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Thursday, 28th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

The Times, in playful mood, reflects on the war-winning importance of char:

Char has seen us a long way in this war. How peaceful, in retrospect, appears the desert brew, when some acknowledged master of tea-making, jealous of his prerogatives, cast the leaves into the disused petrol container with an almost hieratical gesture. Even when made with the brackish Tobruk water, with a dash of high-grade octane and sand to add picquancy, there was comfort in it. Later, in Europe, the untutored soldiery, with a lack of discrimination for the niceties, continued to take char where they halted, which was, as often as not, in the Grande Place of some newly liberated city. Here the smoke of their brew cans rose to high heaven, causing immense delight to small children, but drawing down the fulminations of the higher command, who held the practice to be undignified ...

End of month accounting: on June 30, 1945, there were 4,653,000 men and 437,200 women in His Majesty's armed and auxiliary forces.

During February, 1946, 288,202 men and 30,328 women were released under the Class A scheme; 26,921 men and 192 women were released under the Class B scheme; with 329,665 men and 31,886 women being released in total (including miscellaneous discharges on compassionate and medical grounds).

Overall, since the start of demobilisation, 2,093,907 men and 228,989 women have been discharged from HM Forces.

Data from Fighting With Figures: A Statistical Digest of the Second World War (HMSO, 1995).

Wednesday, 27th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

Three RAF stations in Palestine were attacked last night by Jewish insurgents, reports the Times. At a little before nine o'clock twelve Halifaxes were destroyed or damaged beyond repair by explosive devices planted under the wings at Qastina Transport Command base; guards discovered a group of intruders within the aircraft dispersal area but were forced back under a hail of machine-gun fire. Around the same time at Petah Tiqva, there was an explosion in the middle of the aircraft dispersal area as a Spitfire burst into flames; another six Spitfires were destroyed in the ensuing fire, and again RAF sentries were pinned down by automatic gunfire. One hour later, the lights failed at Lydda Transport Command station and shortly afterwards assailants who had mingled with the crowd leaving the camp cinema threw grenades at parked aircraft, destroying two Ansons. A radio broadcast today from the Jewish insurgent forces acknowledged responsibility for the attacks, accusing the RAF of in intercepting ships carrying illegal immigrants to Palestine. Curfews have been introduced around all three bases.

Tuesday, 26th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

A letter in the Manchester Guardian complains about delay in release of Group 27: “For some weeks now men of this group have been impatient to get home and do a good full day’s work instead of wasting hours each day here, but to spring this on our wives and mothers and us at this stage is indicative of the real consideration our leaders have for the average man and woman and their desire to work for the future – precisely nil. The feeling aroused by this utter disregard is one of disgust and rebellion.”

Monday, 25th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

Flying Officer Charles Crichton writes to his mother from Iraq: "I regret to say that whenever I try to concentrate on the future my mind goes absolutely blank … socialist England in 1946 will not be much of a place for this ‘lost generation’ line. The older chaps who were well placed before the war are going back to their old jobs and the rest of us are doing a lot of frantic thinking … I feel distinctly nervous about my return to civilian life. Quite a lot of people have been so long in desert stations that they really need an ex-PoW rehabilitation course before they are fit to be let loose!”

Sunday, 24th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

A complaint about the inequitable treatment of the 'Land Girls' in the New Statesman and Nation:

I worked for a timber firm in Devon, ina  job previously held by a man, and my successor has just been demobbed from the RAF. When I left Devon I was given a travel voucher to Heysham, and then had to pay my steamer fare to Belfast, £1 14s., as the Land Army only gives vouchers for travel in England and Wales. I had 29 days between leaving the WLA and starting my new job, so I applied for unemployment benefit. At the end of three weeks I was given £1 5s. 6d. which did not cover the cost of my steamer ticket, much less provide a livelihood for three weeks. Had I been a member of any other of the women's services, I would have had my fare home and 56 days' leave.

On demobilisation, members of the Land Army, many of whom have done arduous work for five years, get no gratuity, no paid leave, no grant for clothing, no extra clothing coupons. They have to return their uniform, for which they have surrendered coupons, and which is unsuitable for ordinary wear in any case. The girls in the WLA have worked hard, often far from their own homes, in isolated places and in all weathers, with six days' leave a year. Is their contribution to the war effort of so little value that they deserve no recognition? It must be so ...

Saturday, 23rd February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

John Bull reports on the temporary 'pre-fab' housing offered in lieu of a permanent home for reunited couples:

Mrs. Mark has had a fearful time. A flying bomb destroyed her home in June 1944. Her husband was in the Navy then. She had a twelve-year-old daughter, Jean. With a badly cut hand a shattered nerves she and the girl found themselves rushed into a hostile Somerset cottage. Constantly the hostess reminded them that 'if my husband were alive he would never have allowed you in.'

Mr. Mark was discharged from the Navy on medical grounds resulting from arthritis in the feet, the result of being torpedoed while on convoy duty to Russia. He also had high blood pressure, and is a pretty sick man.

Back in London after VE-Day, Mrs. Mark and Jean were living in a school rest centre. Mr. Mark has to have a place without stairs as he cannot walk easily. After innumerable calls on the local housing authorities, they finally moved into a three-bedroom Nissen hut and have made it into a cosy little home for themselves.

