Father met me at the front door and the news was not good, perhaps I was
still naïve 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
anticipated 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 naïve 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 Japanese 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
leadership 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 assess 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 shin
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. Nobody 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 pass 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.