This story is inspired by the 1979 film “Yanks.” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0080157/

“Yanks” is a story of intercultural relationships, between GI’s stationed in Northern England during WWII and the local girls. The main story is the relationship between Richard Gere and Lisa Eichhorn’s Characters. They have lots of drama thanks to the script writer. His sidekick has a smoother time, as the script writer didn’t notice him, and gets to marry his girl (her friend). There’s also the relationship between the officer played by William Devane and the posh Red Cross volunteer played by Vanessa Redgrave. The script writer also gives that pair a hard time. The film ends when the GI’s are shipped off to invade Europe. Giving rise to the lines:
“Excuse me, please. I’m pregnant.”
“So’s half the bloody town, love.”
Around 100,000 such relationships lead to the girl emigrating from Britain after WWII. (There were many more hundreds of thousands from around the world as well.) There must have been many more relationships which didn’t end that way. At its peak there were about 1.6M US personnel in UK, that’s over 3% of the UK’s population at the time.


There are also references to:
“The Halfway House” (1944) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0035962/
“A Bridge Too Far” (1977) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075784/
“Battle of the Bulge” (1965) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058947/

This mostly just shares the title with the 1941 film, “How Green Was My Valley” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0033729/ There are a few other thematic elements it shares with that film.

—

My darling daughter,

I’m writing this letter to you so that when you’re old enough you’ll understand. You’re barely old enough to get in to see “Yanks”, let alone understand what the film meant to your Dad and me.

It’s thirty-five years since I met your Dad, in those days he was even more handsome than Richard Gere ever was. He was just so handsome, and exotic. I’m not sure I’d ever met a foreigner before, growing up in my little village. Even after we moved down to Cardiff, after South Duffryn closed down. Mam didn’t want me going to Tiger Bay, or hanging around the docks where you’d find the foreigners, along with spivs and girls with reputations.

“Howdy Mam.” Was the first thing your Dad said to me. It was on platform 6 at Cardiff General Station, I thought he sounded like a cowboy, him being from Texas and all, and I wondered why he was calling me “mother”.

I forgot all that when I looked at him though, he was the most handsome thing God had put on this green Earth. The uniform, his height, the broad shoulders and most of all that smile.

I don’t know if I managed to say anything, but he took off his cap and continued, “I just arrived in y’all’s beautiful country, and y’all’s beautiful town, …” It took him forever to say that, you know Texans speak so slowly.

He wasn’t getting anywhere fast so I interrupted, “Are you a cowboy?” It was a pretty dumb thing to say, but the only thing I could compare him to was the movie stars in the westerns at the pictures.

“No mam.” Calling me his mother again, “If I weren’t here in y’all’s charming country, fixin to fight the evil Nazis, I would be at Texas A and M fixin to be a teacher.” I didn’t understand half of what he said, but I was impressed that he was smart enough to be a teacher. “I do ride, though I don’t own a horse.” You know how your Dad would say that, “Ahhhh, dooooo.”

Impressed as I was, I did still wonder, “Why do you think I’m your mother?” That flummoxed him. He didn’t know what to say, so I said, “You keep calling me ‘Mam’.”

“Well, errr, Mam, my Daddy raised me to be polite to the ladies. It’s polite to call a lady ‘mam’. At least it is in Texas, where I come from. What should I call you?” Really, he was saying “ma’am”, but I hadn’t heard that.

“Well, ‘Gwynn’, is me name, why don’t you call me that? ‘Gwynn Llewellyn’”

“I will do just that, ma… Gwynn” He’d started to say, “Mam” again, but changed to, “Gwynn.” Then, he introduced himself. “Lieutenant John Burnett, US Army, at your service, Miss, err, … Gwynn.” He couldn’t manage to say, “Llewellyn” (that double-l sound in Welsh is tricky), so he settled on just Gwynn. He held out his hand, I wasn’t sure what that was about, but I held out mine too, he took mine and shook it. “Mighty pleased to make your acquaintance Gwynn.”

I just looked at him, I didn’t know how to react, I think I just smiled. He did eventually ask, “Say, what do you do for fun in these parts?”

It was very forward of him, I really shouldn’t have been speaking to a stranger; My Da would have had a fit if he’d known. But, I just couldn’t leave him there, so I said, “I’m going to the pictures. ‘The Halfway House’ is playing at the Capitol.” I summoned up all the courage I had and asked him, “Do you want to come along?”

“Now Gwynn, that sounds lovely, I would be honoured to accompany you.”

I was starting to think we weren’t going to make the show, so I said, “We’d best hurry then.” And I guided him out of the station. I don’t remember much about the film, apart from it was set in Cardiff, which is why I was going to see it. There was a little Welsh in it, like “Borre da” (good morning), or “Diolch yn fawr iawn” (thank you very much, the first words of the film), which he asked about after. I was thinking how polite it was, him not asking during the film. Mostly during the film, I was admiring his profile, towering above me, silhouetted in the flickering light. I was just drinking him in. He had this unique scent, fresh and intoxicating, I was thinking if clean cut and manly was a smell then your Dad had it in spades.

