “Well, they can’t not want me!” After two weeks’ probation training in Loch Lomond we were sent to London for our assessment and categorisation.
Ten of us were put before a special interview board of civilians interviewing for a category known as P5. They had only been told to look for imagination, intelligence, flair (not sure what for!), enthusiasm, outstanding mathematics and an interest in crossword puzzles.

Six of us ‘passed’ and were assigned category P5, Admiralty Special Duties, working from a place called Station X (Bletchley Park). I was convinced we’d be working on Britain’s secret weapon. My expertise was to be used at last!
At Bletchley they needed people to break the Japanese codes giving orders in the Pacific and we six joined the Japanese Naval Section in Hut 6. We were taken to an office where we got our one and only glimpse of the sea while we were in the Navy. And that was a sea of hundreds of thousands of intercepts-of-messages on pink, flimsy paper covered in numbers. I was shown how to decipher the top line into the source, destination and call sign etc and we had to sort all the papers into an order ready for decoding.

Then one day I was called in to the office and asked if I would like to train as a cryptographer. WOULD I?!!!!
I was sent on a postgraduate course in Special mathematics. I nearly had a nervous breakdown – 17 and no maths degree, but I did it. I was doing mathematical calculations all day. I loved it. It was important work and it went straight up to the Admiralty. But I couldn’t tell the other girls back at the quarters what I was doing, mundane as it was. Not a word. The work was not earth shattering but necessary and there could be moments of high excitement.

I was sitting alone one night. I was the only cryptographer’s assistant on duty. The building was closed and all blacked out except for me, beavering away. And in came a 26-part message. They told me it was the whole Japanese battle plan for a big push in the Pacific, and it was to be done double quick. Twenty-six foolscap pages tightly packed with five number sets. Now, I had to do a calculation on each of these sets. This was done on a grid which I had to set up. I got the first 12 parts done and they were rapping at the door waiting to put it through to the Admiralty. Can you believe this? A girl of 18 is sitting with this responsibility. I came to part 13, they wouldn’t work. Of course, they’re shouting down the phone at me “What’s the hold up; what’s the hold up?” I tried part 14 to see if that worked; then we’d know if they changed the code or if there’s just something wrong with this bit. Fourteen worked, 15, 16 up to 26 so I sent them off. They came back saying, “We’ve got to have this bit in the middle; it’s got vital information in it.” But I just couldn’t make it work. I was frantic. There was nobody there, I couldn’t ask anybody you see, I had to do this. I thought of all these sailors dying because I couldn’t get this message to work.

I made myself a cup of tea and I was shaking so much, that I upset my tea all over the message, the grid, everything. I just sat there and howled. Then, I was mopping it all up and I sat down and I had another go. And it worked. I thought, how can that have happened? But you see, when I mopped up my grid I had inadvertently made the same mistake as the Japanese operator had made when he sent the message. I could feel the hair rising at the back of my head – I had wept and prayed and pleaded with the Lord to help me get this out and …

Then I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way anybody else was going to win this war.

Now you’ve all heard of Enigma; I’m not going to tell you anything about Enigma because I had nothing to do with it - apart from one incident: My boss said one day, “Would you go and collect an enigma machine from the German section and take it to Dr Morgan?” So I went along and - oh yes, there it is. It was on the table closed in its wooden casing and I picked it up. The machine fell out of the case and smashed to pieces on the floor. “Well Mac,” said Dr Morgan “now you can tell people you’re the person who broke Enigma.”
 
Last edited:

ches

LE
My father in law was interviewed by the IWM about his war experiences (D Day, East Riding Yeomanry).

I‘ve been trying to get a copy but you have to physically go to the museum to listen to it. Something to do next time I’m in London.

That may have changed esp with COVID. I got given access to some specific radio broadcasts from the sound archive a few years ago. These were news reports that had been lost within the private market - no copies on YT, BBC, Pathe & the like. Cost me a very small fee but well worth it.
 
