Chapter 9

BIRMINGHAM UNIVERSITY.
1940-1943.

Elsewhere is a fairly detailed account of my University years which started in September 1940, but mainly from the angle of the military training which we were forced, by the war, to undertake as part of our further education. At that time, soon after the Dunkirk defeat, with the blitz commencing, and invasion a distinct possibility, the atmosphere was far from normal, nor was it conducive to academic study. It is therefore the more remarkable that we managed to do as much as we did.

The 'COAL UT'S'.

There were only four of us who entered the 'Coal Utilisation' section of the Mining Department in 1940. That department was headed by the much revered Professor Moss, the section being under Dr. Stacey G. Ward, a dapper, grey little man with glasses and a neat moustache.

Also in the Department were Doris Rooms, the archetypical Secretary, Bill Dooley, the Laboratory Technician, a certain J.K.L Graham, whose specialty seemed to be metal mining, and who never seemed to be without a bull-dog on a long length of rope, and a large pipe. There was another lecturer in mining, but I cannot recall his name.

We four were Ian Hope and myself, from King Edward's Stourbridge, Jimmy Alexander who came from Yorkshire and lived in Chancellor's Hall, and one Perks Wardle Pickston, who hailed from Penketh, then in Lancashire, and who had 'digs' in King's Heath.

Saxon Taylor, our erstwhile contemporary at Stourbridge came into the Department a year later as he had broken his neck on the Rugger field and had had to take a year's sabbatical. With him came Joe Cookson (formerly of New Road, Stourbridge) and Joe's alter ego, Roy Bagley, a couple of somewhat colourless characters.

Perks Wardle Pickston, with such Christian names, could not possibly be addressed by either of them, particularly as there was already a Perks in the department in the person of my life-long associate, Harold of that ilk, so 'Percy' seemed to be appropriate as well as alliterative. As nicknames seemed to be de rigueur, Ian, whose second initial was 'C', was known as Charlie. The C was, in fact, the initial letter of 'Chambers', his mother's maiden name. This caused him a little embarrassment, especially when some tactless type discovered this and started calling him 'Philpots'.

In defiance of the reason for my parents' naming me 'John', with the thought that that could not possibly be shortened, I was known as 'Jo'.

'Percy' could give a fair rendering of Puccini's 'One fine day' in a high falsetto and also provide the sound effect of drawing a cork and pouring the wine. Jimmy Alexander, known as Alex also had sonic abilities in that he could imitate a trumpet without one. Such are some of the lesser rivalries between Lancashire and Yorkshire.

STOURBRIDGE CHARACTERS.

Others in the Department from K.E.S. Stourbridge were Eric Hulland, in the same year as Harold Perks, and Gerry Scott, who had been Captain of Quarry House at school so, appropriately, decided to take up metal mining.

In other departments, were Neville Heathcock (Electrical Engineering), G.R. (Dickie) Higgins (Mech. Eng.), Frank R. Goodwin (Medic) and our former classmate, Peter (Cuthbert) Ainsbury (Elec. Eng.)

Peter was one of those genii who seemed able to pass exams with maximum marks after doing a minimum of work. Unfortunately after getting a brilliant first, he was seconded to the Ministry of Aircraft Production and was last heard of on a test plane heading out to sea.

Preceding us by a year or two was Michael Davies, son of A.E. Davies of Pedmore. Michael achieved honour in the up-market Faculty of Law and became a High Court Judge. His principal claim to fame, however, was that he was one of the very few with whom, in my younger years, I had had a fight. Prayers that I would never 'come up before him' have so far been answered.

STACEY & CO.

Our particular section of the department was a small one, and had been created by Prof. Moss initially to create a corpus of technical salesmen who could successfully flog the stuff that his former pupils dug out of the ground.

