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Prologue: My war record

• Royal Army Medical Corps, 30 October 1939
• British Expeditionary Force: 1940–
• Joined no.1 Casualty Clearing Station 1st Medical Unit
• Into Belgium: 10 May 1940
• Back into France: 17 May 1940
• Left France for Blighty: 22 May 1940
• Rotherham 1940: 16 weeks civilian billets.
• Isle of Man: 18 months hospital for garrison.
• North Africa, 1942: 1st Army landed Algiers then Tunis 1943
• Italy, 1943: 1st Army
• Landed Taranto: hospitals in Italy until the end of war, 13 May 1945
• Austria: 45 British Occupation Force
• Hospital: Velden, end of No.1 Casualty Clearing Station, 4 January 1946 disbandment
• Demobilisation: 7 February 1946.
• Awarded 1939 - 1945 medal; Africa Star with first Army clasp; Italian Star

Preparations for war

The year 1939 was full of preparations for the war. I was a 19-year-old clerk, employed by the LMSR (London, Midland and Scottish Railway) in the Goods Department, Coventry. I joined the LMS St John Ambulance Association, learning ambulance work. I was also trained in ARP (air-raid precautions).

At weekends, one of my other duties was to operate a telephone exchange. One Sunday late in August I was operating the exchange in case of an emergency. I was alone in the depot when a call came through on the postal line. The caller enquired, 'Is the manager there?'

'No, I'm on my own,' I replied.

'Well, could you contact him and ask him to call me on my Coventry number?' I gave out the number of the district goods manager at Birmingham. A short while later there was another call, this time from the assistant district goods manager. He ticked me off for having given out the district manager's telephone number on a Sunday. He'd been playing golf.

He told me to carry out the emergency instructions and get a foreman to ring back. The next thing cartage staff were called in to pick up goods from the naval stores and load them into wagons for distribution to the ports. It was minesweeping equipment.

Aged 20 and due for conscription

The following Sunday war was declared. A few days later I turned 20 and became due for conscription. Over the next few weeks I made a momentous decision, and, on 30 October 1939, I volunteered for the Army Medical Services.

I was released by LMSR, who promised to make up my army pay to civilian level (which they did for the next seven years). I went to the Coventry recruiting office, where I was sworn in and received the King’s Shilling.

No. 7520975

The next day I went to the Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC) Boyce Barracks, near Aldershot, and joined other new recruits for training, discipline, marching, PE and lectures. Clothing, kit and equipment were thrust upon us, and we were each given a number. Mine was 7520975 (which I'll never forget).

Having been trained to look like soldiers, we were eventually allowed a weekend pass to go home after duty from Friday to Sunday night - short but very sweet. Christmas leave came next. When I reported back to barracks I was told not to unpack, as I was to go on embarkation leave.

I asked where I was being posted to - France. History was repeating itself. My father had served there in World War One. He had come home and died four months before I was born.

A great correspondence

Early in January, I joined the British Expeditionary Force (BEF). This was the beginning of a great correspondence with my fiancée, who later became my wife. During my service abroad I wrote 648 letters, all of which I still have. My wife kept and endorsed them with date received.

I am amazed by how much I got into them. An air-letter page was 125mm x 175mm. I managed 50 lines of writing on each of three sides when I'd got plenty of news - and most times I had. Besides writing to my fiancée/wife, I also wrote to my mother and other relations, office friends and friends I made during my service.

The weekly green envelope

Early in the war we used ordinary paper and envelopes. We also we had an issue of one green envelope a week (this was not censored by unit officers, but was liable to be opened by base censors).

Censorship was a necessary evil to be sure, by which secret information was not passed on. We soon got used to the fact that someone other than the recipient was going to read our correspondence. We also had post cards with phrases printed on them for people who for one reason or another could not write a letter, a selection of which follow.

Army Form A 2042/7 51-4997

(Cross out the unwanted words and sentences)

• I have been admitted to Hospital
• {Sick {and am doing well
• {Wounded {and hope to be discharged soon

• I am being sent down to Base
• I have received your letter dated:
• Telegram?
• Parcel?
• Letter follows at earliest opportunity
• I have received no letter from you
• Lately
• For a long time

Signature only} ------

Date}------

Air-letter forms and airgraphs

Later we had air-letter forms - Army Form W3077 - a sheet of paper that folded in half and then in half again. The front was lined for name and address and required a threepenny [1p] stamp. The back was blank. The inside pages were for correspondence, and nothing could be enclosed.

Or you could send an airgraph, which was a page set out with the recipient's address, positioned so it fitted the envelope space, the sender’s address and a space for communication.

The form was sent to the army post office, photographed on film, reduced in size then dispatched by air to Blighty. It was then printed on to a small letterform, enveloped and put in the ordinary post in Blighty. It was supposed to be speedy.

I note the particular one I am looking at was written on 4 May 1943 and delivered on 19 May. An air letter written on 11 May 1943 was delivered on 16 June 1943 (all these were from North Africa).

'Nothing but private and family matters'

I note from my bundles of letters that the air-letter forms became the most popular form of written communication from 1943. On 5 April 1943 we were surprised by the announcement that we no longer need use a three-penny stamp on our air letters - and we were caught out with a stock of them.

From May 1945 censorship by regimental officers was also changed to a certificate signed by the writer - 'I certify on my honour that the contents of this letter refer to nothing but private and family matters.' There was still possible examination at base.

Peaches by post

Correspondence was our lifeblood. We were always watching out for the postman. In the later days of the war, transit got down to five days from Italy and Austria.

We were all able to send parcels home, and the local shops were pleased to help us select something. I tried under-ripe peaches, but they didn't travel well. Oranges and lemons fared better.

Forging friendships and maintaining routines

My fiancée/wife kept up the correspondence to me - not perhaps as often as I wrote to her, but her life was more or less routine, whereas mine was chopping and changing. We both made it the most important thing to do. Just as we kept up our lifestyle as we had practised it at home - no smoking, alcohol or swearing, regular church going, being decent and neighbourly with our comrades or the locals.

Life was difficult really, but we had the opportunity to form friendships with those of similar outlook. We had to find them, but they were there. A lot of our comrades were away from home and behaved disgustingly, but one had to ignore their mistakes and, when one had the opportunity, try to show them a different and better way.

Drunks, cigarettes and brothels

At home we saw drunks on the street. Here we had them in the same billet night after night (not always the same person). A free issue each week of cigarettes was habit making. Brothels were available and, I'm told, were popular. As a 20 year old, I had led a somewhat protected life. I found these things disturbing - and far from attractive.

In latter days of the war I worked with the Salvation Army and the Army Scripture Readers. In our unit we had a quiet room for Christian study and prayer meetings. There were not many of us, but we were full of hope and determination to show others the way.

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