大象传媒

This story has been submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by a volunteer from Lincoln CSV Action Desk and added to the site on behalf of members of the Old Uffingtonians Association, which is the ex-pupils of Willesdon County Grammar School, with their permission. In this case the author is Alan Johnson. The association fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

A series of billet moves had got me numbered, and for it! A sharp shock for the next stopover; School House, together with "Spud" Murphy, a fellow ingrate and previous billet chum.

School House stood in Wellington Road where the wind blew in gusts from Park Avenue North, opposite Northampton Town and County Grammar School.
Willesden County boys shared the school premises with the local Grammarians. Mornings exchanged with Afternoons and entangled only on the rugby field. Warmth left by rumps formerly occupying classroom seating was like the spoor of wild animals wary of each other.

Spud and myself slept in a room with the drunkard son of a widow, in whose care we had been placed. Reg had the unclean habit of peeing out of the bedroom window, when he was wobbly on his legs with drink and uncertain where to unload his urgency. Spud slept with Reg in a double bed, with me in a single. Reg was in his early thirties.

One night, both in bed, Spud got an unlucky clout and a bloody nose from Reg thrashing his arms about in drunken stupor. That decided us to find another billet with better sleeping arrangements. But before our request for a move was sent, Canadian troops in transit arrived in Northampton, with Bren-gun carriers and field artillery at Bush Hill: bristling under camouflage netting (where in kindlier times toy six-guns played cowboys, making whoopee chasing Sioux). The Army, not to bivouac, needed billets, the widow was in need of the bounty offered on the town, needed my bed; with me under protest and an eiderdown bedded with the widow. Good for the widow's purse but scandal for the boy who sleeps with his landlady.

What a reputation to live down if the tale got out, or perhaps, even worse, a reputation such to live up to. Next school day, Spud and me, sought out Mr. Southam, but we could not find the words to explain our misery and got a good telling off for our pains (as only Mr. Southam could do it). Spud abashed, me in tears, both tongue-tied and trembling.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.