Other students in the department, the majority, were the 'Miners' proper, who were studying to be colliery managers, surveyors, metal miners etc. Among them were Robert Haslam, who, as Sir Robert, later became one of the last Chairmen of the Coal Board. Then there was one Eric Mullins, a muscle-bound rugger type whose conversation seemed to be dominated by an interest in the more esoteric aspects of copulation to an even greater degree than was the average amongst his contemporaries. Eric also was one of those whose subsidiary aim in life was to determine a minimum time for the transfer of a pint of ale from pot to gut. One Lancashire lad was later heard to remark concerning another such as Eric, "He's got no b****y clack!"

Our numbers were small because many contemporaries had been called up, and in any case, only idiots would want to sell mucky stuff like coal.

The sales aspect had, however, been rather submerged when we arrived, there being a greater potential for coal as a raw material both for direct energy and as a source of petrochemicals.

GAS BUSES.

As students we were on the periphery of experiments to make oil from coal, and were to some degree concerned with using portable gas producers as fuel for buses.

This latter operation was in the capable hands of one Joe Shillito who would drive us round the outskirts of Birmingham in a bus fitted out as a laboratory (well - it had an Orsat apparatus and a few thermocouples) and which towed a trailer on which the gas producer was mounted. From time to time this had to be re-charged with coke. As the gas was water washed, the weight which had to be pulled used up a high percentage of the available energy. The acceleration was about 0-30 in fifteen minutes. Even in the greatest privation of the war, I cannot recall this experiment becoming extensively utilised.

THE BLACK STUFF.

Our mining connection enabled us to be introduced to the petrology of coal. "It is a rock, not a mineral" we were emphatically told. The axiom that minerals are substances which are mined did not seem to agree with this entirely. I could make a case either way, but it seems hardly worth the bother.

We learnt that coal was mined by either the 'Long-Wall' or the 'Bord and Pillar' method, that there was a lot of dust, (remember the Konimeter?)  as well as methane and water down coal mines; it was also b***** hot! Furthermore, the coal had to be brought from the coal face up to ground level. We then went on to learn how it was treated. As mined, it contained vitrain, clarain, durain and fusain, the relative proportions of which determined its friability. It also contained, as mined, a good deal of incombustible material from some of which it could be separated. The lumps also varied in size.

Having recovered from our surprise at these gems of learning, we were introduced to screening plant in which the coal was divided into large coal, middle sized coal, and small coal. Stacey Ward once distinguished himself by pointing out to our amazement that the large coal was bigger than the middle sized, and the middle sized was bigger than the small. Our incredulity at this confidence was unbounded, but having recovered, we then proceeded to make acquaintance with coal washing, the principal machine for this appearing to be the "Baum" washer. As "Baum" is German for "Tree", this seemed to be one of those curious facts that one must accept without question, otherwise one is liable to be charged with nit-picking. The other method of cleaning coal was by the process of 'froth flotation' which hitherto we had associated with the products of Messrs. Mitchell & Butler, the renowned Birmingham brewers.

As my particular 'line', and eventual thesis was to do with coal carbonisation, I was not terribly interested in all this. I had at school been attracted to analytical chemistry and so was more concerned with coal analysis and its derivatives.

WEE GEORGIE WOOD.

Apart from work in the Mining Department, we also had a plethora of additional courses in other departments. The one I hated was Oil Chemistry in the Oil Department. This course was presided over by a certain Mr. Wood, who, being small in stature with shiny glasses and wisps of white hair, bore such an uncanny resemblance to his comedian namesake, 'Wee Georgie Wood', that he could be called by no other name. It was unfortunate that his lectures to us seemed always to be on a hot summer afternoon following our being up most of the previous night fire watching or on guard duty. It is difficult not to drop off under such conditions when the only stimulus to do otherwise is the chemical composition of butadiene and the structure of the double naphtha ring.

I therefore rather resented, on one such occasion, being diagnosed by 'Wee Georgie' as suffering from 'chronic inertia'. I thought that it was acute fatigue.

About all I can remember now about Wee Georgie's teaching was that 'if you drop a bottle of sulphuric acid on the floor, DON'T look down at it.' Eye shields were not issued in those days.

