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“LIGHTS OUT, NO
TALKING” |
HOME LEAVE
1939 |
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Of course, we were not absolutely free of the influence of the school. Any outrageous behaviour committed whilst outside the school would be severely dealt with should knowledge of such behaviour reach the school. However, to all intents and purposes, we were free, and the two weeks of virtual freedom were to be savoured. The 'OK' in this instance meant that a good stable home had to be available for the boy, and his train fare had to be sent in advance to the school. From what I learned at different times, the stable home only deterred a few. The biggest deterrent always seemed to be the inability for parents to afford the train fare. There were, of course, the boys who were orphans, and who had no home to go to. Whatever the cause, about fifty boys were always left behind in the school whilst the other one hundred and fifty went home for fourteen days leave. There were also disciplinary reasons for some boys not being allowed to proceed on home leave. On several occasions, boys who were placed on 'Captain's Report' for certain offences were warned about the possibility of having their home leave stopped. If a similar offence occurred again, then the Captain would stop a boy's home leave. Thankfully this sanction was not often applied, but each time leave came around, there were invariably one or two boys so restricted. Another reason for a boy not being allowed to proceed on leave was the length of time he had been at the school. 'Committed' boys had to have been resident at the school, and of good behaviour, for four months in order to qualify for Home Leave. This was a rule of the school, and was printed (along with other rules) on the back of all the school stationary that boys used for writing letters to their parents. (see pages 43 and 87). By the time that the third week in July came around in 1939, I had been at the school for ten months, I had not been in trouble, and my mother had sent my train fare. I was entitled to proceed on home leave! On the day before we were due to go, all boys were given a small suit case. In it were packed two every day outfits consisting of khaki shirts and shorts. Clean underwear, clean socks, handkerchiefs and daps. Towels and toothbrushes were to be packed as soon as we had washed and made our beds the next morning. For travelling, each boy would be dressed in his 'Best Blues', and either carry his raincoat, or have it folded neatly, and put it in his case. Most boys, not wanting to be encumbered with other things to carry, did the latter. During the two weeks absence from the school, I would have my twelfth birthday, so I was still a relatively small boy who had missed his home very much, as were many of the other boys who went on leave that day. On Home Leave Day, everyone was up, beds made, breakfast eaten, and ready to go long before seven o'clock. At breakfast, each boy was given a small packet of sandwiches to eat on the train, since for many, home would not be reached until the afternoon, and some, as in my own case, much later. As far as possible, boys who were not going on leave were given duties to do which would keep them separate from the boys who were going. For many who were not going, it was a trying time, watching the excitement of the boys fortunate enough to be going. Despite the excitement of the day, we were not insensitive to the feelings of those who were not going. There were several boys with red eyes. Many boys who were going, made promises to particular friends that they would bring back comics and sweets for them. We little realised that in fourteen day's time, the emotional positions would be completely reversed. 'Home Leave Party - Fall in on the Terrace'! The words we had waited to hear. At this point, there was a division. All the 'London Boys' were kept in one group, and the rest of us were left to form 'the remainder'. The reason for this was that of the approximately one hundred and fifty boys going, most were from the London area, and would travel on the Paddington train from Temple Meads. Two officers travelled with them. On reflection, it is likely that, with such a large contingent of boys left un-supervised; the temptation would be there for them to get up to all sorts of tricks; hence the two officers to supervise them, and the need for them to remain in one party until London was reached, where they each went their separate ways. On the terrace were three or four covered lorries which would take us to the station. I have an idea they were blue, and probably from the Navy. We had used similar lorries when the whole school went to Bristol Zoo for the day. As this was the last chance the officer in charge would have to give us instructions, those of us who were not going to London, were given our railway tickets, which we would need to produce as we progressed on our various ways. The London boys were kept together in their lorries, and we, the remainder, filled the rest of the lorries. The ride to the station was quite boisterous. The accompanying officers could only sit in two of the lorries. We all sang the same songs, - 'We are Formidable boys' and 'Marching along the Old Kent Road' - a favourite of the London boys. Depending on whether there was an officer within earshot, the words were quite different in the 'alternative' version! The train ride from Portishead to Bristol was pretty much the same. I can't remember seeing any local people on the train. Indeed, it may well have been a special train for the boys. We were noisy enough, but when the train made it's way along the Gorge, most of us preferred to look out of the windows at the stunning scenery, the river Avon, and of course, the Clifton Suspension Bridge. Even noisy school boys