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Sergeant Alf Waterhouse
Blackpool at Last
Feeling rather flattered that I had been thought enough of with officers and others aboard yet was me these two influential businessman had asked to see. Later that evening we boarded a coach and were taken to a large army camp some miles from Liverpool. The following morning to our disappointment we were told inspection of both medical and physical would be undertaken later in the day. The question of return to families would be the following day. Would we ever get away from authority ?
That evening I went by corporation bus to Liverpool to look up the pubs I had visited before overseas. I don’t know why but it didn’t seem the same. The people gave no notice or bothered about you. I realised I hadn’t two heads so why should they notice a solitary sergeant who must have looked peculiar ? In one pub a solitary private with ribbons which I didn’t understand. He looked friendly enough but certainly was weighing up my appearance most soldierly.
He started off he was 8th Army having served in Egypt, Italy etc. He had certainly travelled, but his war experience meant nothing to me. He wasn’t himself very impressed with meeting a Far East ex POW. I rather thought he was of the opinion that POW sat behind barbed wire, waiting for release and having a nice cosy war with no dangers. I didn’t bother to enlighten him. He wouldn’t understand.
The next day, hurrah, we were heading by coach to home, wife and family. Arriving outside the Town Hall we the coach load was ushered into the Mayor’s Parlour, congratulated on our return. The Town Clerk was also present. Our families wee gathered there and it was my first look at Ann and then my mother, I was rather puzzled at Ann saying with some joy “You have all your teeth”.
I thought I would ask her later on the strange remark. The Mayor’s attendant brought round a series of drinks. It struck me there was a wall or something here in this Parlour, I couldn’t just fathom this. I thought that someone must thank his Worship for his welcome and the hospitality. So, I spoke very short on thanking everyone. I said I remember “we must give a thought to the lads who left Blackpool to fight and gave their lives” There was an awful silence. Was this it, that those present didn’t want any remembrance of the war ? So we left quietly. On the way out I suggested to mother that perhaps we should meet in the Clifton Hotel for a drink and celebration. I knew she like a drink in the evening.
My cousin Fred who with his father had been looking after my business, handed me the keys to an Austin Seven, a very small car. I was surprised, I had left a Vauxhall, much larger. He said sorry about the car but with petrol rationing the smaller the car better petrol consumption. He didn’t mention could I drive ? A natural concern I thought. Had he any idea of the immediate past ? However as it happened I had no difficulty, there being little traffic driving to my in laws. My father-in-law no different, still sucking his pipe and saying nothing unless necessary. My mother in law again just the same, quiet, affectionate and generous. A remarkable but wonderful woman. I hadn’t really thought they could be different in any way. As a much younger man he had been a football referee, and I could imagine how strict and no nonsense. Putting my holdall bag on the table and explaining that we had heard of the many shortages in ration torn England I had bought a few things in Rangoon. They all looked at the tins of fruit etc. and was again struck by a silence. Could it be they thought these tins were available to us as prisoners ? There seemed no other excuse. It was November and I was surprised no fire. My wife quickly explained the ration of coal was so small. It lasted with every care only a fortnight each month. Perhaps I can jump forward a month or so. I was meeting every morning at 10 and having a coffee with a solicitor I had been friendly with pre-war. I mentioned the trouble over the coal. He told me to my surprise that he had a coal place full. I often wondered afterwards whether in his professional way he had had taken coal away from some dead client’s home ? Anyway, he took me to his home and we filled several buckets and other containers with coal which I took to the in laws and also mother. I also found a timber firm who kindly allowed me a sackful of off cuts. Back to the inlaws. I asked Ann the meaning of me having no teeth, laughed and showed me yesterday’s Evening Gazette. My friend aboard the ship had told the newspaper of their brief speaking to aboard the ship. Some wires got crossed, they understood but how that I had lost all my teeth. Some days later we moved to mothers house. She believed it would be my wish to live with her.
I had been back home about a month and I am afraid that I wasn’t much of a help. I just couldn’t settle. Family life was unsettling, and I was going to my Old Men Only Club and various public houses. I wasn’t drinking too much is that correct ? Just being in mens’ company. The Auction House bored me.
It would take time for your husband the doctor said “Don’t’ worry, remember that he has gone through a period of horror and is a survivor. How many died” So they let me to it to become a sensible human being once more.
