It's Saturday evening and I'm sitting at our dining room table. I am seven. I've got a blank sheet of paper in front of me and a pen in my hand. Mum has just told me, as she always does, to write neatly, watch my spelling, don't make any blots, and especially, DON'T KNOCK THE INK BOTTLE OVER! I'm going to tell you a bit about the Christmas party I went to this afternoon.
It was a Home Guard children's party. I haven't been to one before. And it was fun. There were a lot of other children there and we were in our Parish Hall in Streetly. That is just down the road from The Greylands, in Middleton Road. The Greylands is a big house which the Home Guard uses. Dad says its the HQ. He visits it quite a lot, even though his own HQ is in the stables at Little Aston Hall. I think they've got a bar there where they can drink beer. I expect they do other things as well.
Anyway, the party. We had the usual games and a man in a Home Guard uniform up on the stage telling us what to do and being funny. In fact nearly all the men had their uniforms on. I expect the ladies there were their wives. They were in civvies because mums can't join the Home Guard. They do other things. Like my mum - she's in the W.V.S. Then we had tea. No jelly of course, there never is. But jam sandwiches and cakes and tarts and things. Afterwards we sat down in rows of seats facing the stage and had a film show. A man had put up a big screen and then spent a lot of time tinkering with a big machine they call the projector. I've seen him before. I think he might be one of Dad's Home Guard friends. He drives a huge car. It's a Jaguar, it's grey coloured (not black like Dad's car and almost all the others I ever see) and it has got big headlights and a streamlined body. But the thing I always notice about it is that it has a long hollow tube on the roof which sticks out over the bonnet and the boot. It's what he carries the screen in. It's great having a film show but the trouble is, he doesn't have many films and I have already seen most of the things he showed today. A few cartoons - black and white ones, not the ones in beautiful colour which, if you are very lucky, you sometimes see before the main film when you go to the flicks. But it was super to see them again and all us children did a lot of laughing and made an awful lot of noise.
I'm glad he didn't show again a film he showed once before. It was all about the Far East. And that's a place where I know dreadful things happen. The people in the film were in a parade. They were walking down a street and everyone on the pavement was clapping and cheering. They had great big fancy hats on and were walking ever so slowly. But what was so terrible was that they had no shirts on and all over their bodies they had what looked like Christmas tree ornaments and these were attached to their bare skin with little hooks. I couldn't see any Japanese soldiers but I KNOW that this was some sort of dreadful torture. Things like that happen the whole time. You hear about it in films and on the newsreels which I see at the Avion in Aldridge and it's in the papers, so it has to be true. I have known for a long time that every single German wants to kill me and every Jap as well. But I know if it's the Japs there'll be torture.They are so cruel. I still can't get the picture of those poor people out of my mind and I've had nightmares about it.
But the cartoons were super and there was nothing horrid. We stayed in our places and then Father Christmas appeared on the stage with a big bag of presents. There was a huge cheer. He started to pull the presents out of the bag and handed them one at a time to the Home Guard man. He looked at each one and called out a name. A boy or a girl put up their hand. They obviously knew each other. The man on the stage leaned down and handed the parcel to another man who then hurried to the end of a row and delivered the parcel. Then he moved quickly back to the front, ready for the next one. This happened a few times. And then an incredible thing happened. The man on the stage looked at a parcel, then looked straight at all of us and called out "Christopher Myers". I was astonished at this. I didn't know the man. How on earth did he know my name? How did anyone at all know who I was, except our family and neighbours and school? Up went my hand and a moment later a smallish man in an officer's uniform was hurrying towards my row, holding out a small parcel.
I don't know why, but I recognised this man from other Home Guard things I had gone to. He always looks very neat and smart and he has a thin looking moustache. His name is Mr. Gill. He is a grown-up of course but he looks so much younger and a bit smaller and neater than the others. My dad is very old and so are most of his friends. Dad is 44 and that's ancient. Most of those men have ribbons which means they were soldiers in the last war. Dad told me that when I asked him what the ribbon he always wears meant. Mr. Gill doesn't have one of those. I expect he was too young.
