Two Jubilees and a Spitfire

This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,

go and surf elsewhere.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.

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My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.

I am trying to use terms that were used by us who were young in the UK at that time, and not to use anachronistic terms, like gay, blow job, wank, and cum. It is surprising how difficult it is.

If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.

Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Part 16

Resume:- Trevor Russell a lad from the east End of London, after a difficult early start in life, has been adopted by an Austrian Jewish refugee, called Isaac. Trevor has done well at school, and has gained a place at Cambridge. But first he has to do his National Service.

Part 16 The Army Calls

Trevor received his call up papers at the beginning of February 1951. He was told to report to the Depot of the Essex Regiment, Warley Barracks, near Brentwood, on the afternoon of Thursday, 22nd February. A travel warrant was included to get him from Leytonstone to Brentwood.

National Service was one of the things that had to be done. Two years had to be spent in the Armed Forces. He had done well in the School Cadet Force, and had ended up a Sergeant in the Army Section. So he was not totally unacquainted with military matters. But nevertheless he did have a sinking feeling in his stomach when he opened the envelope.

The remaining two weeks of civilian life seemed long at the beginning and very short towards the end. Isaac took the second week off work, so that they could 'enjoy' themselves. They went out and about. They had a day at Windsor, and another day at St Albans They went to a concert in the Albert Hall, and to the theatre. On the last morning Trevor went out and got a very short haircut. This caused Isaac great amusement.

On the final evening they stayed at home. They had a bottle of wine with their meal, That was a great treat. By mutual consent they were early into bed. Isaac had gone up first and was already in bed when Trevor came up. He lay on his back, with his hands behind his head, watching Trevor undress.

"I still get pleasure watching you do that," said Isaac.

Trevor just grinned in the familiar way back at him.

"You have grown a lot since you first came here on the Saturday in December '43."

"I should hope so. I'm a lot older."

"Do you remember your second visit when I found you shivering on the door step. My heart really went out to you that time. You looked such a desperate waif or stray. Yes, I'd liked and enjoyed your first visit. But that second time, you came of your own volition and not for money."

"But I've cost you a bloody fortune since!"

"I would have willingly paid double. I shall miss you."

"Get another young boy then," suggested Trevor, sticking his tongue out at Isaac.

"I'm too old to do that again."

Trevor stood naked and stretched his hands high above his head.

Isaac looked with approval at the young man before him. Trevor stood about six foot tall, perfectly proportioned. There was now a still extending patch of hair on his chest. His legs and arms were quite hairy. His cock and balls hung down mature and heavy. There was a thick patch of dark wiry pubic hair that was steadily extending upwards, threatening to join forces with the chest hair extending downwards.

"And that's grown too." said Isaac, as Trevor cupped and pulled on his genitals giving them complete freedom as a preparatory move to getting into bed. "I remember when I first sucked it, and you did not think it right."

"Oh yes, that old adage, 'Young uns suck, old uns fuck,' I'd forgotten that," said Trevor.

"I could get it all into my mouth in those days. Not so easy to get it in now."

"It's only just over six inches long," said Trevor.

"But it's thick too."

"Yours is not exactly a midget."

"No, we're probably about the same size."

"As long as I can take yours where it matters I'm happy."

"Same here." Isaac pulled Trevor closer to him and kissed him. "Thanks Trev, for everything," whispered Isaac.

"One of the good things in all this is that both my love and my gratitude to you go together. It must be terrible to be grateful to someone you don't like."

"I suppose it must. I hadn't thought of that possibility."

They moved even closer, their kissing increased in passion. Each felt the other's hardened cock pressing against him.

"Trevor, boy, you don't know how much I love you."

"I think I might be getting close, because I find it hard to think I could love you any more."

The tempo of their movements increased. Tongues probed harder and deeper,

hands moved with greater speed and strength. First Isaac pulled Trevor on top, and then Trevor rolled over pulling Isaac on top. Their passion continued to mount in intensity.

"Careful, we'll shoot too soon," muttered Trevor.

They pulled apart.

"How do you want it, Isaac?"

"I want to suck that wonderful exciting cock of yours. Suck it until you give me a last mouthful of your love juice, and then I want to give you my love juice in the Scottish way."

Trevor lay on his back, he opened his legs wide.

Isaac kissed and nibbled his way down from Trevor's mouth, all over his chest, licking his navel, and down into the area of greatest delight. He licked, and kissed. He nibbled with his lips every part of Trevor's cock and balls, he worked his way underneath, and Trevor raised his buttocks to give Isaac fuller access. Trevor moaned with pleasure. Isaac used every skill he had acquired to prolong and increase their pleasure. Eventually he began to concentrate more and more on sucking Trevor's penis. Then with a louder moan Trevor signified that the climax was approaching. Great throbbing jets of spunk spurted out into Isaac's welcoming mouth.

"I think they ought to give you an honorary Ph.D. [Doctor of Philosophy - a high University degree] for sucking my cock." said Trevor, as he stopped panting, and came back down to earth.

They lay in bed cuddling for about twenty minutes.

"This marks an end of a chapter," said Isaac. "Tomorrow you're off into the Army. You're beginning to leave home. In a sense this'll always be your home. You'll come home on leave. When you're up at Cambridge there'll be the vacations. But then what?"

"We don't know the future. But I'll always think of this as my home. My Limehouse days are now a distant, and fading memory. I have to think to remember things."

"Remember the important things. Your father. His love for you. Those good short years you had with him. Remember him with love, deep love in your heart. You think you're like him. Be a good man like him, be in his image in more than outward appearance. I know the relationship with your Mum was more complex. But she too loved you, in her way. Letting you go, letting you come here, couldn't have been easy for her. Remember her last days. She loved you too."