cannot fail but to be impressed by such surroundings. However, once we arrived at Temple Meads, the London Boys moved on to another platform and that was the last I saw of them. My friend Brian, had to go to Kings Cross to catch his train to Sunderland, so he went off with the London boys I was the only boy from Blackpool, and had to travel with the boys from Wales as far as Newport, where I changed trains for the north, and on to Blackpool. During the ten months I had been at the school, I had watched with longing, the trains steaming along the Welsh countryside on the other side of the Bristol Channel. From the school, and on a clear day, trains could easily be picked out by the long plume of steam they trailed behind as they sped along the coast line. Remembering my journey to the school, I soon realised that the trains I could see, would be part of my route home when Home Leave came around. They then became more than just trains speeding along the countryside, they became the almost daily exemplification of my desire to go home. Once we boarded the train for Wales, I was separated from the Welsh boys by advice to passengers changing at Newport to use the last two or so carriages of the train. Having complied with this request, I now found myself alone and separated from the boys of the school for the first time in ten months. At the time, I certainly felt a difference, but I couldn't have put it in so many words. I suspect that without realising it, what I was feeling was the sensation of instead of always being part of a group of boys, I was once more an individual. Although I was dressed in my 'Best Blues', and to some extent, attracted a few inquisitive stares, I was independent of all around me, and responsible for my own progress. Considering my position - on the railway system , and far from any place I had ever been before, this was an experience which I had never had before. I reckoned that once we went through the tunnel and turned west, we would have the Bristol Channel on our left, and therefore the school - if we were going to see it, would appear on that side. I therefore found a window seat, on the left hand side of the train, facing the engine, put my case in the overhead rack, and hoped that my sense of direction was right. The carriage did not stay empty for long, but neither did it attract too many people. In those days, younger people were expected to surrender their seats to any older people who might be left standing, so I didn't want too many older people coming in thereby necessitating me giving up my carefully thought out seat! To my relief, the carriage remained comfortably under used, so I kept my seat. Amid the now muffled sound of the platform loudspeakers and the blast of the guard's whistle, the train glided into motion, and the platform slid away behind us. Once under way, I sat back and relished my new found independence. As we approached the tunnel, one of the more experienced passengers reached up and closed the little sliding window to keep out the smoke from the engine. I felt the exhilaration of the engine picking up speed, and reaching what must have been a substantial number of miles per hour. After an endless time, (it actually takes about seven minutes), the train emerged into the brilliance of the sunbathed countryside of Monmouthshire. I sat upright in my seat, and concentrated on the view from the window. Sure enough, in the space of a few miles, there, in the distance across the water, appeared the unmistakable shape of the National Nautical School. A warm glow came over me. At last, I was part of the scene of that speeding train on the other side of the channel to the school, which for so long, had for me, represented the day I would be going on Home Leave! I will not describe my Home Leave, as it does not really form part of my life at the National Nautical School. Sufficient to say that I was indulged more than I had ever been. I had a thoroughly enjoyable two weeks at home, and was very sad when the time came for me to return. Instead, I will pick up the story on my return to the school, at approximately the same place. Once I had got over the trauma of leaving my family, I soon settled down to the day's travel - I didn't expect to be back at the school before about 5 PM. After Changing trains at Preston, and then Crewe, I began to experience a very satisfying feeling of self sufficiency, of independence. At each of the two change over stations, I had ascertained from the various station staff my on going train times and platform requirements. On finding my departure platforms, I had worked out how long I had to wait, I had wandered to the bookstalls and bought a comic, then on to the buffets, and ordered sandwiches and a cup of tea. I really felt my own master. At Crewe, which is a busy interchange station, when I asked the porter for the train times to Bristol (via Newport), he gave me alternative trains from which to choose. I even toyed with the idea of extending my leave by taking a later train, and telling them at school that I had missed a connection! I thought better of it, and caught the correct train. After changing trains yet again at Newport, I began to lose the air of confidence and self sufficiency which had buoyed me up all day. As we sped along the Welsh coastal track, part of me didn't want to look for the school on the other side of the channel. However, I remained glued to the window, looking for the image of the school to appear. It was a beautiful summers day, and when the school eventually came into view, it stood out quite clearly, with the afternoon sun full on it's front face. If ever I had mixed emotions it was then. Even now, they are not easy to characterise. I began to feel that now the school was in sight, my leave was well and truly over. At the same time, I began to think that it