大象传媒

I have always believed that nearly every war veteran, sometimes or another, thinks, and talks about his service life.
There are those who wax lyrical, and others who are somewhat garrulous.
It is my hope that my story does not fall into any of these categories.
I merely wish to illustrate what it was like to be suddenly torn from ones home and loved ones, and thrust into the discipline and dangers of a wartime army.
Depending on the individual, it can be a very traumatic experience. But it can also be a very educating, and character building exercise.

From the very first moment of my enlistment, my life became a well-ordered regime.
I was taught to obey orders without question, and appear smart and soldier like at all times.
Like all the chaps who served in the forces, I found this very difficult to adapt to, but we all realised the necessity of it.

In June 1940, when a defeated, but far from demoralised army were rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk, the British people, now alone in Europe, braced themselves, and inspired by the leadership of Winston Churchill, began to build up a new force, which, with the help of the Commonwealth, and later the Americans, would rid Europe of the most evil regime it had been its misfortune to suffer.

This is my story of those years, and how they affected me.
It concerns the people I met, and befriended, and certain situations that I experienced.
It is not a complete history of my service life; much has been left out for various reasons.

T.A. 1992.

My story begins on Sunday September 3rd 1939. The time was 11:15 a.m.
I stood listening to the news on the radio. The announcer introduced the Prime Minister Mr. Neville Chamberlain. He began to speak
"This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government an official note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is now at war with Germany".
He finished his speech with the words,
"May God bless you all. May we defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against. Brute force, Bad faith, oppression, and persecution and against them I am certain that the right will prevail."

My mother, and a next-door neighbour, who had come to hear the news, began to weep, remembering perhaps the last war, in which my mother lost her first husband. A feeling of anger overcame me. The policy of appeasement, which the government had followed over the past few years or so, had been a waste of time.
Hitler had finally been allowed to call the tune.

For almost seven months after the Prime minister's announcement the war was classed as a "Phoney war." The German army would soon dispose of Poland, while the British and French armies faced the Germans on the western front.

On 8th April 1940 Germany invaded Denmark and Norway, and on the 10th May 1940, the Germans struck in the west.
Now, it was the British, and French who were going to learn what a Blitzkrieg was.
The German armour swept through neutral Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg, rolling the British and French forces back to the channel coast
By July it was all over, we had met our Dunkirk. The miracle was that we got so many of our troops out, thanks to the navy and the "Little boats". Chamberlain had resigned, and Winston Churchill had become Prime minister.
He promised us only "Blood, tears, toil and sweat", but he roused the nation with his speeches, Britain he vowed would never surrender.

Britain now braced itself for the expected invasion by the German forces, which thankfully never came.

However life went on for me in the usual way.
My work in the textile industry dragged on. I spent my out of working hours fire watching, or following my usual pursuits, Walking, cinema, music, reading, and cycling.
I also played drums in a local brass band and dance trio.

In the early summer of 1939 I had joined a group of lads and girls, who gathered on the local street corner. Here, I spent many happy hours with them, discussing the many things that young people were interested in at that time, dancing, films, sport and music. We young ones were now trying to get some enjoyment out of a blacked out town and a somewhat austere existence.

Among this group was a girl who was to play a very important part in my life; Ethel was a lovely girl just going on fourteen, who attracted me immediately I saw her. Like me she had red hair, but that was the only feature that we shared. She was so full of life and quite outgoing, unlike myself, who was something of an introvert, having spent most of my life from leaving school doing my own thing, until I joined the brass band, trio, and this street corner group.

Although I did not know it then, I was to fall hopelessly in love with Ethel, and it was the thought of her that enabled me to overcome all the trials that were to follow. However that is another story....

The air-raid warnings somewhat broke the monotony, the German Air Force had begun to bomb our major cities and ports, and in December 1940 Manchester had their blitz.

We young people carried on, and more or less made our own entertainment, no television or night clubs as there are now, we had the radio, cinema and the dance halls, where a very strict code of behaviour had to be adhered to, correct dress had to be worn, and any sign of misbehaviour was soon sorted out by the Master of Ceremonies.
Public houses were definitely not our scene, and clubs were working men's or young boys clubs, and did not interest us.

