Part One: England.
1. Fragments of an age
1935.
I had just finished Charterhouse school and was to decide what to do with my life when the King returned. Well, his armies, I mean. A day or two later I decided to enlist. In the first place, although the Reds said that the war would be over by Christmas, I wanted that it might last enough to delay my choice (odd it may sound now, I didn't knew what to do with my life in those days). I must confess that I joined the Royal Army without giving too much thoughts about neither the King nor the British Empire. But at least they meant for me more than the Reds. I didn't expect to get actively enganged in the fighting, and thought that I would end doing garrison service in some forgotten corner of Wales or, God Forbid, the Ulster.
It is funny to think about it now, but it was the former secretary of the golf club, an old pal of my father, who suggested my taking a commission instead of enlisting. The Royal forces were moving to London and recruiting volunteers on the march. So, he called to the nearest regimental depot, the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Dad felt proud that I had done "the right thing", and I even won the respect of the rest of my family.
How funny all this looks now...
So, I found myself at the headquarters of Duke's Road, a narrow cutting off Theobalds Road, with two other recruits. We had to read the oath together, to be sworn in. The other recruits were terrible nervous and read the wrong paragraph until the Captain stopped them. He was as angered as my two companions afraid, it was quite clear.
-Kiss the book! - said the captain. And one gives it a tender little kiss, the other a loud smacking one!
I can say I survived the ordeal and got my number -475673-. Thus I was send by train, along with many Britons and several German volunteers from the King's German Legion, to Hare Hall Camp, in Essex, as Cadet Bale, Artists' Rifles.
Europe, January 1st, 1936
1. Fragments of an age
1935.
I had just finished Charterhouse school and was to decide what to do with my life when the King returned. Well, his armies, I mean. A day or two later I decided to enlist. In the first place, although the Reds said that the war would be over by Christmas, I wanted that it might last enough to delay my choice (odd it may sound now, I didn't knew what to do with my life in those days). I must confess that I joined the Royal Army without giving too much thoughts about neither the King nor the British Empire. But at least they meant for me more than the Reds. I didn't expect to get actively enganged in the fighting, and thought that I would end doing garrison service in some forgotten corner of Wales or, God Forbid, the Ulster.
It is funny to think about it now, but it was the former secretary of the golf club, an old pal of my father, who suggested my taking a commission instead of enlisting. The Royal forces were moving to London and recruiting volunteers on the march. So, he called to the nearest regimental depot, the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Dad felt proud that I had done "the right thing", and I even won the respect of the rest of my family.
How funny all this looks now...
So, I found myself at the headquarters of Duke's Road, a narrow cutting off Theobalds Road, with two other recruits. We had to read the oath together, to be sworn in. The other recruits were terrible nervous and read the wrong paragraph until the Captain stopped them. He was as angered as my two companions afraid, it was quite clear.
-Kiss the book! - said the captain. And one gives it a tender little kiss, the other a loud smacking one!
I can say I survived the ordeal and got my number -475673-. Thus I was send by train, along with many Britons and several German volunteers from the King's German Legion, to Hare Hall Camp, in Essex, as Cadet Bale, Artists' Rifles.
From the memoirs of
General Sir David Bale, GCB, DSO, OBE
(11 March 1917- 2 October 1989)
General Sir David Bale, GCB, DSO, OBE
(11 March 1917- 2 October 1989)
Europe, January 1st, 1936
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