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World War ll London Blitz:  Buy On Smashwords
I am the great-granddaughter of Ruby Side Thompson. 
Recently I started re-reading the World War ll journals and felt that they were such an important part of a history that will soon be forgotten if not published and shared with the world. These diary excerpts are not the entirety of what is published in print and kindle.
Ruby grew up during a time when education was just beginning to be encouraged for both upper and middle class women. During the late 1890's Ruby explored many radical political ideas of London, England. She met many famous people including the writers George Bernard Shaw and William Butler Yeats. 
5.0 out of 5 stars A choice pick, not to be overlooked, November 6, 2011 By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)

World War ll London Blitz: 10-14-39-10-28-39 : There is news today of the sinking of the Royal Oak. Her compliment of men was approximately 1200; so far, only 370 are known to be survivors. This is worse than the loss of the Courageous.

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October 14, 1939

It is three-fifty p.m. just back from the doctor’s in time to get under cover from the raiding. Raids have been going on all morning. An all clear did not sound until two-twelve, so I’ve just had time to get my visit in. At last I am on the mend. My leg is healing. I am to keep on with the white ointment for another week, and then when she see the leg next week she will decide whether or not I can put it back into it usual plaster of visco-paste. During this week I have lost three and a quarter pounds, which is very encouraging: nearly a half-pound a day. Last week I didn’t lose an ounce. If I could get done to thirteen stone I would be satisfied. After all, I am a very tall woman.

Mrs. Jude was in to see me this morning. As usual, she gave me the town news. She only just got into the house before the warning sounded, at about half past eleven, and all the time she was here a battle was going on above us. Ten bombs were dropped in Romford last night. The most serious damage was in North Street, where Haysom’s was struck, and completely demolished. Haysom’s is Romford’s largest furniture store, and occupied nearly a block. This morning there is nothing there but rubble and cinders. No lives lost. Sunday, of course, and not a soul is on the premises. Presumably the Jerry’s were trying for the Romford food storage plant, which is just behind Haysom’s. North Street and the Arterial Road frequently get hit. The Arterial Road, of course, is a military road, so a legitimate target. It has trenches all along it, with soldiers cap-a-pie, and big gun emplacements, and tank traps, and so on. The funny thing is, the soldier’s, or the trenches, never get hit, only the neighboring shops and houses.

October 23, 1939

I have something marvelous to record. We had an almost quiet night last night. The alert sounded at six fifty-five p.m. and the all clear, after a noisy evening, sounded at eleven-thirty p.m. Then we only had on short period of danger in the night, from about twelve-thirty a.m. to two a.m. All this day no warnings: until now, the first one sounding, six thirty-five p.m. This is probably for the night. The weather has been bad, that’s why we’ve had practically twenty-four hours peace. It’s too foggy for flying. There have been sporadic raiders today, but not in this neighborhood. Yesterday Laval saw Hitler in Paris. The rumor now is, that France is going to declare war on England. Well, maybe! Anything is possible in this crazy lunatic war.

October 25, 1939

Two months today to Xmas, as Ted remarked at break- fast. It is ten-thirty a.m. and a raid on. After several days of cold mist and rain, today is a beautiful day; therefore the raids have begun early. The first warning went at eight-fifty this morning, and there is no clearance. Twice already I’ve had to go into my corner and grab a cushion for my head at the threatening whistles very near and overhead. This makes me furious. I am so angry at this war. The stupidity of it even more than the cruelty and fearfulness, fill me with rage. Men, blasted fool men, creating war. When I listen to all the poppycock that’s spoken on the air I’m simply derisive. For here are men again, exhorting, bragging and begging, diddling with facts, and trickling out sob-stuff about glory and about self-sacrifice. Damn lot of plausible Pharisees, that’s what most of the talking men are. Who are they? The old men. It’s the young ones, the ignorant, innocent, inexperienced boys, who are sent out to die.

Some smarmy parson on the war this morning was talking about the acceptance of pain and suffering; the same old lines, the same glibness and triteness. I say suffering does not ennoble. There aging is a man’s word: “noble.” I ask why must suffering be accepted as the will of God? I should say that ninety percent of the suffering in the world is not the will of God, but the infliction by men upon mankind and it need not be.

Two-fifty p.m. Mrs. Cavus came calling, and stayed until dinnertime. She looked very pretty in a new winter outfit, brown in color, and chic. Of course we talked about the war, and agreed together that if the women could have any say in the matter, it would end tomorrow.

At one o’clock news we heard that Petain had seen Hitler, last night. Hitler also saw Franco yesterday. What are they cooking up for Europe now? Petain is eighty- four, and a pious Catholic. He was the man who surrendered France to Hitler. Now he talks about the salvation of France laying in her return to an agricultural economy, the cessation of the practice of birth control, the destruction of Masonry, and a return to the bosom of the Catholic Church. If only all men would return to the true faith, which, of course, is Roman Catholicism, then everything in the world would be lovely. Silly old fool! Old, that’s what’s the matter with him.

What about the Pope? The Pope says nothing, and keeps on saying nothing. Mussolini makes the Italians behave disgracefully, but the Pope never utters even one little admonition. No. The Pope is an Italian, and a
politician, and he plays for safety. The Italians marched into Albania on a Good Friday, and the Pope even said nothing to that. There used to be a question when I was young, What would Jesus do?

Anyhow, Jesus didn’t sit in a palace, with armed guards, and keep a shut mouth whilst his countrymen behaved like skunks. After all, when one stops to think about which are the Catholic countries, which the Catholic people, who would choose to be a Catholic? Ireland, the dirty Irish, the quarrelsome murdering lying Irish: Spain, with the Spaniards making murderous civil war: Belgium, with the Belgian coarseness and their Judas King: France, with Frenchmen so cynical or so soppy: Mexico with its illiterate and murderous Mexicans: and Italy, with its rape of Abyssinia, annexation of Albania, its stab in the back at falling France, the treacherous Italians. No, a white man has no sort of affiliation with any one of them. Oh, what moment of madness when I joined the church!

October 28, 1939

The Italians have declared war on Greece. An ultimatum was handed to the Greeks at three a.m. this morning, to which a favorable answer was demanded by six a.m. The Greeks refused to accede to the Italian demands, so at six o’clock the Italians began their attack on Greece. At seven o’clock the first air raid warning was sounded over Athens. Last night Hitler and Mussolini met in Florence. I suppose this further aggression was what they then decided upon. The filthy little Italians! What is the Pope going to say to them now? Is he going to say the same old nothing?

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