would be nice to see the boys again - once I had left them two weeks earlier, I had hardly given them a thought, not even my good friend Brian! However, I started to wonder who would be on Bristol station. I thought there was bound to be somebody there. Almost without realising it, I was back in 'school mode'. When I finally alighted at Temple Meads, I felt none of the joy and self sufficiency in asking directions for the Portishead train. It departed from the same platform that it had when I first went to the school in September 1938. It was one of those dead end 'buffer' platforms which every station seems to keep for it's local trains. I think the actual platform number was 9 or 10. When I approached the platform, I could see other 'Formidable' boys gathering near there. There was an officer there. I don't recall a uniform, so I will assume it was one of the 'civilian' officers. Again, the school thinking seemed to be that many boys gathered together might get boisterous, and so the officer was there to organise us. There was time to spare, and several of the boys were spending up big at the sweet counter in the station buffet. It was truly nice to see the other boys, and to start talking about our home leave experiences. Once we started talking amongst ourselves, it was as if our sorrows were being shared, and we were all in the same boat so what the hell! Put on a brave face. It wasn't just me who was feeling sorry for himself, and there was a sense of security in numbers. During the journey back to Portishead, we all gained in confidence, and by the time Portishead station was reached, we were all (outwardly at least) back on an even keel. Lorries were waiting for us at the station, we boarded them without the enthusiasm of a fortnight previously. Once on the Nore Road, at the point where the road overlooks the golf links, I found my self looking over to Wales, for the next train that would take me home. The eyes began to moisten, and my chin wavered a bit, but conversation with the other boys got me over that one. Back at the school, it was the other boys who hadn't been on leave who were now perky. Of course, they realised that we were 'loaded' with sweets, so there weren't too many remarks about our long faces! It is surprising what the power of a few sweets can do. When, at 9 PM, the time came for 'Lights out, no talking', it really became apparent that leave was over. I had the feeling that I was not the only boy who cried himself to sleep that night. HOME LEAVE 1940 Sometime in June 1940, Captain Evans informed us at Divisions one morning that summer Home Leave would be cancelled for that year. We were all stunned by this announcement. I cannot remember the precise words of the Captain, but I seem to remember him saying '...so the Home Office has decided...'. It was evidently a much bigger decision than the Captain would make at his own discretion. Considering the times we were going through, it is not difficult to surmise the reasons. Dunkirk had just fallen, and the threat of a German invasion was uppermost in people's minds. It is understandable that the Home Office would not want a hundred or more boys, for whom they were responsible, moving around the country under such circumstances. The phrase, '...There's a war on...' was used to justify many of the shortcomings and privations of the time. Even as boys who had just been denied their greatest privilege, we recognised the urgency of the situation. We really had no choice, but to think of the foregoing of our summer leave as part of the war effort, thus making the disastrous news that much easier to live with. Every one had to make sacrifices, and this was ours - at least, that is the way it was put to us, and we accepted that it was so. Later that year - probably about October - again at one of our morning Divisions, Captain astonished us yet again by announcing that the Home Office consent for summer leave which had been withdrawn last June, was to be restored in time for Christmas! Yet again, the boys were amazed at the news. There had been no hint that leave might be restored, no rumours, just the shock announcement which took us all completely by surprise, and caused so much pleasure for us all. I cannot say for certain, but from memory, I think the actual leave period was reduced to either seven or ten days. Not that it mattered one jot to any of us but, again, we speculated on the reasons for (to us) such a generous gesture. The main thing we thought, was that after the resounding defeat of the Luftwaffe by the RAF, the threat of invasion was greatly diminished. Paradoxically, although the RAF had won a resounding victory in the Battle of Britain during September, and the immediate threat of invasion had receded. The word 'Blitz' became part of our everyday language, as more and more of our major cities fell victim to the merciless bombing of the Luftwaffe. The authorities had obviously decided that the blitz was not as great a threat as the threat of invasion - or were we learning to take the war in our stride, thus keeping the interruptions to everyday life in Britain to a minimum? I wrote home with what I thought was the good news, but of course, parents would have been informed ahead of us. There was, after all, the matter of railway fares to be taken care of before any boy could proceed on Home Leave. To my complete dismay, my mother wrote back saying that she could not afford the fare, and that I would not be able to go home that Christmas. I felt both devastated and humiliated. Devastated by the fact that I simply would not be going on leave. Humiliated by the fact that most of my friends would be going - including Brian - and I would not. I don't think it was that other boys looked down on one for being poor. In a school like that, there were no rich and poor boundaries. No one thought