"Yes, that's true. Thanks for reminding me." Trevor reached down and felt Isaac's limp cock. "This fella needs his fun. These need to be emptied." Trevor cupped Isaac's balls. The cock began to extend and harden in Trevor's hand. When it was fully hard, Trevor nipped out of bed, and prepared himself. Then he lubricated Isaac's cock. "Must get this shaft in working order."

"How do you want me?" asked Isaac.

"Like that first time in your chair. Me sitting on top, with this deep inside me."

Isaac rolled onto his back, and Trevor got astride and lowered himself onto Isaac's cock. They looked at each other. Each saw in the other the years of their being together, all that they had shared. There were the good times, like the discovery of each other, the holidays in Scotland, and the many, many nights together in that very bed. There were the bad times, the time when Trevor's Mum had died, the prolonged agony of Isaac's realisation that all his family had died in the Holocaust, except for Joseph, and he too was a painful memory. There was the time Trevor had been beaten up outside school. As they looked into each others eyes they recalled these times.

"I don't know whether your cock was forged to fit into my arse, or whether my arse was moulded for your cock, but it fits in perfectly," said Trevor.

"Probably a bit of both."

Isaac began to press his cock up into Trevor, who immediately began to respond. Both felt the well oiled movement of the erect penis thrusting in and out. Their pleasure was beyond words to describe. Then Isaac offered his gift of love deep into Trevor, who received it with joy and gratitude.

They sank down into each other's arms. Sleep overtook them while they were still firmly entwined.

The next morning was a strange time. They were both waiting, not wanting the time to pass, yet knowing that nothing meaningful remained to be said or done. One of the last things Trevor did was to go upstairs for a last look round. On the chest of drawers in his own un-slept in bedroom there was Harry's Spitfire. Trevor went across and held it. He thought of Harry,

and wondered where he was. His eyes moistened. Then he put it away in a drawer, and went down stairs.

It was a short journey from Leytonstone to Brentwood. Trevor took the tube up to Liverpool Street Station and then the train out to Brentwood. When he got off the train he looked around and thought he could spot two or three other likely recruits. When he got outside the station there was an army truck and a corporal and another soldier watching those who left the station. He walked across.

"Joining up?" said the twin striped soldier.

"Yes, Corporal," replied Trevor.

"In the truck with you."

There were half a dozen young men in the truck that made its way the three quarters of a mile to the Barracks. Then began the process of turning civilians into soldiers. They were sent to the quartermaster's store where they were issued with uniforms, boots, underwear, socks, mess tins and all the other items that made up the basic equipment of a soldier in 1950. On that first day the clothes that he had arrived in had to be parcelled up so that they could be posted back to Leytonstone. The next few days were a whirl of activity, and of being shouted at. They were drilled on the square for hours on end. They did exercises in the gym putting muscles into some, where little in the way of muscle had existed before. They were lectured on a variety of subjects. They were told about the Essex Regiment. It was a proud regiment of the line, with the nick name of the Pompadours, apparently having captured Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of King Louis XIV of France at one time. What the 'licentious soldiery' did with her is not recorded. They were lectured with illustrations on the horrors and perils of venereal disease. They found their way to the NAAFI [Naval Army Air Force Institute] where it was possible to buy refreshments and other things of an evening. They were issued with their Pay Book, Part 1, which contained vital information about their military career, and Part 2 which was used when pay day came round.

It was on the second day that the corporal inspecting the recruits stopped behind Trevor and shouted "Haircut". What was already short was to be made even shorter.

Queen Victoria was on the throne when the main part of the barracks had been built. There were eight men in each barrack room, each man with his bed and his locker. There they spent many hours cleaning their equipment and especially bulling their boots. This was to make the toe cap initially, and then the whole of the boot like black glass. Old soldiers muttered advice about the best way sometimes using a candle and a hot spoon, or whatever; but the best way was always found to be spit and polish. They spent hours and hours applying boot polish on a cloth with spit to the toe cap of each boot, hours and hours of rubbing a finger in small circles.

Only those who had been away at a boarding school had already experienced sleeping in a room with a group of other guys. Differences were soon revealed. There were a couple of guys from Bethnal Green, a part of London very close to Limehouse where Trevor had spent his early years. He listened to accounts of a life that might well have been his if he had never met Isaac. Another man came from a small village, and had never been further afield than Colchester before joining up. They talked as they blancoed their webbing, polished the brass, or bulled their boots. There were graphic and detailed accounts of heterosexual activity. Man to man sex was never mentioned, not even in a homophobic story. Trevor knew that he was in an organisation where to be found having sex with another man would mean a spell in the Military prison, followed by a dishonourable discharge.

Trevor appreciated the glimpses he had of cocks and bums in the barrack room, changing for gym, or in the showers. He did wonder if any of his fellow soldiers were like him.

Slowly over the first six weeks they began to take on the appearance of soldiers. They began to walk smartly. They acted as one in obeying the shouted command. They even started to feel proud that they were British soldiers, the best in the world they were told often enough, and the Essex Regiment - the finest regiment of the line, and certainly better than any of the Guards Regiments.

Every week Isaac and Trevor exchanged letters. Both were careful in what they wrote in case the letter should fall into the wrong hands. Often it was in a code that they both understood but which another reader would not get. There were statements like, 'last night I wished I was back in Scotland,' or 'remember that first time you took me into Epping Forest?' or 'it was a good time when we went swimming at Strontian'. They both found relief with the aid their own hand in the loneliness of their separate beds.

Once Trevor telephoned Isaac, but talking was difficult. Trevor did not do it again as he found that it made him feel homesick.

At the end of six weeks they were granted a 48 hour pass. They were dismissed at 3.00 on the Friday afternoon. They all rushed out of the Barrack gates, and ran the three quarters of a mile down to the station. Only a few of them could have done that without stopping and panting for breath a short six weeks before. It was quarter to five when Trevor got home to 37, Chelmsford Road. Isaac had got away from work early. Trevor knocked on the door. He heard the steps coming towards the front door, and was reminded of that day years before when he had stood in the same place with Fred.

