Open Writing

We were given a week’s leave approximately once every three months, so I had a couple of leaves from Tilford, each time encountering the London Blitz.

If soldiers arrived in Huddersfield late at night, it was only a short walk from the station to the YMCA. There, staying up all night, were members of Toc H, waiting with their cars to give anyone a lift home. This service was greatly appreciated by me more than once.

I was disappointed not to get leave at Christmas, but Mrs Campbell put on a Christmas party at The Grange. The table-tennis table was put away.

We had a buffet tea and then in the evening sang carols and played games. Postman’s knock was out of the question, but charades and one or two similar games we enjoyed.

One member of our squadron was called Reg Boler. He was a brilliant pianist, and before the war had played the piano in Jack Jackson's band. When he came into the room, if the wireless was on he'd sit at the piano and join in, no matter what tune was being played or in what key.

Farnham itself was a pleasant town, with two cinemas and several good shops. One Saturday afternoon I was in one of the cinemas when a message was flashed on the screen ordering all soldiers to return immediately to their regiments. I hurried out, as did others, stopped a civilian car, which we were allowed to do, and told the driver to take me to our squadron.

We assembled in the main road, certain that the Germans were about to invade. However, after a short while the panic was off and we were dismissed. We never knew if there had been an attempted invasion or not.

Our social activities came at nights and weekends unless we were on guard duty, or some other duty, but they were a most welcome change after Richmond and Warminster. There were dances in the village hall at Beacon Hill near Hindhead most Friday nights. They were well attended, plenty of girls there, and naturally Audrey used to go too.

Work was still to do: training, PT, driving the tanks, no longer on Catterick Moors, or Salisbury Plain, but Frensham Common. We made occasional trips again to Aldershot, firing on the ranges there.

I had once volunteered to play rugby at Catterick. I played one game and that was enough for me - far too rough. But I enjoyed soccer. As part of our PT we picked troop football teams to play each other. I was in our troop team. I was no Stanley Matthews, but with only twenty men to choose from, they had to pick somebody.

Our landlady, Mrs Donald, had a sister who used to come and visit her every Friday, and they invited two of our troop to have tea with them. It was always sardine sandwiches. They were very nice ladies and pleasant to talk to, but some of the boys hated to go, especially the Barley Mow fraternity. However, so as not to hurt Mrs Donald's feelings, we drew up a rota of who should spend an hour or two with them on Fridays.

I personally didn't mind, even if the sardine sandwiches did get a bit monotonous. I liked both the old ladies, so sometimes I would do someone else a favour by going in his place. Whether Mrs Donald noticed I was a rather more regular visitor than some of the others, I don't know.

I didn't, however, care for their big, old, ugly bulldog. It was perfectly harmless, but the sight of it waddling and slobbering about was a bit off-putting when eating sardine sandwiches.

We would have these get-togethers in their very pleasant front garden if the weather was nice; otherwise we had them inside. When Dad's Army came on television, whenever I saw Private Godfrey and his sister Dolly, both quite old people, Mrs Donald and her sister inevitably came to mind.

The time spent at Tilford was pleasant but the pangs of homesickness came with regularity, and most nights I wrote home, as did some of the other boys like Ted Ryan and Bob Weightman.

We were at Tilford until 2 June, 1941. The evening we left was a sad and tearful occasion. We all paraded in the middle of the main road, then climbed into lorries, to the goodbyes and kisses of many of our friends who had turned out to see us leave. Many of us had a genuine feeling of sadness as we made for our next destination, to Marlborough, back in Wiltshire.

Not a studio as a billet, but this time a racehorse stable. There are a lot of such stables around Marlborough. They had taken the horses out of this one, and in the stalls had made bunk beds. Our palliasses went with us.

Marlborough has an unusually wide main road, with shops on either side, and at one end the Town Hall. When on guard duty we were taken by truck into the town where we paraded in front of the Town Hall, and with plenty of noise and ceremony were fallen in by the sergeant of the guard, and then inspected by the orderly officer. So far as we could see, this was just a bit of show for the benefit of the local people. There was nothing to guard in Marlborough, so after the parade we were fallen out, climbed back into the truck, and were taken back to our stables, where we proceeded to spend the night guarding them.

The whole Regiment was soon billeted around Marlborough, biding time prior to being sent abroad. The Green Dragon became a popular alternative to Tilford's Barley Mow, and no doubt the beer sales shot up when the Bays arrived.

We were driving, shooting and doing almost anything to keep us occupied. Once we were taking some bricks from one place to another. Someone threw one out of the wagon and it hit me on top of the head. There was a fair bit of blood. A man called George Mobley was ordered to take me to the doctor's nearby. It was decided I'd have to have some stitches in my head. I sat down, the doctor started to stitch, and George fainted!

The Regiment got a cricket team together to play a team from Marlborough College. Ronnie and Harold Balson were selected to play. I volunteered to be scorer. We played just two or three matches but they were very enjoyable occasions.

Mrs Campbell asked me to keep in touch with her, and I did so for many years until she died in the 1970s. She wrote regularly and it was always a pleasure to get her letters. While we were at Marlborough she wrote and invited me to spend a weekend at The Grange. A weekend pass wasn't difficult to get, so I accepted her offer and had a very agreeable time back at Tilford.

In July came the ominous news that we were to be sent on embarkation leave. Another much appreciated week at home, but this time there was the feeling when, and even if, I would see home again. With very heavy hearts my family and I said goodbye to each other.

Back to Marlborough, guarding the stables, doing menial work, and then on 23 September, 1941, the anticipated move.

'Killer' Wyatt and Ned Reeves wrote a song. I can only remember a few verses, and the first went like this:

'Twas on a Sunday morning
We took that long train ride.
We ended up at Gourock,
To board the Empire Pride.