It was in his laboratory that Messrs. Perks and Hulland discovered that a mixture of pure alcohol, water and sulphuric acid - in the right proportion of course - made an almost acceptable war-time substitute for G & T.

MECH ENG.

Another lecturer we encountered on a weekly basis was a Mech. Eng. lecturer named Boden. He once wrote a lengthy equation on the blackboard, and from our elevated position, it was plain to us that most of this cancelled-out to give the simple result, viz - 2. He, however, from his position, could not see this. He was the proud possessor of an extra long slide rule, and with this and with great concentration proceeded to work out the equation, the solution to which he eventually pronounced with triumph as 1.9999. After the cheers had died down!

Boden was, however a good teacher, especially of Machine Drawing. Under his tutelage I was able to pass an examination in this, the subject being a six-cylinder crank-shaft. That takes a bit of doing!

We made a periodic visit to the University Power Station for some practical Mech. Eng. I remember using an 'Indicator' to determine the Mean Effective Pressure in a steam engine cylinder, experience of which has proved to be of little use in my subsequent careers, but, on the other hand, it might have been.

PHYSICS.

Once a week we went over to the Physics Block for a lecture in Physics. On the way we had to pass a mysterious building to which entry was strictly forbidden. Little did we know that inside it was someone called Cockcroft trying to split atoms!

In the Physics lecture room was one of those 'blackboards' consisting of an endless roll of black cloth with a roller at top and bottom. As the lecture proceeded, the bottom roller was turned with a handle, thus exposing an unused surface. It was inevitable that one day, the chalk scribblings from the beginning of the lecture would eventually re-appear from below when the handle was turned. We waited for weeks - months - then, one day, it happened. Again - when the cheering subsided ........

SUBSIDIARIES.

For a curious subject entitled 'Economics of Transport' we had a little dapper Jewish lecturer called Shenfield. He would come in, open his notes, lecture for 29½ minutes apparently without stopping for breath, and walk out. We had no difficulty in failing to make any sort of rapport with him - curious!

A certain Professor Smith of Economics lectured to us from time to time on that subject. These were, I think, the only lectures we had at which ladies were present. Curiously, the female of the species seemed to lack enthusiasm for such essentials as coal crushing. What should have been the acceptance into our otherwise macho lives of a little feminine gentility failed to materialise. The ladies in question seemed so to lack a certain desirable something that they failed to cause any rise in blood pressure. There was a certain Helen Poole concerning whom Percy was ribbed, but who was particularly notable for having the opposite effect - poor soul! We were disgusted on one occasion when the Prof. had to spend much time in one lecture explaining the purpose of a graph to these female morons.

Probably with the aim of protecting us against potential customers who, having purchased from us in good faith an 'excellent fuel' and then finding it with a non-refractory ash content of 50%, we suffered a short course in Commercial Law. For this we met a lugubrious character in a black gown and grey hair who looked as if he had been rejected by the judicial bench for having some secret sorrow. I cannot remember his name, and about all I can remember of his teaching was his defining a 'Tort' as a civil wrong. This did not mean a great deal at the time, but it has since come in handy when trying to solve a crossword puzzle.

For 'Industrial French' we had to travel to the rabbit warren which comprised the Edmund Street section of the University in the middle of the city. This meant another 2½d on the tram, but it was timed so that usually those of us who travelled daily could go straight home afterwards. Edmund Street was held in low esteem by the elite who spent most of their time at Edgbaston. It tended to be overstocked with blue-stockings, most of the men students who would otherwise have been studying such dilettanté things as English, Classics, Modern Languages etc. having had the true worth to the nation of their dilettanté disciplines exposed by their being 'called up'.

The designers of our French course had made the erroneous assumption that we had arrived at University possessed of a certain fluency in French. The lady teacher whose misfortune it was to discover that this assumption was unwarranted did, however, accept the situation with good humour and set us to read and translate a book called 'Baudouin des Mines' from which I learnt to translate the legend on the back of my watch - 'Acier inoxidable'. We came to look forward to these French sessions as we got home early. Sometimes there was even time for tea and bun before train time.