Isaac opened the door. His mouth opened in wonder. "Trev. In uniform. You've grown. What a man!"

Trevor went into the house. Isaac closed the door. Trevor put out his arms and Isaac went into them. They hugged and kissed.

"You look so healthy and strong, Trev. But I have missed you."

"You've had nothing new. I've had all the excitement of a new way of life, and have been kept incredibly busy every hour of the day and a lot of the night. But I've been longing for this. We've got until Sunday late afternoon." He thrust his tongue into Isaac open mouth, and reached down and held his cock and balls. "And how are things down there?"

"Missing you, Trev. And yours?" asked Isaac doing the same to Trevor.

"I've been sleeping in a room with seven others. A couple of them give me quite an urge. So it has been the case of a hard cock and tossing off. I want you, Isaac."

"Good, and I want you too. Eat now or later?"

Eat first, and then a good bath, please, to wash Warley Barracks off me, and then I'm all yours."

"No, I'm all yours," replied Isaac.

"We'll sort that out in bed. I'm in need of an early night, a very early night." Trevor grinned and winked.

"Good, so am I."

They ate and talked. They bathed together. There was little room for them both in the bath when compared with that first time long ago. They went up to bed at 8.30pm.

When they got into the bedroom Isaac said, "Stand over there, so I can get a proper look at you." He looked. "Now turn around slowly."

Trevor turned around slowly.

"You've developed a lot in these six weeks. You are no longer a boy in any way, you are hardly still a youth, you're a man."

They got into bed.

Their love making was intensely passionate. They could not get close enough to each other, or hold each other enough. Lips, tongues and teeth were active. Rampant cocks thrust against each other. Moans of appreciation and words of impatient love were exchanged.

A lot of that leave was spent close to each other. After they had had their midday meal on the Sunday they hastened upstairs for another two hours together. But the clock moves fast when it is only a forty-eight hour leave. All too soon the time came for them to dress and for Trevor to go back to the barracks.

Soon after Trevor's return to Warley his training platoon was posted to the East Anglian Brigade Depot at Bury St Edmunds. They were there for ten weeks. There was a little less 'bull shit' - spit and polish, more learning to work as a patrol, a platoon or company. There were regular days on the ranges. Trevor was one of the better shots.

They were no longer in barracks but in a camp, a camp not of canvas tents but of wooden huts. The huts were long, with beds and their attendant lockers on each side. In the very middle was an iron stove that, when it was used, made the hut warm by lights out, but was stone cold by the morning. There were a couple of tables with benches. At one end of the hut was a small separate room in which a couple of NCOs [Non Commissioned Officers] slept. The platoon sergeant slept in the Sergeant's mess, and that was presided over by that key figure the Regimental Sergeant Major, before whom all ranks below that of Captain were known to tremble.

Trevor had wondered if he would get a National Service Commission. He was disappointed that he was not even selected for a WOSB [War office Selection Board, usually called Wasbee.] It was while he was at Bury that he over heard a couple of junior officers speaking.

"Russell is a good man. I gather he's got a place at Cambridge. I wonder why he was not sent off on a WOSB."

"Simple! Just a case of wrong school, poor accent, bad background - adopted."

Trevor and his fellows talked a lot about where they might be posted when they had completed their training. In 1951 National Servicemen might be sent abroad to any of four postings. The most desirable was to the Army of Occupation in Austria, but very few were so fortunate. Then came the posting to Germany, interesting, and with the ability to get home on the longer leaves. Then there was Malaya where troops were fighting against the Communist guerrillas in the jungle. But a new possibility had opened up. British troops were now being send to Korea. That was the least attractive prospect.

Trevor had another forty-eight hour leave in the middle of his time at Bury.

In their final week the whole company was assembled in the lecture hall to be addressed by the Company C. O., Captain Kent.

"There are two things that I have to tell you. I'm afraid I have to tell you that last night Private Cook and Private Stone were caught in a disgusting and compromising situation, contrary to King's Regulations 262, sub section c. They have been found guilty of sodomy, or as you probably call it buggery. They have been sentenced to thirty days in the Military Corrective Establishment at Colchester, followed by a dishonourable discharge from His Majesty's Armed Forces. These two men have brought a disgrace upon the Army in general, and the Essex Regiment in particular."

He paused for a moment. "I expect there has been a lot of discussion as to your posting on the completion of your training. I am now able to inform you, that the majority of you are going to be sent out to Korea. You will have the honour to fight for the United Nations in the cause of freedom." He then gave a brief history of the war in Korea, and tried to raise some enthusiasm. "Because you are going abroad you will have a longer leave, the usual leave marking the end of your training, plus embarkation leave. Any questions?"

Isaac took a week off and they went up to Scotland. Fergus was away reading medicine at Edinburgh. Trevor thought that the ladies were ageing fast. Isaac and Trevor were allowed to help more. They were able to help prepare the meals, things like the peeling potatoes, or laying the table, and even to do all the washing up. But the hospitality was still of a high standard: crisp clean table cloth, old heavy and good quality silver cutlery, the best dinner service, and the silver candlesticks. Trevor was no longer daunted. Nanny Flora observed how comfortable he was 'doing things properly.'

On the last evening Nanny Flora took Trevor on one side. "How do you feel about going out to Korea?"

"I have mixed feelings. I am looking forward to the travel, and seeing other lands. I wonder how I'll be if, or perhaps I should say, when I see action. I hope I'm not afraid."

"I remember an old soldier saying to me. He'd been an RSM. [Regimental Sergeant Major, a Warrant Officer First Class] He said that only fools or liars said that they were not afraid. I shall be praying to the Lord, that he will keep you safe and sound and help you conquer the fear that you will have."

