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Ralph is a local boy from Accrington who joined the army on a wave of
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Oh my dearest, my own little pocket Venus…my rose of Clayton-le-Moors. This is no letter you’ll ever get. My love. Sweet Eva. It’s come. After God’s long ages it’s come and we’re up to the line for the big push.
[... …]
I sat on her doorstep right after and cried for you. All I want to volunteer right now is a night raid on your bosom in a field of snowy white bedsheets. That’s a fact.
Peter Whelan, The Accrington Pals. Methuen Drama, 1982. pp.54-55
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