SILICOTIC LUNGS!

A great treat was a visit to the museum section of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. We had been told about the effects of silicosis and pneumoconiosis on the human lung, so we must now see it with our own eyes. There on the museum shelves, pickled in formalin, were the exposed lungs of some unfortunates who had expired after contracting one or more of these conditions. (The 'banking' of specimens of human tissue has since caused great scandal!). The day of our visit coincided with high summer and some of us found that there were certain gastric disadvantages attached to this treat. I just managed to stick it out, but the rapid exit from the scene of Ian Hope was later explained by a small patch of damp detritus on a handy flower bed.

THE MINING MAGAZINE.

In my final year I became Editor of the University Mining Society Magazine. Robert Haslam (see above) was appointed my Assistant Editor. The 'Mag' was a 'Glossy' annual production which was sent to alumni and to the heads of certain firms who had been conned into sponsoring us by advertising. For some years it had been produced at a loss. I discovered that this was due to the use of glossy paper not only for adverts, but also for the articles. We decided that by interleaving the glossy ads. with a cheaper paper, we could break even. This seemed to be approved by the 'powers that be'.

At this time we had attached to the Department a few Polish Army Officers who had been mining engineers before the war. They were persuaded to write an article about the coal mines in Silesia. Little did I know that fifty years later I was to encounter former British Prisoners-of-War who had been forced to work in some of those mines.

I do not know how much interest the article stimulated - probably very little, but the complicated maps they supplied looked good.

VACATION WORK.

During vacations, we were expected to do some 'Vacation Work' at some relevant factory or works, this in addition to our military Continuous Training, having to do some study, preparing a thesis in the final year, and having some holiday. Shorter vacations sometimes meant visits to local works - I spent some time at Stourbridge and Cradley Gas Works. During the longer summer vacation we were expected to go away and for longer periods.

WORKINGTON 1941.

During my first summer vacation, Ian Hope, Percy Pickston and I were instructed to go to Workington in Cumberland. We took bikes with us on the train, first to Warrington where we stayed over-night with Percy at Penketh. The next day we took another train to Penrith, changing to the branch line which then ran through Keswick and Cockermouth to Workington. There under the banner of the United Steel Company we were to spend equal amounts of time on Coke Ovens, Blast Furnaces and Collieries. The object seemed to be to collect enough information to enable us to write lengthy essays on 'what I did on my holidays'. As far as I can recall, there was no formal instruction. At the Coke Oven and Blast Furnace plants we were encouraged to wander at will and find out how everything worked. This involved asking workmen what they were doing. Sometimes you got co-operation, more usually advice of an irrelevant nature! In those days there were no hard hats, protective goggles, CO detectors or insurance. It was only by the grace of God that we managed to return alive.

When 'on' the collieries we visited by bicycle the mines at Risehow (Maryport), Harrington and Moresby, having a conducted tour of Risehow underground. As the seam was only about 2ft. thick and extended two miles under the sea, this was no trip for claustrophobics. On returning to Birmingham, we made the most of this traumatic experience, and even managed to convince people that the under-sea seam smelt of rotten fish.

We stayed in Workington at the home of the Whitelock family who ran a boarding house which, as it was war-time, was rather neglected. The normal purpose of a boarding house in Workington was a matter for speculation. Surely no-one took their holidays there. Other lodgers in the house included a spinster lady of indeterminate age, who saw it as her duty to advise us on matters inter allia of diet. We were warned by her that excessive salt consumption would lead to hardening of the arteries. She was probably right, but as we spent most of our working day sweating profusely, the restoration of lost salt was the more immediate priority. She did not appear to understand this. Once she made objections to some of Percy's arias, but was told by the landlord that as Percy was young and happy she should not curb his expression thereof at least, that was the gist of his remarks. This was an unusual championing of the young for those days!

