大象传媒

THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD,
AS WE THAT ARE LEFT GROW OLD.
AGE SHALL NOT WEARY THEM,
NOR THE YEARS CONDEMN.
AT THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN,
AND IN THE MORNING,
WE SHALL REMEMBER THEM.

LEST WE FORGET.

This is the story of a young English soldier who went to war to fight for his country. He spent seven years in the army. He travelled half way round the world. He was sent to France, Belgium, South Africa, West Africa, India, Assam, Malaya, Singapore, Java and Burma.

I dedicate this story to my wife, Joan, who has stayed by me through all these trying times, giving me support, encouragement and strength.
Thank you, Joan.

The First Battalion of the Seaforth Hughlanders.

I have seen so many horrific things, which still effect me to this day. Some will be describd in these pages. Though these may be hard to read, they are the reality of war.

The year was 1939 and I was 19 years old. I had known Joan for approximately 3 years. We knew war was getting closer and was seemingly inevitable. Then it happened. WAR WAS DECLARED, SEPTEMBER 1939.

Joan, who at that time was still my fiancee, left with her family to live in Bournemouth.

I had to register for active sevice so I signed up in London. It was not long before my calling papers arrived, together with the King's shilling.

I was to report to a place called Blanford, which is in Dorset. I then found out that this place was only a few miles from Bournemouth, thus giving me hope of maybe being able to see Joan. I arrived at Blanford young and unaware of what lay ahead of me.

The camp itself consisted of a few huts, including a guard room. On arrival, myself and about a dozen other young men were taken to the clothing stores. The corporal behind the counter looked at me, decided my size, and said 'Ah, this will fit you.' I was then handed the clothes which for the next 7 years would be all I required. They consisted of a battle dress uniform, shirts, boots, socks and a ground sheet. We were then taken to one of the huts. Inside were approximately 20 beds, with lockers for each, and a wash room and toilet. On my trying on my battle dress uniform, the young man beside me announced, 'I could fit into that with you.' This was the case with each man in the hut.

As I was training to become an alterations tailor before being called up, my work each evening became altering all of the battle dress uniforms for the lads. In fact, all my spare time was taken up attempting to make the battle dress uniforms fit as best as I could. Even some officers brought their uniforms to have them altered to fit. All this had to be done by hand.

The First Days in Training Camp.

These were spent adjusting to our new living quarters and becoming acquainted with all the other lads. Days were spent learning drill and how to hold and shoot a rifle.

Our corporal seemed a lot older than we were and certainly new to his job.

Each morning we were picked up at 6 a.m. for P.T. (physical training). Then we proceeded on to map reading classes, route marches, but the utmost learning was how to keep our equipment clean and blancoed. (Blanco is like a dubbing material which is used on the rifle strapping, back packs, belts, etc. It comes in different colours, and protects and seals webbing.)

The camp had begun to take shape around me. I became acquainted with a young man named Dennis and we quickly became friends. Both he and I notced the buses that came and went each day. These brought the work force from Bournemouth. Dennis and I seemed to have the same thought - Bournemouth - although to me Bournemouth meant Joan.

When the weekend came and we were both off duty, we asked the workmen if we could catch a lift with them in the bus when they were leaving for the day. 'Certainly, mates,' we were told! Thus, each possible weekend Dennis and I would jump on one of the buses and head to Bournemouth, both of us spending the weekend with Joan and her family. The worst part was leaving Joan, and the trip back to camp. Only when we were on guard duty did this not happen - those were lonely weekends for me.

The first few weeks at camp were the hardest, adjusting to a new way of life and rigorous training. After that I became quite used to the life and routine. In fact I quite enjoyed it. Then came my first guard duty.

This was a small hut on top of a hill out in the wilds. It was bitterly cold. The drill was, you were on guard duty for 4 hours, then 4 hours off. Your job was to challenge anybody coming up the hill. I think I saw 2 people the entire time I was on duty and I was cold to the very core of my bones. The next day I developed the flu - I could barely stand and felt terrible. One of the boys accompanied me to the medical centre where I spent the next 2 days. Upon my return to duty, we were told that we only had another week to complete our training. After that, we would have our passing out parade.

I was chosen as the right marker, which is to say you are the one to lead the parade. I was quite excited about this as I had never done anything like this before.

Seven Years of War: this story continues under the same name.

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