At last, the second volume of my father’s memoirs is published – and these are the first words of the first chapter, it is D. Day – and six days later it was his 18th birthday and his call-up papers arrived.
Sadly this is also the final volume of Frank’s memoirs – even though, if Frank had the time left to him to write them, he would have probably been into volumes 4 or 5 at the very least before the end.
Volume 2 takes him up until he is 28, he then began Volume 3 … but the rest of his life is sketched in by his children (myself and my brother Mark) covering almost all the interests he participated in over the years and explaining a few of those unexplained bits he put in his own writing – saying – ‘more about this later’.
Frank had always intended his memoir to be a record for his descendants though, with his eye for detail, it is also a great exercise in observation of life in those times and a good social comment from the point of view of the ordinary man.
With his descendants in mind, the book concludes with a piece he wrote before he began his memoirs – things he’d been told by his parents about their life and about their parents – taking the family memories back another generation.
The first four years of Volume 2 see him in the Army at the end of WWII and up until his (late) de-mob. In his inimitable ‘voice’ we have an insight into the induction of civilians into the war-time army and the procedures of life in the army.
Much of his time he was posted in Europe – and these chapters include his own photographs of places he saw (some from tiny pictures – about 1″ x 2″).
Talking of photographs, from after the war there is a picture of the first car he and his brother Peter got – the photo this was taken from was about a half inch square (12mm square).
Editing this was a mammoth task – and I am pleased that it has been achieved. For those of you who read and enjoyed his first volume – it is available via Amazon HERE. (Or directly from me if you live close enough to pick it up)
And for everyone – here is a sample of the rest of that first chapter.
Chapter 1 – Into the Army
One morning the sky seemed to be full of aircraft all with three broad white bands around their wings and fuselage. It was D day, 6th June 1944 and on the 12th of June I was 18 and I received my call up. With this came a travel warrant to report to Norwich barracks on the 29th of June. I had already handed my rifle into the Home guard but kept my uniform (battledress) to travel in – as I still had no decent civilian clothes.
On the afternoon before I went I pointed to the apples on the tree outside the window and said ‘There won’t be any of those left when I get home again.’
Next morning I set out to walk to South Zeal to catch the early bus to Exeter and the train to Norwich, a long tedious trip. When the train finally arrived we were met by Sergeants directing the recruits to army lorries. It seemed that all those that came from the West Country were pointed to a different lorry from the others. When we arrived at the barracks we were sent to the dining hall and given a mug of tea and a plate with something like soggy lumpy mashed potatoes – boiled butter beans – all ice cold. I started eating mine but sitting opposite me were two lads dressed in nice casual clothes moaning about the food, and when one reached across towards my plate and saying. ‘I don’t know how you can eat that,’ without thinking I slammed my fork into the table close to his hand and growled. He jumped back and said. ‘Christ where did they get you from?’ I was a bit disturbed as I realised I’d had a flashback to cripple school meals, and having to defend them.
The sergeant bawled out, ‘Outside for induction!’ I joined the induction queue and suddenly found myself in front of an ATS who snapped out, ‘Name?’ and then wanted all my other details, all in a tone that said I was holding up the complete war effort. Then she rattled off a string of numbers. I hesitated and she said, ‘That’s your number, move on.’ And then the confusion really kicked in as a single battledress was pushed towards me and the soldier behind the counter shouted out, ‘Battledress. two.’ (where others were given two) I realised that was because I was already wearing one.
As I progressed along the counter more clothes and equipment were pushed at me, each time with the description called out including a ‘housewife, soldiers for the use of’ which turned out to be a sewing and darning kit.
Then all the webbing equipment and water bottle were added, and just when I was so loaded I could not see over the top I got 3 blankets.
Again I was asked my number. I staggered away hoping I had got it right.
We were told we were now fully responsible for the kits and any loss or damage would be replaced at our cost. Then we were marched away to the barracks – which turned out to be the old cavalry section and the area I was in, with 30 others, was the ex stables and faintly smelt like it. I was given a bunk which happened to be double and the other lad opted for the lower one – I was pleased with that. Then the order came to change into uniform. I began to look round at the others and was surprised at the obvious difference in ages. I thought they would all be my age but the call up was gradually creeping up and among us were men who had been in the occupation army in Germany after the First World War. So what it amounted to was, of the thirty in the barracks room, some knew the routine of army life but the majority were all ages called up as their reserve jobs came to an end, but all mature and confident … and me. Confused, lost and, in modern parlance, definitely out of my comfort zone.
Finally – I would like to wish
YOU ALL a Very Happy and Hopeful NEW YEAR. May 2021 be a better and happier year for everyone, for you and for those you love.
I love to hear your comments – please do feel free to chat 🙂
X ANN
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