"As long as I don't disgrace myself," said Trevor.

She put a gnarled and wrinkled hand on his knee. "I'm sure you won't. Isaac is going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss him."

"He's a different man since you appeared on the scene. I was so worried about him. He missed his family so much when he first came to this country.

And living alone in that house in Leytonstone, all by himself! But then you came. I could tell from the first time he wrote mentioning you that he was very, very fond of you."

"I owe him so much. He rescued me" said Trevor very softly.

"You owe each other a great deal. And then, when you finish National Service, it's Cambridge?"

Trevor nodded.

"Isaac says you've done extremely well. But I don't fully understand these things."

"Yes. I'm looking forward to Cambridge. Though I have my fears about that too."

"Oh?"

"I wonder how I'll be, a lad from the East End up at the Varsity with all those posh-speaking toffs."

"But you'll be there because you won your place, not because of who your father is, or what some distant ancestor did, or even which school you went to. You English are a snobby lot, always reckoned birth more highly than education. We Scots, since the time of John Knox, have always reckoned education highly. Any fool can be noble born, or well off because of some family fortune, but the good Lord does not give everybody a good brain and the determination and commitment to use it."

Isaac back came into the room. "I think we ought to be on our way, Trev. We need to say goodbye to the good Ladies of Strontian."

The farewells took some time as all realised that they would not be seeing Trevor for well over a year.

When Trevor came to say goodbye to Nanny Flora, as he bent over to kiss her, she whispered in his ear. "I shall be praying for you every day that the good Lord will keep you safe, and that you will have courage."

Isaac and Trevor walked in silence back to the MacKenzie's croft. Trevor was wondering if he would see the three ladies again. Isaac was having similar serious thoughts, as he was only too well aware that they were getting very frail, and the deterioration in all of them was getting more rapid.

The last three days of Trevor embarkation leave passed very rapidly. There was a lot of touching during the day: a hand on an arm; a touch on the bottom when passing. Just standing and cuddling each other while the kettle came to the boil. Small words of endearment whispered in each other's ears.

On the final night their love making was gentle, and prolonged. All too soon the alarm clock was ringing. Even quicker came the time for Trevor to leave. They had talked about the moment of parting, and decided that Isaac should not come to the station. The final hug and kiss was in the hall way.

Private Trevor Russell 22503xyz [Footnote 1] went off to war with tears in his eyes.

*** Back at the Military Camp at Bury St Edmunds Trevor's unit was issued with the kit they would need. This was checked and re-checked that they had everything they would require. They were given the inoculations they required.

They were transported to Tilbury Docks were they embarked on the troop ship.

Late in the evening of July 19th on the falling tide the ship departed and began its long journey to the Far East. They woke the next morning with the ship making its way down the Channel.

"Now I know what it feels like to be a fucking sardine." commented one of Trevor's mates on the cramped conditions.

"I just 'ope no one's bloody sea sick," said another.

The next night in the Bay of Biscay they were pitched around and several were sea sick.

"That were nothing," said one of the crew, "wait till we get some real rough weather."

They saw the rock of Gibraltar as they turned into the Mediterranean. The sailed on through the Western Mediterranean, and stopped to refuel at Malta. They were not allowed to land, but Trevor saw with interest the still visible effects of the severe bombing during the war. It became warmer as they sailed on towards Port Said. They watched with interest a different culture as they sailed through the Suez Canal. But again they were not allowed to land. There were no trips to see the pyramids. Then when they were in the Red Sea, they knew what it meant to be hot. The only breeze was from the movement of the ship, but there was nowhere cool on board. Then the ship put into Aden and they were allowed to land. Though every effort had been made to keep them fit, there was limit to what could be done with a large number of men in the restricted space on board ship. For four days in Aden they were drilled and exercised, sent running. Then back with them on board, the ship made its way across the Arabian Sea to Colombo.

They landed, and again they were exercised. But this time they did have more free time to enjoy the flesh pots. Some found a brothel, and enjoyed sexual relief with a dark skinned maiden. Others went out and got drunk. Trevor just wandered around. He too would have liked some sexual relief, but did not know how to find the sort he required. He found himself in the company of a man whose bunk was close to his. They had talked together briefly on the voyage out. Now for the first time they were alone together,

if being in the hustle and bustle of a city can be called being alone. His companion's name was Eric Hassock.

Eric came from Norfolk, where he lived in a small village, and had worked on a farm before being called up. With their different backgrounds, they found they had a lot to talk about. Trevor's only rural experience had been those months in Somerset at the beginning of the war, now over ten years earlier. Eric had never been to London, and he thought Trevor was widely travelled having been to Scotland several times.

Eric was the youngest of a large family. They may have been as poor as church mice, but they were a happy and loving family. Eric was missing them acutely.

Trevor told him about being an only child, and of losing his father and then his mother. He gave Eric an accurate, though edited, version of his life with Isaac. He did not mention that he was going to Cambridge when he had finished National Service. He wanted to sound as ordinary as possible. Together they enjoyed the sights and sounds, and some of the smells of their first encounter with the East.

Back on board and on their way the ship sailed across the Bay of Bengal making its way to the next port of call, Singapore. They had a few hours on land, before they were making their way towards Hong Kong. Trevor continued to write a weekly letter to Isaac, he also wrote once to the Ladies at Strontian, and wrote also to Fergus. He sent cards to Isaac, the ladies, and Fergus from each place where he landed.

Trevor and Eric were among the first into their bunks on the first night out of Singapore. It was the usual scrum of men undressing and climbing onto the bunks. There was much naked flesh to be seen, but all had got used to it. Trevor was in a top bunk, and Eric in the bottom one across a gangway.