any the less of boys from poorer homes, mainly because we didn't know what other boys' homes were like. As it turned out, there were many boys who could not proceed on leave. There were others like me, whose family could not afford the fare, and there were a few whose families had been rendered homeless by the bombing, obviously, those boys could not go. Again, I felt completely sorry for myself, and cried myself to sleep for one or two nights. However, children of that age - I was thirteen now - are remarkably resilient. I soon came to accept the fact that some were going, and I was not. Came the great day, and the boys who were going, went. I said good bye to Brian, and he promised to bring me something back. We, (the boys who were left) soon got into the much easier life style which sympathetic officers required of us. Even reveille came a little bit later. In the junior dormitories, all the boys from number three dormitory came down to number four in order to make life easier for the duty officer. It was the same on the senior side. Number two boys came down to number one dormitory. In this manner, no boys were left on the top floor, thus giving the duty officers less stair climbing to do. Meal times were almost family affairs with the much reduced number of boys being placed into a smaller part of the dining hall. Christmas dinner - always a pleasant affair, with the officers serving the boys in traditional Naval fashion - was even more informal with the reduced numbers. 'Cargoes' - the nick name given to parcels sent to boys - were handed out at the conclusion of Christmas dinner. Usually, because of the great amount of space required to accommodate Christmas cargoes for two hundred boys, the cargoes were placed in the gym, and the boys paraded therein. With the reduced bulk of the cargoes, it became possible to accommodate them in the dining hall, and distribute them directly the dinner things had been cleared away. The clearing away was done by the regular boys - the officer's magnanimity only stretched as far as serving the meal was concerned - but the spirit of the concession prevailed throughout, making the meal and the day, a happy one for us. The rest of Christmas Day was very informal, with as much free time for us as it was possible to give, and yet keep us organised for meals (tea and supper) not that we were hungry. Most cargoes, at the boys' requests, consisted of sweets, cake, and whatever other edibles the boys could get their parents to send - within the limitations set down in the rules. For recreational times such as this, the gym, library, and dining hall were usually open for whoever wished to use them. Since most of the contents of our cargoes were carefully stowed in our lockers in the gym, much of the rest of the day's activity centred around there. After Christmas Day, the rest of the leave period continued in the much reduced routine mode, making life much more pleasant for the boys. I think that even 'Defaulters' parades were either suspended or reduced during the leave period. On the day that the leave boys were due back, the visitors from the upper floor moved back into their own dormitories, the dining hall tables were put back into the four long tables which were used to accommodate two hundred boys. We waited. Being winter, it was almost dark when the first boys arrived from the station. We were surprised to discover that not all the boys returned that night. We heard stories from other boys - especially the London boys, of families having been bombed out, and boys delayed from returning by the difficulties resulting from these actions. Other boys, as we were to discover, were delayed by late trains, which caused bad, or non connections. My friend, Brian did not return until late the next day, but in his case, he had to travel almost the length and breadth of the country, so there was ample justification for lateness. One or two even arrived the day after that! No one was reprimanded, and the late train excuses were accepted at face value. As promised, Brian brought me back a present. Unfortunately, it was a bottle of something or other bottled in ginger. I hate ginger, so he ate the lot! However, he did compensate with some chocolate and comics. Even though sweets were not on ration at that stage in the war, they were hard to get, and in some areas, were kept 'under the counter'. This was a phrase that was to become much used before the war finished. Shop keepers literally kept things (such as cigarettes and sweets) which were in short supply 'under the counter' - as opposed to being openly displayed on their shelves for all to see - to be almost surreptitiously sold to their regular customers! It was nice to have a first hand account of what it was like 'out there', and especially the amount of time wasted waiting for trains, giving a de facto extra few hours leave! We didn't know it then, but we were to use the time wasting factor later on. HOME LEAVE 1941. Some time in late Spring 1941, Captain Evans announced at divisions one morning that, since the Home Leave of Christmas 1940 had been successful, normal summertime Home Leave would be resumed in July of this year. Naturally, every one was delighted with this unexpected announcement. I was a bit apprehensive, and decided I would write home before coming to any conclusions. I wrote home, my mother already knew about the resumption of leave, and told me that because there was sufficient time for her to plan, she would be able to organise my fare by the time that July came around. I was of course, delighted, and could now talk on a par with the other boys about what we planned to do whilst on leave, and where we would be going. By this time, there was another boy from Blackpool at the school. I didn't know him, but I knew the area where he lived. It wasn't far from my own