In our own sphere at that time I believe there was a greater sense of responsibility among the young, and, compared with today, moral standards were very much higher.
Fornication was frowned on by the majority of the young people I knew, thanks to a strict schooling, a more responsible media, and, of course our parental discipline.

On the 8th November 1940 I became eligible for service in the forces, having reached my twentieth birthday.
On the 11th December I received a summons to present myself for medical examination at Dover Street, Manchester, having some weeks earlier registered for the Royal Navy.
I attended this examination but unfortunately was found to have a slight defect in one ear.

On 22nd June 1941 Hitler made his first drastic mistake. He attacked Russia.

Eighteen days later I received my enlistment notice.
It came on the 3rd July 1941 when I was instructed to present myself on the 10th July to number six training centre Pioneer Corps, Belle Vue barracks, Bradford in Yorkshire.
After saying goodbye to my father and mother, (My elder brother William had already been enlisted a year earlier) and the rest of my family I made my way to the railway station to embark on a journey into the unknown.

In the years that were to follow I was to learn a great many things, the main one being the realisation of my love for Ethel. This journey was to be, for me, a great adventure, having never in my life travelled further than Blackpool on the Lancashire coast, a matter of forty miles from my home in Bolton.

As I watched the countryside passing by from the train window I wondered how long it would be before I was returning home once more to civilian life.
Little did I know it would be almost five long years.

The train pulled into the station at Bradford, and I along with other young recruits poured out onto the platform.
A Corporal met us. He shepherded us into the tearoom for a cup of tea, whilst he went to meet other trains to pick up more chaps who were to join us.

Among these recruits were lads from every walk of life, and from almost every place in the British Isles.
From the highlands of Scotland to the Valleys of Wales, from the Emerald Isles to the Southern Counties of England, and quite a lot from the industrial Midlands, Yorkshire and Lancashire.

Though at that time I was not aware of it, my real education was about to begin. I came to realise the great difference in the attitudes of the chaps from the cities and those from the towns and rural areas, the latter ones appeared, on the whole, to be more disciplined, and had a more responsible outlook on life.

When everyone was accounted for the Corporal formed us up into three ranks and off we marched to Belle Vue barracks.
Here we were given numbers, mine being 13091898, which we were told to memorise.
We received a soldiers pay and record book, and also a service respirator, in exchange for our civilian one, a knife, fork, and spoon and two mess tins, one fitting into the other, "For the use of", an army term I was to get used to, in time!

After enlistment the Corporal took us to the mess room at the barracks where we were served a hard baked meat pie, and a mess tin of tea.
We soon put our kit to some use! No uniform was provided at that time. Indeed, it was to be a week or so before we were fully kitted out as soldiers. When everyone had finished their meal, the Corporal once again formed us up into marching order, and we set of to our training Cadre.
This was a place called Odsal house, Odsal, Bradford. If my memory serves me right, it was about three miles from the enlistment centre.

Arriving at this place, which seemed to have once been a small hospital, or nursing home, we were assembled in the square, which was the centre of this establishment, and addressed by a Regimental Sergeant Major, who was a member of the Kings Own Regiment.
He was something of a martinet, and began by welcoming us all. He then proceeded to prepare us for the future. He told us that we were here to be made into soldiers, and, if it was up to him, that is what we would finish up as.
He ended his speech with those immortal words every Sergeant Major uttered, "You play ball with me, and I'll play ball with you". Which in a word meant "Obey orders, without question". He introduced the Commanding Officer, a Lieutenant Colonel, who appeared, about fifty years of age, he was very distinctive.

He began by warning us of the moral dangers that faced us in the army, and told us to choose our comrades carefully, to have pride in our regiment, our country, and ourselves. He told us of the past exploits of the Pioneer Corps which had been formed in 1939 and had more than excelled in action during the retreat at Dunkirk. (They were to receive the prefix "Royal" in 1946). He then wished us well, and left the parade ground. We were formed into sections, I was in section one.

