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Cyril was something of a rare bird in terms of army deployment. On conscription, he was actually assigned to the job he was already trained to do well, contrary to the usual Army habit of deploying recruits to the vacancy of the month regardless of their aptitude and experience. He was called up in April 1944 from Derbyshires’ bakehouse in Bakewell and, after undergoing the inevitable six-week spell of lifestyle re-modelling at the hands of the drill sergeants in Fort George and a further six weeks acclimatisation on Barry Island, he was assigned to the RASC to carry on providing the staff of life to the grateful soldiery in East Anglia. There can be few creature comforts for which the American GIs envied their British counterparts, but on this occasion they spurned their own field kitchens in preference to Cyril’s bakery. In July 1945, with the European war already over, he was posted to the Middle East for reasons other than the photo-opportunity he shared with the Sphinx — whatever they may have been — and at the end of 1947 the Army returned a fit A1 soldier to Derbyshires in return for the C3 civilian they had commandeered 3½ years earlier.

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