About this Memoirs thing. Just got my fathers OK to share it publicly.
It is.pdf and 90 pages inc some photos.
When I tried to upload it ..... it said file too big.

What is maximum file size ?
 

Joshua Slocum

LE
Book Reviewer
About this Memoirs thing. Just got my fathers OK to share it publicly.
It is.pdf and 90 pages inc some photos.
When I tried to upload it ..... it said file too big.

What is maximum file size ?
1.2 Meg I think
I reduce written stuff using photographic software, otherwise post a few pages at a time
 

Poppy

LE
About this Memoirs thing. Just got my fathers OK to share it publicly.
It is.pdf and 90 pages inc some photos.
When I tried to upload it ..... it said file too big.

What is maximum file size ?
you should be able to extract some pages and post it a few pages at a time
 

Helm

MIA
Moderator
Book Reviewer
About this Memoirs thing. Just got my fathers OK to share it publicly.
It is.pdf and 90 pages inc some photos.
When I tried to upload it ..... it said file too big.

What is maximum file size ?
Possibly set up a google doc for it @Daz
 

Daz

LE
Possibly set up a google doc for it @Daz
He would need to do that himself, easy enough if he has a Gmail account


It could be added to one of mine, however, given the amount of PDFs already there, it might well got lost in the clutter
 
My mother never spoke about her time in the WRNS in WW2 much, but in the 1990s she let slip that she'd worked at Station 'X' (Bletchley Park). Before she died in 2005 she gave a few talks at local WIs etc and this is a brief transcript of one of her 'fireside chats', interesting for both her experience of the casual sexism of the Scottish education system in the 30s and early 40s but also the 'selection' process for special duties and how it changed her life. After the war ended she went on to work for the intelligence services until she married my father in 1952 - she was an extraordinary person and a huge influence on my life and career path. Anyway, here it is:

"It’s not easy to talk about the most exciting and formative part of your life when you have sworn to forget it for 50 years. I’m expecting Special Branch to be at the door and take me off to Holloway. When it first came out that I had been at Bletchley Park friends looked at me in disbelief; “How did you get there?!” They didn’t mean to be rude, they were just amazed that a perfectly ordinary little housewife like myself should have been in this hallowed place with the cream of Britain’s brains.

So I went home and thought - How did I get there? I had a good education. I was encouraged and I was in the ‘Champion Class’. I wanted to be a doctor, in medical research, so at 16 I chose maths and science subjects. I was going to be the next Marie Curie. “You will have to take Classics” said the Rector “The science course is only for boys.” So, the following term I went along to the science classes anyway. I didn’t think they’d notice. Well -
when the rector saw me in the class full of boys his florid face turned purple. “Mary Bole, what do you think you’re playing at? You will do as I tell you!” Now this was the rest of my life he was dictating and I thought there is no way I’m going to spend the next year learning something I have absolutely no interest in. So, I left. I went home and told my parents I had left school. My traditional Scottish father didn’t mind – women belonged in the
kitchen anyway. My mother had very different ideas - “Oh, don’t you worry dear. We’ll think of
something.”

That ‘something’ turned out to be a Radio Engineering course in Edinburgh that was taking girls for the first time. When I came out top of the whole class, my mother was beside herself and my father would refer to me as ‘The Mistake in the family’. Now I was going to take the world by storm – I’d got my qualifications! I applied for job after job after job. But no interviews. Until - I started calling myself M instead of Mary on the application forms. Every interview it was, “Oh, that’s not possible we don’t employ women” or “nobody gets marks like this, you must have cheated.”

Finally, they were asking for radio mechanics in the WRNS and I thought “Well, they can’t not want me!” After two weeks’ probation training in Loch Lomond we were sent to London for our assessment and categorisation.
Ten of us were put before a special interview board of civilians interviewing for a category known as P5. They had only been told to look for imagination, intelligence, flair (not sure what for!), enthusiasm, outstanding mathematics and an interest in crossword puzzles.

