大象传媒

A LIKELY STORY by Geoff Kebby

I found a quiet bench near a bush and began quickly to remove my
trousers when suddenly, I found myself confronted by a policeman. "What
exactly do you think you are doing?" He boomed. His bright torch was exposing
my dismantled brown paper parcel in which was stuffed half an R.A.F. uniform.
The other contents comprised my civilian trousers but by now, these had been
taken out of the package in readiness.

Leave was forbidden but I would not be missed. I was stationed in a
civilian home. I guessed that, if I took my civvies in a small paper bag - I could
change in the park near the De Montforte Hall in Leicester. I left the college that
Friday night and walked slowly around the City to use up time until it was dark. I
dare not be seen in uniform by the Military Police who were everywhere. There
were no street lights of course. The blackout was very effective. Who on this
cold bleak night in 1944 would want to take a walk through the middle of a park
in Leicester?

I stuttered, " I was just changing my clothes".
"A likely story" I had expected him to reply - but he quietly stood and said
nothing for a full minute. I was wearing half a uniform. Perhaps he couldn't think
of any logical reason for my behaviour. He shone his torch into the bag again
and I am sure he scratched the back of his head as he turned away. He didn't
want to make waves.

I completed the change - stuffed the rest of my uniform into the parcel and
quickly departed. I did not want to meet the constable again.

I wandered slowly, up and down side streets when I noticed a warm and
friendly glow coming from a brazier that was burning at a workman's canvas hut
and inside was a night-watchman. I was very cold and this was a welcome sight
indeed. We started talking and before long, he invited me in and made me a mug
of tea.

We talked for ages and I felt quite lonely yet very comforted by the
warmth of the red hot coke fire on my face and the mug that was cupped in my
hands. Eventually I left and reached the station. The lights in the train to London
were all painted dark blue as they were not supposed to be visible outside. The
windows were covered in thick canvas mesh which let a little light in during the
day and made seeing the station very difficult. Here and there a little mesh had
been lifted at the edges and the usual notice that appeared near the train
windows had been ignored. This was a picture of a little man pointing down and
saying, "I trust you'll pardon my correction, that stuff is there for your protection"
Underneath a clown had added, "Thank you for your information but I cannot see
the bloody station ."

The trains were always crowded and I had to stand until after midnight
when it was too late to catch a tube anywhere. I needed to cross London to
Fenchurch Street from where the milk train would leave for Southend at 4.00am.

After a break of a couple of hours at a servicemen's hostel in St. Pancras,
I completed my journey to Fenchurch Street on foot - having stood or walked
nearly all night.

Southend at last. I now took a taxi to my home. It was still dark when I
arrived and I threw a few small stones up at my dad's bedroom window. After a
few minutes I saw his face beaming at the window. I was HOME AGAIN.

***

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