There was also a young naval officer with green between his rings. I once knew what that meant, but have forgotten. He was probably the rough sea snooker champion of H.M.N.

He was wont to make pertinent and pungent comments on the vicissitudes of outrageous fortune, much to our amusement. One evening he was so bored that he went to a local cinema. On his return he complained bitterly of having to sit there and watch "hours and hours and hours of b****Y Old Mother Riley". Once could hardly expect the latest premiere at Workington!

Our restricted spare time was mostly spent cycling in the Cumberland fells, which was some compensation and helped to clear our lungs of blast furnace gas and coal dust.

We returned to Birmingham wondering if we had been mad to get into this coal business, but it was probably preferable to getting shot.

AVONMOUTH 1942.

During the second summer vacation, the same three of us were directed to the Imperial Smelting Company at Avonmouth. We lodged at Shirehampton in a council house.

At the works we were set to do various tests on the zinc smelter, sintering plant, phosphate plant, and on the boilers. Most of the time we spent breathing air which contained a toxic quantity of sulphur dioxide and G.K.W. else. This, and subsequent events probably accounts for my later lack of olfactory sense.

The clerical work, which followed our saving the company large amounts of money on otherwise wasted fuel (you can believe that if you like!) involved our spending some time in the works library. The librarian was a comely lass named Margaret who made a welcome change of company from the rude mechanicals outside. She was also quite good at dispensing coffee at regular intervals. Percy's invoking her not to 'sit under the apple tree with anyone else but him' did get a bit of a bore after a while, particularly as an apple tree, in the Sulphur-laden air of Avonmouth, could hardly have survived, much less could it have provided an Ombra mai fu for dalliance.

For the return trip, someone discovered that there was a regular service of lorries carrying zinc ingots from Avonmouth to the galvanising works in the Black Country, and that some of them went through Stourbridge. We managed to save train fare by getting a lift on one of these. Yes, ON not IN! An open, flat-bed truck loaded with zinc was not the safest or the most comfortable of conveyances, especially as it rained for part of the way, but it was cheap and carried us and our bikes. Unfortunately, alighting from the truck in Hagley Road, I managed to gash a finger rather badly and carry the scar to this day.

FINAL DAYS.

So we returned to our studies.

After all the learning came the inevitable 'finals', and then we went away for our last 'Continuous Military Training' at Moreton Paddox, near Kineton in leafy Warwickshire. On our return came the the day when the results were published. The same night I was on guard duty with a loaded rifle, so I refrained from learning the worst until next morning - it seemed at the time to be a wise precaution. I did manage to pass, with honours, but not particularly well. This may have been due to my antipathy to Wee Georgie and to his subject. I have a suspicion that I was 'passed' because of my work in re-organising the Mining Society Magazine so that it made a profit for the first time in several years. This may have compensated for deficiencies in other directions. I shall never know whether this was so and it doesn't matter, but from it I learnt a valuable lesson, that if you can turn a loss into a profit, your academic standing is well - academic!

Having also collected Army 'War Certificates A and B' with commendation, I took leave of Birmingham in the summer of 1943 prepared or not to face the unknown.

TO 'DUCKHAMS'.

Having fully expected on the strength of my military training and success therein to go on to 'O.C.T.U' for commissioning, I was summoned to appear before a Government Appointments Board. There my case was considered, and when it was revealed that I had specialised in coal carbonisation and in the production of oil from coal, I was immediately told that I must obtain employment in that industry in view of the need for various petrochemicals. I was given the impression that my proceeding to a military career would have been a sheer waste of my education. They were probably right who knows?

The by-products of coal were, of course the raw materials for explosives as well as for petrol and various essential materials including aspirin. So I was put on 'dirty work.'