Six of us ‘passed’ and were assigned category P5, Admiralty Special Duties, working from a place called Station X (Bletchley Park). I was convinced we’d be working on Britain’s secret weapon. My expertise was to be used at last!
At Bletchley they needed people to break the Japanese codes giving orders in the Pacific and we six joined the Japanese Naval Section in Hut 6. We were taken to an office where we got our one and only glimpse of the sea while we were in the Navy. And that was a sea of hundreds of thousands of intercepts-of-messages on pink, flimsy paper covered in numbers. I was shown how to decipher the top line into the source, destination and call sign etc and we had to sort all the papers into an order ready for decoding.

Then one day I was called in to the office and asked if I would like to train as a cryptographer. WOULD I?!!!!
I was sent on a postgraduate course in Special mathematics. I nearly had a nervous breakdown – 17 and no maths degree, but I did it. I was doing mathematical calculations all day. I loved it. It was important work and it went straight up to the Admiralty. But I couldn’t tell the other girls back at the quarters what I was doing, mundane as it was. Not a word. The work was not earth shattering but necessary and there could be moments of high excitement.

I was sitting alone one night. I was the only cryptographer’s assistant on duty. The building was closed and all blacked out except for me, beavering away. And in came a 26-part message. They told me it was the whole Japanese battle plan for a big push in the Pacific, and it was to be done double quick. Twenty-six foolscap pages tightly packed with five number sets. Now, I had to do a calculation on each of these sets. This was done on a grid which I had to set up. I got the first 12 parts done and they were rapping at the door waiting to put it through to the Admiralty. Can you believe this? A girl of 18 is sitting with this responsibility. I came to part 13, they wouldn’t work. Of course, they’re shouting down the phone at me “What’s the hold up; what’s the hold up?” I tried part 14 to see if that worked; then we’d know if they changed the code or if there’s just something wrong with this bit. Fourteen worked, 15, 16 up to 26 so I sent them off. They came back saying, “We’ve got to have this bit in the middle; it’s got vital information in it.” But I just couldn’t make it work. I was frantic. There was nobody there, I couldn’t ask anybody you see, I had to do this. I thought of all these sailors dying because I couldn’t get this message to work.

I made myself a cup of tea and I was shaking so much, that I upset my tea all over the message, the grid, everything. I just sat there and howled. Then, I was mopping it all up and I sat down and I had another go. And it worked. I thought, how can that have happened? But you see, when I mopped up my grid I had inadvertently made the same mistake as the Japanese operator had made when he sent the message. I could feel the hair rising at the back of my head – I had wept and prayed and pleaded with the Lord to help me get this out and …

Then I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way anybody else was going to win this war.

Now you’ve all heard of Enigma; I’m not going to tell you anything about Enigma because I had nothing to do with it - apart from one incident: My boss said one day, “Would you go and collect an enigma machine from the German section and take it to Dr Morgan?” So I went along and - oh yes, there it is. It was on the table closed in its wooden casing and I picked it up. The machine fell out of the case and smashed to pieces on the floor. “Well Mac,” said Dr Morgan “now you can tell people you’re the person who broke Enigma.”
Thank for that - excellent.
 
My mother never spoke about her time in the WRNS in WW2 much, but in the 1990s she let slip that she'd worked at Station 'X' (Bletchley Park). Before she died in 2005 she gave a few talks at local WIs etc and this is a brief transcript of one of her 'fireside chats', interesting for both her experience of the casual sexism of the Scottish education system in the 30s and early 40s but also the 'selection' process for special duties and how it changed her life. After the war ended she went on to work for the intelligence services until she married my father in 1952 - she was an extraordinary person and a huge influence on my life and career path. Anyway, here it is:

"It’s not easy to talk about the most exciting and formative part of your life when you have sworn to forget it for 50 years. I’m expecting Special Branch to be at the door and take me off to Holloway. When it first came out that I had been at Bletchley Park friends looked at me in disbelief; “How did you get there?!” They didn’t mean to be rude, they were just amazed that a perfectly ordinary little housewife like myself should have been in this hallowed place with the cream of Britain’s brains.