I was thinking that American film stars like Tyrone Power or Buster Crabbe weren’t a patch on him. And the American film stars were much more handsome than the British ones, like the ones in the film we were watching. He had better manners than I expected, GI’s had a reputation, but he never tried to lay a finger on me. It was quite a contrast with some of the less pleasant (British) characters in the film. He didn’t touch me even when I grabbed hold of him when it got to the creepy parts (the film had ghosts in it), and then the scene when the pub got shot up in the air raid. I was surprised to find I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t.

After the film, we queued at the chippy (just like in Yanks). Fish wasn’t rationed, nor was eating out, so there was always a long queue at the chippy. We talked about the film whilst we queued: I explained the Welsh; What an “Eisteddfod” was (mentioned in the film, a music and poetry festival); How ironic the film was in black and white and they were saying how green the scenery was. He said Wales was such a vibrant green compared to Texas. Then I told him about the time a Jerry plane had shot up my school whilst I was in the playground. The scene of the pub being shot up had brought all that back, but his presence had kept me from being frightened. He was very reassuring, I couldn’t imagine being frightened with him around.

We finally got served. I didn’t often eat out, even at the chippy, as it was expensive. It was about ten pence for fish and chips, almost a shilling (12 pence in a shilling). That’s a lot when I was barely making a pound a week. I was only making as much as that as I’d been working the same job for the past 4 years since I left school. What with the new P-A-Y-E (tax) system, it took 9 shillings (of 20) in every pound, and Mam took most of the rest. I had about three shillings a week for myself.

He paid for me. Not that I asked about it, but I eventually found out he made about ten pound a week as a Lieutenant. I was astounded. That was a bloody king’s ransom, particularly to an eighteen-year old girl, living at home like me. There were three things said about the GI’s, “over paid” was the first.

He was still bemused by the British coinage. It was one and eight for the two of us, he took a handful of change out of his pocket and stared at it. So I grabbed a bob, tanner, and thrupenny bit (1s, 6d, and 3d all silver coins of different sizes) and got a penny change. He was also bemused by the size of our penny, about four times the size of the ones he was used to.

He pointed out the inscription on the penny, it had lots written on it, including “D : G” and “F : D”. He said that was Latin abbreviations, meaning “By the grace of God,” and “Defender of the faith.” He was fascinated by this, he could (and did) go on about that sort of thing for hours. I just liked listening to him, the sound of his voice, it made me melt inside. And there was his mouth, his perfectly formed kissable mouth. Thinking of kissing that (perfect) mouth captured all of my attention. I was dreaming of those lips kissing me, I could have watched them for hours. I don’t remember that much of what he actually said.

After that we went dancing. At the dance, all I could think about was how good he smelled and the closeness of his body, and how a decent young girl shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Then the next thing I knew, he kissed me. “Over sexed” was the second thing said about GI’s. I didn’t know how to react to that, not least because I was so guilty about imagining that. I mean, no Welshman would have done that, not one I’d be with anyway. I hit the roof at that, I should have slapped him, but I was shocked and turned on, not that I knew it then. I didn’t know what that was, not what the words meant and definitely not what “turned on” felt like. “I’ll have you know: I’m a good girl; I go to Chapel.” He backed off and apologised.

That was when I knew he was special. I’d expect a GI to lose interest at that point, and find a softer touch. But, he seemed to like the fact I stopped him; he seemed to respect me more. It was a good job he didn’t see the smile playing around my lips at the time, and if he knew what I was feeling on the inside he’d have known to totally ignore my protestations.

I was totally mixed up, shocked by his forwardness but excited by him. Then there was his mouth, again, I was just thinking how his lips would feel pressed against mine, and the proximity to his body and how my body was reacting to it all. As I said, I was feeling, I didn’t know quite what. But that kiss had me on fire, I was tingling all over, especially down there. I had an ache deep in my belly, and I felt wet, wet but slippery. I was confused. I thought my period had started, but there was no blood. I even had to go to the loo to check, just to make sure.

Anyway, we made it through the evening without further incident. Then, he walked me back to the station. When we got there, my train was just leaving, so I just rushed off to catch it without thinking. Da didn’t like me staying out past dark, not when there might be an air raid. The next train would have got me home too late. All I thought about was trying to catch it and not the fact I didn’t know how to get to see him again, nor him me. I just rushed off babbling a thank you and that I’d had a good time.

I wasn’t thinking of that when I got home. I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking of him. I still ached down there, and my hand brushed my cwm through my nightie. (Cwm means valley in Welsh, the “w” is pronounced like an “oo” sound.