I had by this time obtained an interview with the 'Woodall-Duckham, Vertical Retort and Oven Construction Company Ltd.' of London - then at war-time headquarters at Guildford. They specialised in the installation of gas making plant and coke ovens at steelworks. I had accepted an appointment, to commence at the end of my University course, as a Junior Operating Engineer. I had 'engineered' the date of my starting with 'Duckhams' so as to allow my lungs to be cleansed and my sanity retained by going on an extended cycle tour - from Wednesday to Sunday - and having by some miracle obtained parental permission I went out "not knowing whither ... "

At least that was my story. By that time I had built up an automatic resistance to questions like "Where are you going?" (Sometimes followed even more embarrassingly by, "What for?") I knew well that I was going to try and get back to Anglesey. My visit there in 1939 had so shaped my subsequent attitudes to life that I felt that I must return. The trip is described elsewhere.

TRANSPORT.

During my University experience I lived at home, which was about twelve miles away. In these latter days, equipped with the ubiquitous motor car, this would have been a simple matter. Most people today are quite used to at least half an hour's journey to work.

Then, however, in order to arrive at Edgbaston in time for a lecture at 9.30.a.m. it was necessary to catch a train from Stourbridge Junction which left at 8.05.a.m.

When, in 1942, we moved to Wollaston, a two mile bike ride was necessary to reach the Junction, or sometimes a bus could take me to the 'Town' station, but this meant leaving earlier. At the Junction there was a corrugated iron shed, probably a relic of the first war, in which regulars were allowed to leave bikes all day for the sum of 6d. An elderly porter was delegated to take the sixpences as each arrived, and to open the shed on our return.

Usually for the winter term I held a railway season ticket. For some terms, by way of variety, I went by bus to Birmingham, and in the summer often cycled each way daily.

ON THE TRAMS.

Arrival at Snow Hill station, Birmingham or at Station Street bus terminus was followed by a swift walk to Navigation Street whence a tram would take passengers to the Selly Oak end of the University for 2½d. You could go all the way to Rubery or Rednal for 4d. in those days.

Rednal was the terminus for the Lickey Hills, a popular rural 'outlet' for Birmingham people before the war. Rubery was the terminus for the Longbridge Works where production of Austin cars had given way to aircraft and munitions.

Avoidance of the 'Pershore Road' tram was advisable as this turned left at Pebble Mill Road, which left you stranded half a mile from University.

The method of its doing this left turn remained a mystery for some time. Nobody ever got out of the tram to change the points. Then somebody came up with the observation that trams going straight on coasted over the points, whilst those turning left went over under power. I never heard the details of this but it seem to be a viable hypothesis. It does illustrate, however, the superior engineering skill of Birmingham. In lesser places like Manchester and Leeds, tram conductors had to get out and shift points manually with a crowbar.

BOMBS AND THINGS.

Living at home had certain economic advantages, but tended to separate those who did from the social life of the University. Those living in 'Hall' or in local 'digs' had advantages in that respect as well as being able to avoid perpetual parental inquisition. At certain times one was delayed by bombing, which tended to happen overnight, leaving the railway in a bit of a mess. One German bomb could do more to a set of rail tracks than any of the causes with which Railtrack has had to deal in recent times. And somehow the trains did get through.

One morning we arrived at Navigation Street tram terminus to find that a land-mine had been dropped and that trams were terminating half a mile down Bristol Street. On the whole, however, we seemed to manage remarkably well. In spite of the University providing an excellent landmark in the shape of the Chamberlain Tower - over 300 ft. high - I cannot remember any bombing of the University site itself.

UP THE TOWER.

One of the functions of the Tower was to provide a vantage point from which night-time 'Incidents' could be spotted. Round the top of the tower was an open balcony, at each opposite corner of which was mounted a theodolite. The Home Guard contingent on duty would provide a two-man unit on this balcony each night from dusk onwards.

If bombs, flares, fires, car headlights or breaches of the blackout regulations were seen, a bearing was taken and this reported by telephone to a control centre somewhere in the city. Relating this to similar bearings taken from other vantage points enabled rescue services, A.R.P. or the police, to pin-point the location of the incident.