One of the last men was getting undressed further down the gang way. Trevor watched idly. The man was just in a vest when he took off his trousers. A naked bottom came into view. Then the man bent over to pick up something from the floor. More was exposed to view. Trevor liked what he saw, and glanced quickly at Eric hoping that he had not been caught watching the spectacle. Eric was watching as well, and a split second after Trevor looked across at Trevor. For a moment their eyes caught, and then embarrassed at being caught looking at the exposed bottom, they turned away. Trevor was thoughtful.

They landed at Hong Kong, and were taken up into the New Territories close to the frontier with China. They were put into a military camp, and had three weeks of intensive training. Trevor and Eric were put into different huts, but the friendship begun on the streets of Colombo continued. They often met together in the NAAFI, eating, drinking and talking together. Nothing was said about the incident on that first night out of Singapore, but Trevor noted that girls, other than his sisters, did not feature in Eric's conversation. But neither did they in Trevor's.

It was in Hong Kong that their mail caught up with them. Trevor had several letters from Isaac, and ones from Nanny Flora and Fergus. Trevor opened Nanny's letter first, it was dated 26th July, just a week after he had left Tilbury. My Dear Trevor, You are very much in my thoughts and prayers. I have been trying to picture where you might be on your voyage. It is a pity you will not be able to see some of the sights, but you are a soldier, not a traveller. Millie has not been at all well lately, we have had to call in Dr MacKenzie to see her. He told us that Fergus was doing well at Edinburgh. I pray for your safety both morning and night. Millie and Mary send their love. With love, Flora MacClean.

The letter from Fergus was a lively account of being a medical student at Edinburgh. Though Fergus did not actually say so, Trevor gathered from reading between the lines that Fergus had made a couple of 'special' friends.

Trevor examined the dates of the postmarks on Isaac's letters, and set out to read them in order. They had agreed that they would write to each other once a week, though they realised that would probably not always be possible for Trevor. All of Isaac's letters were written on a Saturday.

His first letter gave the reason why. He wrote:- "I have decided to write to you on a Saturday when I get back from the synagogue. That time of the week has special significance for us both. It was the time of our first meeting, and also the week later when I came home to find you shivering on the doorstep. What a lot has happened for us both since then. I don't think either of us would have imagined that we would still be in contact."

The next two letters contained small items of unimportant news. The second of which thanked Trevor for his first letter, was postmarked Gibraltar. "I hope you managed to see the apes, to see whether they looked more like you or me, i.e. which of us is closer to the missing link!"

The next letter contained more serious news. Dear Trev, Thanks for your letter from Egypt. I continue to miss you a lot. I had a phone call last Sunday evening from Dr MacKenzie. He told me that Millie was seriously ill, and he did not expect her to last much more than forty eight hours. I decided to go up to Scotland. I went into work on Monday morning and explained the situation and they have given me compassionate leave. I took the sleeper up to Fort William and then a bus down to Corran Ferry. Dr MacKenzie kindly met me there, and took me to Strontian. Millie was extremely ill, and passed away on Wednesday evening.

I then had to arrange the funeral for Flora and Mary. They are quite devastated, and are looking more frail than ever. I think with a lot of extra help the two of them might just manage for a while, but I dread to think what will happen when the next one goes. I am the executor of her will, and she has left everything to be divided equally between Flora and Mary. She had very little - just a few hard earned savings.

Four weeks after his arrival in Hong Kong Trevor was on the move again. It was a much shorter voyage from Hong Kong to Inchon in Korea.

The Korean War had broken out in the summer of 1950 when the North Koreans suddenly invaded South Korea. Both the South Korean army, and the limited US garrison troops, were totally unprepared. Initially the North Koreans swept all before them. The UN Security Council, meeting without the threat of a USSR veto, voted to resist the North Korean aggression. US troops from Japan and the Philippines were rushed to Korea. Other nations rallied to the call of the United Nations, even the French who were already fighting a bitter losing battle in Indo China, and the British who were already fighting Communism in Malaya. The tide of the North Korean advance was eventually halted leaving a foothold in the south east corner of the peninsular. The American General Douglas MacArthur landed troops behind the enemy lines at Inchon near Seoul. The North Koreans were completely wrong footed. The UN troops pushed on over the 38th parallel and advanced towards the Yalu River, which marks the northern frontier of Korea, and is the only natural boundary on the peninsula. This was regarded as a threat by the Chinese. As the UN forces [mainly US] advanced north along the valleys the Chinese moved vast numbers south, keeping to the mountains. They moved only by night, and any man breaking cover during the day was shot. UN intelligence completely failed to pick this up. Then the Chinese struck. It was now the turn of the UN forces to be caught on the wrong foot. The UN forces were driven back to something approximating to the 38th parallel. The conflict then entered a long stage with little movement, but with incidents of savage fighting,. In October Armistice negotiations opened at Panmunjom. These were to drag on until July 1953.

It was into the stalemate situation that Trevor and his Regiment [Footnote 2] landed as a part of the Commonwealth Brigade on the 8th October 1951. They were taken to a camp of wooden huts. They did some more training to get them familiar with typical Korean terrain. The weather was beginning to turn cooler after the heat of the summer. The days were bright and sunny but the nights got progressively colder. Most of Korea appeared to be mountainous with steep-sided slopes leading up to narrow ridges. It was only in the coastal plains, or in the larger river valleys that there were the flat and green paddy fields. These looked attractive but stank to high heaven on close acquaintance, as the main fertiliser had a human origin. The initial training involved a lot of going up and down hill as quickly and as quietly as possible. The lower slopes were covered with low bushes, the higher slopes tended to be bare and rocky or covered with loose rocks and stones. The tops of the hills and ridges were the vital points in this war.

If the enemy captured one top then he could move along the ridges. So both sides were building up an increasingly complex system of fortified hill tops.

