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  "I don't think they will let old codgers like me take to the air. The reflexes aren't the same. My war, if it comes, will be behind a desk. I just hope I don't make the same mistakes as the desk wallahs did in the Great War!"

  "You couldn't."

  He shrugged, "I will never judge a man until I have walked a mile in his shoes. That was one of my dad's sayings and it is apposite now." He closed the fastenings on his case. Holding out his hand he said, "You take care, old son, and keep an eye on your mother for me."

  "Of course." I felt guilty, later, about the fact that I did neither of the things I had promised him. I followed him downstairs. He kissed mum and Mary goodbye and I watched as his drop head Alvis roared off towards the main road.

  The next fortnight was a hectic rush for me as mum helped me choose what I would need for University. She was a very practical woman. She had been a nurse in the war and knew what was necessary and what was not. The night before I left we had a quiet supper and then mum sent Mary to do the dishes alone. My little sister sulked. "How come Tom never has to do them?"

  "He is a man now and besides I need to talk with him. Off you go, young lady, and don't answer back!"

  "Sorry mum." She couldn't resist sticking her tongue out at me as she did so.

  "I don't know what I shall do with her now that you and your dad will be away."

  "You'll manage. Besides it will be nice and quiet won't it without two blokes making a mess of the house and leaving the toilet seat up!"

  She laughed. My mum had a lovely laugh and it made her look like a young girl. She never looked her age. Most of the other mums looked dowdy and dull. Mum was never that. "I know your dad talked to you about being away from home but I am going to give my two penn'orth too. You are a good lad and I couldn't be prouder of you. But you know that. You are more down to earth than you have a right to be and that is all good. You are good with languages, you are clever, you are practical and you are witty."

  "Stop it; I will be getting a big head soon."

  "The thing is you will be mixing with those who have been to private schools. There will the sons of rich men and, well, sometimes they aren't very nice."

  "Dad said much the same."

  "We both met people like that. They are snobs. They think they are better than everyone else. Thank God that Lady Mary and Lord Burscough weren't like that when his lordship was still alive."

  "There you are, there might be a lot of men like Lord Burscough."

  She shook her head, "I am afraid that most of the good ones died in the Great War; I watched them die. The world changed in 1914. All I am saying is remember who you are and be true to yourself. Your dad and I can't be there to guide you anymore; it isn't right in any case. You are old enough now to make up your mind and to make your own decisions. We trust you to do the right thing and I know that you will never let us down." She began to cry. When she did that it would normally be dad who would comfort her. He wasn't there and so I stood and put my arm around her. She buried her head in my chest and sobbed. I still don't know why. I let her cry herself out and then she stood. "Fancy making a fool of myself like that. You be careful."

  "I will mum. I promise and it isn't as if I won't be back. You will see me again at Christmas." Sometimes we make promises we intend to keep and that was one. I did not keep it. I would not see mum and Mary for over a year. By then we were a world at war once more.

  Chapter 2

  I took the train to Manchester. Normally we went to Liverpool Lime Street to visit Burscough and this was a new experience. As the University term had not started and there were so few of us we were accommodated in the University Halls of Residence. We even had the luxury of a room to ourselves. When I arrived I saw no one. After unpacking I walked around the old buildings to familiarise myself with them.

  Dad had always said that reconnaissance was never wasted. In the next few years I would discover the accuracy of that statement. I left the University and Oxford Road. I headed to the magnificent Town Hall in St. Anne's Square. My dad had told me how he had been called upon to put down a riot not far from here. What I noticed was the tension on the streets. This was not a populace ready for riot but there were Black Shirts who followed Mosley the English fascist and the Communists with their red banners. They circled each other like packs of wild animals and were only kept in their place by a couple of bobbies armed with nothing more than a truncheon.

