I think it was in the early days just after we were embodied that we
were given our medicals, it was a bit of a joke really, a cursory
once-over with the stethoscope and an eyesight test on a standard eye
chart at a range of five or six feet; for a hearing test the MO stuck a
pocket watch in my left ear, "Can you hear that?" "Yes," I
replied, then in my right ear, "and that?" "Yes."
"OK." And I had passed. And apart from the time of my final
discharge from the army when they were trying to make sure that I
couldn't make any post-war claims for incapacity and the times when I
was discharged from hospital that was the only medical examination I
ever had.
One possible advantage of being stationed in Bristol was that I could go
home when I was not on duty but home was a fourpenny bus ride from
Worral Road and this double journey together with ten Woodbine
cigarettes cost me a day's allowance (I was getting two shillings a day
but was allotting one shilling a day to my mother who incidentally never
spent it but saved it up for my return). I usually went home after a
night shift and so was rather tired and not very good company; after a
month or so of this routine I decided that I would be better off away
from Bristol and applied for a transfer to Plymouth.
The war was not very old before the Post Office started to get
concerned over the loss of some of their key personnel to the forces; it
was one thing to have their employees playing at soldiers in their own
time but quite another matter to lose some of their qualified staff on a
semi-permanent basis. So just before I went to Plymouth an arrangement
was made that allowed the Post Office to claim back all their employees
who did not have an army trade. The army could see all their
Territorial signal units being drastically reduced and took swift
action. In a blanket approach army trade ratings were given to as many
members of my company as possible, not only Post Office employees; I was
called before Captain Sommerville.
"You are?"