So I went home and thought - How did I get there? I had a good education. I was encouraged and I was in the ‘Champion Class’. I wanted to be a doctor, in medical research, so at 16 I chose maths and science subjects. I was going to be the next Marie Curie. “You will have to take Classics” said the Rector “The science course is only for boys.” So, the following term I went along to the science classes anyway. I didn’t think they’d notice. Well -
when the rector saw me in the class full of boys his florid face turned purple. “Mary Bole, what do you think you’re playing at? You will do as I tell you!” Now this was the rest of my life he was dictating and I thought there is no way I’m going to spend the next year learning something I have absolutely no interest in. So, I left. I went home and told my parents I had left school. My traditional Scottish father didn’t mind – women belonged in the
kitchen anyway. My mother had very different ideas - “Oh, don’t you worry dear. We’ll think of
something.”

That ‘something’ turned out to be a Radio Engineering course in Edinburgh that was taking girls for the first time. When I came out top of the whole class, my mother was beside herself and my father would refer to me as ‘The Mistake in the family’. Now I was going to take the world by storm – I’d got my qualifications! I applied for job after job after job. But no interviews. Until - I started calling myself M instead of Mary on the application forms. Every interview it was, “Oh, that’s not possible we don’t employ women” or “nobody gets marks like this, you must have cheated.”

Finally, they were asking for radio mechanics in the WRNS and I thought “Well, they can’t not want me!” After two weeks’ probation training in Loch Lomond we were sent to London for our assessment and categorisation.
Ten of us were put before a special interview board of civilians interviewing for a category known as P5. They had only been told to look for imagination, intelligence, flair (not sure what for!), enthusiasm, outstanding mathematics and an interest in crossword puzzles.

Six of us ‘passed’ and were assigned category P5, Admiralty Special Duties, working from a place called Station X (Bletchley Park). I was convinced we’d be working on Britain’s secret weapon. My expertise was to be used at last!
At Bletchley they needed people to break the Japanese codes giving orders in the Pacific and we six joined the Japanese Naval Section in Hut 6. We were taken to an office where we got our one and only glimpse of the sea while we were in the Navy. And that was a sea of hundreds of thousands of intercepts-of-messages on pink, flimsy paper covered in numbers. I was shown how to decipher the top line into the source, destination and call sign etc and we had to sort all the papers into an order ready for decoding.

Then one day I was called in to the office and asked if I would like to train as a cryptographer. WOULD I?!!!!
I was sent on a postgraduate course in Special mathematics. I nearly had a nervous breakdown – 17 and no maths degree, but I did it. I was doing mathematical calculations all day. I loved it. It was important work and it went straight up to the Admiralty. But I couldn’t tell the other girls back at the quarters what I was doing, mundane as it was. Not a word. The work was not earth shattering but necessary and there could be moments of high excitement.

I was sitting alone one night. I was the only cryptographer’s assistant on duty. The building was closed and all blacked out except for me, beavering away. And in came a 26-part message. They told me it was the whole Japanese battle plan for a big push in the Pacific, and it was to be done double quick. Twenty-six foolscap pages tightly packed with five number sets. Now, I had to do a calculation on each of these sets. This was done on a grid which I had to set up. I got the first 12 parts done and they were rapping at the door waiting to put it through to the Admiralty. Can you believe this? A girl of 18 is sitting with this responsibility. I came to part 13, they wouldn’t work. Of course, they’re shouting down the phone at me “What’s the hold up; what’s the hold up?” I tried part 14 to see if that worked; then we’d know if they changed the code or if there’s just something wrong with this bit. Fourteen worked, 15, 16 up to 26 so I sent them off. They came back saying, “We’ve got to have this bit in the middle; it’s got vital information in it.” But I just couldn’t make it work. I was frantic. There was nobody there, I couldn’t ask anybody you see, I had to do this. I thought of all these sailors dying because I couldn’t get this message to work.