Living with mother was alright with me but I am afraid I took little notice or thought of my wife Ann. Nearly seven years living apart, living with her parents. She must have longed for her own home. Let alone how she must have suffered.
I said “Lets to go see my pal, Johnny Hole. His parents have a hotel in the little market town of Little Tidworth. We could go to another Hotel overnight. We mustn’t make it appear we are on a free holiday.”
I am afraid I must go back to the jungle camp for some explanation as to what follows.
A number of prisoners in the camp were known as INTAKE, the name given to the first National Service men. Mostly were about twenty years old. We heard them talking and strangely all were either managers, foremen or self employed. None were working class, students all were in management. Both Johnny Hole and myself talked about this. It was so impossible, but we could not understand why they should all be so important to their mates.
You will remember I mentioned we received several expensive books, with photographs of ancient castles, churches, cathedrals and of modern public schools. One of these schools of modern building the name I forget.
Johnny mentioned that this was his school. I looked it was certainly far in advance than mine. I enquired of his family.
“My father was an officer in the Royal Navy serving aboard submarines. He was in hospital in 1918 and married his nurse. I thought rather romantic. I have an elder brother, he is on some commission in USA on petrol and fuels. I was in the army as you know, but my younger brother at Oxford as a student” he reminisced, “hope they are alright”
Now back to the present. Being ex service, I was allowed ten gallons petrol. Arriving in Little Tidworth we booked in a bedroom in a bed and breakfast. The time I remember was just 3 o’clock.
I enquired from John’s parents hotel called the White Swan. Enquires no one know of such an Hotel. Maybe it was just the Swan. Still no knowledge. I was thinking. No it wasn’t possible, Johnny had never made up this story or had he ? I saw a postman, now he would surely know. The only hotel or pub he knew of was about 3 miles north, named Swan. It is not an Hotel, a beer house not even spirits.
With sinking heart we set off. Ann didn’t speak. We came across a poor looking public house. The Beer House, The Swan. Wanting painting very dilapidated. This couldn’t be Johnny’s, ex public school boy ? Not open I went round the back and found what seemed a wash house. I could see only an old fashioned wringer, and by a wash sink a rotund smallish man. No jacket, waistcoat, leather belt. A diced red and white spotted neck scarf. Shirt sleeves rolled up peeling potatoes.
I coughed and he looked up a plumpish smiling face and saying
”Yes”
“I’m looking for a Johnny Hole, a soldier just relieved”
“I’m his dad”
I must have looked incredible at him. This man had never been a naval officer, able seaman maybe.
Stuttering “Is he about, this is my wife, we served together in the Far East “
“He’s with his friends, a Mr Hoddenough, has farm down the road. Better go there our Johnny spends most of his time there.”
Being instructed on how to get to the farm, we turned into a long drive, grass on either side, like a plain, no trees or hedges. Coming into sight of a quite large seemingly yellowish stone square house. Certainly not a farmhouse. I said to Ann “I hope we are right, but it seems a bit big”
On one side was a large squarish bay window, and the large door. An elderly very pleasant woman opened the door and said she was Mrs. Hoddenhough and invited us in. Johnny was out with her husband, they often spent working hours together. Since Johnny had returned from that awful prisoner of war her husband was taking special care of him. On my saying that Johnny and I were prisoners together she turned into an even pleasanter woman. “Come and sit down and we’ll have some tea muffins” The time was just before 12 O’clock. We sat in his large bay window on an upholstered seat. A large fireplace of stone with a raging coal fire and on top a large log. The carpet caught my eye. I knew this extra carpet was a wonder and costly. The rest of the room was furnished with heavy oak furniture and the ornaments and pictures all good. Some one had taste. Whilst we sat there eating we heard horses coming and looking out onto the drive three people all fairly young. Two men and a young woman. In their riding habits, to me starved in anything other than the ugly, it made my morning. It seemed so English and yet it was not our way of life. This was purely County. They spoke with plums in their mouths but friendly and made us feel really at home. Suddenly the door burst open in stalked there was no other way a smallish rotund man with hacking jacket, tailored riding breeches and his riding boots covered in mud. He left mud marks on this lovely carpet. Walking in besides him was Johnny. His face showed no surprise of what would have been natural I thought embarrassment.