  After making sure I knew where the important buildings were and that I could find my way around the city I headed back to the University. We had been given a detailed programme before we arrived and I knew that there was a formal dinner to be held in the main hall that night. Dad had ensured that I knew how to conduct myself and I had a good dinner suit, shirt and silk tie. I also knew the correct order for both food and cutlery. He had had to learn the hard way. I had been taught from birth. I made sure that I was ready in plenty of time. As I descended the stairs I was nervous. I was used to meeting strangers, after all moving around with dad so much meant I constantly met new people. The difference here was that I would be with them for three years. Mistakes I made now would live with me for my whole time here. I was determined to make a good impression.

  I was not the first one there. There were two or three huddles of young men attired much as I was. As I entered the hall I was given a glass of sparkling wine. I knew, from the wine we had drunk in France, that this was not Champagne but it was dry, bubbly and pleasant enough. I was pleased that dad had insisted that I have a well tailored dinner suit for I soon saw that the others had equally fine suits too. I saw that the majority of the people in the room were students but one, with slightly greying temples, was obviously not. I took him to be a professor. I hovered on the periphery. I was still a little shy in those days and I listened.

  It was one of the students who was speaking, "My father, General Hughes-Graham, told me that if it were not for the officers' fine example in the Great War we would have lost the war. They were steadfast, noble and brave. What do you think, sir?"

  I saw that the older man found the question a difficult one. I had learned, from receptions hosted by my parents, how to watch people. This man, I took him to be an officer from the Great War, cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. He wrinkled his nose and then gave a considered answer. He was being diplomatic and the answer he gave would reflect that. He did not wish to upset this young man.

  "Well, Robert, there were some fine officers. I myself served under what I consider to have been the finest officer on the whole Western Front, however, the ordinary Tommy was a remarkable chap. He could endure the most frightful of experiences and still not only be cheerful but go over the top in machine gunfire which, quite frankly, was suicide."

  The young man identified as Robert Hughes-Graham nodded and smirked, "Of course you served in the Royal Flying Corps, sir. They had all of the glory and none of the discomfort. I can understand your misguided view."

  I saw the older man colour and he was about to say something when one of the college servants entered and said, "Dinner is served, gentlemen!"

  We seated ourselves and then said grace. I found myself between two young men whose suits showed they had not had the good advice I had enjoyed. They appeared to have self tie bows which always looked as though the wearer was being attacked by a bat. Both appeared more than a little nervous and they answered my questions and attempts at conversation with desultory answers. I ate the meal and sipped the wine. If this was University life then I would find it boring.

  After the meal the older man stood, "Gentlemen you may loosen your ties and you may smoke if you wish."

  I saw that those seated around Robert Hughes-Graham all took advantage of the offer and not only loosened their ties but all lit up cigars. The frown from our host spoke volumes. I did neither. I didn't smoke and dad had told me that a real gentleman kept his tie on until he returned home. I smiled when I saw that two of those around the General's son had bow ties which were self t
ies like my two companions; they had not learned how to tie a tie.

  Our host took his glass of whisky and held it up, "I will give you all a toast. To those who went to war in nineteen fourteen and did not return home. Let us remember them!"

  We all stood and I know that I for one felt my voice thick with emotion as I repeated the toast. My uncles had all told me of those who had fallen in the war. This was a ceremony I had witnessed every year since I could remember. Once in the summer and then again in November. The moment was spoiled by a laugh from Robert Hughes-Graham and those who were sat next to him.

  The host frowned again. I wondered when he would say something. He did not. Instead he put his glass down and smiled as he began his speech. "Gentlemen my name is Captain Carrick. I am a professor here at the University. I teach Physics. However, for my sins, I am also in charge of the officer training here. In these uncertain times I believe it is vital that we have bright and well trained leaders. You have three years of study ahead of you but, unless I miss my guess, war will be coming soon. All of you may have to lead men into battle and that is a grave responsibility."

  He stopped speaking and scanned the room. When he looked at me he paused as though he recognised me and then carried on with his examination.

