Evacuee Boys (23 page)

[Uncle] Imre was released [from internment] toward the end of April [1942] and of course I immediately gave him my place. I left the Pop Inn again and for the last time. Since I had no job, I went to the Labour Exchange, that I wanted a position as a clerk. I received an unemployment allowance, of 25/- or 28/- [shillings] a week, for which I had to stand in line twice a week to have my card stamped. They could not find a job for me and in the end they told me to go to a Government Training Course, where they would train me as a toolmaker and that would qualify me to work in a munitions factory. During the course I would get 65/- a week. I had no choice in the matter, I had to accept it and shortly I took my place as an apprentice. I had to rise at 6 a.m. to get there on time, or even earlier because we had to clock in when I arrived and clock out when I left. I was not late once. They gave me work clothes, an overall and that is how they started to teach me to file steel. I never realised how hard it was to be a steel worker. I could hardly lift the big rusty steel plates, from which I had to cut a piece with hammer and chisel, to clean them down with Emery paper and then file out the prescribed pattern. The instructor saw that I was struggling for an hour to split off a piece from the metal plate, it would not split and I did not have enough strength for it. He asked what have I been doing for so long. When I told him, he set to it with hammer and chisel, and what I could not do in hours, he completed in three minutes. There were all sorts of men around me, mostly working-class, but also two foreign lawyers and others.

I do not know why, my workmates treated me with respect. We had to sweep the floors ourselves at the end of the workday and one of my mates took the broom out of my hand by force, saying he would do it instead of me. I protested, saying it was my job. When the instructor saw that he was trying to do it instead of me, he said ‘this is your job, do it yourself’. I told him it was not my intention to push my work on another and that my mate was too polite toward me (he was a trumpeter in civilian life) and started sweeping myself. Soon the instructor returned and said, ‘hand the broom to your friend, I cannot stand seeing it in your hands, somehow it does not suit you’. Everyone was addressed by his surname, Smith, Brown, etc., they called me Mr. Forbat. No matter, how much I protested that I did not want to be an exception; they set me apart without looking down at me. Everyone was remarkably helpful and polite toward me. Despite my efforts I could not file evenly, and could not make hair-line accurate angles and the work made me dead tired. When I returned after a break in the canteen, where I had horrible lunch or dinner, I lay down on the lawn and said to myself, ‘God why don’t you allow me to die, why must I suffer this deadly fatigue?’ But I did not complain to Mum.

I had no difficulty with the theoretical instruction. I understood it better than most of the others and as bad as my manual work was despite my best effort, I knew my theory. When a new man came to learn, the instructor entrusted him to me to explain the different kinds of tools and how one had to copy the drawings on to the steel plate, etc. ‘You know these better than I do,’ he said. After about six weeks, my colleagues had learnt the trade and one after the other got jobs in factories. My turn did not come, three, four and five months later I was still there and they did not offer me a job. I started getting stomach pains from the strenuous work and I felt that my stomach trouble was returning. I went to see the Labour Exchange doctor and asked him to examine me. He concluded that I was not suitable for heavy manual work, he gave me a certificate which I showed to the management and they gave me a discharge. No doubt they were pleased to be rid of me seeing that I was completely useless in this kind of work. They gave me a beautiful testimonial, praising my punctuality, industry, reliability and I departed with that in my pocket. I was ‘free’ again, but without a job and income. I returned to alternate between the Pop Inn and the Lederer bridge club, and returned to the Labour Exchange seeking a job and getting unemployment help, but I did not find a job.

1
June
1942

Dear Mum, Dad, Andrew & Noni,

I safely arrived in Melksham at about 8.40 p.m. wher[e] Bill was waiting Jim and me. He took or kits ons his bike so it saved us from having to carry them home. I did my round & went to school as usual to-day and also I went to typing. Also later on I’ll very likely go gardenning.

