大象传媒

Part 6. Change for Cardiff,

Mysteries of the under-ground to Paddington Station would need a lot of extra footwork and numerous inquirers. Even after being given the most precise direction he got lost. Each time he failed the more desperate he became. People teeming around seemed to know where they were going; in fact it was hard to find one that had stopped that could be approached, never the less he made progress and was on his way.

Tired and shagged out, the name of Paddington Station appeared in bold letters, even he could not now get lost as he made his way to the platforms. People were swarming about the place. Space around him was needed to avoid the heavy equipment he was carrying. Contact with some could not be avoided; some of the remarks also couldn鈥檛 be avoided. Think a bit of the old red white and blue was drooping around edges, as he made his way. It was with some Relief that the entrances to the platforms came into view.
There were the same inquires to be made at one of the gates for the Cardiff train then with the information he moved to a gate further along the platform.

Nothing to worry about, there was plenty of time before the departure of the train. Regardless of this advantage he tried to get a good place on the Cardiff platform. The odds had changed now it was full of likely passengers all the advantages he hoped for were gone. This extra time would be no advantage in getting that favourite seat; maybe even worse there would be no seat. Somewhere along the line the station speakers were announcing, 鈥榯he train now in platform鈥� then added the other stops and the magic word Cardiff. It was shove and heave to try to gain entrance to the
carriage, people were already filling the carriages with the doors choked with bodies pushing and shoving, some were trying to hold people back to let their lady friend enter, very gallant but not from those being trampled on with the impatient stare. Has inexperienced as he was, he knew that a seat would be an impossibility. He wasn鈥檛 the only military man making the journey, there was a gang of RAF boys hogging the best places left on the platform, how he envied their light kit, looking at them not in anger but envious of their equipment. He did the only thing he could by muttering under his breath,鈥� Bet they wouldn鈥檛 look so spruce if they were buried under this bloody lot鈥� as he still tries to edge into a better position. No doubt about it, the poor bloody infantryman had gained nothing by being lost under all his equipment.

All the doors still had people in front of them but eventually he鈥檚 through the door and standing in the passage of the carriage and looks for the nearest floor space. His luck is out; it鈥檚 the dreaded space near to the lavatory for the next few hours. There would be no time for dreaming with the continuous toilet seekers wanting to step over him to reach the toilet and disturb his peace. Their 鈥楽orry and excuse me鈥� became so regular he didn鈥檛 even lift his eyes but limited it to a few un-kind words under his breath.

Nothing within him now rekindled the magic of travelling in trains. It was now only a dim memory of his early success; now he was in the real world of the unfortunate floor sitting passage passengers. No change of scenery through the window, the only thing to see now was the bodies passing both ways on their way to the toilets. All he could do was to stare at the opposite wall of the carriage; the windows were too high to be any entertainment value. As he wriggled on the floor he longed for the luxury of sitting on a seat and stretching his legs?

On went the train except for the schedule stops to allow passengers to get on and off. Plenty of whistles from the station personnel and slamming of doors gave the urgency of moving off. He was tempted to try and find a seat, odds of finding one were stacked against him; anyway there was too much of his equipment to move. If he had found a seat perhaps the new people would have not been so tolerant, 鈥榮tay put鈥� was the decision, anyway the Seven Tunnel was getting near and at least there may be the advantage of being one of the first off. With a bottom as sore as hell he looked to the negative and uncomfortable hard floor, cursed it and tried to get some rest.

Time struggled on before the Seven Tunnel opened her big mouth and swallowed them train and all, then to spew them out onto the lands of Wales.

Home leave and the Horse & Groom

Reaching the Welsh Boarders was now turning into the most exhilarating part of the journey. Aches and a sore bum had gone he now had time to think of what was ahead. As tired as he was he was excited by the thoughts of returning home for his first leave and stood up and started to dress.
The task was over, now dressed and ready. The lad looked through the window at the passing scenery, the early thrill of it had one time tailed off into a dreary journey now it was brightening up! Everything was beginning to look like a new sixpence. There was no weight in anything he was carrying now, his hat now at a jaunty angle and all the rest carefully adjusted as if he was going on parade.
He wanted to impress everyone.
As if as to compress time the train slowed down, it would be entering its next stop at Newport Station the last stop before his home in Cardiff. Things started to pop up that he recognised as the outskirts of Newport then within a short time he could feel the change in the train's speed. She was slowing down and preparing herself to stop in Newport. There would be no colour picture that could express fully these golden moments when he entered Newport station. It would be like floating on a cloud. He was tingling all over;the prize was almost in his grasp, this was the all-important stop and was drinking in the last drop of the old wine of that journey. Cardiff was within striking distance and he was now about to open a new bottle. Would it be a sweet or a sour experience?

No more sitting about, his whole body vibrated as he shuffled about in the confined space of the carriage. Nothing within him wanted to relax kept poking his head through the open window looking for anything he could recognise. God how time seemed to drag! He had selfishly possessed the vacant space behind the exit door. None would pass; the only concession was to allow those who wanted too to look over his shoulder. Even that was a limited concession and used his grip on the door to move them back to take their weight off his body.
All the smokers who had congregated behind him remained buried in their own clouds of smoke. He reasoned that the hours on that hard floor earned him this space behind the open window.

At last Newport appeared. The train went into slow time as she entered the station, it all added to the tempo; this was it, 鈥業t鈥檚 the final stop before Cardiff' and was annoyed with the passengers who took their time in getting on and off the train. Nothing was moving fast enough for him. Their business of being there meant nothing, why don鈥檛 they all disappear down a hole or something; everything seemed to have stood still. Then, with some relief, he heard the final banging of the doors being closed. The whole tempo was changing; his hands were holding that door tight to steady his feelings.
Whistles blowing and the railway man waving his green flag aroused that monster engine into life. She that Queen engine hesitated a little, as if she wasn鈥檛 sure of her loaded carriages; then her mighty wheels gave a free spin, then she gripped the rails. The train now in its own environment took control. It moved from a slow speed to fast time as if talking to herself. She repeated over and over again, 'hurryup, --hurryup, ---hurryup' as she passed over the gaps in the railway lines.

The lad had fixed his gaze in the direction of Cardiff, no matter how many times he was to see it in the future it would never be overloaded with this melodrama! Whatever the first leave was to be, lay within a few miles of him. Odd questions from behind him he answered not out of courtesy but sheer indifference. These moments he wanted to share with no one as he approached the final mile to Cardiff Central.
It was tantalising to watch the sign boards go past. In those final train moments as she slowed down, it seemed to tighten up its structure; the sound of the wheels passing over the joints in the rails became louder and well spaced. His anxious waiting was nearly over, noises changed with the train passing over bridges, Streets of war time Cardiff had replaced the open countryside. Movement of the train was almost negligible as the Central Station came into view. He had is reward. Even before it had come to a halt the figure of his father came into view. There was no restraint on his actions now; both shoulder and a waving hand tried to attract his father's attention, looking even deeper at the people standing there a person standing next to him started to wave back and was looking up to him.
It was obvious that they were together and knew who was waving in their direction.

