大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by (Helen Smith) on behalf of (John Rawlings) and has been added to the site with his/her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Chapter Three

YEOVIL

Yeovil was a watershed between 鈥減laying at soldiers鈥� and the real thing. The whole division had been changed from its peacetime structure and brought up to its full strength. Our company had received reinforcements in personnel but not in vehicles. We were fortunate in that our platoon was fully manned by original Territorials and retained our geographical element. In fact, to borrow the language of Captain Mainwaring of Dad鈥檚 Amy, we were now 鈥渁n efficient fighting machine ready to defend our country鈥� and probably at the same level of readiness.
Our commandeered vehicles were a motley collection with drivers allocated at random daily. My 鈥渨heels鈥� on a winter鈥檚 day with snow still on the ground was a 30/40 seater coach of unknown vintage. It had been disembowelled with all seating removed to provide a level floor to receive monstrous sides of beef, sacks of sugar and flour and many other heavy cartons of various foods to feed one of the larger units. The coach was empty when I arrived. My first job was to get it loaded at the depot where I had to arrive at a specific time to avoid congestion.
As I struggled to climb into the driver鈥檚 seat, my latent tendency to vertigo recurred. It took a few minutes to recover during which I had the opportunity to look back. I found that I was in a corridor stretching back to infinity and the back window. The vast emptiness magnified my horror as I realised that here was my responsibility for the day. The engine started easily, how I cannot recall, as I was absorbed with an array of switches, buttons and flickering lights. As I gingerly took hold of the gear lever, the size of a tree trunk, I sensed the power of the AEC engine. Gathering up my full strength I depressed the clutch and grasped the steering wheel which was as wide as a child鈥檚 hoop but much thicker. There was some delay as I worked out my next move. It wasn鈥檛 鈥渨hat鈥� to do but 鈥渉ow鈥�. I needed two hands to move the gear lever and that left the steering wheel on its own. This was no problem whilst stationary but difficult on the move. Moving off in what I guessed was first gear, I moved majestically forward trying to forget the length of my train. On a level straight stretch of road I pressed my knee hard against the steering wheel and used both hands to move the gear lever. My route took me through the High Street on a slight gradient. Common sense indicated that a lower gear was needed and this time this manoeuvre was achieved by coming to a halt. This increased public interest and by the time I reached the right hand turn at the top of the incline there was quite a crowd. Experience told me that I needed the widest arc of steering if I was to avoid demolishing the shop front ahead and slightly to the right. This would leave the distant rear wheels to mount the pavement at the risk of serious injury to the sightseers whose numbers were increasing by the minute. In desperation I edged forward to get the front of the coach half way round the turning with the near side front wheel just inside the shop door. Whatever other bad features coaches have for the private car driver, they rejoiced in magnificent driving mirrors giving an expansive and revealing view to the rear. To my horror, where there had been one or two vans behind me as I entered the High Street, the road was now crammed as far as the eye could see and that was a long way in a coach mirror.
I was stuck, embarrassed and helpless and if it had not been for a kindly policeman who telephoned for help, the High Street would still be closed to traffic today. There was of course an enquiry and to my surprise I got off very lightly. The responsibility was laid at the door of the officer who had failed to ensure that all vehicles were matched to drivers within their known experience and not according to their availability.
Our vehicles began arriving and soon we were fully equipped - principally with three ton Austins and Commers well within the competence of the average driver. By this time, we had 鈥済ot our feet under the tables鈥� of local residents which allowed us to keep in touch with domestic niceties which were sadly lacking elsewhere. Muriel came down when she could and we stayed with a policeman and his wife so we were in good hands. The town became special to us as we were to be married whilst stationed there.
This is not the place to describe that momentous occasion except to the extent that the Army affected our plans. I obtained the CO鈥檚 permission to get married and most of the arrangements were discussed on the few short leaves allowed. Muriel carried the main burden of the necessary planning. I came off very lightly being asked to choose one of the hymns. I took this responsibility very seriously and was almost too late to get my choice into print. On a sunny but very cold day in November and to Muriel鈥檚 great credit all went well until my hymn was announced. I was conscious of sniggering and subdued laughter behind me in the ranks, sorry, among the congregation. I brushed off this poor behaviour and enjoyed singing my hymn. It was only when the minister started his customary talk that my heart sank. He too had heard the laughter and said he understood the reason for it. Wedding days, he said, displayed, or should display, happiness and good will: it was a time for rejoicing etc. How was it then, he posed the rhetorical question, that John had chosen this particular hymn to celebrate the occasion. My shame was slightly relieved when he went on to say that he disagreed with the congregation and thought that John had shown considerable understanding of the situation. So, in an atmosphere of joy, sunshine and happiness his hymn sees the future in the opening line 鈥淟ead kindly Light amidst the encircling gloom鈥� with the following verses in the same vein. I did not fully recover until he pointed out, in a most understanding way, that the hymn symbolised the dark days ahead. After a brief honeymoon of 2/3 days, I returned to Yeovil in the knowledge that my unit was earmarked for the BEF (British Expeditionary Force) and would sail very shortly.
And so it was. We reformed as a complete company for the first time on the Southampton
University Campus. Our vehicles and heavy baggage went ahead and while we waited for a ship to carry us to France we were to undergo urgent physical training. We did not question what benefit two or three days of long route marches would have on our bodies. However I was fully aware of the impact on mine. We were allowed ten minute breaks each hour, when to a man the weary troops collapsed on the grassy banks which were very wet with recent rain. My rear quarters objected to this treatment and said so, in the worst haemorrhoids I had ever experienced.
The whole company were on parade ready to march to the docks. At the front was the Officer Commanding (a Major) discussing details with his second in command, then the
HQ section which included brother Ron, then two captains commanding the two echelons, then, section by section each with its subaltern, sections A to D on the left, and E to H (minus one), to the right. I do now know if they were waiting for me before marching off. They were still there as a small bent figure moved painfully towards the parade. The doctor had been very clear in his diagnosis: 鈥淵ou鈥檙e for hospital鈥�. In vain I tried to explain that, even at that very moment, my company was lined up to march to the docks. He gave me a note to hand to the OC and didn鈥檛 even say goodbye.
Staggering down the lines of waiting soldiers, I eventually reached the very last rank where a gap had been left for me. I told my section corporal what the doctor had said. The corporal reported his version to the sergeant, and he reported his version to the Platoon officer, who marched up the lines to pass the message to the echelon commander and through him to the sergeant major who had direct access to the OC via the second in command. All this took some time and I wondered if the final message was the one I gave. Unwittingly my mind went back to Uncle Fred who told a similar story set in WW 1. The original message, in that story, was from a commanding officer in the field to his superior 鈥淪end reinforcements: I am going to advance鈥�. The message finally reached its destination in rather different guise, as 鈥淪end three and fourpence. I am going to a dance鈥�
The sergeant major was shouting: 鈥� Driver Rawlings - H Section - Here at the double - NOW 鈥� By this time I had struggled to the front and was presented to the OC who was fuming at this unnecessary delay. I tried to tell him what the medical officer had said but he cut me short telling me to 鈥淔all in鈥�. He got even angrier when I told him I was physically unable to march to the docks. With no appearance of sympathy he took sixpence from his pocket and told me to take a tram and meet the company at the dock gates. The company moved off.
It took me some time to find the correct tram but I had the consolation of waving encouragingly to the 鈥渕arching鈥� company. Seated in comfort and in the dry, I reached the dock gates able to rest until they arrived. That night, we boarded a channel packet and sailed at midnight.

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