The Sergeant's name was Hamer, the Corporal was named Gaffson. He was a Jew, a small pleasant unruffled type of man always smiling. Corporal Hartley was the other non-commissioned officer, who'd met us at the station.
After introducing themselves, and giving us a talk on what was required of us, Corporal Hartley led us into the building, which was L shaped and had two floors both of which contained a number of rooms. There was an outside veranda running along the rear of the building.

Our section was shown to a room on the second floor, where rows of double wooden bunks stood along each side. Each contained a woollen blanket, and an empty palliasse. The corporal told us to each take a palliasse and follow him. We trooped out behind him and he led us to a shed outside, where we filled the palliasses with straw, when everyone was ready we trooped back to our bunks and laid out our blankets on top of the palliasse as shown by the Corporal.... neatly folded!

By now it was teatime and we were shown to the mess. This was a long hall, next to the cookhouse. Trestle tables were laid out with forms alongside. We formed a single file at a serving table, and were served sausage and mash in one part of our mess tins, and tea in the other part.
We were not issued with cups until much later.

After tea, we were left to our own devices, after being warned that no one was to leave the camp under any circumstances.
I began to introduce myself to some of my companions, Bill Brown, Les Thomas, Jack O'Connor, Jimmy Brindle, Bill Waddington and Joe Brookes, who all seemed sensible and decent chaps.

Bill was a smart dapper chap who came from Leyland Lancashire and had worked in a tyre factory, Les was a big husky chap who came from Treorchy in the Rhonnda Valley South Wales, and was a miner, Jack was about my own build, and was a very pleasant fellow he came from Dublin Southern Ireland, and had worked as a projectionist at the Regal cinema, Marble Arch, London. Jimmy was a thin sharp-featured lad who came from Blackburn, Bill Waddington was a broad shouldered chap who came from a village not far from my hometown, and Joe resembled a boxer, a tough chap, from Manchester.

Early next morning, after a rather restless night, we arose to the shouts of the orderly sergeant, "Wakey, wakey my lucky lads, show a leg, get ready for parade".
This was to be the usual thing for many weeks to come. I rose, dressed and made my way outside to where the ablutions stood. These consisted of a wooden structure open to the sky, with a row of cold-water taps running along the centre of a long table. Here we washed and shaved, and when we were finished, we returned to the billet. The non-commissioned officers called us out once again and we formed up into our respective sections. The Sergeant explained the drill for parades. How to fall in, stand to attention, wait for other commands.

Later the Sergeant Major came on the scene, and took over the parade. He put us through our paces to see if we had learned anything, and seemed quite satisfied. He later marched to the front of the first section and slowly walked along the ranks checking each man.
On arriving at me it was "Haircut, after parade". Passing on he addressed another man in the rear rank "Stand still that man"' and other relevant commands as he passed along.
After parade I went to the company barber who cut off quite a good amount of my hair.
The following morning the R.S.M once again tapped my head "Haircut." he said, I told him that I had visited the barber the previous day, "Haircut," he repeated. So, once again to the barber I went, when he had finished I had just a small tuft at the front of my head!

After these inspections we were handed over to the section commanders, who then marched their own sections to a separate corner of the parade ground, where we were taught further rudiments of army life. "The parade ground is sacrosanct, do not walk, or stroll across it, march smartly if it becomes necessary to cross it. You only salute a commissioned officer, and never without a cap, because you are improperly dressed". How to salute, longest way up shortest way down. Second Lieutenant, one pip, First Lieutenant, two, Captain, three, Major, crown, and so on.

After these parades we marched to breakfast, which consisted of porridge in one side of our mess tin, and either sausage or a slice of bacon in the other side. The smaller mess tin was again used for our tea. One can imagine that by the time we reached our table, the porridge was beginning to cover the bacon or whatever was served. However we tucked into it.
This is the Army, as the popular song at that time declared.

The days passed with the same routine, learning to march, about turn, move to the right, or left in threes. Slowly the week passed, then our uniforms arrived, what a performance fitting them was! Something one had to see to realise what comedy could be made of it!
When we were ready, the NCOs fell us in for inspection. How they refrained from bursting out laughing I'll never know! It was hilarious! However we finally got the hang of it. And presented ourselves in a smart and fairly soldierly manner.

Part Two

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