At those final squeals from the wheels the train stopped, smoke hung above the platform giving that mystic appearance to the people moving towards him. All doubts about who they were disappeared as they moved towards door but before they could reach it, the lad had the door open and were on the platform complete with the paraphernalia of war.
He waited as the two walked closer. He could now recognise the other person as his old neighbour and school friend. Each person with his hands out-stretched, eagerly waiting to get into contact with one another. What could be said didn鈥檛 matter, the entire why and the wherefore could be stored for later. His rifle got into the act again by sliding over the shoulder, just missing his dad. It was dismissed with a broad grin and a typical naval response, "Why the hell don鈥檛 you Pommies leave your toys at home?" No damage done. They were the moments when only the gods could sit in and spread nothing but joy.

He felt lighter than air and wasn鈥檛 walking but floating to the next treat a ride home, taxi style, each were military but now acting as repossessed civilians. Nothing mattered now they were together.
His equipment was removed without ceremony to improve the body room in the taxi, and the driver was given the address. Off they moved. The small talk continued between them with the news of intended visits to meet his father's friends. This was a momentous occasion that seemed to burst his sides. With his friend and his dad, what more did he need out of life.
It was all going as planned at least he was adult enough to enter his Father鈥檚 world. With this out of the way at least the happy trio was formed for the evening trips.

Looking through the taxi windows there was freshness about the place he had not felt before. The roads didn鈥檛 seem as busy as he remembered them. Trams were running as regularly as ever, but he was surprised that everything seemed so much brighter. Even the dreary rows of terraced houses were presenting themselves in a different light. Anybody would have thought he had been away for a thousand years.
As he got closer to his street, the talking became less, he had thoughts about his reception; As if sensing his thoughts, and they mentioned the special preparations being made.
Aunts, uncles and other friends were eagerly waiting his arrival. Advice given in the taxi was 'get in and enjoy it'.

They had arrived, the taxi pulled up outside the door; its running engine must have sounded like a bell. Out the family trouped his aunt, taking the lead, threw her arms around him and giving him a hug and a kiss the free hand of the lad was grasped and shook vigorously by the uncle. He felt as important as each of the others gave him a hug and shook his hand. People he knew came to their doors and were waving and wishing him well. The taxi driver was getting anxious and looking at a clock on the dashboard. His gas bag container fitted to the top of the taxi looked soft and flabby. Perhaps the gas was getting low and, anyway, his time was precious to him. It was a private matter and he wanted to get away. He stared at the people stopping him and called out to the lad's father then asked for his fare money. In desperation he solicited the father's help to clear a way so that he could move off.
He had his cash and a path had been made, with a bit of throttle to the engine as a final warning to those had who had again moved into his path, moved off. Whenever anyone waved or spoke to the returning soldier he responded to it all.

This well wishing was new to him and deep down he was enjoying it. He had been allowed to soak in his glory half-hour, but in the end he was ushered into the house. Volumes of food surprised him! Many a ration book must have bit the dust. It was their big day and regardless of the shortages they were putting all they had into this meal. Spaced out on the table were bottles of 'Brain's Dark' and 'Hancock's Light' beer,they were alive and there to wash down that banquette, all this was a mirror of the days before the war for him, when the father arrived home on leave laden with luxury items, its only difference more people were sharing the generosity.
It was successful, the party went on for hours; older people were hogging his time. It began to drag on; they were asking the same questions. 'Like the Army? What's the food like? How many girl friends'? God! If only they knew how tired he was. It wasn鈥檛 the beer or the eats that were making him slow in replying to their questions, he was tired, really tired. Sleep at that time his most desired thing.

What a day! His trip had started from Kent, through London to the big city of Cardiff. As much as he loved every minute of it, he wanted it to end and get his head down. With gestures of the hands and repeated yawning, the message got through to them and one by one they drifted off? Its final discussion before the break up was the trip to the Horse & Groom. It was a difficult situation; there were only one of him to share the time with father and family; but it sorted itself out to the satisfaction of everyone.
He was to spend the daytime with the rest of the family and visit friends and neighbours. His evenings were to be used to visit the people of the Horse & Groom and his father's friends. Most were serving or ex-serving military

The long awaited introduction to the adult world of the Horse & Groom started from day two of his leave.
For the first time they set off for the Horse & Groom, lights outside were sparse; buildings with their windows blacked out silhouetted against the night skyline. People that were walking on the streets carried small torches to help them on their way. It had never occurred to him that the blackout had changed things so much in his own city, daytime seemed ok but now every thing outside was soaked in darkness and shadows. For the first time in months he was free of controls and didn鈥檛 really care about the darkened outside world; he was walking with the person he loved.
His homecoming was so different from any thing he could imagine. For the first time in his life his old neighbours were singing their praises. Now he was being taken as a prized possession to see his father's personnel friends, no taxi this time. It was the walk that took him past his old Severn Road School, with its memory flashes of the past that he looked at the windows and remembered the loneliness of the place. They were not happy times never sampling the fruits of success in any subject. In the darkness of the blackout, buildings looked even more sinister. It was even a relief to complete the walk past the school and onto the shops. These with other shops in Canton were his happy shopping days, places of happy memories! How it all started was forgotten. From day one of this leave he felt at that more a part of a family than the one he had been living with in the civilian days.

His thoughts of the past soon evaporated when the tram came into view. Restricted light had softened her lines; its noises were the same. The overhead gantry arms grabbing to the twin power cable, sparking like mad as if heated in conflict. It was the usual double Decker looking no more than a box on wheels; streamlining was not a feature had now submerged in restricted lighting pulling into the stop without dignity or grace. As she waited it took on the nature of a poor old horse with its master just waiting to dig his heels in to its side to get the tired thing moving again.

Boarding it was simple enough; no doors to negotiate just walk straight onto the small platform then to take a pick of tram decks He took the lead and wanted to gain some sightseeing advantage. It was up the iron stairs to the top deck. These wartime trams with their restricted lighting gave just enough light to find a way to the seats. Seats were as they always been, wooden lattice patterned and as hard as the hobs of hell. Its design did have some advantages; the top deck backrests could change their direction.
The first of the happy three flipped back one of the rest's rests, now they could face one another. Into them they piled. Exciting babbling could still carry on. It was the young ones who were finding most to say. The oldie one sat there with that satisfied look of a brooding hen over looking its young.
A lady conductor arrived on the scene to collect the pennies for the trip, the male conductor may have gone, but the female conductor had the same ticket machine with a lever that she flicked to produce the penny ticket then hardly looked at the two young ones but gave a wink to the sailor and was off.
The lad looked at his father and could never imagine that there could be any other person in his life.

Shapes of buildings hadn't changed; it was easy for him to 'see' the City Lodge, a workhouse for the poor souls that had to use it. People were moving about the place. It was still in business. As they progressed along the route the all-important Cathedral Road made its appearance. His Father looked across at it and in a voice that tingled with joy said, "Well boys it won't be long now. Keep together when we get off; the roads with their black-out are not what they were." With a little added humour,鈥漷his bloody black-out is going to drive us all to drink鈥�. This happy band of 鈥楤rothers鈥� was on the way to that little bit of heaven in the middle of Cardiff.
The tram seemed to be fast moving; all her wooden and steel bones rattled like hell and seemed to want to leave her wheels behind on the track. For the first time the driver was dinging its warning bell at something in front of him. It was a couple of people with their heads down and hardly visible in the dark. Even the maddening noise of the bell was almost ignored. They hardly looked up but moved faster to get out of the way. Their action wasn鈥檛 enough, brakes were applied, and people were thrown forward into the laps of the person opposite him. No damage this time. The senior's reply to it was, "The bloody fools could have spoilt our evening." There was the usual delay coloured by the words of the pedestrians and driver.
Whose fault it was had lost its importance, it was delaying the arrival, inpatient as ever he couldn鈥檛 wait for the thing to move on its way. This entire thing ended satisfactory; nobody was hurt and its approach to the bridge over the river Taff was as uninteresting as it always was.