I made myself a cup of tea and I was shaking so much, that I upset my tea all over the message, the grid, everything. I just sat there and howled. Then, I was mopping it all up and I sat down and I had another go. And it worked. I thought, how can that have happened? But you see, when I mopped up my grid I had inadvertently made the same mistake as the Japanese operator had made when he sent the message. I could feel the hair rising at the back of my head – I had wept and prayed and pleaded with the Lord to help me get this out and …

Then I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no way anybody else was going to win this war.

Now you’ve all heard of Enigma; I’m not going to tell you anything about Enigma because I had nothing to do with it - apart from one incident: My boss said one day, “Would you go and collect an enigma machine from the German section and take it to Dr Morgan?” So I went along and - oh yes, there it is. It was on the table closed in its wooden casing and I picked it up. The machine fell out of the case and smashed to pieces on the floor. “Well Mac,” said Dr Morgan “now you can tell people you’re the person who broke Enigma.”

Unfortunately there is no way of asking now but a late friend of my mother and father may have met your mother.
His name was Ben Warren , he was RAF and was involved for much of the war listening in to the Japanese.
He had trained at Bletchley on the Sigs and Int side ( possible connection ? ) but was a good Japanese speaker before that.
After Bletchley I know he spent a long while working from Delhi.

Nice bloke, died three years ago.
 

Nfh249

Crow
My father in law was interviewed by the IWM about his war experiences (D Day, East Riding Yeomanry).

I‘ve been trying to get a copy but you have to physically go to the museum to listen to it. Something to do next time I’m in London.
Hi Ravers,

Who was your father-in-law?

Regards,

Neil
 

Ravers

LE
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
The wife and I had an interesting chat this evening.

We were talking about parenting styles and congratulating each other on what a cracking pair of brats we’ve managed to drag up thus far.

The topic of conversation moved to her dad and the war generation.

Her old man was nudging 60 when she was born and already had 6 other kids. My wife’s oldest sister is 30 years older than her.

Without wishing to put too fine a point on it, some of her older siblings are what we would call “a little challenging.”

There have been various falls from grace and you can trace a lot of it to the lack of parenting they received.

It must’ve been incredibly difficult for a young man, just back from the horrors of war, to suddenly be thrust into parenthood. Her dad had put the first tanks ashore on D Day and witnessed all the horrors that went with it, picking up an injury in Caen.

A few years later he’s trying to put all that behind him and raise a family.

There must’ve also been an element of jealousy and resentment towards his kids. Your late teens and early twenties are supposed to be the best time of your life. It’s when you go out partying, shag lots of women and really grow up.

Spending your formative years fighting Nazis to the death in an all out total war must certainly have some effect on how you grow up and your views on how to raise kids.

And then to see your kids having the fun you missed out on must’ve been difficult. I imagine it would’ve been almost impossible to relate to your children and their problems. Crying over homework must’ve seemed pretty weak. It’s not like they had bombs falling on their houses or had to watch their mates being blown to pieces. How are you supposed to empathise with your child who’s worst experience to date is watching the Beatles break up on TV?

I see strong similarities between my father in law and my great uncle who jumped into the Merville battery.

They were the same age, both young officers and both had lots of kids after the war who they didn’t really raise properly. We used to call my great uncle “Grumpy” because he was a cantankerous old ****** who didn’t really like anyone including his own kids.

But we loved him dearly.

Just thoughts really. Has anyone else had similar parenting experiences from WW2 veterans?
 

