大象传媒

Continuing

Bob and I became deeply engrossed in conversation, pausing only occasionally to comment on something we saw out of the window. Our pipes were useful standbys when our conversation flagged, and we frequently just sat gazing absently through our tobacco smoke, completely engrossed in our thoughts. The sun set and the breeze became chilly. I closed the window, and it was then that Les had his: bright idea. Dragging his kit-bag from under his seat he rummaged in it until he found writing paper and envelope and, producing a bit of pencil from his breast pocket and pulling his cuffs back from his wrists, he began to scribble furiously.
What are you doing, Les?" someone asked. "Writing your memoirs?"
"No; a letter to the wife; and chucking it out of the window," Lee replied.
"Blimey, that鈥檚 an idea," I ejaculated, and I, too produced pencil and paper and began to write.
Sometimes people are just like sheep. Where one goes, others follow. What one does, others copy. It was not surprising therefore, that before many minutes had elapsed most of the others were busy scribbling away, heads bent low, arms spread across the tables and one, I think it was Sid, with his tongue sticking ludicrously from the corner of his mouth.

There was not much we could write about, except that we were on the train bound for our port of embarkation but that we did not know what port it was nor what our ultimate destination would be We added a few generalities and put the letters in envelopes. After sealing them we handed them to Les, who was going round collecting them. The train, which was now making good speed, was without the second engine, which had been dropped before we reached Birmingham. "Not much chance of getting rid of them at this speed," Les commented, as he looked out for a suitable opportunity.
"We'll have to wait until we get to a station," I replied. "We're bound to slow down even if we don't stop."
Eventually, with a series of jolts and rattles and much creaking and groaning as it passed over the points, the train gradually reduced speed as it approached a station. Les thrust his head further out of the window and waited for the station to come into view, the bundle of letters clutched firmly in his hand. The train slid slowly past the platform and we realized we were at Burton -on -Trent. Lea's chance came almost immediately in the shape of an attractive young lady wearing slacks and with a porter's cap perched jauntily on the back of her mass of brown wavy hair and a figure that would make any normal warm-blooded man feel all unnecessary.
"Post 'em for us, miss," Les yelled, as he sent the envelopes fluttering down on to the platform. The girl acknowledged with a cheery wave and blew us a kiss, and began to gather up the letters to the accompaniment of many wolf whistles from the train. The battalion' had been started at Burton, so it is possible she may have known some of the men.
Being well satisfied with Les's bit of strategy we conversed quietly until we arrived at Derby, where a pleasant surprise awaited us. On the platform two army stoves had been rigged up by a unit billeted in the area and a good brew of steaming hot tea was all ready for us. The liberal helpings we were allowed went down well with our remaining "corned beef sandwiches and put us in good heart for the rest of the evening.
Boarding the train again after stretching our legs with a few minutes stroll about the platform we indulged in another lively period of skylarking and persiflage, and a final sing-song to the accompaniment of the harmonicas then the blinds were drawn because of the blackout regulations, and by midnight we were all sound asleep. The train roared on into the night.

I awoke at 05.00 hours and took my holdall to the lavatory, where I freshened, up with a good wash and a. shave. Shaving was a tricky business because of the swaying of the train but I managed it without cutting my throat. Feeling thoroughly refreshed and fully awake now I returned to my seat and shrugged into my tunic. My pals were still asleep and I moved quietly and slowly so as not to disturb them.
I raised the blinds to admit the light of the new day into the coach. It was a glorious early morning, which shone brightly from a sky of palest blue and bathed the countryside with its immature radiance. The hedges, still showing signs of early morning dew; had an almost luminous glow about them, as though they were misted over with autumnal spider thread, and away on a distant hillside a flock of sheep looked like a cluster of puff balls as they grazed peacefully in the gentle warmth of the new day. Near the railway a small lake resembled a pool of molten silver whose surface was gently ruffled by the soft caress of the morning breeze. Late spring lambs gambolled haphazardly on very wobbly legs among the sheep, their tails jerking spasmodically with every movement.
I stood at the window and admired the beauty of the morning, not only because I was born and bred in the country and had been an early riser and a nature lover all my life, but because I was leaving it all behind and had no idea how long it would be before I would see it again or if I would ever see it again. This was the Beauty of Britain. This was the beauty we were leaving behind; this was the beauty we were helping to defend against what Mr. Churchill had called "the filthy pollution of Nazi tyranny".
The coach was stuffy because no fresh air had been able to circulate during the night, so I opened the window. The fresh morning air gradually eased itself in and filled the coach with its invigorating influence. I inhaled deeply of its sweetness, and then glanced around at my companions as the sound of someone stirring diverted my attention from the view. The flow of fresh air had roused them and they stirred sleepily and blinked their eyes open and sought to see where the draught was coming from.
"Who the hell opened that bloody window?" Charlie wheezed, trying to dislodge the frog in his throat.
"Shut it up, Doug," Sid pleaded, still half asleep.
"Come on, wakey, wakey. It's a lovely morning," I told them.
"It was a lovely night until you opened that bloody window," Mick moaned.
鈥淲hat time is it?" Les wanted to know.
鈥淗alf past five."
鈥淏loody hell, it鈥檚 still the middle of the night. Shut that window and let us finish our sleep.鈥�
I did not shut the window, and with much grumbling and mumbling they began to stir themselves and were soon as full of fun and life as they had been the previous day as they scrambled madly to be first into the lavatory to perform their ablutions.
We had crossed the border during the night but none of us knew what part of Scotland we were in. A brief halt at New Cumnock, which we had not even heard of made us no wiser, but one of the lads produced a pocket diary which had a map of the British Isles in the back and a. quick study of it convinced us we were heading for the river Clyde area, probably Glasgow or Greenock.
Greenock it was and at 0900 hours we stood on the platform at that station ready for the moment when we would receive orders to board ship.
The most hazardous part of our journey was about to begin.

Continued in Chapter 3

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