The Angel Hotel darkened out covered the interest of the young fellow to the right but as usual the Castle dominated the whole of the left side. Shops in the rest of the city hardly showed a light. Some times a door would open casting a little extra illumination to the street out side. An over zealous fire warden on duty pointing at these lights provided a paradise of authority for him. Pointing, blowing, and with his battle cry, "Put that light out." turning the blacked out streets into a possible battleground from the air. Luckily the Germans were kind and stopped at home and the zealous warden there now stood in peace just watching

All the new skills in moving about in blackout were being tested. Edges of pavement were never negotiated but tripped over. At this hour of night-time the occasional motor vehicles with hooded lights were slow and searching their way along the road. People walking about their business appeared first as shadowy outlines and only became recognisable as they got closer, their fleshy parts not white but translucent; colours of their clothing had lost their lustre, reds were brownie in colour. Suppressed lighting was a great leveller of the human form; it removed age from the faces and the quality gap in the clothing, white seemed the best colour in the blackout.
For the lad the white naval shirt of his father became even more predominant and seemed to glow, it highlighted his presence to every-one. As the tram was travelling along the noisy rails, most of the places he should have known were lost in the darkness but there was no doubt about the big building on his left. It was Cardiff Castle.
The grounds were looking even more sinister; its stone animals looked even more alive. In fact it was a modern building built on the foundations of the old castle but some how the past had seeped into the new building, maybe the ghosts of the past took the advantage of the dark and wander about its walls. He was in his dream world again. It was a world that he understood and wanted, in this state he could be any thing he wanted. His day dreaming was brought to an abrupt end. The two young soldiers were to enter the grown ups world.

鈥淐ome on you two, its time to get off." With the extra warning, "Don鈥檛 forget to watch the road as you cross," they were ushered to the opening to the street that housed the Horse & Groom.
On the one side of the road a show room that had been turned into an amusement arcade, on the other side the 'Blue Bell' pub. There seemed to be life in the place, it looked adult enough and it was even open.
The innocents turned to go in and were sharply rebuked, "Its not that place, it鈥檚 the Horse & groom. Just follow me."
That short walk to the Horse & Groom was just like a magnet to the father. He seemed to go faster with every step then stopped outside the pub door, up went his hand and brought it down with a thump on the glass window then added, "Wait." Now he looked from side to side making sure that there were no strangers about, and then knocked the high window again with the knuckles of his hand. With a few quick steps he again returned to the door. There was an air of mystery about the whole thing, the two lads just stood there and shrugged their shoulders nobody spoke a word. The elder of the three seemed to becoming inpatient with the delay.
Added to his impatience was a little uncertainly in his pose as he waited. Things then started to happen, his face lights up as a face appears in the window of the door that seemed to be floating about the window space and then become stationary. Its eyes set deep into white masked like face screwed up a bit and there was a smile of recognition. Clink, clunk and the door were opened to the adult world.

Any pub smell in the future would be compared with its perfection, it wasn鈥檛 sharp or sour, but caressed him and prepared him for this new adult world. It was to be the special regulars' night; from it all the other evenings would be gauged on their success from it. This was to be the first introduction to the landlord. He wasn鈥檛 of great stature but still had to stand back to let them in. Once all were inside the pub he then hurriedly closed the door, with the doors secured then they were introduced, "This is my boy and his old school mate." The music of those words 'my boy' rang in the lad鈥檚 ears. If he said it a thousand times the lad would never tire of it. The young-ones were then taken on a tour to meet the regular friends. Its importance was not apparent at the time but it was the first steps to being initiated into the official band of regulars.

With great dignity a pint of beer was bought and placed on the table. As far as this collection of friends were concerned some where out there somewhere in that world there were still survivors from the ACM Jarvis Bay, ACM Rawalpindi and others to be remembered. Many of their crews were RN Members reservists with many years of service, lots of them had been shipmates that had served all over the world during their different tours of duty. The First World War was even a greater tie, it was a statement of hope that the young lad was yet to experience, and that great feeling of comradeship could only come with that need of hope of survival. Hopes of these experienced service men were that a survivor would walk into the bar and take that pint of beer. Perhaps it was the common Icon, their agreed beacon to light the way home for the missing men presumed dead but that may be still alive.

Whether it was the excitement of the night or plain fact, the d茅cor of the place was just sheer magic to him. Its woodwork was mainly in beautiful mahogany that had had generous helping of hours polishing it. Looking along the bar he could see it was not cluttered up with logos. It was ready for action; it was just an efficient working area. All the brassware gleamed; its beer pumps with their black well shaped handles ready and waiting. Behind the pumps the cupboards with rows of glistening glasses, over that, a full-length mirror with just enough height to make the area was interesting.

What could have been a dull blank wall a sheet of mirror transformed its dullness and illuminating the wall? It also extended the size of the whole bar; reflections were forever changing as they moved closer to the bar, the young were putting on stupid smiles as they looked up as if they were introducing themselves to strangers. The lad with all his recent praises moved his head about, pulling his countenance into different shapes looking for that new found hero figure. He shook his head; he was certain that he was no hero. For the rest of him, it was 'God help' then looked away; his friend looked a little puzzled smiled and also looked away.

His father figure cast his eyes around other parts of the bar found out what he wanted and started his tour. It would be mainly in the reserved area set aside for the regulars. As early as it was there were the few of them that had already taken up their seats. An ever-generous father introduced the lads and after a short discussion would want to supply them with a drink of some kind. His father's visits to the occupied seats were over and with the skill of a cinema usher he guided the young ones to the empty seats. "These two are for Mr. and Mrs. Jones," and so on. Their ears pricked up when they were told that these are for Tom, Wife and daughter. The young lad's eyes waltzed around a bit and must have both been on the same track with visions of a beautiful young creature. With every knock at the window both stopped what they were doing and waited for her arrival. All the introductions out of the way it was the first trip to the bar to order their own beer. The landlady had taken over; the land lord was on his way to the door. There was a sneaky eye being cast by the youngsters to the opening door waiting for the young lady to arrive. Each new arrival was eyed with disappointment.

Missing regulars started to arrive and moved with some speed to the door to receive them. With the usual clink, clunk of the lock he opened the door, with the same spoken pleasantries Mr. Mrs appeared. They were the first of the new comers; both looked over to their seats near the top end of the bar. Empty chairs stood out and framed by that glorious bar were empty, the system was working. Once secure they waved over to us and settled in for the night. Their tall wooden stools seemed be an extenuation of their bodies as they sat there. This was to be their resting-place for the night. Keen observer might wonder how could they drink all-night and still remain seated all night? They must have had a good capacity at both ends.

At last the man, wife daughter arrived. That knock on the window, unheard by most had the land-lord making his two-minute dash to the door. Without too much ceremony they also took up their seats and took possession of the bench seat under the window. For some reason the young lads had missed their entrance. Once they knew of her arrival each worked as fast as possible to make contact. She had pulled as far as she could into the corner and was lost in the shadow. A true assessment couldn鈥檛 be made. With the unfairness of youth what he saw of her didn't set his world alight, she looked as if she wanted more than a drink and the mother looking like an eagle ready to grab some prey to feed her little chick. His friend said nothing and kept his thoughts to himself.