A Voice boomed out
“Well who have we here eh ” It was still friendly. I got to remember that voice in many different ways. Fatherly, generous with sympathy and understanding and yet with dread.
I explained that we had booked in at the hotel and perhaps we had better go.
“Nonsense” he cdeid “I’ve heard about you, you deserve the best. Now go settle your bill and straight back here or I’ll come and fetch you. Acting on orders we came back and I apologised for coming now to dinner “.
“Hey, lad my wife allus cooks too much don’t’ yer ? Perhaps a bit short for you, but tomorrow we’ll start filling you up “.
How I was to remember thos words. We sat until around nine talking, he liked it seemed to talk about his farm and hoodwinking Government Inspectors.
“Allus poking their long noses in my business, but I, Alf, was a bit old and kept meself to meself”
Taking us to the bedroom I was immediately struck this was their bedroom, out of kindness it was ours. A large bed high with bedding and hot water bottles. It was a feather bed. Sinking into the softness I knew I would not sleep. Within a short time Ann was asleep and I took to the floor. That was much better. Fortunately I awoke and got back into bed, no one any the wiser.
We came downstairs and it started. I had never before seen breakfast laid on out a long mahogany side table. This was covered with entrée dishes, large plates, side plates, cutlery, coffee dup et. We both started to help ourselves, not sure how much to take. I was serving myself to modes portions when the master came up saying
“Coom on lad, get stuck in” and he started piling with bacon, three eggs, kidneys and sausages. Slices of white bread. There was sufficient for two navvs. I protested I could not eat this lot.
“Nonsense you’ve done without so often you’ve forgotten what a full belly is “.
So it started. The cooked meals were served on plates by the master who served from tureens. He piled my plates a nauseating double helping. He could not or didn’t want to understand that my stomach was only half its normal size. After struggling and feeling ill, he gave me more. My pleads made no difference, he was determined to see I made up for the periods of starvation. I dread the coming time the next meal. His wife made no comments, did she realise it would be useless ? I kept looking at my new wrist watch bought by Ann. How I wished I could put back the time at least one hour and put off the dreaded meal. Obviously, he neither knew nor cared.
That evening he took me to a neighbouring farm, this time milking cows. A Mr. Dread, he was slightly older than Mr. Hoddenough. It transpired that Mr. Dread was finally selling his farm to Mr. Hoddenough. Two of Mr. Hoddenhough’s sons worked for Mr. Dread and suddenly one entered saying that a cow had escaped but though it was trapped in a wooden corner, it would take them all to shepherd the cow back. I was invited to help. I am afraid I had no knowledge of what was expected of me except to wave my arms and shout as it came towards me. I had always thought cows timid creatures but coming towards you with obvious frightened eyes, they looked very different. But I stood my ground, surely they wouldn’t let me be gored ? Everything went off fine and we wended back to the large house.
Next morning my host took me down a wide staircase into a vast cellar. It was cold enough to be a refrigerator. Looking in amazement at the hanging down of at least a dozen Yorkshire hams. Also other hanging animal cuts. Other spare parts were also on tables. He laughed saying this was his treasure chests he trusted me with this knowledge. He did say taking England as a whole this would not make much difference. From his standpoint correct, but it had the fault if all farmers took this attitude the position could be far from serious. Climbing back upstairs “Alfred late this afternoon I want a talk with you”. True to his word he took me into what I thought was his study. Straight away which was his manner at all times he started
“Alfred I have got to like you and also your charming wife. It’s not very nice and certainly don’t like saying this, but confidently my five sons are a disappointment to me. “
“As you know Alfred I am just about to take over Mr. Dread’s farm. I never speak without giving some thought and now I think I can tell you. In a strange way you have become like a son to me. I would have liked to do more than I am going to do but I feel my wishes would lead to long legal arguments, so will leave it like this. I want you to take over the managership of that farm. My two sons and self will have you fully capable in six months or so. I honestly believe you have the making of a first class farmer. We thats my wife and I like your wife immensely. When the time arrives that farm will be yours”. He sat with a satisfied look at me, whilst I just sat there. Had I heard correctly ? I was still far from rehabilitated I had no feeling or wish to do anything but finding men’s company completely satisfying. The very thought of making a simple decision was too much.