Trevor and Eric found themselves in the same platoon. This suited them well, and they went around more and more together. Trevor began to become more certain that Eric's sexual inclinations lay with fellow males rather than girls. But he was far from certain as to whether Eric had ever satisfied that inclination. Trevor was cautious as he knew the penalties of being found out. He did not want to be thrown out of the army, a fact which might prejudice his place at Cambridge.

The Commonwealth Brigade were manning the line just north east of Seoul. Trevor's first experience of the front line was a five day spell on what was reckoned to be a quiet part of the front. Their position was towards the top of a hill, that overlooked a valley a couple of thousand feet deep. The North Koreans and Chinese positions were the other side of the valley. Things were usually quiet during the day, though they always had to keep their heads down. The nights were dangerous. The Communist forces usually attacked at night. They were skilled at creeping up close in silence, and suddenly bursting upon the UN positions. Nights were the time to keep awake, and sleep could be had during the day. Both sides sent out patrols down into the valley almost every night. This was supposed to give warning if the enemy was on the move, or to get information and if possible a prisoner from the enemy positions.

Trevor was sent out on patrol one night. The small group crept down into the valley, desperately trying not to disturb a stone which would make a clatter, so giving away the information that a patrol was in the area. This was especially difficult when the night was still, and the sound would carry further. He found it a terrifying experience. Every shadow could be hiding a Communist soldier. They crept close to the Chinese positions. They heard the occasional movement, a suppressed cough, and once a suppressed whisper. Then having ascertained where the enemy's position lay, they made their way back to their own position. The emotional strain left Trevor exhausted.

They began periods of four or five days in the front line followed by five days in reserve to the rear. After six weeks of that they were taken right back for a week to rest and recuperate. When they got back they heard the news that Clement Attlee's Labour Party had lost the General Election, and the Conservatives were back in power, and Winston Churchill was Prime Minister once again.

The weather got progressively colder. Soon it was not just a frost at night, but frost all day. Bitterly cold winds blew down from Siberia, bringing flurries of snow. The exposed positions of the hill tops and ridges still had to be manned with vigilance. Because the positions had been held for some months, they had been progressively improved. What had first been shallow fox holes, became deep trenches. Then wooden beams were brought up from below, and many of the trenches were roofed over, with open slits to provide a field of fire. On the reverse slopes, away from the enemy, stronger bunkers had been constructed, with small stoves, and beds. These bunkers provided shelter from the elements, but there was no way in which they were a home from home. They were not guaranteed to be safe, as one of the favourite tricks of the Reds was to infiltrate behind the UN lines and throw a couple of grenades into a bunker. It was vital to have wide awake men stationed all round at all times.

Mail started to come regularly. There was a weekly letter from Isaac and an occasional short letter from Fergus. Trevor heard no more from Nanny Flora.

Isaac's letters contained some news from Scotland, and each letter revealed his growing concern for the welfare of the two sisters.

In mid December Trevor and Eric were back in the line. From their hilltop position they watched the sun set in a blaze of reds and pinks over the Communist lines. An hour after sunset they experienced being on the receiving end of an artillery barrage for the first time. They had been warned that this was usually a prelude to a Communist attack, and that the moment the barrage stopped the Communist infantry would be upon them. After an hour the barrage began to lessen and in its place came five minutes of concentrated mortar fire.

Then through the crump of exploding mortar bombs came the yells of the Communist soldiers as they burst upon them. Machine guns, bren guns, sten guns and rifles opened fire. There were so many Communists that it seemed impossible to miss. Savage hand to hand fighting took place. The attack was beaten off. The din of the fighting suddenly stopped, and in its place was a silence broken by the cries of the wounded.

Trevor suddenly realised he had killed. He had not killed just one, but probably several of the enemy. It had all been so sudden. Much of the shooting and thrusting of bayonet had been an automatic reaction. He had not had time to register whether he was afraid or not. He realised that going out on patrol was far more fearful than defending your position. He wondered how he would feel if it came to taking part in an attack.

One night at the beginning of February Trevor was sent out on patrol. There were several sorts of patrols. The reconnaissance patrol was to gain information, a fighting patrol was larger, usually fifteen men, and was sent out to attack the enemy. A grenade attack on a position in the middle of an otherwise quiet night was an unnerving experience for defenders on whichever side. That night Trevor was on a smaller reconnaissance patrol. They crept down into the valley, and were beginning to make their way up one of the smaller side valleys on the opposite side. The moon was full, but the northerly winds were blowing clouds over. So the night alternated between a bright silvery light, which in any other circumstances would have been described as beautiful, and pitch darkness. The moon suddenly came out of a cloud, and there about 50yards ahead was a similar sized Communist patrol. Trevor's patrol froze. Had they been seen? The Communist patrol stopped. Both sides had seen each other. Both were lightly armed. They remained watching each other intently, neither side wanting to open fire. The NCO in charge of Trevor's patrol signalled for the rear man to begin to withdraw. Immediately they saw the Communists begin to draw back. Without a word having been spoken both sides had agreed to a mutual stand off. As they began to pull back Trevor and the rest began to breathe more easily.

Trevor was still in the front line when the news came through that King George VI had died in his sleep at Sandringham on Wednesday, 6th February. The officer in charge of the position had a message on the field telephone. The news passed through the unit, "The King is dead!" Everyone was stunned. He had been a popular King, stepping into the position when his older brother abdicated, leading the country through the terrible war years, conquering his shyness, and fighting his stammer. "Now what?" The question was asked by someone in Trevor's bunker. "His daughter, the Princess Elizabeth, becomes Queen," answered Trevor. "We're all soldiers of the Queen now!" With his history he wondered if she would be Elizabeth I or Elizabeth II. The Scots would not be happy with the second, as the first Elizabeth was only Queen of England.

Trevor and Eric were not on the front when they celebrated the first anniversary of their call up day.