For some time the lad kept his distance but as the evening went on the two lads became more interested and discussed her finer points, at least it was something new to talk about. Beer and cigarettes consumption was freeing the tongues. Adults didn鈥檛 seem so adult. This new found freedom from the adult world was soon dispelled. Starting to form in a space in the bar a group of the oldies, each of them was telling jokes in turn. More they laughed the bigger the group got until all the males some carrying their pints seemed to be bursting their beams. The lads looked over to the group and moved to join in the jokers, there was a shake of the heads. Out-numbered by the elders, and anyway the status values of the day stopped him. He was very junior; there was no thought of asking, why! It was the sign of the times.

The two youngsters had to accept that they were not old enough to join the group and walked back to the bar. By way of some compensation they were given the money to replenish their glasses. Boundaries had been drawn. They were to live in their world and were not old enough to listen to these adult jokes.

It was a rebuke to their manhood but the hurt was soon got over. The landlady was ready to spring into action and drew the pints, she smiled at us, "Don鈥檛 they want you over there, never mind they will grow up one day." It was a bit of ointment that helped to heal wounds of the boys' egos.

They stopped at the bar and looked at the mirror reflecting lined up glasses and coloured bottles, within the spaces on the mirror the reflection of the adult group who were still falling about in laughter. What ever the joke stories were about the lads' never knew. On reflection their own prized jokes would have matched theirs if that group had bothered to listen to them. The short army careers were a different kind of youth, at least this imposed separation from the adult group brought the two lads together. This part of the adult world they had been invited into and were judged not to be ready for them.
.
The manner of the adults changed. It is seen that the jokes had become boring to some. One by one they departed. Finally all the joking group of adults broke up; the evening had pushed into its middle term. Its hard drinkers were busy filling the till, beer was running low at the pumps. Then tragedy struck! A regular was standing there, waiting for his pint of Brains Dark. That barrel with his nectar from his Gods was dry! Drinking time was being lost. Now the strain was telling; now he was reduced to panting, drawing imaginary moisture from the heavy air. Hard drinkers watched with indifference: In the eyes of the inexperienced drinker he looked so agitated and openly lost in that world of his empty glass that he would crumble and fall to the floor.

The land lord鈥檚 wife looked across at a scene; she must have witnessed this situation many a time, her words were as clear as a bell, "Put a new one on!" The true boss of this bar was being positive. Her intervention was precise and effective, things got moving to drown the sorrow of that customer, and bring happiness to her beloved till. That poor rejected soul with the empty glass was still looking at that empty glass, and muttered something now moved to reposition his glaze then moved again to relax into a new position to take some of the weight off his legs. He had chosen well. The pump was within striking distance. Then he leaned again on the bar and had become even more tearfully sentimental with his glass. Bleary heavy dogs like eyes kept glancing at the landlady willing her to speed the change of barrels.

The land-lord, that dapper little man complete with coloured bow tie, went into action. He glided along the floor as if pulled along on a trolley to the flap on the counter.
As always a customer was still drooped across one end of the flap he wanted to lift, he said nothing, but glared at the offending customer鈥檚 companion. There was an immediate and effective reaction to his glaring eyes. Talking between them stopped! Eyes of the companion went past the friend's body and directed them at the land-lord, importance of what he was saying had drifted off. He was now talking to himself then turned to follow the eye direction of his companion, and then as if he was being kicked up his bottom, he sprung up and moved away.

It took seconds to complete; the land-lord was in his top form. That well fitted counter flap was almost ready to be lifted. His hand slid under the flap to release the security bolt. With a little effort he lifted the flap. Moved the door to its open position and stepped out.
In a voice with surprisingly strength he shouts, "Gentlemen, gentlemen per--lease!" Customers still seemed to be reluctant to move, he raised his eyes and words in desperation then as if he were a shepherd; he opened his arms, and moved forward. At last he was able to move the rest of them. For the first time that night the space in front of the bar was cleared to that all-important trap door to the cellar. In triumph he stood by the trap door.

Beer plays strange tricks with the mind of some, some becoming totally fixed to the glass in their hand. Their body moves into any direction it wants. His persistent shouting had produced some results; to cope with this situation he moved them back, even further, from the trap door. Its more solid members support those who have entered the floating kingdom of booze. With a side glance at his Wife and a shake of the head he is ready to lift that trap door. With a final look around, kneeled down and with some dignity opened the doors to the cellar. Holding the door with his left hand, he backed down the cellar stairs allowing the door to close over him. With the final clank it was back in place, and Bert was safely changing that offending barrel in that cellar below the floor. Those with a dubious foothold had drifted back into that space behind the counter.
A little time later there was banging from below that trap door, customers that had drifted back into that space moved back. It was like a wave receding from the seashore. They were a little ragged in moving but in the end all was clear to lift the trap door. Carefully as he could he was lifting the cellar flap and with a head that seemed to pivot on his shoulders he started that trip back to the bar treasures. That hapless customer still stands there watching that trap now being opened a little bit at the time. Those near to the opening pulled back from the trap, some of the inquisitive eyeing the contents of the cellar. More minutes passed then the mixed sounds of a few more bangs underneath that trap door, what ever had to be done had been done; floor and trap door had almost parted company. Its opening operation was now in its final stages; at last it was now open. He鈥檚 now they鈥檙e for all to see, then steps out into the bar almost like a magician reappearing after a disappearing act.

There was no applause for his toil. Customers were disgruntled by the intrusion into their space and drinking time. He is not displeased with their attitude; his wife stands at the ready behind the pump lever, everybody has read the situation! At last the pump is alive again, alleluia! Alleluia!

Now almost indifferent to it all and looking bored was back behind the bar and another barrel was ready for the kill, the ritual of the new barrel was not quite over; a little beer was drawn and tested. It received a full approval from landlord and now the moment had come to refill that hungry lonely man's glass who stood there erect with his money in his hand. His eyes transfixed to the new glass of 'Brains Dark' with a new vigour. How could anyone fault that beautiful thick creamy head, the rich colour of the beer? That treasure would be his when it was exchanged for his money. Ready as he would be it was handed. Shaking hands, possibly a touch of the old excitement handed over his cash and was deposited in the till. He could now do what he wanted to do with it; the beer was his and being caressed in his hands. What a wait for him but at last the exchange is completed. For a short time he held it to the light as if offering it to the gods, then he lowered it to his lips too taste it.

Some-how the top of the glass wasn鈥檛 large enough, the tip of his extra large nose looking something like an elephant proboscis hung in there making contact with that lovely thick creamy beer, his head and now lips had joined in the fun by holding as much froth as they could, joy abounded as he drew his tongue across his lips as if not to waste it. His nose unreachable by his tongue was to be contented with just wiping it away with the back of his hand.
Like a flower that was drooping for the lack of water those few sips of the beer had rejuvenated him. He then walked away.