“I know Alfred this has come out of the blue but facts, you have not been in business for years, you have no home, everything is laid out for you. Please give it some thought. I know you were thinking of leaving tomorrow but there is no hurry “.
I lay awake before getting onto the floor. Ann still had not found out. As if struck my mind seem to clear. Yes, I must start and make some effort. Sitting back lazy, not bothered, was I in some way just seeking pity ? Had I let the immediate past turn me into some cretin ? Tomorrow we must leave. Ann must find her husband a provider. I was at least an auctioneer and always seemed to do be as good as anyone else. I must get to that Auction House and commence learning my profession. Could I truthfully be a farmer ? Getting up at dawn, heavy snow storm, bitterly cold. The animals relying on me. Just imagining Ann as a farmer’s wife. I mustn’t even imagine accepting.
At breakfast I told the Hoddenoughs we would leave after breakfast. The boss said bring your car to the stables. I’ll fill your tank with petrol. As a farmer he had unlimited petrol and no paper work. I privately told him that I would discuss his wonderful offer with Ann and would let him know. As far as I was concerned this was a lie.
I didn’t call on the Holes, I felt he had lied to me, and even now made no reference to his lies.
Like in everything Mr. Hoddenough was pumping petrol into my tank and I knew he was going spill some. “The tank’s only ten gallons” I shouted stop its full. He just didn’t believe me but he shouted “Can’t be”. He stopped after losing quite a bit.
So we left I didn’t mention his offer, what was the point. I just felt taking a quick look at Ann. No, she would never make even a milk maid.
So ended the bit of history and a new start. I certainly started using my loaf and settled down to buying a house, strangely enough on the borders of Stanley Park. There were just four semidetached, four bedroom houses. Architect designed. These were houses I often thought about but never imagined that I could ever have one.
It was in I think 1955 that we sold our lovely home in the Park and purchased a charming and most unusual Tudor bungalow with every modern device. It was built by the owner of the land which stood we believe some large house, approached by a private driveway and through a pair of iron gates and stone pillars. The large house having been cleared away. It gave no indication that three bungalows were built down that drive.
There was a large rear garden and I spent all free hours working and making a marvellous garden, that no one saw. Both Ann and I kept our distance from friends.
This fateful Sunday afternoon we were just about to have afternoon tea, sitting on a three seater garden swing, the sun lovely and hot when we hear a car on the gravel driveway. This was so unusual we stopped and listened. Coming round the bungalow to the rear garden.
A man’s voice shouted out
“Hello there Alf Waterhouse “ I looked and there stood with a young woman an Eurasion of that there was no doubt. Somewhat uncertainly I stood up and the couple came across the lawn. He looked familiar, could it be John Hole ? Yet this was a tar brush.
“It’s me old sport Johnny Hole and this is my fiancée Miss Stella Roughmount” How the devil had he found us ? Even close friends could not find us. However, he was here and so made welcome. His fiancé was full of life, never stopped talking and was also amusing. We were not finding anything out about Johnny.
Stella was telling that Johnny and herself were in the middle of buying just outside Bournemouth, a road house with seven bedrooms, a wonderful evening out trade. They were living in Bournemouth. Johnny managed to get in that he was employed by a firm hiring out machines. On asking for the toilet it gave me the opportunity to speak do him without Stella piping in. He said that he was with a firm hiring out Fruit Machines. I knew that these were illegal except in licenced clubs. Many were out at high rates to pubs etc. taking risks. Was this what Johnny was doing or something even more dodgy ? He said they were staying at Norbreck Hydro. Not exactly cheap. When he suddenly said
“Can I use your phone to phone to Mancheser Airport ? I think Stella would like us to fly to Paris for three days ? We could get to the airport quite easy from here “.
He came back to the ladies saying “Got a flight to Heathrow if we leave now. Sorry old sport but this is a chance to have a few days away from work”.
Leaving both Ann and I in some surprise they got in his sports two seater Jaquar. Was the sudden departure anything to do with our style of living. He was perhaps again making out he was something of a high flyer.
It was to get worse three days later Stella telephoned Johnny was in Portsmouth Hospital dangerously ill. “No don’t telephone, write to and the ward etc. I wrote immediately, including Stella and could we help even at this distance ? We never heard, and so I thought perhaps it was better to leave matters in this strange way.
The End
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