Firstly, Thank You -
To TRACE, all its’ officers and members – those searching and all those who help.
To Dr. Niels Zussblatt – patient, brilliant and a positive treasure to all Trace members.
To Sally, my friend - a clever, intuitive, diplomatic and lovely lady.
To Gwen – you should have been a psychologist – you're a fab girl! (I wish you much happiness in October Georgia Girl)
Thank you ALL – I owe you all so much.
I will abbreviate my story for now. I was not told I was adopted until I was nineteen – I was shattered by the news. My adopted father who I adored had died when I was seventeen. My adopted mother died when I was twenty-seven. I traced my birth mother but she would not tell me anything about my father although I asked on many occasions. We have occasional contact. I also asked her sister, the answer was an emphatic ‘No’. I approached Gloucestershire Social Services and the Salvation Army on many occasions over the years after 1975 and the passing of the Children’s Act – I was told, on different occasions - 'nothing on file, records incomplete, mislaid or destroyed by a fire.' On my original birth certificate – Father Unknown. Gloucestershire Social Services told me all they had was ‘Father American – G.I.’ Salvation Army referred me back to Gloucestershire SS. I tried so hard to put my aching for information about my identity, my heritage, to the back of my mind, but my need to know just would not die. Often I felt angry, I felt this knowledge was my right, and that it was my duty to discover for my children and grandchildren, their family history. This huge question loomed large for many years and all the time I tried to ignore it – unsuccessfully.
So…to cut a long story short in October 2003, getting to the end of my life story book I wanted a photograph of Northlands the Salvation Army Mother & Baby Home in Cardiff where I was born, so I wrote to them asking for a photo either as it is now or as it was then. The Manager sent me a photo of Northlands but she also forwarded my letter to the Salvation Army International Heritage Centre in London where, fortunately, it landed on the desk of Major Clark a social historian. He wrote saying for a fee of £7.50 (donations welcome!!) he could send me some social history of the Mother & Baby homes in the 40’s and If I would care to send my d.o.b. and name at the time I was born, he would look up my file. I sent him a cheque and hesitated at sending my details, yet again, to the S.A. – BUT I DID !! Four days later, one dark, wet November morning, in a letter from Major Clark, I received my father’s name, his unit, his company and his battalion. After all those years – I really had almost given up hope. I joined TRACE – I had heard of Trace years ago and once talked to Phil Grinton who did not dismiss me even though I had no information of my father other than the fact he was a GI. There were complications – nothing unusual there! The information, handwritten, did not appear to be 100% accurate. Sally, with Dr. Z. were my miracle workers. I had no choice but to ask my birth mother face to face about the accuracy of the information recorded at the time of my birth. It was very difficult, probably the toughest thing I have had to do in my life, she had built a strong barrier around herself and her life in 1944. This was so distressing for her, and for us too. She finally, in February this year, acknowledged the truth, she confirmed with slight alterations that the information recorded was indeed true. Sally moved up a gear and we went back to the incredible Dr. Z. for him to check with the amended information that my father Sgt. Arley Cover Wall was in Coy A 291st Engineers Combat Battalion. Everything fitted into place, the right name, the right place and at the right time. I would have been happy with just a photograph of my father, I hoped the military may have been able to provide it. I had always assumed that my father had been killed in the war.
Sally took the search one stage further, still giving me the option to apply the brakes! My family history started to unfold thanks to her gift, her patience and her experience she discovered I had possibly eleven siblings! (I was brought up as an adopted only child!!) The intermediary/diplomacy part began – Sally worked wonders. There were weeks when either my WV/ VA family or myself could have said “that’s enough” – but communications opened and then flowed with e-mails, letters, cards and then, far more daunting, phone calls. I discovered I have one surviving brother, John aged 65, and four sisters, Susie 72, twin sisters Dean and Jean aged 69 and a younger sister Pam aged 56. My youngest sister Linda died last summer aged fifty. My father died in 1964, he has one surviving sister. There are many cousins!
We planned the visit with great excitement and anxiety too at first. We booked flights to Washington Dulles 10/8/04 and arranged to hire a car and drive down the Skyline Drive via Front Royal, to Staunton and then on to Bluefield for 13/8/04. The more we communicated the more I grew confident that all would be well. My family were close to each other and sensitive to their own feelings and mine too. I was increasingly apprehensive about meeting them as the weeks disappeared and 13th August got closer, sometimes it seemed as if it was all too momentous for me, I would not be able to cope with the emotion. I often questioned my inner strength. However on the evening we met them, Pete, my husband, and I sat waiting in the hotel reception area, and felt complete calm, it was so unexpected. When my brother and sisters all appeared in their t-shirts on which was hand-written (and decorated by my sister Pam) “I am Pippa’s Sister” (or “brother”) and their names on too – I melted !! I rushed out to meet them. The rain was torrential, but warm! (The tail end of hurricane Bonnie) – we met in the car park! We got soaked – it didn’t matter a bit!!! Over the next five days my long journey, my years of yearning disappeared into a mist of love and total acceptance. It was so emotional but we had such fun too. We acknowledged our differences and celebrated our togetherness and our similarities, which were very obvious. Many relations had travelled three and four hours to be at the cemetery when I went to my father’s grave for the first time – their support and their love was tangible. I was deeply moved. I took a white rose, my cousin gave me an American Flag to place on my Arley’s grave.
I have walked the roads around Pocahontas where Arley walked, and heard about his life from my brother and sisters. I have seen the house where my grandparents raised Arley and his brothers and sisters, I have walked through the mine where he worked, and touched the mining equipment/machinery that he used. I have seen the funeral home where he laid, where he was the last person to be, and which has remained untouched since the day he was taken from there to be buried in Oakvale in 1964. Sadly most of Pocahontas is decaying yet it has deep beauty and poignancy for me now. I have learned a great deal about my father from his contemporaries still living, from a cousin, a radio operator for the gliders in WW2. My father was a real character (he certainly was a ‘Dammed Engineer’) – my brother, the only surviving son, is similar! I am so proud to be part of the wonderful Wall family. I am so proud of my father and his contribution to WW2 as part of the 291st. My brother and sisters are so loving. I love them already. They have done so much for me, given so much of their time to allow me to bring home treasures of our heritage and my own and my daughters, granddaughters and grandson’s identities. We have cried, danced, walked, talked and laughed together.
I know this is just the beginning.
Thank you to everybody whose path I have crossed since last November. I am forever in your debt.
Pippa - Proud daughter of ARLEY COVER WALL – with part of my heart in wild and wonderful West Virginia