Mr. Mark is apprehensive about the future. The prefabs and the Nissens are, after all, only a temporary expedient. Ten years for the prefabs. Two years for the Nissens. They like their present home. Jean, now fourteen years old, burst into tears when her father told her that the Nissens would eventually have to be torn down to make way for proper houses. "I don't want to live in a proper house," she wept. "I like living here ..."

 

Friday, 22nd February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

Samuel Charles Bolsom, a company director living on the Edgware Road, London W, was charged at Marlborough Street magistrates' court yesterday with conspiring to assist a large number of men with bogus medical discharges from the Army, reports the Times. It was alleged that Bolsom approached the men offering them a bottle of 'medicine' which would make them appear to be unfit to serve: "I have got dozens of people out of the Army and have helped hundreds ... you fetch along £150 and consider yourself out." Bolsom's medicine turned out to be a strong emetic, and it is not clear if in fact anyone was ever successful in fooling a medical board with it. Bolsom exacerbated his crime by allegedly trying to bribe the investigating detective with a bundle of bank notes stuffed into his hand. The trial continues.

Thursday, 21st February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

A plea from a demobbed ATS servicewoman reaches the desk of the Daily Mail's Ann Temple:

I'm demobbed, an only child, nearing 30, living at home with my parents, going back to my job here when it is ready. Four years in the ATS have made me more independent, more confident, more able to cope with problems, but I can't solve this one.

We could all be such good pals, but my mother can't see that I want some sort of life of my own. If I escape to my bedroom there are hints about fire and light bills. I'm never asked to help. Mother prefers to do everything herself, but is always complaining about lack of help.

I could help, but feel a strong disinclination to do so while she is doing it. And yet I have a guilty conscience sitting reading or killing time while she works. Is it too much to ask for some life of my own without always being answerable fo all my movements?

Ann answers: "You simply must take a decisive line to end this mess-up of feelings and dutifulness, stifled desires, conscience, and affection. You'll soon have your job. You will be contributing to home funds. Have a plan and stick to it. Work out what help you can give: doing your own room, a few regular small jobs. Turn your bedroom into a bedsitter - pay your share of the light and fire bills ..."

 

Wednesday, 20th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

'Home Chat' in Punch:

"How did you like them, darling? You preferred the tall one, I expect. Old Jacko. Everyone does. Although funnily enough, the other was the better soldier."
"To tell you the truth, darling, I've been wondering why you asked them."
"I wanted them to meet you, darling."
"Well, they did meet me - yes, that's true. Did you want them to talk to me at all?"
"But what a funny girl you are, darling. They talked all the time, didn't they? Jacko never stopped. We all talked, all the evening."
"About each other."
"I'm sorry, darling. I don't get it."
"What I mean is that if you wanted to talk about the war the whole time I don't know why the three of you didn't stay in town and have a few beers together."
"I'd no idea you felt so neglected, darling."
"The short one, Tom somebody, actually looked at me once and said 'I'm afraid all this must be dreadfully boring for you.' But when I gave him a sort of fatalistic shrug, the only encouragement any man could need to change the subject, he seemed nonplussed."
"He would be. Poor old Tom. That's why he never got promotion. Old Jacko, now ..."
"Tell me darling, what did you three talk about when you were all out there together?"
"Home, darling. And you."
"So I understand. So why is it that when you get home, and they meet me, all you want to talk about is being out there?"

Tuesday, 19th February, 1946

This is an entry in a year-long project to post-blog the demobilisation experience for British servicemen at the end of the Second World War. See here for an introduction to the project and here for a brief overview of the demobilisation process.

Picture Post features a series of letters on the problems of the demobilized older ex-officer. "Excluding war service, I have 21 years normal business experience," writes one:

[Since I was demobbed] all I have achieved has been the offer of a minor clerical job at five pounds per week, less deductions. At that figure I began my business career some 26 years ago. I have written some 50-odd letters during the past ten weeks, in answer to advertisements, and have had but three replies.

So what? Go overseas? Migrate? Certainly - provided I can take my wife and son with me, and provided there is permanent employment there when I arrive, for at my apparently dead-beat age (a mere 42) any other sort of overseas employment is plainly futile. Rejoin the services? Yes - if a permanent commission was offered it would be worthwhile but the age-limit prevents that. Well - what about domestic service? Even that has been considered as in certain cases it offers a home of one's own, but neither my wife nor myself has references covering 'ability at domestic service.'

This, then, is one picture of many hundreds of the 'too old at forty' brigade, somewhat disgusted, and daily growing just a little more frustrated and bitter.

But another reader introduces a note of dissent:

In the Army an officer can very often get by on what his underlings know - not that the average officer is required to know a lot when you get down to brass tacks. No wonder, then, that many ex-officer are finding civilian life hard to face. May I suggest that these gentlemen swallow their pride and come down to earth a bit ... personally I am not the least perturbed at the prospect of my long-awaited release. I know that whatever happens I cannot sink any lower than I have these four years. I know that I shall have my self-respect and that no-one is going to look at me or speak to me in the way I have bene looked at and spoken to by innumerable officers in those four years, without getting a punch on the nose ...