As the tower was 300ft. high, the open balcony was, at 2.a.m. on a frosty night, not the most comfortable of places. 'Wear at least two of everything' was the order of the day, and this, added to scarf, balaclava helmet, 'tin lid', gloves, battle dress and a thick army greatcoat, just managed to stave off frostbite and hypothermia for the duration of the two-hour shift.

Having endured this watch over several terms, my promotion meant that I took over the rôle of Guard Commander. This meant that I had to change a guard every hour overnight, unlike hoi polloi who having done their shift could dream the night away - what was left of it. At least I did not have to do tower duty and could keep reasonably warm.

To reach the tower balcony there was a lift. It was rather scary, as it gave the impression that the guide rails were old tram-lines on end which had not been properly straightened. Once you reached about the 100 ft. level, alarming clunks and bangs developed which caused gloomy thoughts to arise. Nor was the possibility of the tower being bombed entirely absent. Perhaps we should have had parachutes.

ON GUARD.

Each platoon did overnight duty every sixth night, which meant that you had to work things out carefully when making a 'date'.

When on duty, 'supper' consisted of tea and toast, one private being detailed to produce this item of haute cuisine.

Cooking facilities consisted of an ancient gas stove just off the guard room. One night Ian Hope was selected for the honour. Putting toast under the grill and a kettle of water on the gas ring above it, he managed to time things so exactly that as soon as the toast burst into flames, the kettle boiled over and extinguished the blaze. As far as is known, this recipe has not appeared in any cookery book. Perhaps there was, after all, some resemblance to 'Dad's Army'.

For those on duty, camp beds and blankets were provided in the guard room. It was there that I learnt to fold army blankets so that they did not fall apart at some ungodly hour, and also to keep relatively still when asleep - for the same reason.

On certain occasions, the Duty Officer with my platoon was Prof. Smalley-Baker, the distinguished Professor of Law. He was responsible for the training in Law of Michael Davies, mentioned above. He was a very pleasant man, and as the comparatively luxurious Staff Room was immediately opposite the Guard Room, was wont to invite the Guard Commander to share the luxury of armchairs with him. A silver box of cigarettes would be put on the table, and we would smoke the night away whilst he told interesting tales of his legal experiences and of his life before and during the first world war. Just prior to that war he had seen, with some alarm, the German Grand Fleet at Kiel.

Meanwhile the troops next door were tossing fitfully on their camp beds. Every hour or so we would rise and change each guard, and then return to luxury.

The great advantage of doing guard duty was that we were entitled to an allocation of army rations. Civilian food was tightly rationed. This allocation was utilised by the provision of a very adequate and free breakfast the next morning. The apparently unlimited supply of porridge was particularly appreciated after winter duty.

After a hot bath in the 'Union' we were then expected to do a full day's academic work on which concentration was sometimes difficult.

TRAINS AGAIN.

Returning home in the evening usually meant one of three trains from Snow Hill. You could usually catch the 5.45 p.m. which was a stopping train and took an age. If the tram was on time, you might make the '5.00 fast', stopping only at Smethwick Junction. On rare occasions, after an early afternoon session at Edmund Street, you might just get the 3.50. and for once, get home early.

If you had missed the 5.00 the station buffet provided tea and a bun for sixpence, or if you were in uniform, the Church Army Canteen would provide same free.

After evening functions at Edgbaston it was necessary to remember that the last train from Snow Hill to Stourbridge was the 10.15.p.m. This was a non-corridor 'stopper, which caused problems if your liquid consumption had been more than usual. One night two or three of us just managed to pile into a compartment as the train began to move, but without having had time to use the station 'loo'. To our consternation there was already in the compartment a very smart 'City Gent' type complete with bowler and brief-case. However, five yards into Hockley Tunnel he said, "Excuse me chaps V', lowered a window, and proceeded to off-load out of it in true mediaeval fashion. This solved our immediate problem. It's never been as simple as that since!