I’ve already paid for my shoes so that matter is settled. There is no news here so I’ll say cheerio! From your everloving

John

6
June
1942

Dear Mum & Dad,

Thanks very much for your letter. Was ever so happy to hear that Mum is better. The other day I had a parcel from Tommy in which was a lively book a big Scout book. As when I got back to Melksham, guess what I was told. I am the P.L. of the Kingfisher Patrol what do you think of that? But Andy please don’t tell anyone in the 10th as they’ll only laugh. Please send me my toothbrush & my coupons at once, as I am going to buy myself some bathing trunks out of my savings.

Lots of love & kisses from your everloving

John

21
July
1942

Dear Everybody,

Thanks very much for your card which I got to-day. Thanks Andy for making arrangements about 1st class journey. Don’t forget to reserve me a ground sheet. I hope Dad is getting on OK with work & I’m sorry that Mum is so tired. I am terribly excited about seeing you so soon.

I am sending Andy’s groundsheet so that he can have it for camp. The blankets I’ll bring with me so that they will be ready for camp. Please send 6/- for my shoes.

Lots of love & kisses from your everloving

John

August
1942
– from both boys at Scout summer camp

10th Fulham Scout Camp,

Thorpe Estate,

Rosemary Lane,

Thorpe,

Surrey

Dear Mum & Dad,

Just a line to tell you that I am getting on fine & enjoying camp as ever. At first the weather was not too brilliant, but we have just had two nice hot days & we were swimming in a little pond.

I have written to John, but to make sure, tell him to bring the tent we have & my dissecting set with him when he comes to camp.

Meals are quite good here, & I have done my share of cooking too. Just so that Noni should be pleased tell that we got up at seven o’ clock every morning, & the first thing we do is to wash & have breakfast, & we have to do our own washing up. Talking of washing will you send an extra towel for me with John, as the present one is rather dirty An extra washcloth would do no harm either, if you can spare it. I am sorry to say that my fountain pen has not turned up either.

I hope you are not working too hard, & Daddy is making nice things
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without getting very tired. I’d better close now, as we are going swimming.

Lots of love to everybody including Noni, Sheila
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& all the family of uncles, aunts cousins etc. With still more love to you from

Andrew

6
August
1942

Dear Mum & Dad & Noni,

I am enclosing my birthday greetings for Daddy. I am sorry that John cannot write on it, but he is on his first class hike & I must post this now so that it should be with you tomorrow.

There is no news, so give my love to everybody

from Andrew

…continued by Andrew

My darling Daddy,

It is a pity that I cannot be there to wish you a most happy birthday personally, but I promise that you will get my birthday kisses all right, only a day too late.

Another year of worry, another year of trouble, sorrow, blood, tears, sweat and toil has passed. The struggle was hard and weary. Yet you bore it in high spirits, in good temper and a cheerful grin; you did not flinch, you did not fail, you did not despair. All I have to ask the Almighty, that this birthday might mark the end of this struggle, that in years to come, you may find the reward of your toil, that the wrinkles of worry on your forehead may be smoothened by years of happiness, that you may find pleasure and satisfaction from life, that the family you sustained for 20 long years may repay your effort and that your life should be long and the road to the end should be strewn with flowers of love and bliss, and free from the shadows of worry and sorrow.

That is the wish of your everloving son

Andrew

My lucrative paperboy era was severely interrupted when impetigo rashes and scabs began to cover enough of my body for teachers to send me to the doctor. Highly contagious and capable of becoming an agent of germ warfare, I was soon denied contact with the newspaper delivery industry and when 100 per cent of my body became covered, I was sent to hospital for more intensive treatment. Not the most pleasant of procedures: nurses would apply hot Kaolin poultices to my various rashes, including on my private parts. When the poultices had cooled, dried and firmly stuck to my skin, they were unceremoniously ripped off, taking the scabs with them. Numerous repetitions over about a week gradually eliminated the disease and, with firm instructions to make good use of Carbolic soap, I was let loose again somewhat blotchy but apparently cured. Maybe I really was an ‘impossible’ child!