home. Whilst I wasn't a particular friend of his, we spoke at length about Blackpool, and the places we would be visiting when we got there. Since I was the 'experienced' traveller, he had decided to attach himself to me. This was all months before the actual event! As I have already written in Chapter nine, my own summer leave almost came dramatically unstuck. Having spent three or four weeks in the Bristol Royal Infirmary and the Rotary Boys Home in Weston Super Mare, I almost missed the excitement of Home Leave Day. However, I was back at the school some days before the day, and was in time to enjoy all the elation of the event. As in 1939, we departed the school in lorries. This time, we all had our gasmasks contained in cardboard boxes slung around our necks. The London boys with an officer in one group, and the rest of us, bound for various destinations in another. As in 1939, we had been given our railway tickets to avoid any delays once we arrived at Temple Meads, also with the warrants was a ration coupon, sufficient for our families to buy two weeks food rations for us. George (the other Blackpool boy) and I ascertained our departure time and platform. We left the main group, and went to our particular platform to catch the train to Newport, from where we would connect with an on going train to Crewe and the north. Temple Meads was a very different place than it had been in 1939. This time, there were people all over the place; soldiers, sailors, and airmen stood around singly, and in groups. Many of the soldiers carrying their Lee Enfield .303 rifles, in one hand, and their kitbags over their other shoulder. Civilians were all carrying their gasmasks - as were we. Once we boarded the trains, we noticed a difference. Seats were harder to come by, and before we would see the school again, we discovered the delights of making a whole stage of our journey, stood in the corridor of the train - along with many others! We learned to be appreciative of any seats we could get. We made all haste to get to Blackpool, where we arrived at about six PM that evening. George and I had arranged to travel on the same train from Blackpool on our journey back to the school. We met as arranged, and travelled to Preston, and on to Crewe without too much delay. At Crewe, things started to run less smoothly than they might have. Our connection from Crewe should have been to Newport via Shrewsbury. For some reason or other, this train was quite a bit late, and we would have missed the last train to Portishead that afternoon. We explained to a porter that we had to be back in school that night. He told us of other routes which could possibly get us to Bristol by three PM or so, as long as the trains on those routes were running on time. We decided on a train to Birmingham, and a connection from there to Bristol. We already knew that this option had little chance of getting us to Bristol in time for the last train to Portishead. This meant that we would not be back at the school until at least mid morning the next day. Remembering the boys who had arrived late from Christmas leave without penalty, because of late trains, we decided on having an extra few hours of freedom ourselves, using the same excuses. We ate our food, and then, to the amusement of the servicemen in the queue, we joined the queue at the Salvation Army kiosk for a cup of tea. We were in our best blues, and although to the untrained eye, the uniforms were identical to that of a matelot. We could hardly be mistaken for even the youngest group of conscripted servicemen! The ladies at the counter were very understanding, and served us as if we had been regular sailors. Tea at the Salvation Army counter was only 1d. per cup, whereas the railway buffets were still charging 2d! - as far as we were concerned, it was a penny saved! We arrived in New Street Station, Birmingham at around tea time, or a little later. We looked up the trains to Bristol and discovered there were two or three before about ten PM. We decided on the last one, and went looking for something to eat. As in Crewe, the Salvation Army had a large kiosk on the station where we queued up - this time without the least bit of embarrassment on our part - and bought ourselves a cup of tea, and some sandwiches. With hours to spare, we decided to go outside the station, and have a look around. Before we could go out, we had to deposit our cases at one of the Baggage Rooms which every station had in those days. For 2d. per article, they would look after your baggage for as long as you wanted. We deposited our bags, and wandered off. The ticket collector at the entrance was a little bit nonplussed by our uniforms and obvious youth. However on production of our railway tickets to Portishead, he allowed us through the barrier, and off we went for a look around. Within a short distance, we found a News Theatre and bought tickets.. Naturally, we sat through two shows just to make sure we had seen it all, then we left and walked back to the station. Although it was getting late, it was still light. On our return to the station, we caught the first train that was going to Bristol. By the time we arrived in Bristol, it was early morning. We were weary, and both of us would have preferred to have been in our beds at the school. As it was, we had to wait all night in a waiting room, along with several other people, there were also other boys from the school there by this time, all as anxious as us to get back to school. Fortunately, it was not cold, but came the morning, we were not sorry to climb on board the local train and trundle off to Portishead, by which time, even more boys had joined us. As we had anticipated,
explanations of 'late trains' were quite adequate, and we just resumed
life at school. I had no idea of it at the time, but that was to be
my last Home Leave. |