The first Horse & Groom day was drawing to a close. Its fifteen 'pint-ters' were still supping away at the beer. He looks at them and wonders where the hell they are putting all that beer. Except for that little wandering off to the toilet they were standing and talking as if it was their first pint.
Beer was everywhere! It was the young ones third pint. Things were starting to look different and he and his friend started to giggle at their own antics. Every thing was coming up rosy, those horrid bitter tastes of the beer had changed to sweet and mellow. It had become easier to swallow; sipping it was replaced with a good gulping of the stuff.
They had become a part of this adult world. It seemed the right thing to do, beer had relaxed him: Now his voice was in difficulties. "Hy-is-ish- whorriheed about, my mate". With the added interference of hiccup then wandered off once again about his mate Ernie. His tongue always seemed to be in the wrong place. Feet were being to move without any control. At times his eyes were saturated with large faces that always seemed to be smiling. Voices became distorted and squeaky. Regulars there seemed to enjoy the antics of the boy soldier. They fitted in well with the adult鈥檚 conception of growing up. Agreement amongst themselves that, 'the young one is enjoying himself'. His friend was a little better and was only swaying a little. It was a time that nothing seemed real, moving out of the Horse and Groom was even a welcomed Relief.
All regulars now grouped around one of the groups. There were nods of agreement, the two youths were told to get ready to move. The group was off to a house party. The young-one had sinned again. His almost full glass on the table had been knocked over. As his distorted voice tried to say sorry! Eyes around him had already condemned the unlucky lad to twenty lashes. It wasn鈥檛 the waste but loss of pride for him. He didn鈥檛 want it anyway this growing up thing was harder than he thought, looking to the ground and wished it would swallow him. Large faces filled his boozy vision. As always in pubs such mishaps were soon forgotten, the main thing was they're own pint and their conversation.
Later it became a part of their discussion. Defending his action was a waste of time; laughs and reaching an understanding often meant an offer of more alcohol. Refusing the beer was often harder than accepting it. This was one of those times; he thought he had more than enough beer. The tipped over glass was a blessing in disguise, if it was wasted it was better from a spilt glass than an over-loaded stomach. He knew he was near to making a fool of himself. For the sake of every-one it was the best place for it. It was time to move on. Missing clothing was put on; they were ready for their new venture. The young lady moved out from the shadows and stood up and for the first time and started to talk. She confirmed that the next destination would be her house. Most of the group carried their own party bottle as they left the pub; Oldies with their party bottle walked ahead and disappeared.

With their arms locked into one another the three youngsters stepped out into the night. They looked into the amusement arcade and without any hesitation turned and walked into it. This was the house of trivia but was closer to the youths' world than the pub. Things seemed to be more normal for them. It was a good in a very different sense. Young men acting as they all do when a young lady is in attendance, tried to put on their special show to impress her. Within a short time each was trying to outshoot the other on the toy rifle range. They were dressed for the part, soldiers for the King and all that sort of thing.

Some-how their display of masculine magic wasn鈥檛 working. Changing tactics they then ganged up on her to encourage her to take part. This was the perfect excuse to hold her in some way. Her perfume triggered off a desire to come in close contact with her. Don鈥檛 think there was any budding romance for him but at least it was more exciting than that smell of beer and a welcomed break from the beer drinking. His unspeakable lust for that Horse and Groom beer smell had disappeared for the time being.

Voices were almost normal, the body more normal and steadier on his feet was reluctance to leave this house of organised entertainment and join the oldies at her house. Enjoyment there in that building was simpler but what was most important, they enjoyed each other's company. The lad's two and half-pints made him feel good, adult life at the Horse & Groom, with some reservations and the company of a young lady added icing onto his first leave cake.

With some envy he noticed that she was hanging more onto his mate, his arm was around her waist and squeezing her as tight as he could to himself. With a carefully timed tug he tried to dislodge his friend鈥檚 hold on her. All the actions fell on stony ground. If any thing their union was even tighter than before. He consoled himself with the thoughts that, after all he was his best mate and good luck to him. Most of the conversation now was carried on between them. There would be no competition for the young ladies affection, and got the message. He found a way to disengage himself, it was a simple solution, waved them on, then bent down to retie his bootlaces. It was play-acting as he went through the motion of tying his bootlaces; waited a while then walked slowly to catch them up. Within a short time they were entering her house.

There was nothing new in this party for the old hands. It was in full swing, beer and sandwiches were thrust into their hands. His father was in top form and just as steady on his feet as he was in the beginning of the evening beaming with those inner joys he walked over to them, 鈥淲ell you two. Is every thing going all right? There's plenty of beer so don鈥檛 forget to help your-self." It was only a short stay, Harry is father was in great demand and off he went, looking back he gave a little wave. His companions also looked back and also gave a little wave and carried on with their conversation.

Again the three sat together and just talked and continued to drink that seemly unending supply of beer and sandwiches. Her father and his wife had organised the party. Experience had perfected their oldies party arrangements. They had the knack of keeping it alive, smiling and joking with anyone that looked depressed or withering. It was Harry鈥檚 son first party with them, and was honoured with lots of introductions. His lonely world had now become over-loaded with well wishes.
It was all called to a halt at about four in the morning. With the unending handshakes and hugs the party broke up.
His mate may have got the biggest hug and kiss from the young lady, but the opportunity for the lad had come to get his kiss and hug. The poor girl was trapped and he got his sixpenny worth. This was a display that was not missed by the adults. Lots of laughs and they were on our way home, alcohol had reigned with supreme authority leaving the young ones were unsteady on their feet and hazy in their heads, with the older-ones still steady as ever on their feet looking on with some amusement. This was a good party with a promise of more.

Next evening was to be a different experience; the pub was open to anyone. There was the same atmosphere about it; Bert and wife were carrying out their normal early hour duties; Glasses were being polished and stacked in neat rows. Bar and pumps were getting that extra shine. We were early; the atmosphere about the place seemed to be normal as they walked to the bar. He noticed his father stiffen up and look at their seats. The unthinkable in his eyes had happened; their area had been invaded with total strangers. In a voice he usually reserved to show his distaste to the landlord, 鈥淚 see that you got a lot of people here to-night." He let his eyes wander off in the direction of their seats, waited a little, then got his answer, it was positive and seemed to emphasise that they were his customers too. Beer on sale this night was open to anyone and could do nothing about it.

A very dissatisfied father moved away, stiff and disorganised. As always he handed over the money with a stiff upper lip and a large sigh. As bad as things were for him life had to go on the drinks hoping that the pint might soften his early disappointment of the evening. For the first time his lad had experienced the results of this irritation. Beers orders were called and delivered the minimum of words, the landlady stood some distance away and smiled in their direction. With some skill she had kept one foot in each of the 'warring tribes' areas

The father鈥檚 mood was hostile; the bars mood was obvious. Words were now hard to find, and with an out stretched arm pointing the way, he had found a place with empty seats. At least he could now stake out the seats he could for the regulars; the pint for any survivor of the 'Jarvis Bay', 'Rawalpindi' and others was placed in the centre of the table. It was another step to securing that the newfound territory.
There was strangeness creeping in this Horse and Groom, it was loosing its friendliness. What was going on in this adult鈥檚 world of his father? the young ones was puzzled by his attitude to these strangers. Nothing seemed be wrong with the place, customers were drinking as normal, conversation between them not boisterous but restricted to their own circles.