"Three hundred and sixty five days to go," said Eric.

"And don't forget the early breakfast," added Trevor. "How are we going to celebrate our half way mark?"

"A couple of beers each."

Their friendship had grown steadily over the weeks. It was a quite undemonstrative friendship. It was also a strange friendship. Eric could barely read or write, and often Trevor would help him by reading out aloud Company Orders.

Eric found writing letters a painful and slow undertaking. "Is there a R in father, Trev?"

"Father as in Dad, or as in further away?"

"As in Dad."

"No R."

Yet Eric had a lot of common sense. Trevor often remembered a remark that had been shouted at him by a Company Sergeant Major who had discovered Trevor was going to be a University student. 'The trouble with students is they are all intellect and fuck all intelligence!" [ Footnote 3.]

They collected a couple of cans of beer each, and made their way to one of the quieter parts of the camp. They sat down on some rocks out of the wind , and watched the sun setting.

"What'll be the first thing you do when you get home, Eric?"

"A decent cup of tea, and then down to the pub for a good booze up. What about you, Trev?"

"A decent cup of tea." His mind was filled with the prospect of a good long session in bed with Isaac, but he could not say that. "I think one of the things I miss is decent music. I know we have the jazz and popular music, but I'm afraid I really like classical stuff."

"I don't understand that. I like stuff with a good beat that you can dance to."

"I suppose you'll be going back to work on the farm?"

"Yes. And you?"

"I'm going up to Cambridge."

"To Cambridge! The University?"

Trevor nodded.

"That's special ain't it?"

"I suppose so."

"I wouldn't 'ave thought you were a Cambridge type. You don't speak posh like the officers."

Trevor laughed. "Not all students at Cambridge are toffee-nosed snobs. There are a few from ordinary schools, and ordinary backgrounds like me."

"What's it like? Like a school?"

Trevor explained as much as he was able what University would be like.

"Better you than me," commented Eric. "Do you know what you will do when you finish there?"

"Not yet."

"Doctor? Lawyer? Or what?"

"Not a doctor, I've not done the right subjects. Lawyer is a possibility."

"If you become a lawyer, and I get into trouble, will you 'elp me out?"

Trevor laughed. "First, you won't get into trouble with the law; and secondly, yes, I would help you out if I could. You've been a good mucker to me."

"You too. But we'll get demobbed and go our separate ways and never see each other again."

"That's a cynical remark. I suppose you'll get wed and have a large brood of kids." said Trevor.

"I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not one for the lasses."

"What about all your sisters?"

Eric laughed. "Perhaps I know too much about girls, and 'ave 'ad enough of them. What about you? You've never mentioned a girl friend."

"I know some girls, from parties and such like. But I've never had a regular girl friend."

"Ever been kissed?"

"Yes, under the mistletoe at Christmas parties. You?"

"Much the same. 'Ave you ever fucked a girl?" asked Eric.

"No. Have you?"

"No."

"To hear the others talk, I sometimes think I'm the only chap who's never fucked a girl."

"It's all they talk about, at times, ain't it? I sometimes wonder if a lot of it's just wishful thinking, and idle blowing their own trumpets."

They sat in silence as the world around them began to darken.

"Ever had it off with a man?" whispered Eric.

Trevor nodded. "Have you?"

"Yea. With some of the lads in the village."

"My first time was with a boy when I was staying down in Somerset at the beginning of the war. He could shoot a good load of spunk. I was too young."

"And since?"

"A friend at school. Another friend in Scotland."

"I thought you might've."

"Why?"

"You never talk about girls. And I saw the way you looked at that guy's arse on the boat out from Singapore."

"I saw you looking. But didn't know what your look meant."

"I knew what your look meant," said Eric. He reached across and put a hand on Trevor's. "I wish I'd said something before."

"Why?"

"We could have done something together."

"It's dangerous to do it in the Army."

"I know, Trev, but where there's a will there's a way."

Trevor took hold of Eric's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"There are times when I'm so horny, Trev. Bashing yourself off, ain't the same as with another guy."

"I know," answered Trevor. He reached round and pulled Eric closer. In the darkness their lips found each other's. It was a long gentle first kiss of two lonely men far from home.

"Thanks, Eric. I'm glad we've discovered the truth about each other. We'll have to be very careful, but we must see what we can do."

"I know what I want to do, and that's you!"

Trevor laughed. "When the next spell up in the hills is over we're going to get our long leave. Ten days in Japan. Looking forward to it?"

"I should say," answered Eric. "We'll find a way then. I'll do you, and you'll do me."

At that moment the last post sounded. They gave each other another quick kiss, and a furtive feels of each other's endowment. They adjusted their now straightened and stiff cocks, and began to make their way back to their hut.

The next evening they dressed for their spell in the front line. Winter still had Korea in its icy grip. They knew it would be bitterly cold on the top of their hill. So first of all they put on a string vest next to the skin, then a singlet vest, army issue vest, green pullover plus a winter pullover on top, followed by a green parka. A sweat rag was used to seal the neck. On the lower half of their body they pulled on the War Office 'secret weapon' - long johns, under trousers and windproof combat trousers.

The gaiters that they had worn during training had been replaced with puttees, such as had been worn in the First World War. They were inspected that they had six pairs of socks with them. Changes of socks were essential to keep the frost bite at bay.

They were transported back to the front line. Trucks took them as far as they could. Then it was making their way to their particular hilltop. Many of the hilltops were known just by a number. Their company was assigned to hilltop 226. They were heavily laden with equipment and supplies. First they walked along a rough track and then made their way up the steep hill side. Changeovers were made at night, in an effort not to reveal the fact to the Communists. They were taking over from another Regiment. Their own Regiment would be covering several of these hilltops and the ridges linking them.

