Coming of Age: 1939-1946 Part 7

As the only hats I had ever worn were those at school and in the army both being compulsory I later gave the trilby to my uncle and the boots also because things were still scarce in Britain and the boots came in handy for work on his allotment garden. The tropical kit I gave to my neighbour as I vowed never to wear khaki again.

IN THE END

Father met me at the front door and the news was not good, perhaps I was still nave but I had never thought of losing any of my family, not even during the air raids and I was shocked. All the family rallied round and mother was looked after at home, whatever could be done was done but there was no future; she had awaited my return and gave me my prized possession, an Omega watch, on Valentine's day; she died two weeks afterwards.

The world now looked very different and the jubilation with which I had antic.i.p.ated my return to civilian life faded. I decided to take stock, contemplating the future and looking back over the past. What difference had the last six-and-a-half years made to me? I believe that the army life had hastened or indeed was responsible for my conversion from a youthful nave romantic into a mature cynic. The grateful country offered university education to its returning servicemen but I was coming up to 28 and didn't fancy another four years on a meagre income. I was not earning much before the war and although I had trade pay and an overseas allowance when I left the army, I was far from wealthy. Some firms made up their employees" pay to the level of their civilian pay but mine didn't. I opted to continue working initially with my old firm and let the future unfold as it would but I was already thinking of that beautiful country still in my memory, South Africa. I applied for a job there and was given an interview and a medical and I was accepted. However I was told to wait until a future date when I would be contacted again with travelling arrangements. Funnily enough the representative's parting remark was, "I hope you're not like that other Bristol chap I interviewed, when we contacted him he didn't reply." However history did repeat itself, I met my future wife, changed my address and forgot to advise him of the new one.

In the aftermath of the war I got to thinking and wondering; I had never been in a tight spot and tested; true I had been in the Plymouth and Bristol blitzes but so had 1000's of civilians. I don't think I was any more or less scared than others, probably I was average. I would like to have known just how I would have measured up had I been in a more military action but fate decreed otherwise. I shall never be certain now but if I consider myself to be average I can always be persuaded that I would have acquitted myself as well as anyone else. I got to wondering too why I had survived six-and-a-half years in the army and emerged unscathed and in one piece when so many others who had joined the forces long after me were now dead or maimed. This has often led to slight feelings of guilt, particularly at armistice-day parades.

My country had been at war with three adversaries but the first Italian I saw was a prisoner-of-war in Iraq; the first German I saw was a prisoner-of-war in Alexandria just prior to my demob and I have never yet seen a j.a.panese soldier. However I did have some enemies, a few real and many potential; anybody adorned with stripes, pips crowns or rings could make trouble for me and a few did. This does not mean that I was anti-authority because I did encounter many whom because of their leaders.h.i.+p qualities I would have readily followed but there were others on whom power did not sit well. I didn't have much to do with RAF personnel and can't comment on them but most of the Royal Navy types of all ranks that I came across seemed to be rational beings. Of the army the peace-time regular officers with some years of service appeared to be the most considerate of their charges but the wartime intake of people unused to exercising authority produced some very objectionable characters.

What had the army done for me and what had I done for the army? I don't really know. I had gone where I had been told to go, done all the things that I had been told to do, (with some minor glitches) but I cannot a.s.sess what contribution I had made to the war effort Being part of a team I was probably indirectly responsible for some enemy deaths, even making the plotting table may have contributed but I'm not aware of any and have no worries on that score. Perhaps the army knows, I don't.

Then what had the army done for me? When I left I was as physically fit as anyone had the right to be, I had a short fuse and was perfectly capable of looking after myself, very different from the lad who joined the Territorials in 1939. What skills had the army given me? Well for one thing I had demonstrated that on a lucky day I could, unarmed, overpower an opponent charging with a fixed bayonet (the bayonet in a scabbard of course), three times out of five actually, theoretically I knew how to split a mouth from ear to ear (the lips tear like paper I was told) and I knew that hobnailed boots rubbed down an opponent's s.h.i.+n would stop him temporarily from whatever he was doing. There were some other party tricks too. Additionally I had had some experience in plane table surveying but none of these attributes had a place in the kind of life I envisioned. What the army had given me was a tour around many parts of the world that I probably not have achieved otherwise but this had to be paid for in loss of earning capacity and wasted hours. I quite enjoyed the camaraderie and I also appreciated the opportunity of living communally 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for six-and-a-half years. n.o.body can keep their guard up for that protracted period and I was able to study uninhibited human behaviour first hand. The group I studied was almost infinite in number and thus I acquired an ability to judge character that has stood me well over the years even if I did become a little cynical.

Inevitably I suppose the question has to be asked, was it worth it, would I do it again? And although I fretted at times under the discipline the answer has to be a resounding "Yes", I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

To end this tale we now pa.s.s on to 1952. The Korean war was still going on and I suppose that somebody thought of "Z reserve". A small package addressed to me arrived one day by registered post; inside was a Territorial medal duly inscribed with my name and the words For Efficient Service, complete with a length of the appropriate ribbon. I suppose I should have been pleased but I had already said that I didn't want any medals. A week or so later I had another letter, not a particularly friendly one, berating me for not having advised the authorities of my change of address; actually I had moved twice since leaving Aldershot. By getting my signature for the registered package my latest address had been confirmed. Hurrah for military intelligence, they had triumphed again. I have moved three times since those days but as I'm well into my 80's I don't imagine that tracking me down again will be worth their while.