大象传媒

On the day war was declared I was celebrating my twelfth birthday and that I had recently learned I had passed the scholarship. To Glanmor. There we learned physics with Dai' lab, geography with Tiny Tim Meyrick, saw the smoke ascending from Llandarcy's fire, moved to Oxford St., was evacuated to Drefach, returned to Swansea and the Deaf and Dumb school.

The "phoney war鈥� continued for me as for others.

Sometime (1940-41) I joined the Army Cadets, parading in Gendros school under the command of Mr. (It) Westacott, with visits to the Home Guard in Cadle school. One Sunday we joined them, firing rifle and Bren gun across the valley by Tirdonkin colliery. A thrilling experience, far better than shooting at crows and tin cans with an air rifle. On another occasion we joined them on the ranges at Aberavon dunes. I won the sweep that day. I felt great at the time but realised later 1 was competing against fellows of advanced years, with failing eyesight and unsteady fingers. Not really such an achievement.

I was enrolled as a call-out. In the event of an invasion I was to race to Cwmbwrla and advise the members of the Home Guard, living in Caebricks, Robert St., Approach Road and other streets in the neighbourhood that 'Their Country needed them'. In a hurry. Thankfully neither my services nor theirs was needed.

On the first of 鈥淭he Three Nights Blitz鈥� the area west of where I lived at the time, Caereithin, or the Mynydd as we preferred to call it was devastated by incendiary bombs. On the Thursday the fields of Wyman's farm and Penplas, (now Blaen-y-maes) were covered with little white mounds of Magnesium Oxide, charred fins, unexploded and partially burned incendiary bombs. We quickly learned to identify those that had an explosive charge.within the fin. To be a distant witness of the fires on Mayhill and the town on the two following nights was very exciting. But I lost out in the end. I had an interview for a job on the Evening Post that following Saturday morning, but the Castle buildings, where the Post was located at that time suffered "considerable damage" as they said.

I am not sure if it was before or after February '41 that someone decided that we youngsters needed a youth club. Mrs Hole, the postmistress, had vacated 鈥淭he Bungalow鈥� and was persuaded to let it be used for a Sunday school and a 'Youth Club'. We learned a lot there, besides dancing and how to play the mouthorgan.

Some time after the Blitz an anti-aircraft battery was established in the fields now Heol Emrys. We, as Army cadets were given a tour of the Radio-location establishment; a constantly running generator, several caravans containing detecting equipment with cathode ray tubes and A TS girls and a vast array of chicken wire aerial on posts. We often heard the warning Claxon long before we heard the siren. For the first few weeks we had a sergeant billeted with us and later an ATS girl.

In 1943 I saw my first American, a black man, and smelled the smoke of my first cigar. Their tented camp was on Manselton golf course, behind the hotel. Their stay was brief. They and their equipment probably helped to fill the fleet of boats in Swansea Bay that day in 1945. One day the bay seemed full, the next they were gone.

Enthusiastic and patriotic, as so many of us were at the time, I volunteered for the Army, took the Queen's shilling (literally) and on the fourth of April, 1945 I left to join the Royal Armoured Corps at Bovington Camp for my Primary training. I left Swansea High Street station carrying my empty case (to return my civie clothes) and my RTOs instructions which told me to change at Cardiff, Bristol, Westbury, Dorchester for Wool with times of trains. The trip lasted all day. I missed my connection at Westbury and sat on the platform for endless hours, because I was afraid that if I left the station, (it seemed to be miles from anywhere), I would not be able to find my way back. Understandable. I had never been away on my own before. I arrived late afternoon on Wool station to be welcomed by a stern looking sergeant who wondered where I'd been, thanked me for coming, directed me to the back of a three-tonner, drove me to the camp and the barrack room I would call home, would share with thirty or so other would-be tank men speaking with strange versions of the English language, learning where they came from, their names (many I can still remember) watched how they made a comfortable bed from three straw filled biscuits, a pillow and two itchy blankets, claiming the bottom bunk and seeing a question in their eyes -"Should I wear my pyjamas?"

After a good night's sleep we were considered fit to join the Royal Armoured Carps. In a frenzy of activity I was given a number, and like every other ex- serviceman I will always remember. 14481676. the 'last three' 676 for short, visit the QM's to receive the cherished Black Beret, make holes in it to. accommodate the Mailed Fist badge and sew the ribbon into a bow, using the brand new Housewife, be issued with the requirements of soldiering, visit the tailor to have the red and yellow bar, the silver embroidered tank and the Regimental flash sewn on our battle dress blouses, the one deemed suitable for Best was marked for adjustment to the collar, the other, second best of course had a neck one could fall through. I still have the brush, boots for the cleaning of issued to me that day. Either it is very durable or I don't clean my shoes as often as I should.

The rest of Wednesday and Thursday passed quickly, learning the rudiments of soldiering. Making beds, folding blankets, lining up the beds and the biscuits. Then outside but not yet on the square "Up, two, three, pause, two. three, down. Longest way up, shortest way down." Queuing in the Naffi, "What's an Eccles cake Taff?" As if I'd know. The Sally Army. Break for a smoke. Visit the MO, cough, see if your hat's on straight, TAB, PSO, ABCA. March to the cookhouse with eating irons held in the left hand, arm held one's back. Hats off at the door.

The Friday brought one of the highlights of my army career - witnessing my first passing out parade. The intake who had joined the army only eight weeks before were going to show us what they had learned, what they could do and what we nignogs would have to do in our own good time. We were "Dressed to the right鈥� after a fashion on the west side of the RSM's square facing the rising sun. For once the Regimental band was there played "My Boy Billy" as those troopers, would be RTR, Lancers, Hussars, Dragoons, who were civvies such a short time before marched on in best battle dress, short Lee-Enfields at the 'slope', bayonets fixed, small pack squared off with messtins and cardboard, ground sheet carefully rolled, boots 'bulled' to perfection, with their troop sergeant probably muttering "Heels, heels. Hold your heads up, show them you know who you are." Willing them to be superb and threatening to cancel the leave for them all if only one messed it up. Thus they taught us comradeship and team spirit. Quietly!

Them soldiers halted, faced front, dressed to the right and when ordered to do so "Presented Arms" with a precision and grandeur the Guards can never equate with the short, stubby, little guns they have to drill with now. When those thirty or so bods did their drill movements we counted inaudibly with them as a thin cloud rose above them into the sky, highlighted by the rising sun, the dust from the blanco they had so carefully applied to their webbing the evening before. The CO seemed pleased. They deserved their twelve days leave and postings to training regiments elsewhere.

A few weeks later we were awakened by some girlish voice screaming. We all concluded she was being attacked, but before we could turn over and go back to sleep, she burst into our billet and shouted "The war's over, the war's over!" We climbed out of our pits, dressed and joined the whole camp on the square. I have always maintained that when Hitler learned that I had joined up he might as well give in.

My eight week's Basic training was extended because "like many other squadies, was deemed to be underweight, lacked body mass and was sent to a Physical Development Centre, in Kingston. (Not Jamaica, unfortunately!) Everything there was done 'at the double'. I didn't gain much weight, but I could have run up Snowdon.

My P64 (paybook) records I joined the 57th Training Regiment Royal Armoured Corps at Catterick in September '45. I enjoyed myself there, became a gunnery instructor, reached the rank of corporal and learned the mysteries of stabilised firing on the mark 2 Centurion. I finished my service in Aldershot, never having fired a shot in anger.

My P 64-1 states that I joined the Reserve and became a civie on the 25th of April 1948. The Forces had just three years of my life and though I did not realise it at the time they were the best years.

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