Answers started to unfold when the regulars started to arrive. With hardly a glance they walked in the direction of their seats. Father figure now standing and faced in their direction was waving his hands as if to ward off evil sprits, in a voice that was intended for the offenders he was pointing in their direction. "Your seat has been taken." then redirected them the empty seats.
This was the first salvo and he must have felt that he had done his duty for the evening. It had been effective the two strangers on this occasion moved and was filled by the 'rightful owner'? The two victors looked at each another, smugly, and waited for the next regular to arrive. Those regulars sitting there had had some victories and some losses. The young lad sits and stares at them and wonders what鈥檚 next on the agenda when the rest arrive and shuffle as close as they could to their seats. From these positions they carried their final fights for their seats, "Tom I see you are in a different place," he would point "That place is much better for us than this place." Each of them raised their voices in an effort to dislodge these strangers. Regulars had become exhausted; the badgering of these people sitting in their seat discontinued. It ended as if each side had played a necessary battle of ownership. The attack was over. It was 'status quo' and a relief to the lads that the badgering had all stopped between them.

It must have been an adult game, maybe a wartime game of winning territory. Many of the strong ones who had stood their ground seemed proud of it, the ones deemed to be sitting in their wrong seats looked across at their adversaries with daggers in their eyes. Some regulars had been defeated. There was only one solution, an early retirement from the Horse & Groom and make an early start at the house party.

The young ones wondered why so early a move? And caused some disturbance by asking why? There seemed to be plenty of room in the pub. Those adults, who knew better tried to patient with the young soldiers, "They were sitting in our seats.鈥� Still puzzled they walked away to get ready for another party. Father was upset, things in the lad's leave were wondering off into the wrong directions. It was his first leave and he wanted to free of such petty things. He didn't understand the adult world; it seemed so much more complicated than his own.
The incident did nothing but embarrass them, for a short time it was a part of a discussion with the young lady. Perhaps this kind of adult鈥檚 behaviour was the normal thing for her but was bored with this part of the discussion and cut it off with just a wriggled her shoulders. "I'm used to it', its way they are." There was no rush to get to the party especially for the friend. He was happy in her company; the Trio Company earlier experience had become a little embarrassing
By the time they reached the house, its party atmosphere had improved. There was the usual grouping. In the main the ladies were sitting down and men standing in their groups. Past attitudes still hung on. It was normal behaviour for this type of party.
As the night rushed on, the lad was not soaking up the pleasures of the drinking, food and beer. It was not as good as the first party night as far as he could tell; it was going well for the others, why, why was he feeling so isolated in this group of his Father鈥檚 friends? He worried at his loss of interest. What was going wrong with it all? Sadly, each extra party seemed to fall away a little; for him it was like having a Christmas dinner twice a day.

The next night started off in the usual way, the most important thing about it, there was no shortage of beer; most of the oldies had found their seats and were talking and drinking their beer. Things were going well. Then three young people made their entrance, their attitudes heralded future problems, their noises accompanied their conversing was releasing their tongue power and discarding any consideration for those around them, perhaps their Youthful high sprits needed action of some kind.

Other than that everything seemed normal, the pubs pumps were pushing the beer into every corner of the glass, with all his skills of the barman some of the golden liquid had lost its way and overflowed the glass washing his hand holding the glass.

Success in trouble was to be on their side, what had started as a quiet evening was filled with their unwelcome presence. It had blossomed into uncouth taking, laughing and movement. Tobacco smoke had almost reduced the oxygen to zero. Customers seemed to be floating about in a cloud. Atmosphere of the place was perfect for boozing and not for fighting. That was until they came, prior to their entry people seemed to have some thing nice to say to one another. Now it had changed and the trouble started!
The youths still sitting at the other end of the bar starting by being abusive to those around them. Their main targets were the oldies around them. His father seemed to be getting most of their attention. Two of them passed to go out into the street. On their way out they made more abusive noises at his father, for the lad it had become personnel reckoning with these youths. There was no better moment to act as they passed him grasped at this moment, and made his move. The best place to do battle was in the street and followed them.

He grabbed one and hit him then flung his arm around his neck and pulled him down. The head of this lad now locked under the lad's arm was being pressed down on the upturned knee. With a free fist he kept hitting that face. A strange thing about the whole affair the young lad didn't really have any interest in what he was doing. The other lad near there must have thought it was his good fortune and a bad result for the other, then shook his head and walked off. Every time he hit that face he said, "So you want to take the piss out of my father." Deep down he knew all this was to impress his father. For a while it was a duet of grunts and groans. Coming from the direction of the Horse & Groom a group headed by his father moved towards the scuffle gaining momentum with every foot they travelled, their running feet had stopped and were they鈥檙e standing, watching! He carried on with the display; they had arrived not to stop it but to insure that their lad was ok. There was a slight pause to look up. His Father standing there pointing to his lad's face said, 鈥淪on! Take off your glasses off you may break them." It was a strange set of priorities but that is the way it was

The whole thing was all becoming too embarrassing and the lad soon released his victim. This wasn鈥檛 a game for him, he was fighting for his father and not for the groups鈥� entertainment. There seemed to be no justice in any of it, they had swamped his action in adult values and made it trivial.
He smiled when praised but never shouting out to them is true feelings about the whole episode.

His encounter with that troublesome people was all over. A general tidying up of the clothes with the others went on their way to another party. The lad's reward, to be king for the short time, in the main and within a short time the event was put on the back burner and forgotten. His father was pleased that his lad was growing up and that was all that mattered to him.

Changes on how he felt about his first leave were taking place; lots of the pleasures were going out of it. The lad was a natural loner, beer and company did help him but like all 'good' things they were becoming too regular. He could live with the older generation but had trouble in mixing in their adult ideal world.
The next night's party went ahead without his friend being present, There was one change to the room; the centre had been cleared for dancing. Standing in a safe corner a gramophone was doing it best to drown out the talk, near to it sat one lady; she had been nominated as gramophone looker-after for the evening. Guests continuously shouting their choice in the beginning of the night, then they tailed off as they lost interest in the music and dancing. As he sat there the one thing he wanted that was to dance with the young lady. Pulling back in his seat, he watched her approach, though keen to dance, he had never danced with anyone. He desired it, but had never had the occasion to full-fill it. this he tried to explain it too her, but she would have nothing to do with his explanation. Fact that he wanted to dance made it possible for her to pull him out of the chair and onto his feet. His first moments with her went well. She was explaining how to hold her when dancing.
Trouble started with the first move to the music. With in a short time he had stepped on her toes, tripped over a few people. It was a disaster, they both looked at one another and laughed and were relieved to be able to sit down and watch. Still able to walk she fluttered off to a new partner.
It was a late night before it came to an end and the final party was planned. It was checked that the Horse & Grome was open to business. All things agreed and off again to our own homes.

There was no doubt. He hadn't at this stage of his service life reached a high standard of drinking booze cigarettes and sandwiches, all these things in plenty and used just for the sake of it. This first leave had provided a good basic training, within a year he could compete with it. He could sit with the best and had arrived able and willing to act out his adult roll. Daytime with the family had been more restful; without it he could not have stood the pace. Money was no problem; he had enough for beer and adequate for shopping, thanks to the generosity of others.

As the week progressed he started to understand the household shortages. Powerless he was feeling uneasy that he was unable to make a bigger contribution to the home rations. They treated him well and were being generous with their rations. When ever possible he went with them on some of the trips to shops. Off-ration goods helped to ease the monotony. Any small victory on the food front and the prized booty would be carried into the house full of smiles. Some how with these little extra鈥檚 they were managing to survive on the rations, moaning by the young soldier about the army food seemed so out of place, his barrack provided three meals with the good old NAFFY providing rock cakes tea and chocolate.
Seeing the things going on around him gave a different vision to the civvies life he had left.
Invitations from the family to visit the locals with them during the daytime were welcomed. These places were clean enough but they too were weighed down with the news of the war.

