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Prologue m n January 19451 left the woods, the quiet villages, the soothing curves m o f th e Sout h Downs , seventee n year s old , stil l a schoolboy self m conscious i n a handsome gold-buttone d bridg e coa t which reache d V belo w my knees. The train rattled and swayed through the cold, bleak m night , passing through th e dim orange gloom of stations with name s removed to fool invading armies, until with the coming of day we arrived, tired, at grey, wintry, war-time Hull. I had grown up in a quiet country village in Sussex and attended th e local church primar y school . As the clouds of war gathered, m y fathe r lost his lifetime employment at the local brickworks, the fires in the kilns were put ou t an d he spent th e war years, until retirement, i n th e Civi l Defence organisation . My mother, who trained the church choir, ran th e Women's Institut e an d supporte d man y villag e activities , returne d t o teaching for her war work but, sadly, died while I was still a boy. When invasion threatene d th e south coast I was evacuated with th e rest of the Worthing Boys' High School to Newark in the Midlands. After several months the school straggled back and classes resumed, but eve n then school was often interrupte d by hours spent in the air raid shelter s which fringed the school sports ground. When freed from school, an added boyhood excitemen t wa s t o cycl e and tram p th e Sussex Downs t o th e wreckage of German aircraft shot down duriing the air raids of the Battle of Britain. For war work we joined in the haymaking and harvesting. At school I had risen to be the leading cadet in the Army Cadet Corps, an d Prologue nJanuary 19451 left the woods, the quiet villages, the soothing curves of the South Downs, seventeen years old, still a schoolboy selfconscious in a handsome gold-buttoned bridge coat which reached below my knees. The train rattled and swayed through the cold, bleak night, passing through the dim orange gloom of stations with names removed to fool invading armies, until with the coming of day we arrived, tired, at grey, wintry, war-time Hull. I had grown up in a quiet country village in Sussex and attended the local church primary school. As the clouds of war gathered, my father lost his lifetime employment at the local brickworks, the fires in the kilns were put out and he spent the war years, until retirement, in the Civil Defence organisation. My mother, who tramed the church choir, ran the Women's Institute and supported many village activities, returned to teaching for her war work but, sadly, died while I was still a boy. When invasion threatened the south coast I was evacuated with the rest of the Worthing Boys' High School to Newark in the Midlands. After several months the school straggled back and classes resumed, but even then school was often interrupted by hours spent in the air raid shelters which fringed the school sports ground. When freed from school, an added boyhood excitement was to cycle and tramp the Sussex Downs to the wreckage of German aircraft shot down duriing the air raids of the Battle of Britain. For war work we joined in the haymaking and harvesting. At school I had risen to be the leading cadet in the Army Cadet Corps, and Feeling the Stones as my call-up for military service approached th e obvious thing seeme d to be to join the army. But in 1944, with the war coming to an end, military service would not have provided a very broad experience or opportunit y to travel. A friendly retire d Merchant Navy Captain suggested joining th e Merchant Navy , an d helpe d m e t o appl y t o th e Britis h Indi a Stea m Navigation Company . Service at sea counted equall y for military service, and fifty guinea s indentured m e fo r fou r year s a s an apprentic e i n th e 'B.I.' , as i t wa s affectionately known . Th e money was repaid in small amounts, mont h by month, until after fou r years it would be expended...

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