Reading again Robert Waithmans article in the News Chronicle in 1946, it brings back memories of 67 years ago when coming to terms with ‘that it is all over’ feeling and unbelievably you were free to return home. He describes the scene in the Empire Hall, Olympia, London, were hundreds of soldiers pass out each day on their way to Civvy Street. ‘ The soldiers who stood in the queue to the cloakroom inside the entrance to the Empire Hall at Olympia had another 200 yards to go: the last 200 yards in the Army. ‘ They handed in their kit and took numbered slips and went through a doorway where there was a notice saying: Offering of tips or bribes to staff whether military or civilian in RAOC Civilian Clothing Depots is strictly forbidden. ‘ The soldiers passed through the door and a brisk ATS girl tore a sheet out of their release books and handed them each a sheaf of papers pinned together. A grey-haired man with glasses stood in shirt sleeves quickly measuring chests and necks with a tape measure. When they were measured the soldiers went, one by one, into the enormous room where the motor show and circus used to be. ‘ There were perhaps 300 men in the Empire Hall – those who were serving there and those who were passing through – but there was almost no noise. ‘ Around three sides of the hall were bays made by steel racks holding rows of suits, sports coats, flannels, raincoats and raglan coats. The bays were labelled 34 Short-34 Regular and all the way to 44 Long. Down the centre of the hall a double counter ran with a barrier beside it and another sign there said: This way for Shirts, Ties, Hats, Shoes, etc. ‘ The huge floor was covered with coconut matting. Slanting mirrors, shoulder high, were set close to the bays and tailors wearing tape-measures like chains of office stood about. ‘ The soldiers at the entrance door looked vaguely around the room and up at the distant roof, and then they walked in a subdued way over to the rack that was marked on their accounting document. ‘ A soldier went into a bay and stared at the suits and sports coats and then unhooked one and tried on the jacket. He stood before the mirror looking at himself with no sign of either pleasure or displeasure: his face was expressionless. ‘ He took off the jacket and tried on another, and then put the first on again. After a while he went to the nearest tailor and said: “Is this good stuff, chum.” ‘ The tailor felt the cloth and said, Oh, yes, that would wear all right. “You don’t need to hurry, though,” the tailor said. “Try as many on as you like. I had a man yesterday and he tried 45 suits on.” ‘ The soldier said: “No, this’ll do – this was the first” “It was what?” said the tailor. “Nothing,” said the soldier. ‘ The men moved slowly down past the shirt counter, frowning over the decision what colours would go with what sorts of suits; and from there to the tie counter, and on to the hat counter. They grinned wanly as they saw themselves wearing trilbys. At first, at any angle, they looked grotesque. ‘ They turned the corner and went back past the shoe and sock counters, and at the checking-out barrier they were given front studs, back studs and cuff links. ‘ Beyond the barrier there were changing booths, but almost nobody used them. Almost everyone went to the packing table, where the civilian things were folded and put into a brown carton and tied up with green string. ‘ Out of the EXIT door the soldiers came, a few at a time, each with a carton. They stood on the pavement and looked back at the EXIT door and up and down the street; and then they started uncertainly for home. YES . . . I remember, particularly that overwhelming feeling of ‘uncertainty’ as I headed for the railway station to take me back home where my Mother and Father would be waiting ’ . . . an oft dreamt moment during long seven years . .. and now a reality. [Reprinted in "First o' Foot", Battalion Newspaper of 8RS, 8 March 1946.] Joe Brown.
Joe It was York for me, on the way home to London from Barnard Castle on the 12th April 1947, but the procedure was virtually the same as just described. I'm posting this on my iPad, whilst sitting in my lounge but as soon as I summon up enough energy, I will nip upsatairs to my PC and find the snap of me in my demob suit that I changed into, on that unforgettable day in York. Ron ps What would I do without the old BBC site ? http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/95/a5875095.shtml
