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Typed by a UCN Community Volunteer, taken from “Semilong at War” (Workers’ Educational Association Project).

On call-up, travelled overnight to Loch Maben. Greeted on arrival with a breakfast of salt porridge and boiled ox liver.

A 30-year-old amongst 18-year-olds. Corporal sarcastically called me ‘Mr Clarke’.

At the firing range, had five rounds each. Seven shots on my target. None on adjoining target. Presumably, my neighbour had scored five inners on my target. I had probably managed two outers and three misses, but I passed. Sergeant always said that I closed my eyes before I fired.

On completion of initial training joined Signals Section. Roamed countryside, with radios strapped to our backs. Farmers’ wives would supply us with milk and scones. In Lockerbie, all shops and cafés had special prices. One café offered as much as one could eat in sandwiches, scones and cakes, for a shilling. It was always crowded on Saturdays…

When ISRB was closing down, transferred to the Education Corps. I had to report to an area office in Cheltenham where an ATS sewed three stripes on my battledress. Then, without any training or instruction, I was given transport to Bourton-on-the-Hill where a company of the Pioneer Corps was in charge of a POW camp.

I found that my duties were to teach about forty illiterates to read and write and to give a weekly talk on current affairs. The Pioneers were split into six detachments, and the duty rosters were such that, in order that all could enjoy my pearls of wisdom, I had to give my talk to each detachment separately. I also had to cycle to Blockley to talk to another group there. I thus gave the same talk seven times each week.

There were lots of skilled people among the POWs, and it was possible to get almost anything done. We were not, however, allowed to give them money, so cigarettes were used instead. A haircut cost five cigarettes. A dentist would scale and polish teeth for ten. A tailor would alter clothes for to fir, also for ten.

Shortly before demob, I was promoted to WO2, but stayed at Bourton-on-the-Hill. Captain Paton, who had previously been demobbed, came back to the mess and, seeing the laurel leaves on my arm, exclaimed “Sergeant Major Clarke. That’s the funniest thing I have ever
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