  "Over the next month or so you will learn how to be officers and how to be soldiers. There are sergeants and corporals from the local regiments who will be drilling and training you all." There was a snort from the young man next to Robert Hughes-Graham. "Learn from them. All of them are veterans of the Great War and have forgotten more about leadership than you are likely to learn in a world of peace. That comes when you are hardened by war. Tonight will be the last night such as this for we will be working from dawn until dusk. Make the most of it!"

  Many cheered and whooped but I did not. He was right. This was serious work. We all stood. I said goodbye to my silent neighbours and was about to leave for my room when Professor Carrick arrested me. "Don't I know you?"

  "I doubt it, sir." I hesitated, I did not wish to come over as a sycophant but I felt I had to speak, "I thought you made a fine speech, sir. It moved me."

  "I am pleased but I meant every word I said. If I thought the RAF would have me I would rejoin in a flash." I nodded. "What is your name then and what are you studying?"

  "I am studying physics and I am Thomas Harsker."

  He stared at me, "Not Squadron Leader Bill Harsker's lad?"

  "Actually, sir, it is Wing Commander now but yes I am Bill's son. Did you know him?"

  "I am Freddie Carrick and I served with him. Your father was the officer I was referring to. I would not have survived the war but for your father." I know he meant well with his next words but they proved to be a disastrous mistake. He suddenly shouted, "Everyone! Listen! We have the son of a real hero here. Young Thomas' father won the VC, the MC and was one of only a handful of British pilots to shoot down more than fifty Germans." He began to applaud. Gradually everyone joined in; every that is, except for Robert Hughes-Graham and his cronies. Captain Carrick put his arm around me and waved a waiter over, "Two whiskies!" When the waiter nodded and scurried off he continued, "I am surprised you haven't joined the Royal Air Force."

  "Dad wanted me to get my degree first."

  He nodded, "Still you would make a wonderful pilot. You can fly can't you?"

  I nodded, "Dad taught me almost as soon as I could walk."

  "There you go. You would be a natural. How is your father?"

  "He is fine. He is at the Air Ministry."

  "Good and your mother?"

  "She is well."

  "She is a wonderful lady. Your dad is lucky." I saw that a small crowd had gathered around us and Professor Carrick regaled us with tales of my father and the other pilots. I found it embarrassing but the others seemed to enjoy it. The exceptions were Hughes-Graham and his coterie. They soon left.

  When the professor began to speak more of the family rather than the war the rest drifted off too and we were left alone. "Come, let's go outside it is quite a pleasant evening I believe."

  There were some benches outside the hall. I supposed that they would be a good place to sit on a sunny summer's afternoon. "What made you choose Manchester, Tom?"

  I shrugged, "The course seemed like one I would like and, well it is close to Burscough. That was where dad grew up. I can't think of anywhere that I would call home. I like to think of myself coming from the north."

  He laughed, "Even though you don't sound like it."

  I laughed too, "No, you are right. It isn't much of a reason but there it is."

  "It's as good a reason as any and you have made a good choice. It is a good course." He looked up at the sky. "If the Germans decide that they want war, however, that may all change." He shook his head. "I thought we had ended it all in 1918. Good God we made enough sacrifices. Look at your Auntie Alice, poor Charlie and she were meant to be together. He was killed and her life, well, it isn't the life she hoped for. We came back to a land filled with women dressed in black." He smiled at me, "I have lost touch with the your father, your Aunt and the others. I travelled after University. I only came back when this latest trouble started. It seemed the right time to return to England eh?" He stood, "Anyway, tomorrow we start the work." He held out his hand. "It has made my day to find my old commanding officer's son here. I look forward to the training."

  I made my way back to my room. The corridors appeared silent. Although I fell asleep quickly I was woken by the noise of some of my new acquaintances as they returned, drunk as lords. They were very loud. I could not make out much but I did recognise the slurred voice of Robert Hughes-Graham. "Any of you chaps know which is the room of that oik, Harsker?"

