Soldier paints vivid picture of liberation through his letters
Beautifully written, war time love letters by New Zealand soldier Thomas McCreary reveal the liberation of Le Quesnoy on November 4, 1918, through the eyes of a soldier desperate to get back home to his fiancée – his “Cherie”.
Saturday 2nd November 1918
November as an exponent of beauty did not last long. This morning is cold and grey and rainy. Winter closing in. Outside the fire is boiling the water, getting ready for the cocoa.
I am going to try to answer all the home letters so this is just to tell you, Cherie, that we are still in our little village and I am well. There is nothing much to tell. All the big happenings seem to be taking place beyond us just now. And all that is happening, lass, is wonderful because it all means a shortening of the time before we again come together.
May it be soon, petite madame.
Tom
Sunday 3rd November 1918 (the day before the Liberation)
I have a new cobber (cobbership is a necessity in the army). A strange quick-tempered fellow, who has roamed the world since he was a boy, named Joe Groom. He has read widely. We have Iain night after night in our loft, the candle flickering, discussing the men of letters from Shakespeare to O’Henry. He is married in New Zealand and has a little girl. It was something he said last night that I want to get at. He said, “What a waste of time all this is, Mac, when one wants to live differently.”
Tomorrow, Minsey, we are in it again. If our luck holds, and it must, let us hope it will be the last round. Another spell of bravery, dear, dear heart, and our time should have arrived.
Cheerio, sweetheart.
Tom
Friday 8th November 1918
I was going to tell you a story, sweetheart, of blackness and mud, but it can wait, dear, until we are by our own or someone else’s fireside. There were two pretty things, however. As we were advancing, we reached a house where an old woman had hidden her cow in the kitchen. She wished so hard to do something for us as we rested round her house and at last she brought out a bucket of milk and we each had a drink. Her eyes beamed welcome. Her every action was an embrace.
Just as we neared the forest, eight or nine women burst from a house. An excited high-strung crowd. Laughter and tears were mixed. Their aprons filled with apples. Cups of café in their hands. I was kissed by the string of them, old and young. The first kiss since I said adieu to my lady (does she mind?). Those women, Min, on the forest’s edge and within sound of the rattling machine gun, made a thrilling picture.
Tom
Saturday 9th November 1918
Two parcels have arrived. Two parcels packed with that dainty care, full of goods. I know how hard it is to get the peaches, the cigarettes, the lollies, the cake, the cocoa, the health salts, even that insect powder. With thanks for them all I send love, dear, that soon I hope to make real by action.
The day is bright and sunny. The sky is a deep blue. Unlike the day of our last stunt. It rained solidly all that day as we fought through the forest.
It’s an old, old town. It consists of a huge square, into which all streets lead, and all streets end at the wall or gates through the wall. Its history must be varied. I must get hold of it. The walls are sturdy and made of brick. If the Germans had held on, they should have been able to hold it for many days. They had machine gun possies all around the wall top.
The church is a handsome building. The windows unusually beautiful. The town is only slightly damaged.
The place is cheery with French colours. Flags flapping from nearly all the windows. The girls already wearing the N.Z.R badges.
Good day, dearest. Je vous aime.
Sunday 10th November 1918
Our town is in fete today. The French President is paying us a visit. Flags have multiplied. The town is gay with tricolour. A Thanksgiving service is being held in the church. The ladies are wondrously dressed. The sun shines down on it all like a summer’s day. A day to think of peace.
Tom
Monday 11th November 1918
A thousand rumours, dear heart, swirled around us last night and early this morning. I have waited until I saw the news real and plain before me, and then lassie, I got my pen. This was the notice:
“Hostilities will cease at 11 o’clock today. Nov 11th. Defensive precaution will be maintained. There will be no intercourse of any description with the enemy, until receipt of instructions.”
We stood in crowds and read it. There was no outburst. Even yet, it seems unbelievable.
Little lady, Je vous aime.
Tom
Tuesday 12th November 1918
We left our town of walls yesterday about two. Each of us had little French flags with “vive la France” on them. They fitted neatly into our rifles. They fluttered bravely as we marched along.
So engrained is the carrying-on of the war with us all, that hundreds of doubts as to the extent and possibility of the Armistice has begun to assail us. But I think Fritz is done, Min. I think our happy days are near. Sweetheart, let us hope so.
About the letters:
In July 2024, Tom McCreary’s grandson Rob, great grandson Craig, and great great grandson Billy visited Te Arawhata. Jan McCreary, Tom’s granddaughter, also visited Le Quesnoy earlier that year.
Don McCreary (Rob’s youngest son) was the first of the family to visit Le Quesnoy when he helped out at the museum ahead of its opening in 2023.
During his visit Rob showed the team at Te Arawhata copies of the letters Tom wrote to his fiancée, Minnie, during his time serving in Le Quesnoy. These letters were just some of the more than 300 Jan has compiled over the years, including transcribing them from the handwritten originals Tom penned during the war.
The McCreary’s have very kindly given Te Arawhata permission to share Tom’s beautifully insightful, observant and romantic letters.
“Of course, I never met him,” says Jan. “He died in 1944. I met him through his letters. He was just such an amazing person. I learned so much about him. His values, his sense of humour, his political beliefs, his taste in books, and his observations of French society were fabulous.”
Similarly for Rob, the letters were a chance for him to get to know his grandfather.
“It’s incredible he wrote a letter every day. He had a great love for my grandmother. I never knew Tom, but through the letters I got to know a part of him and he’s always a part of me.”