They left the valley bottom and made their way through the scrub. Then they were onto the more open mountain side. Slowly they made their way upwards,

slowed by the weight they were carrying. Hill 226 had a couple of bunkers, and a number of deep trenches. They would spend much of the daytime in the bunkers. But always a careful all round watch had to be kept, especially if the visibility was poor. One of the favourite tricks of the Reds was to creep up and put a hand grenade or two into a bunker. If there was an artillery bombardment then the trenches were essential. But if the Communists were on you, then the trenches became death traps, lethal to a grenade or the downward thrust of a bayonet.

The two Commanding Officers conferred. Junior Officers placed their men, NCO's watched and gave further orders. The relieved Regiment withdrew, leaving Trevor's Regiment.

It so happened that Trevor and Eric were sharing one of the forward trenches for two spells that first day. They were able to talk softly to each other.

"I'm glad we had our talk back at the camp," said Eric.

"We know where we both stand now. I am looking forward to Japan." Trevor put a hand on Eric's nearest buttock and gave it a squeeze.

"That feels good. You can do that all the time."

"Feels good to me," replied Trevor.

"Last good time for me was last leave with a man on the next farm. Randy sod he is too. Always wanting to get down to it. Good sucker, and likes a good fuck. We've done it together many times. When was your last?"

"Same as you. Embarkation leave. With a guy I know well." Memories of his time with Isaac came back into his mind. "Just talking about it, makes me want to get on with it here and now."

"I know. I'm as 'ard as iron. Feel me." Eric moved slightly to give Trevor easier access, and through all the layers of clothing he could feel the hardness of Eric's cock.

"Mine's the same." Trevor moved, and Eric had his feel. "Better stop talking about it, or I'll shoot in my pants."

"Sergeant won't like that," said Eric with a laugh.

They talked of other things, keeping a watch over the dry valley that lay below them.

When they were back in the bunker they were able to have a hot drink and to wash and shave. It was a strict point of discipline that every man washed and shaved each day, unless circumstances made it impossible. As the day wore on Eric became restless. They had their second spell in the forward trench. They peered through the barbed wire.

"Something's wrong." said Eric.

"What?"

"It's all too quiet."

"It's always quiet during the day," said Trevor.

"I just don't like it," said Eric finally.

They were replaced, and went back into the bunker. They ate a hot meal, and grabbed some sleep.

Just before sunset, the C.O. came round. He had a word with all the men in the bunker, and joined those out in each of the trenches for several minutes. He chatted with his men, and cheered them up with the prospect of the coming leave in Japan.

It was the usual turn and turn about between keeping watch in the trenches or getting warm and relaxing in the bunkers. Trevor and Eric watched the sun go down. Dark clouds were billowing up to the north. It was going to be a dark night.

"I don't like it!" muttered Eric.

"What's wrong? It is 'all quiet on the Western Front', commented Trevor.

"This is not the fucking Western Front. There're hordes of cunning Chinks out there."

"Just think what we'll get up to in Japan." whispered Trevor.

Shortly after dark Trevor and Eric were relieved. They retired to the bunker. Mugs of hot tea, and something to eat warmed them up. At 9.00pm they were back in their trench. This time they were not alone. The bren gun was being manned by Tom Swift and Alec Wood, who both came from Norfolk and had enlisted at the same time as Eric. Trevor and Eric were unable to have any private conversation, and in any case listening at night was even more important than watching.

At 9.30 the hill side opposite spouted sparks of light. The Communist artillery was opening fire.

"Keep low lads," said Tom.

"For what we are about to receive," muttered Eric.

They crouched lower in the trenches. A few seconds later all hell broke loose. Shells started exploding all around them. Grit and small stones showered down on them. They expected the barrage to last for at least half an hour. It usually did when the Reds were mounting an attack. But suddenly after a couple of minutes they heard another noise. The noise of yelling Reds coming in to attack. The barrage stopped and hordes of Communist soldiers were upon them.

Tom, Alec, Eric and Trevor rose in their trench to respond. The bren gun began to splutter. Trevor and Eric fired their rifles into the approaching mass. A grenade was thrown at the trench. The bren gun was blown out over the lip of the trench. Neither Tom nor Alec made a move to retrieve it. Trevor knew that the bren was their most effective weapon. He began to crawl towards it. But it had rolled a few feet down a slope, and was further away than he thought. He rose to a crouch to get the gun. Eric rose behind him in an attempt to give him some cover. Trevor felt a blow to the top of his leg, it gave way beneath him, and he fell forward. Eric was firing his rifle, and each shot told. For a while he held off the enemy. Then Eric buckled up and as he fell his face blew apart and his blood and brains were scattered around. He fell on top of Trevor. Trevor reacted immediately. He pushed Eric off, and hauled himself forward towards the bren gun. There was a mounting pain in his leg, and it felt as though he was dragging a heavy log. He reached the gun. Still lying on the ground he brought it to a firing position, and used up the rest of the magazine in firing single shots at their attackers. The tears poured down his cheeks. He knew that Eric was dead, and had been killed saving his life. He collapsed, feeling a growing pain, weakness and drowsiness.

It was Friday 28th March 1952.

Eric would have been one of the 710 British killed in Korea, and Trevor one of the 2278 wounded.

Footnotes:-

1. Soldiers at that time had an eight figure number. I have refrained from using one, as it certainly belongs to someone, and I did not want to use my own as I joined up a little later and therefore had a higher number.

2. I have deliberately not given the name of a Regiment. I did not want to attempt to describe actual actions in which brave men fought and died, or invent an imaginary action for a particular regiment. During my own National Service I met several men who had been wounded in Korea.

3. "The trouble with students is they are all intellect and fuck all intelligence!" For a time during my National Service I was on the permanent staff of a University Territorial Army Unit, and this was one of the favourite sayings of my immediate boss.

Jeff:- jeffyrks@hotmail.com