大象传媒

This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People鈥檚 War site by CSV Storygatherer Lucy Thomas of Callington U3A on behalf of Ronald Baldry. They fully understand the terms and conditions of the site.

Joe Average 鈥� Anti-hero

September 1939 war was declared. Joe Average, almost twenty years old, waited, like thousands of other young men for the inevitable 鈥榗all up鈥�; neither hero nor coward he was quite ready to join one of the armed forces when required to do so but did not feel inclined to jump the gun, so to speak. The Phoney War dragged on for months 鈥� the Germans behind their Siegfried Line (we never did hang out our washing there as the popular song said we would) and the Allies behind the Maginot Line. Stalemate! Suddenly the impasse was broken, the enemy (untrustworthy as ever) decided that if you can鈥檛 go over 鈥� go round. Quelle surprise! No more 鈥榩honey鈥�, the war was really on and it was about this time that Joe was notified that, as long as he had no strong objection, His Majesty would like to avail himself of Mr Average鈥檚 services.

Joe turned up at the recruiting office at the appointed time clutching His Majesty鈥檚 invitation and, when called by an Army sergeant, confirmed the details on the form, enlarged on a few more personal matters and added that, excellent as the other services doubtless were, all things being equal, he would be obliged if he could be entered for the Army. Trying to hide his incredulity the sergeant readily concurred and Joe was no longer a civilian.

Or so he thought until, a few days later when he received another letter from His Majesty: someone had noticed that Joe was employed on work of national importance i.e. at a Naval Ordnance Depot, so it was felt that he would be of more use to the country if he remained where he was at the moment. This caused Joe some concern, not because he had been wildly enthusiastic about army life and the possibility that he might be expected to inflict grievous bodily harm to some poor German, let alone the equally possible chance that the aforementioned poor German might get his retaliation in first. Not so! Trying to analyse his feelings as honestly as he could, Joe had to admit that, mixed with disappointment, there had been a certain amount of relief. However, he had no option but to carry on seeing that weapons were fit for better men than he to use.

A Home Guard unit was formed at the depot and Joe enrolled, feeling this was something approaching armed service. Parades were held during lunch hours 鈥� as long as a certain number of appearances were made each month members could attend when they wished. The company took their duties quite seriously, drilling, listening to lectures, practising unarmed combat and so on; issued with obsolete Lee Enfield rifles they were, very occasionally, allowed to fire five rounds at an army range. Not a single member of the company saw anything incongruous in the idea that thirty or forty unfit, badly armed and poorly trained men could be a threat to professional soldiers. One day Home Guard duty provided its moment of pure farce.

From time to time a concert party would visit the depot during the lunch break with the aim of keeping the morale of war workers high. At such times parade attendances would fall dramatically and the captain decreed that, providing one reported for duty on those days, he could then carry on to the concert and be marked as present. On such a day Joe and a workmate tried to sign on as usual to be told by the registering sergeant that the privilege would not apply that day. 鈥淩ight,鈥� said Joe. 鈥淚n that case we won鈥檛 stay. Don鈥檛 bother with the mark.鈥� They turned and left as a snort came from the inner office. They had walked a few yards down the road when a window slammed open and a furious captain shouted 鈥淐ome back at once!鈥� Joe always tried to be obliging to other people but reasoned that, although he had gone to the office, he had not signed in so was not on parade and subject to army discipline. With a friendly wave to the captain he and Ken continued on their way to the concert.

A tenor was in full voice proclaiming that he loved the dear silver that shone in Mother Machree鈥檚 hair, when the double doors of the hall flew open with a crash and, framed in the doorway stood a sergeant, corporal and two privates all in full battledress. Having seen where Joe and Ken were seated, the sergeant barked an order and, army boots echoing on the wooden floor, the escort marched down the hall and took up position behind the two miscreants. Sergeant Hayes, a man in his fifties, a time served regular soldier was teak-tough, as hard as the granite from which his features appeared to have been hewn. 鈥淥n your feet.鈥� The tenor stood no chance, having lost his audience, his voice tailed off and he too watched as the little drama was played out. Ken鈥檚 reactions were faster than Joe鈥檚 鈥� either that or he was much smarter 鈥� and rose immediately. Joe hesitated but not for long, his wrist was grabbed, arm twisted and forced up behind his back 鈥� the pain brought him to his feet in a hurry. To the ironic cheers of the audience the two of them were marched out of the hall and back to headquarters. Well, Ken was marched, Joe was frog-marched. Exercises had been suspended, the company stood around in little groups and from the inner office could be heard the agitated voice of the captain. With a perfunctory knock Sergeant Hayes threw open the door, 鈥淩eporting with prisoners, Sir.鈥�

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