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My two years as a sergeant-writer took me, among other places, to two beautiful areas, the Moselle vineyards and Lindau at Lake Constance, the Netherlands, Denmark, and a United States barracks in the American zone.
The Moselle trip was to report on British soldiers helping in the vineyards. I don’t recall what British soldiers were doing in the Lindau area, or the official reason for going to Denmark, but I was able to visit the home of an aunt who had married a Dane.
The American zone visit was to report on river boating exercises by British and American soldiers.
I recall how I was impressed by the vigor and skill in which the Brits paddled their little boats – smallish soldiers, from a Welsh regiment, I think. They contrasted with the generally larger American’s, who waited their turn in the snow in visibly warmer clothing and dozing, heads on vehicle bonnets. Their sleepiness, I was told, was due to a stupid regulation requiring them to be out of bed every morning at 5am.
I recall sitting in their canteen opposite a white American soldier (sergeant?) who pointed at black soldiers queueing at the counter and snarling; “I hate them!”
God help anyone with such an armed racist in the ranks during combat I thought.
The canteen was the first I ever saw with two menus – one for those wanting to lose weight. Several at the counter were visibly overweight, something I don’t remember seeing among British soldiers.
Also not British were the toilets devoid of privacy that I was expected to use – no closets but each sit-down toilet in an open circle. Psychologically I felt unable to use them and managed to await pub toilets on the way back to HQ 2nd Division.
Nijmegen Marches
I was sent to the Netherlands for the annual Nijmegen Marches for military contingents and civilians. I stayed next to the tripod of sergeant photographer Alan on an open-topped truck as he filmed the British military participant.
I still have in my head the loud repetitive marching chant ‘ziggy zaggy ziggy zaggy hoi hoi hoi’ from one of the military contingents. I always thought it was the American contingent, but Wikipedia informs me that it is a German drinking chant, so perhaps the Bundeswehr were also represented.
Science Fiction Writer
In Denmark I was allowed to go in civilian clothes to a party held by my Aunt Muriel and her wealthy Danish husband Kai Overgaard at their home near Copenhagen. (Muriel was the second oldest of seven sisters of which my mother was the oldest.)
I was treated like a visiting English hero by my two older Danish cousins, Kai Michael, then aged 13 or 14, and Nils Peter, about 12, who showed off by proudly riding in front of me the bicycle that I and my brother Dave had passed on to them. (The youngest Thomas was six or seven).
Among Muriel’s guests was American science fiction writer Harry Harrison and his wife Evelyn.
I was told he was well-known, but a recent Wikipedia showed me just how famous he became. At that time, he had written, in 1960, one book, Death World. But his humorous, satirical science fiction won him admiring obituaries in The Guardian, Independent and New York Times when he died in August 2012. On the way he was named Grand Master by Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).
He was at Muriel’s because she and Evelyn had met somewhere and became.
friends.
Evelyn made me welcome with the words, “Oh, Muriel, you didn’t tell me you had such a good-looking nephew.” As she and I chatted she said confidentially that she had found the Danish middle-classes conventionally boring. However, Wikipedia said her husband “liked Denmark and stayed for 7 years, seeing it as a perfect place to bring up his children.”
At the Moselle vineyards
A public relations team of ours spent some time interviewing and filming and photographing British soldiers helping in the German Moselle vineyards – including Captain Newman, sergeant photographer Alan, photographer Kenneth from HQ 2d Division, and a German photographer employed by army public relations. We were billeted in a large pension in the town of Bernkastel-Kues.
The soldiers enjoyed working in the sun and some became friendly with local young women.
Reason for laughter
A vineyard owner invited Captain Newman, me, Alan, and photographer Kenneth to his vineyard-based office to sample his best wines, in particular the 1952 variety.
We also drank what was called in German Must, which a recent google describes as “a fancy term for unfermented grapes or juice.” Which sounds innocent enough, except that Alex recalled having had diarrhoea after drinking Must in the past. He’d had to stop his car and run to nearby woods to lower his trousers and releave himself.
On our last evening some of us went for a night-out. Kenneth and I stayed in a bar while the others drove off in search of a dance hall we had heard about, promising to return to take us there if they found it.
I later returned from the toilet to find that Kenneth had gone. I assumed, angrily, that the others had returned and picked him up, leaving me stranded. However, they returned to pick me up, saying they had not seen Kenneth.
Back at the pension he told us that when I went to the bar’s toilet he went outside for fresh air. While there they Must, as described ominously by Alex, had its effect and he filled his trousers. Embarrassed by the smell, he kept poking his head inside the door of the bar, trying to attract my attention – unsuccessfully. So, he had to walk surreptitiously to the pension.
Cue hysterical laughter from the rest of us.
Finally
Here’s something of what I wrote for a piece I had published in my newspaper The Journal after returning to Newcastle when my national service ended.
Under the heading ‘North journalist weds German girl’, with a photo depicting Karina’s beauty.
One of Mr Michael Jamieson’s jobs as a national service sergeant in Public Relations B.O.A.R was to try to improve Anglo-German relations.
Today he married a blonde Fraulein from Cologne at St Teresa’s Roman Catholic Church, Heaton Road, Newcastle.
“As far as I’m concerned Anglo-German relations couldn’t be better,” smiled Mr Jamieson, aged 24, a Newcastle journalist.
The bride was 19-year-old Miss Karina Theis, a shorthand typist…. She said: “The Newcastle people have been very friendly to me and have gone out of their way to make me feel at home.”
Footnote: Karina’s German parents, Anneliese and Josef Theis were at the wedding.