Joshua Slocum

LE
Book Reviewer
I grew up in an old house, with my Grandparents living with us, My Grandfather a Mons veteran and old Contemptible used to spend hours playing with us, making toys reading stories, and just being daft, many years after his death I was talking to my mother about it, she said he didnt have a childhood, raised into poverty, a bakers son, working long hours instead of school, then joining up with all his older brothers at 14 years old, and being the only one to come back, , I cherish those memories
my best mate who lived over the road, had harder time, his old man was ex RAF and suffered a head trauma, the two never really bonded, and his dad never spoke to him about it, my old man N.S. used to sit and chat with him, but never told us what was said, I guess that generation just struggled to survive, as long as you had grub on the table and clothes to wear and a roof over your head thats the best they could manage
 

ches

LE
The wife and I had an interesting chat this evening.

We were talking about parenting styles and congratulating each other on what a cracking pair of brats we’ve managed to drag up thus far.

The topic of conversation moved to her dad and the war generation.

Her old man was nudging 60 when she was born and already had 6 other kids. My wife’s oldest sister is 30 years older than her.

Without wishing to put too fine a point on it, some of her older siblings are what we would call “a little challenging.”

There have been various falls from grace and you can trace a lot of it to the lack of parenting they received.

It must’ve been incredibly difficult for a young man, just back from the horrors of war, to suddenly be thrust into parenthood. Her dad had put the first tanks ashore on D Day and witnessed all the horrors that went with it, picking up an injury in Caen.

A few years later he’s trying to put all that behind him and raise a family.

There must’ve also been an element of jealousy and resentment towards his kids. Your late teens and early twenties are supposed to be the best time of your life. It’s when you go out partying, shag lots of women and really grow up.

Spending your formative years fighting Nazis to the death in an all out total war must certainly have some effect on how you grow up and your views on how to raise kids.

And then to see your kids having the fun you missed out on must’ve been difficult. I imagine it would’ve been almost impossible to relate to your children and their problems. Crying over homework must’ve seemed pretty weak. It’s not like they had bombs falling on their houses or had to watch their mates being blown to pieces. How are you supposed to empathise with your child who’s worst experience to date is watching the Beatles break up on TV?

I see strong similarities between my father in law and my great uncle who jumped into the Merville battery.

They were the same age, both young officers and both had lots of kids after the war who they didn’t really raise properly. We used to call my great uncle “Grumpy” because he was a cantankerous old ****** who didn’t really like anyone including his own kids.

But we loved him dearly.

Just thoughts really. Has anyone else had similar parenting experiences from WW2 veterans?

Not so much from WW2 veterans but my Dad was the youngest of 11 born in 34. Most of his siblings were WW2 veterans so me & my cousins were all subject to that sort of mentality. My dad did his time with Para Reg/SAS/RAOC over 16 years & saw a lot of rufty tufty times (jumped at Suez with 3 PARA & then was in Malaya/Oman & various other places with the desmonds) so his attitude was very much in line with his brothers. I don't remember much in the way of nurturing or any of that new model family modern stuff at all & it was massively different to what I later saw with the parenting from my cousins with their own kids later on in the 80s & 90s. If i got into bother my Dad would support me & did so so was always reliable in that regard but only if i was in the right. If i fcuked up I was toast & in hindsight rightly so. What is a fcuking pisser & will stay with me until I die is me not getting the chance to speak to him about his undiagnosed PTSD & my own diagnosed PTSD. By the time I understood some of what had directed his way of doing things, we'd drifted too far away from each other.
He was admitted to hospital while I was at work & while we knew he was ill his decline was very rapid to the point I got the call to get to the hospital & in the 90 mins drive it took me to get there & find a parking space around an incredibly busy hospital he'd died. I was determined during the dash to get to him to speak to him & tell him i had been diagnosed a few years before & understood what had happened to him after earwigging a tear filled confession he'd made to one of my older cousins years before. I'd never felt close enough to him to speak to him after hearing what i did. Something I'll never resolve within myself but hey ho.
 

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