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I stood for the last time on Arborfield Square
And searched for
the reason that drew me back there.
Fifty years on since I was a lad,
There were memories
here - the good and the bad.
I stood there alone and looked all around,
This was the
place, the old Parade Ground.
Nothing around it - the ‘spiders’ were gone;
Now all
demolished, their useful life done.
Save over there, through timeworn eyes,
I saw room F6,
though it looked small in size.
I walked towards it, what would I find?
Was it still
there, or just in my mind?
I peered through the window at faces of boys;
Teenagers now,
with no need of toys.
These young lads, skilled soldiers to be;
Bright, fresh
faces so familiar to me.
Frank Bass, a Geordie, with blonde spiky hair;
From Kingston, Colin
Lenihan, on his bed over there.
Bill Gibson from Arran,
so far from home;
More Scots lads
there, he won’t be alone.
John Todd, down from The Borders he’s come;
The journey’s
been even longer for some.
From Burma
there’s Tha Win, ‘Tommy’ to us,
His trip
involved much more than a bus.
Danny Yule, Dave Pickworth, they’re pipers true;
Ex ‘Dukie’ Ray Mannall, he’s in a band
too -
A bugler of note, name him a call,
‘Reveille’ to
‘Lights Out’, he’d play them all.
Hattrel was there, but just for a while;
Some of his
antics made us all smile.
Gordon boys, Don Loader, Mike Reed too,
These were my
friends, lads I once knew.
I look at my bed space - there’s nothing to see;
I now know the
future, how my life would be.
I look back at their faces, so young, full of fun;
They know not
their future, that’s all still to come.
Turning away I look out across the ground;
My shoulders go
back as I hear the sound
Of slow march “Duke of York” played by the band;
Played with
pride - and the sound is just grand.
“Break into quick time” I hear the command,
And then start
the drones of the great School Pipe Band.
‘Marie’s Wedding’, ‘Scotland The Brave’, ‘Black Bear’,
All favourite
marches we knew and could share.
I hear "Auld Lang Syne”, a strange feeling for me,
Instead of New
Year, all I can see
Is Six Div. march out through those big sliding doors;
Part of the Arborfield School no more.
Three years of training have come to an end;
Those
fresh-faced young lads have grown into men
Ready to serve their Country and Queen,
Their bearing
and conduct, none finer seen.
I hear a young voice and turn to face
A smart
Apprentice, standing back just a pace;
Uniform pressed, neatly trimmed hair,
Could this have
been me, standing right there?
“If you’ll follow me sir, I’ll carry your case.”
With that he set
off at a real cracking pace.
“We’ll go to Reception and get you booked in,
And then your Reunion can really begin.”
I’d stood for the last time on Arborfield Square;
I now knew the
reason why I was back there,
To remember my friends, right at the start,
Friends whose
memory I hold close to my heart.
When my time is done and I go to my grave,
Write no grand
words on my headstone, save,
“Trevor Stubberfield”, and the dates of my span;
“Here Lie The
Remains Of An Arborfield Man.”
Thoughts of Trevor 52A
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