The local sometimes different with the old sitting around relating about their part in their war. They continued to talk but one by one turned theirs eyes to the young soldier. Then as if they wanted to draw the young soldier into their discussion, they talked about their good old days when soldiers were soldiers. How the soldiers of this day and age were being mammy pampered. There was no answer to their jibs; he was an untried soldier with out any experience of action. It seemed no point in disagreeing. Civilian rations only confirmed that at least the army was a better provider. He at least was being fed, even if he had lost his freedom for a while.
With the spare money in his pocket he bought a round of drinks for his critics, this brought a concession from the old soldiers, "'Well lad we are only talking about some of them." It was time to leave them supping their free pint, and end to this visit... He and his family members looked to the time and made it the excuse to leave, with a few more praises ringing in his ears they moved off. What in earth was happening to him, he was starting to feel uncomfortable with himself? He worried as he looked around, this is not my home now, and was feeling more army than at any time before.

Later he was to find out that his family had a feeling that he was getting uneasy and wanted to move on. There was much to say but no one could find a way to make a contact with him or him with them. Was it the normal reaction? There was no ill feeling just a bigger feeling that he didn鈥檛 belong there or to them.
At the earliest opportunity he again visited the person that had helped him so much in the past. There was always that special lady for him to visit. Her door was always open to him with a big welcome on the mat.
She was a small woman twisted with advanced rheumatics in her hands. It amazed him over the years how she could be so cool with so much pain. Aspirin and iodine in milk were her remedies for her ills. The winches of pain she hardly referred to. Knitting and fine lace works were her therapy. Some how she had to crank her hands into almost closed fists to hold anything, and yet for hours she sat there working.

While they talked she would get a hank of wool and she would let the lad hold it out between his arms He wasn't to hold it too tight. Just enough pressure to hold it there while she wound it into a ball.
While doing this it gave the two a relaxation period with small talk. During one of these early periods of wool windings she told the lad that his Uncle Harry was really his father. It was put over in such a way he could think about the words and its implications and was probably too young to take it in. She explained it as far as she could without hurting. For the first time he started to understand things and his isolation in the family. He wanted to be a part of the family but so much had been left unsaid. Why no talk on whom he was? Older and now a soldier he still relied on that lady to talk out his new troubles. With all the kindness afforded to him by his family there was still no way to confide in them his deepest feelings. Even now as a soldier he was worried about his feelings and went to see her.
The door was open as usual and with a few knocks on connecting door. She answered and in he went she knew her boy. Out of her meagre tea ration she made a cup of tea. Her knitting was still a main occupation. Some of her wool was now using was salvage from old clothing.
Once settled in the lad blurted out his worries. "Why do I want to go back when everybody has been so kind to me?" There was a long pause, "You left home some time ago to go to London and for a while you returned here as a child. Now you are expected to act as a man.鈥� She did what she always done, pause a little to let the words sink in, and then continued. "The war years have taken your youth and given you new values, I have no worries. You know right from wrong.鈥�
They carried on talking, and then as if a reference to his troubles she said, "Well! How do feel now." It was an honest answer from the lad, "Better but I still don鈥檛 really understand." She smiled, 'You will'. There was an apology that she couldn鈥檛 give him that special North Country treat of pigs鈥� trotters, "it鈥檚 the war you know." Time with her had flown. With that departing sorrow of a fond child he left to attend his final Horse & Groom night
This was the final night and all stops that could be pulled out to make this the best one. As usual the trio arrived on time even the regular's seats were empty, that special pint for any ship survivors was bought and placed on the centre of the table. Their first pint of the evening was in place; his friend was there this time and as always a good companion.

The landlord as spruce as ever waits for the beer order. Ordering was easy, he only mentioned the name of the person and the beer and glass are united. Now complete the landlord points to the different glasses to make sure the order is right then takes the cash and returns the change for the drinks. Without asking he digs out a tray from somewhere below the counter then loads it with the beer. With the practice he has had, the lad had developed his own style of carrying the beer. There was no longer a long trail of beer from bar to 'his customers'. It was important that the head of the beer was just a fraction above the top of the glass. A quarter of an inch below and it was considered to be a half glass and to be taken back to the bar to be topped up.

There was no doubt there was some tension in the air, the older service men were in deep discussion about their return to active service. Their eyes wondering off to the lost Armed Merchant Ships pint sitting there untouched on the table. It was the centre point of their discussion. Body action told it all; they too were in the laps of the gods. Their glasses were lifted to the armed merchant survivor's pint and returned to other conversations. The young soldiers were still only playing at war; the older men had been on active service for a long time some were wearing First World War Medals. At least the young ones knew little of the past of these service men and were living in the present; it seemed more than enough to carry on with. There was nothing else they could hang their discussions on but the beer and talk about some film or other youthful things. It filled their time until they left the Horse & Groom to join the house party
Time in the pub was running out. More and more time was spent in shaking hands than ever before even a few tears from the old people in the Horse & Groom. Promises were made to keep in touch, more handshakes and a few more kisses and they were on their way.
It wasn鈥檛 to be as long into the night as the others, most of the packing had been done. A bad head wouldn鈥檛 help the travelling and he was determined to keep within his limits.

Things, went as well as could be expected, the lad knew his limit and stuck to it. Without the effects of the beer things about the room seemed to be sharper. As good as the party was time was moving slowly it was time to return to his new army life. Dragging out the life of that last pint made things worse for him, almost unmanly in the eyes of others. At least his friend was usefully employed, getting his last few cuddles in with the young lady. Music and dancing was beginning to dry up time had almost drained away; it was almost as dead there as the empties that lined the table and shelves. God knows what that place would smell like in the morning!

The three who had started their leave together would be away to their different military stations in the morning. It would have to be a very early rise, leaving them no time to join in the major clean up.
As the people thinned out the state of the room became more apparent. Each time they were offered some sympathy they just shrugged it off with, a "don't worry about it, there's a new day tomorrow."

The three were the last out, the lad was sure that a few pounds changed hands to help compensate for the mess in the house. All the farewells complete the venture into the adult world was over the three stood together for a while and talked about the passing week. Hand shakes all rounds and a genuine regret at parting, this part of the leave was over.
Waking up in the house was not the problem. It was finding a place in the queue for a wash and clean up. All the cleaning had to be done in a short time as possible. For this morning everything had to over-lap. This was the last morning's leave for the soldier and he would be the first to catch his train. The father鈥檚 train would be arriving on a different platform a few hours later. Five adults and a couple of children would have to use one cold water tap over the ceramic basin in the corner of a ten by ten-foot kitchen. Sitting in another corner of the kitchen a gas-stove fitted with four burners. Two burners would be used to heat the water in saucepans for washing the other to boil water for tea. One burner was left to prepare a special breakfast for the departing servicemen.