Thank you for my present, Mr. Gill. And Father Christmas of course.
That was the last thing that happened at the party. I had to wait for Dad to help clear up the hall. If my big brother had been there, I am sure he would have helped as well. But he wasn't. He used to be in the Home Guard. In Dad's platoon at Little Aston Hall. Last winter he went off in a big ship to a place called Tunisia. And now he is somewhere in Italy. In his letters he's not allowed tell us where he is. But Dad seems to know, somehow or other. Dad tells me Graham is in the Artillery and has a big gun. I find that quite funny. Before he went away he used to really HATE the pop which happens when you turn off the gas stove. His gun must be much noisier than that. I wonder how he gets on with it.
We left the place nice and neat and tidy. Then into the Ford Prefect - Dad is allowed a bit of petrol because of his work and his Home Guard duties - and home.
As I write this, I have opened the parcel and it's in front of me. It's a little cardboard box about 7" or 8" long. It's got a drawing of a battleship on the lid, just in black and white of course but with a bit of blue as well. I was excited when I started to open it. But what is inside is a bit disappointing. I'm sorry to sound ungrateful. There is a sheet of paper there which are the instructions. And one longish piece of wood and then two more which are shorter and flatter. I think you are supposed to make the hull and the top of the ship out of them. I know that the wood will have to be carved to make it the right shape. That will need a sharp knife which I'll never be allowed to use. And sandpaper and glue and paint. I don't have any of those. But Dad does and so I know it is going to be a job for him. When he can. He's so busy. But it was nice to get the present. I wasn't expecting it. And it is BRAND NEW which is super. Any present I ever get is either secondhand or home-made, by Dad or one of my older cousins. This one is what they call a kit.
I showed Dad the box after I had opened it. He looked at the lid and said something to me in a quiet voice. (When he speaks in a quiet voice I know he is sad).
"Oh, that ship doesn't exist any more. It was sunk...... It was called H.M.S. Hood".
I don't really know why Dad was sad. Ships are sunk every day. There's nothing extraordinary at all about that.
I wish everyone a Happy 1943 Christmas. And let's hope that 1944 will be a better year.
Chris
It was a Home Guard children's party. I haven't been to one before. And it was fun. There were a lot of other children there and we were in our Parish Hall in Streetly. That is just down the road from The Greylands, in Middleton Road. The Greylands is a big house which the Home Guard uses. Dad says its the HQ. He visits it quite a lot, even though his own HQ is in the stables at Little Aston Hall. I think they've got a bar there where they can drink beer. I expect they do other things as well.
Anyway, the party. We had the usual games and a man in a Home Guard uniform up on the stage telling us what to do and being funny. In fact nearly all the men had their uniforms on. I expect the ladies there were their wives. They were in civvies because mums can't join the Home Guard. They do other things. Like my mum - she's in the W.V.S. Then we had tea. No jelly of course, there never is. But jam sandwiches and cakes and tarts and things. Afterwards we sat down in rows of seats facing the stage and had a film show. A man had put up a big screen and then spent a lot of time tinkering with a big machine they call the projector. I've seen him before. I think he might be one of Dad's Home Guard friends. He drives a huge car. It's a Jaguar, it's grey coloured (not black like Dad's car and almost all the others I ever see) and it has got big headlights and a streamlined body. But the thing I always notice about it is that it has a long hollow tube on the roof which sticks out over the bonnet and the boot. It's what he carries the screen in. It's great having a film show but the trouble is, he doesn't have many films and I have already seen most of the things he showed today. A few cartoons - black and white ones, not the ones in beautiful colour which, if you are very lucky, you sometimes see before the main film when you go to the flicks. But it was super to see them again and all us children did a lot of laughing and made an awful lot of noise.
