One of the most important events of each day, was the distribution of mail from home. Most of the chaps could expect a letter or two each week, usually from parents and other family members. The luckier ones amongst us would have had a regular girlfriend back home who would keep up a steady supply of more or less mushy correspondence, but hey, don’t knock it, as we say in these enlightened times. In all truth, a young conscripted soldier, in a foreign country, didn’t have a great deal to look forward to each day, so the bugle call, as in my title, brought an air of anticipation to the whole camp.
It was in one’s own interest then, to write letters in the hope of receiving replies. In my own case I wrote regular letters to parents and more occasionally to my sisters. I also tried writing to the various girls I knew back home, some of whom, having been asked beforehand, had promised to reply. One or two did make the effort to put pen to paper, but unsurprisingly, most had their own lives to lead and, well, it was just forgotten.
We therefore devised various stratagems in our quest to ensure a steady supply of missives, some of which smelled quite strongly of their, or, more likely, their mothers’ perfumes. I remember being very impressed with the lined envelopes and scalloped edged writing paper on which letters from Ivy were written, until I realised that she was working as au pair in the home of a locally successful estate agent. I don’t suppose Mrs Innis missed a few items of stationery!
We were naturally more interested in corresponding with young ladies, than with any other sector of the community and so asked of each other if a sister or cousin or the like might be willing to carry on a postal chat. On one occasion a friend of mine, Tony Saunders, from Maidstone, received from home a copy of the local paper. It so happened that the publishers of this paper were running a competition to select Miss Maidstone and the centre spread was filled with photographs of the girls who had entered, along with each girl’s address. Manna from heaven! I spent some time poring over these beauties (you may not believe it, but I did!) before my eyes came to rest on a pretty little brunette by the name of Margaret Cameron. “Hey Tony,” I called, “Do you know this girl?” He came over and confirmed that this was the case. “Is she as nice as she looks?” I asked enthusiastically. “Yeah,” said he, “She’s a cracker! Why?” “Cos I’m going to write to her!” I replied, “Now!” I then got out notepaper and pen and wrote a long letter to this young lady, explaining that I had seen her photograph in the paper, that she was by far the best looking girl and that she was definitely my Miss Maidstone.
To my surprise, and great pleasure, I had a reply in a fairly short time. A regular exchange of letters grew up between us which continued throughout my service. On one occasion, being home on leave I visited Margaret at her home, when she proved to be just as pretty in the flesh as in the photograph. We also met a few times after my return to civvy street, but it then fizzled out, for no discernable reason.
I have already mentioned my friend from Canterbury, Ginger Belfield, and that he had a younger sister. June, for that was her name and I also wrote to each other for some time, but I don’t know how that came to an end.
Another girl was from The Street, Boughton, near Faversham, but I’m ashamed to say that I have forgotten her name. She and I kept in postal contact for most of my time in Germany. I have no recollection of how that started, but at the time her friendship was appreciated.
Sometimes it would be the girl who initiated the friendship. For instance, several of my mates, on unwrapping shaving soap or some such article bought from the NAAFI would find inside a slip of paper bearing a girl’s name and address. Word must have got around that this shipment was intended for the NAAFI, and the item the girl was packing would eventually reach some serviceman. No doubt in some cases as the result of a “dare” by her mates a girl would enclose her details in the hope that it would be found by some handsome young man. “Hope springs eternal etc.”. We all thought it was a great idea, and the lucky recipient would immediately reach for pen and paper!
I also wrote to car manufacturers and dealerships, requesting brochures and technical information on their products. This material was usually forthcoming, even though I hardly looked like a potential buyer.
Another other source of reading matter was the “Red Shield” mobile shop which parked outside the cookhouse each Saturday lunchtime. I would regularly call in to buy motoring magazines and Crunchie bars and back in the barrack room, I would lie on my bed and devour both in their respective senses.
Listen to the Post Call
Sample from www.farmersboys.com