The teacher who was living history

SEvEnty-fIvE years ago this month, at the age of 11, I started senior school at a grammar school for boys. the war in Europe had ended on May 8, and on August 15 the Japanese surrendered. servicemen were coming back gradually to civilian life. the first person I saw crossing the playground was an Army officer from British Intelligence, Mr Parker. He had come to teach us french. I helped Lt Cdr Philips unload his sea chest in a classroom; he was lucky to be alive having flown with the Royal navy throughout the war against both Germany and Japan. He had come to teach us technical and engineering drawing. the new sports master, Mr Evans, was with the Airborne Regiment and had jumped at Arnhem. But the one that stood out most had survived three years as a Japanese prisoner of war. He was a member of the Cambridgeshire Regiment that was almost wiped out in singapore. He had come to teach us history. We boys were very shocked to see a real human skeleton in front of us that first week, bright yellow in appearance, and only just able to stand. the woke brigade seem unable to understand that these sort of memories are fixed in the minds of thousands like me who lived through the war, saw the cruelty, and grew up with Rule, Britannia! and Land Of Hope And Glory in our blood. We will never change. Any others since then who did their duty over the years, feel the same. We can be very proud of the fact that we won the war against fascism, ended slavery, and that we live in a multi-cultural society, with a Commonwealth we can be proud of. We want to be friends with the rest of the world, irrespective of race or colour. the old saying that age and experience trumps youth and enthusiasm is as true today as it ever was.