  There were mumbled and indistinct replies.

  "No matter, I have three years to find out, what?"

  It took me some time to get to sleep after that. I had been here for less than a day and already I seemed to have made enemies through no fault of my own.

  I was one of the few down for the cooked breakfast. I managed to leave the hall before the others were up and I went to the bursar's office to find out where we ought to be. Professor Carrick was there already and he was wearing his air force uniform. I recognised some of the medals. There were some soldiers there too. They were all in khaki and bore sergeant's stripes. When they turned I had a shock for two of them had badly disfigured faces. It was fortunate that I had met such men before when my father had visited old comrades. I steeled myself.

  "Good lad. I knew you would be the first. Gentlemen this is Tom Harsker and his father won the VC and the MC."

  I wished he had not said that. The four sergeant's faces broke into smiles. "And you will be just like your old man eh son? I am Sergeant Greely. I served in the 1st Loyal Lancashire Regiment." He looked to be slightly younger than the others who all had grey hair. I learned later that he was still a serving soldier and his participation with the cadets would only be for a month.

  One of those with a disfigured face said, "Would your dad be Squadron Leader Bill Harsker?"

  "Yes he would, sergeant."

  He shook my hand, "I served with his brother, your uncle, Bert, in the tanks. He was a good lad was your uncle." He held his hand up to his damaged face, "I got this the day he died. He was a proper hero, just like your dad. It must run in the family eh? Proud to meet you. I am Sergeant Harrison."

  I discovered that the other two were Sergeant Ashcroft and Sergeant Williams. It was amazing that two of the men who would be training me knew my family. I had just wanted to be me but now I found I was tainted with the brush of a hero's son and nephew.

  "If you chaps would take Tom here and get him kitted out I will send the others over just as soon as they arrive."

  I hesitated, "Er, sir, I think some of them may be a little delicate this morning. Many of them spent the night bringing back last night's dinner."

  Sergeant Greely laughed, "Don't you worry Cadet Harsker by the time we have finished with the
m they will know what the word delicate really means."

  The four of them led me to a large wooden hut which had been recently erected in a quiet corner of the University grounds. There was a smartly stencilled sign which said, 'OTC Headquarters, Manchester University'. Inside there were trestle tables and various pieces of equipment and uniform. The four of them each went behind one of the tables.

  Sergeant Greely rubbed his hands together, "You are lucky, son, we have uniform for the twenty five of you but the first ones will get the uniforms which fit the best. Let's get you kitted out!"

  Apart from the battle dress, helmet, rifle, boots and cap we also had our webbing, blanket, mess kit, respirator, anti-gas cape, entrenching tool, haversack and knapsack. I almost disappeared under the mountain I carried. Sergeant Harrison laughed. He came from behind his trestle table and steered me behind a screen. "We thought you lads might like privacy while you change. There are supposed to be some lockers delivered but they haven't arrived yet so put your clothes in a pile yonder, sir."

  I was half way through dressing and working my way through the myriad of buttons and straps which appeared to serve no useful purpose when the rest arrived in dribs and drabs. I had just finished when the two lads who had sat near to me at dinner came behind the screen. They actually smiled this time. "I say, you were jolly quick."

  "It is the early bird and all that. I'll get out of your way."

  I picked up my clothes and went to where the sergeant had pointed. I laid the clothes in neat piles, carefully folded and with my shoes before them. It was the way I had been brought up. My dad had served since he was fifteen and neatness was drilled into me. I could polish shoes so brightly that you could shave in the reflection from the toe caps. That had been the mantra of both my dad and my Grandad. They both put great store by highly polished boots and shoes. My father's old batman, John had given me the trick of keeping them shiny as well as how to have the sharpest creases in my trousers. I looked at the boots as supplied; they still had the hard varnish which I would have to remove with the back of a spoon. There would be many hours work before they would pass muster.