I'm glad he didn't show again a film he showed once before. It was all about the Far East. And that's a place where I know dreadful things happen. The people in the film were in a parade. They were walking down a street and everyone on the pavement was clapping and cheering. They had great big fancy hats on and were walking ever so slowly. But what was so terrible was that they had no shirts on and all over their bodies they had what looked like Christmas tree ornaments and these were attached to their bare skin with little hooks. I couldn't see any Japanese soldiers but I KNOW that this was some sort of dreadful torture. Things like that happen the whole time. You hear about it in films and on the newsreels which I see at the Avion in Aldridge and it's in the papers, so it has to be true. I have known for a long time that every single German wants to kill me and every Jap as well. But I know if it's the Japs there'll be torture.They are so cruel. I still can't get the picture of those poor people out of my mind and I've had nightmares about it.
But the cartoons were super and there was nothing horrid. We stayed in our places and then Father Christmas appeared on the stage with a big bag of presents. There was a huge cheer. He started to pull the presents out of the bag and handed them one at a time to the Home Guard man. He looked at each one and called out a name. A boy or a girl put up their hand. They obviously knew each other. The man on the stage leaned down and handed the parcel to another man who then hurried to the end of a row and delivered the parcel. Then he moved quickly back to the front, ready for the next one. This happened a few times. And then an incredible thing happened. The man on the stage looked at a parcel, then looked straight at all of us and called out "Christopher Myers". I was astonished at this. I didn't know the man. How on earth did he know my name? How did anyone at all know who I was, except our family and neighbours and school? Up went my hand and a moment later a smallish man in an officer's uniform was hurrying towards my row, holding out a small parcel.
I don't know why, but I recognised this man from other Home Guard things I had gone to. He always looks very neat and smart and he has a thin looking moustache. His name is Mr. Gill. He is a grown-up of course but he looks so much younger and a bit smaller and neater than the others. My dad is very old and so are most of his friends. Dad is 44 and that's ancient. Most of those men have ribbons which means they were soldiers in the last war. Dad told me that when I asked him what the ribbon he always wears meant. Mr. Gill doesn't have one of those. I expect he was too young.
Thank you for my present, Mr. Gill. And Father Christmas of course.
That was the last thing that happened at the party. I had to wait for Dad to help clear up the hall. If my big brother had been there, I am sure he would have helped as well. But he wasn't. He used to be in the Home Guard. In Dad's platoon at Little Aston Hall. Last winter he went off in a big ship to a place called Tunisia. And now he is somewhere in Italy. In his letters he's not allowed tell us where he is. But Dad seems to know, somehow or other. Dad tells me Graham is in the Artillery and has a big gun. I find that quite funny. Before he went away he used to really HATE the pop which happens when you turn off the gas stove. His gun must be much noisier than that. I wonder how he gets on with it.
We left the place nice and neat and tidy. Then into the Ford Prefect - Dad is allowed a bit of petrol because of his work and his Home Guard duties - and home.
As I write this, I have opened the parcel and it's in front of me. It's a little cardboard box about 7" or 8" long. It's got a drawing of a battleship on the lid, just in black and white of course but with a bit of blue as well. I was excited when I started to open it. But what is inside is a bit disappointing. I'm sorry to sound ungrateful. There is a sheet of paper there which are the instructions. And one longish piece of wood and then two more which are shorter and flatter. I think you are supposed to make the hull and the top of the ship out of them. I know that the wood will have to be carved to make it the right shape. That will need a sharp knife which I'll never be allowed to use. And sandpaper and glue and paint. I don't have any of those. But Dad does and so I know it is going to be a job for him. When he can. He's so busy. But it was nice to get the present. I wasn't expecting it. And it is BRAND NEW which is super. Any present I ever get is either secondhand or home-made, by Dad or one of my older cousins. This one is what they call a kit.
I showed Dad the box after I had opened it. He looked at the lid and said something to me in a quiet voice. (When he speaks in a quiet voice I know he is sad).
"Oh, that ship doesn't exist any more. It was sunk...... It was called H.M.S. Hood".
I don't really know why Dad was sad. Ships are sunk every day. There's nothing extraordinary at all about that.
I wish everyone a Happy 1943 Christmas. And let's hope that 1944 will be a better year.
Chris
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