Our War Time Wedding

Way back in 1944 my wife and I decided to get married partly because it wouldn’t be long before I was a very small part of the D day landings
But as we were both only 19 this caused a problem, you had to get your parents permission to get married if you were under 21 years old, then the age of majority. My parents were all for us getting married and filled out the form from the registrar. But my wife’s foster parents objected although some time before they had given us their permission to get engaged, one did those days. But changed their minds on the day my mother had arranged a party to celebrate the engagement and took my wife to be away for the day so we had a party without the most important person being present (not a party I enjoyed at all) By the time we wanted to marry my wife had left her foster parents and moved into my old bedroom as I was by now a reluctant soldier. Back to the story, you could get around the permission bit by applying to the local Magistrates, to do this my wife had to summons her foster father to appear in court to state his reasons for objecting. The summons was somewhat embarrassing for my wife as she still worked for the same firm as her foster father. In fact at times they worked on the same saw bench, my wife was working for a Timber Firm doing the job a man would have done pre-war
Came the day the case was to be heard, I managed to get special leave for the day not being stationed too far away from home, myself, my wife to be, and my father and mother stood before five worthies of the town. These cases were always heard in a closed court and never reported in the local paper, we were asked, “Did we love one another and did we realise how serious marriage was.” Of course we said “Yes” my mother kept butting in to say “R--- has been living with me for over a year and is honest and respectable” both my wife and I think we got their honours permission as they had had enough of Mum.
My wife with my parents help had to make the arrangements for the wedding and the sending of the invitations a lot of our would be guest were away on war service but there was quite a crowd on the day. My wife moved next-door for the night as I was home on leave of course, but we had to see each other before the ceremony as we had been advised to take holy communion at the 7.30am Mass. My wife wanted a white wedding and nature helped that morning as we awoke to a snow covered landscape (it was February). We cycled the mile or so to church over a carpet of unbroken snow, to a dimly lit church, just the alter candles alight. When we cycled back the only tracks in the snow where the ones we had made, then we had breakfast together really against tradition.
I hoped a friend of mine could be my ‘Best Man’ but also being in the army, he could not get leave, so the next door neighbour, a sailor home on leave, stepped into the breach.
Arriving at the church we were told the organ was broken as had the church heating, I in my battle dress was warm enough my poor wife shivered in her dress, until her matron of honour found a coat to wrap around her. The service Nuptial Mass was somewhat long so our guests were glad to get to the café for the reception. The wedding photos were taken by the local paper outside the church door, when we saw them finished white specs showed the falling snow. After the reception we left on honeymoon to stay with an aunt in Mitcham Surrey.

We also called at a local photographic studio for more photos, they never came to the church those days. The photographer disappeared under a black cloth, the tripod started to splay, we started to laugh, the photographer appeared from under his cloth and glared at us, so we all look very formal in the photo.
The reception in the local tea rooms cost 1/6 a head about 8p in today’s money I can’t remember a lot about it apart from an aunt insisting we danced Knees up Mother Brown!.
Our honeymoon was to be spent in Mitcham Surrey as there had been no air raids for some time my aunt (not the dancer) had invited us to stay with her for the seven days I had been granted leave for the wedding. All went well until in Aunties bedroom unpacking our cases we found the clothes had been covered with confetti which spilled out on to the carpet, we both spent some time with licked fingers removing the offending confetti from a very house proud ladies carpet. We had married on a Tuesday but Hitler decided to spoil our peace by forcing us into the Anderson shelter in Uncles garden, not until the Friday did we get a full night in bed together.
After deciding my wife was not pregnant the neighbours said the marriage would not last as we were far too young to know what we were taking on, we were both 19..
Well sixty years later with five children all married to their original partners with twelve lovely grandchildren, and two greats, I rather think we did.

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