Tring Book Club: The Soldier's Return by Melvyn Bragg

It is 1946 and Sam is back from the Burma Campaign of the second world war. Post war England is richly described by the author, although the story itself is a bit by numbers. It reminded me of one of those kitchen sink dramas of the 1950's, important that it reflected the times, but the hardship of those days does not make an entertaining read. Lots of domestic stuff ( at times unremitting drudge) but very little plot. Or is it that my own father returned from Burma and the story is too close to home?

The pot is completely linear, with very small episodes when Sam remembers his experiences in Burma. I thought these would be far more important, but they are very short. at one point Sam is in a pub, sitting on his own in a corner with his pint, but nothing about what is going on in his head. This is typical of the prose that is easy to read, but of little literary merit.

The characters are all a bit one dimensional, all except Sam's wife Ellen. Almost too good to be true, the story is always at it's best when she is in it. The opposite goes for their boy Joe. His passages are mostly depressing. Which is a shame, as although I was a few years younger than Joe at the time, and lived with my parents at the house of my grandmother, there was a warmth that never came across in the book. Then at Joe's age, I still remember the smell of my father's uniform hanging in the wardrobe, and the cap he still kept. Yes, there was an outside lavatory with cut up newspaper for loo roll.

I just felt that Melvyn Bragg wanted desperately wanted to tell the story of a returning soldier, and the struggle he would have with his family and friends. It's just that this didn't make an interesting book, important though it was to describe the times.

This is what I wrote a few years ago about my father:

Before World War 2, my father was a trainee manager at Davy’s, a grocer in Sheffield. That is probably why, at the beginning of the war, he joined the Royal Army Service Corp. We know he was in Egypt in 1939. He is mentioned in a letter from his grandfather, Vincent, to another grandson, Basil Buchanan, dated 4th February 1940: "........... the third grandson went out to Egypt two and half months ago. He is in the Army Service Corps. I had a letter from him the other day and he is quite happy". From his stories, he seemed to spend most of his time racing around Egypt on a motorbike delivering supplies.

I guess the happiness did not last, as Dad contracted malaria, asthma or a disease caused by the heat. He had to be shipped home, but had to wait in various places for the first boat going west. This is how he came to be marooned in South Africa. Apparently, he had to wait some time for a boat, but enjoyed his time there immensely, being well looked after by the locals.

Back in England, the army was desperate to find more officers. I do not believe that Dad sought a commission (he was quite happy as a Private or Corporal in the RASC) but his background made him an ideal candidate. He always said (according to my brother Paul) that it was because he knew how to hold a knife and fork properly.

So off he went to Dunbar in Scotland for officer training (OCTU). This made a big impression on him. He was destined for the infantry (The York and Lancaster Regiment). It may have been around this time that he learnt how to use a rifle. He could always remember the instructions on how to load and fire, and as I remember he was an excellent shot.

So, Dad joined the Second Battalion of the York and Lancaster Regiment as a Lieutenant and was posted with them around March of 1944 to India on their way to Burma. This was the Burma Campaign that took place from January to November 1944. Apparently, Dad had made strong representations to join another battalion going to France, as he knew that another trip to the sub-continent would result in the same illness as last time. But the army had no flexibility, so off he went to India and onto Burma.

Dad had married my mother in December 1943, and was away when I was born in December 1944. He arrived back around the July of 1945, eight months after the end of the Burma Campaign, so somehow, he survived the fighting. How much of that was down to contracting that illness again, I do not know. But he was away for sixteen months.

On his return, he lived with my mother at her parents who rented a house in Rotherham. I know it had an outside toilet (with torn up newspaper for toilet roll) as that was how it was when we visited as children. He went back to work at Davy’s, resulting in an extremely long journey there and back every day. Eventually they secured their own home in Totley on the outskirts of Sheffield, which is where I started school.