The systems were quite simple remove one saucepan of hot water from the gas stove, then take it over to the bowel in the sink and tip it into the bowel. Refill the saucepan with water for the next one and replace it onto the gas stove. It was a Routine but necessary to keep things going. Those cold stone floor slabs did nothing to help the blood circulation. Comfort came from the beautiful washed towel hanging there and a spare towel placed on the floor to stand on while washing. There were two ledge and braced doors that at the best took up most of the door opening space when closed. Cold draughts of winter whistled from all the spaces. There was no position in the rooms to avoid the compressed fingers of icy cold air. They were so direct that they seemed to slice through skin and bone.
His Uncle had got up early to light the fire. By the time the rest of the household was active, the open fire was burning brightly. As each entered the room they took a turn in standing in front of it. Stand where you will the body was hot in the front and cold on the back. Tea was yet to be made; it would take time before there was a free burner. Those who were waiting carried on talking and nudged in as far as they could to the fire. Adults there constantly looking at the clock, there was no time to waste and they knew it.
His father had got up early to claim first place at the basin, hot water and the only mirror in the kitchen.
It was his privilege to wash in privacy. Until he finished, that connecting door between living room and kitchen remained closed with the bolt in place. Anyone trying to lift the door latch he would have to hear a bout of coughing. It acted as a warning to keep out
Another problem was that the kitchen door led to the out side door, the door to the outside toilet. Anyone on the boil had to cross their legs and jump about a bit. On no account was his father to be disturbed during his wash. The young ones were more competitive and knocked the door, "Uncle I want a pee." They were unduly waltzed off to the odd potty in one of the rooms. At last he has finished his ablutions and out he comes all speck and span and goes upstairs to finish his dressing, now complete and ship shape brought his suite case and things down.
As the second in importance the soldier son was given next place, but this time the door stopped open. Making of the tea had become as important only equalling the importance of that half-dressed soldier washing in the kitchen. There was also the need to use the gas-stove to prepare the special breakfast. Plenty of traffic problems within the house but things had to go on. With all this activity going on around him he could do nothing more than hurry up and get out of the way.
Its two service men were 'descent' and ready for that special breakfast bacon fried egg and fried bread. Neither wanted this special send off, but that鈥檚 the way it was. In it came and was presented as a banquet. The adults looked on and were joyful at the thought that their special breakfast was being enjoyed by their service men.
It was an uncomfortable banquet for the two sitting there eating it. All the rest of the household was milling around in all stages of undress drinking tea and eating what they could. His aunt still had her hair in curlers and was off to another room carrying her comb and food with her. His uncle has somehow got himself ready and was in the process of dressing a child. In what seemed an impossible time the aunt is back and helping with the other child.
Even with all this ciaos everybody is ready. The only thing the soldier has to do is to put on his greatcoat, hat and equipment and he was ready. His father already has all his things ready for the off. There would be no taxi this time, there were too many in the party. It was early and there were not too many people about to delay the departure. Every thing was checked before they moved out. Any loose bags were shared. Even though time was tight the young lad was allowed to squeeze a few minutes in to say his good-byes to his special lady living further up the street. With all this over they were all on their way to the railway station.
His train would be the first. This time his aunt and uncle had insisted that they accompany the lad to the station. When they all arrived at the station she took his arm in hers then walked arm in arm to the railway platform, his uncle walked on the other side. Some- how it seemed the right thing to do, his father had had his share, they were claiming some of the time left. Nobody missed out as the rest of the family followed as quickly as they could. The train hadn't arrived. What surprised him they all tried to fill in the time with things they had missed saying during the week by repeating "don鈥檛 forget to write? Have you got enough fags? To ease away from it the tired lad would produce packets of the things to satisfy them. There was so much attention paid to him that he felt embarrassed with it all. His father was taking over the final stages, "come on son lets have your equipment, when she comes in you can make a dive for a seat."
Those last few minuets even harder with the rest. His inner self kept repeating. 鈥業f only all this had been spread over the leave time鈥�. At last the train came in and the father makes a dash of the first door.

With the skill of many years travelling he opened the door and with some speed and found a compartment with an empty seat. The lad was not far behind and arrives with his rifle and equipment. Hot and bothered the already loosened equipment and rifle were placed on the seat to secure it. Again he was bubbling over with the joy of his Father鈥檚 concern for him. Hardly any words passed between them; again it was one of those times in his life that the silence said more than words. Smiling, a little shrug of the shoulders and that feeling of a job well done they return to the platform for all the final good-byes. His aunt hung onto him for as long as she could and was shedding tears; Uncle and father were hanging on to his hands when the whistles of the railway staff and train started to blow, to add to this movement and noise going on around him there was a hurry to make room for the kids to join in. They were as coy as most kids are in this situation, and must have been just as embarrassed as he was.
The train as grand as ever was showing her impatience by blowing off clouds of steam. At the very last moment the young soldier sprung up into carriage and closed the door. Things were on the move; most of the windows were filled with the departing family member. On the platform and around the carriage windows family members were shooting and waving to the departing train. What a chorus of sound! Then to add to it the shouts from the railway staff a flag was being waved. Whistles blowing like hell and then the trains' wheels started to move slowly. Nobody seemed to want the train to move out of the station and for as long as possible hands remained connected as it moved along the platform. That unfeeling magnificent lady pulling us had her way it was goodbye Cardiff. With smoke from her funnel and a few blasts from her whistle she was on her way.
Even as they were all disappearing they kept on waving. There was no further point in staying at the window and he returned to his seat to think about his first leave. It had gone even better than he thought and had even enjoyed the fuss made of him, but something troubled him. He thought about his talk with his adopted Mother figure. She had been as helpful as always. With all the things that had gone on during his leave he was confused, as he had been in his childhood.

He was entering the adult world of beer and fags not out of choice but as the right thing to do, then add was it? Time will tell as he stands there to ponder over it. Would not the time have been used to discuss with them his unknown past and settle him in for his role as a soldier? They all had done their best to entertain him in an adult way. For the first time as he sits in carriage he realises how little time was truly his own. Bits of paper with instructions and the power to govern his every move had taken over. No longer a free man (whatever that means) His life was not his own he was owned lock, stock and barrel by the army. That King鈥檚 Shilling seemed to be an inadequate reward maybe his return to barracks would open up a new way with people of his own age. Shaking his head and wondered why in the hell he was looking forward to his return to the six o'clock reveille and all that goes with it.
The return trip was trouble free; from the blackness the barracks loomed up and seemed to want to devour him as he walked through its gates. His same bed space was there, with some relief he dumps his equipment and rifle on the bed, the proverbial cup of tea was needed even more than sleep. This was his home his cup of tea would now be served up by a pretty little NAAFY girl. His newfound mates at the table had lots of questions but the main conversation made room for the new future. There was a buzz going around the barracks that there was a move on. Nobody had the details but the thought of moving out of the barracks's bull made every thing look so much rosier for him. Training was over and they were now soldiers, new ones but fit enough to be allowed out, fit and ready. He looks around and wonders what could be worse than this barrack life. Bullshit its main ingredient and he didn鈥檛 like it. Itchy and now impatient the move couldn鈥檛 come quick enough.
In its final stages Shorncliff was more reasonable. In the main the bull part of this barrack life was limited to the guard duties, now AB64's were checked to make sure that the medical things were up to date. There was lots of information banding about the place. Rumours abounded their contents distorted, the only thing they had in common was that someone had heard from someone about our new destination. Each day the clever ones came up with new information and change it again half way through the day.
The NAFFI was their main meeting place with Groups with their tea and rock cakes sitting, discussing the move. Anyone joining added to the speculations of the move. It wasn鈥檛 long before the speculations finished and the facts were known.
Days at Shorncliff were over and it was time to move on. For him it was a good thing to get away. The next places for him the RAF airfield in Kent.

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