"THOSE WHO ARE GONE" "THOSE WHO ARE STILL HERE" By the last of the Lavenham Risby's 1987 ou have left it a bit late Uncle Joe", my sister's boy Pat has asked me time and time again to write of my "Y past, also about my Father and Mother, Grandparents, Uncles and Aunts. Pat's brother Peter said to me over the phone, "You've left it a bit late Uncle Joe", anyway late or not, I'm having a try. I am seventysix come October, a chicken compared to some people, but I hope you will excuse my grammer and bad spelling, "That Expression" You've left it a bit late, makes me hesitant in reaching for the Dictionary. I was born Charles Joseph Risby on the 26 October 1911. This will probably be my first and last attempt at writing a book. I have got a remarkable memory, prior to the war the furthest I had travelled was London to the Zoo as a small boy and later on as a twenty one year old, in search of work, but was unsuccessful. In the 1950's I tried three times to join the army, once at Bury St Edmunds, two days later at Colchester and then about two years before the war I tried to join the territorials at Lavenham, each time I was rejected, the cause, nearly blind in left eye. Eventualy war broke out and I was conscripted into the Royal Army Medical Corp's serving my rookie days at Crookham, near Aldershot, then moving on to Ash Vale to the Army School of Hygiene, Keopth Barracks, only a few miles from Aldershot. It was near here that I was to see Rudolf Hess, Hitler's Deputy. After eighteen months there I moved on to Colchester Military Hospital. From there to Leeds Holding Depot and eventually to Grennock in Scotland boarding the one time peace time liner "Empress of Canada", 22,000 tons displacement. Traveling 'via the Gold Coast, Freetown, Cape Town and then on to turban, where I was to see my sister, about six weeks there and then on to India in the "Arundel Castle", another peace time liner. One fortnight there and away in the same ship to Iraq, Basra, Bagdad and then by rail to Terheran in Persia. After a time back to bagdad and then across the Shaiba Desert to Haifa, Palestine. From there by rail to Egypt. Then back to England and Liverpool andthen to Portmadoc in North Wales, these are just a few of my travels, but more of that later. I was born at number 42, Prentice Street, Lavenham, Suffolk. The youngest of a family of six, four sisters, one brother. My Father as a teenager worked at Ropers Coconut Matting factory in the High Street, Lavenham. Later on to become a peace time soldier in the Suffolk Regiment. He served throughout the "Boer War", 1899 to 1902, where he was to win the Distinguished Conduct Medal, next medal in merit to the Victoria Cross. With that war over he was placed on reserve and was called up on the outbreak of World War One. My mother was a horse hair weaver, working the looms. Both my parents were Lavenham born. All my sisters and brother left school at the age of thirteen. Myself I was born in 1911 and went to school in 1915 with the War just over a year gone. I can remember one or two incidents regarding the War. The German Prisoners, with the patches on their behinds and jackets, marching through Lavenham on their way to pull flax at nearby farms. Another time was when one Sunday night my Mother took me to Chapel, I was about five years of age. The Service -was about half way through, when Mrs Omilly-Long bursted into the Chapel shouting that the Zeppelins were bombing Lavenham. Everybody rose as if to go, until the Reverend Seabrook called for calm and the last Hymn was played, "The Day Thou Gavest Lord is Ended", the congregation were told to go quickly home. In the confusion I left my little cap behind, this was picked up the next day. In the event a Bomb had dropped just outside Lavenham, but nobody was hurt. I used to enjoy the time when my Father came home on leave, I would sit on his lap and he would draw pictures of a German, complete with helmet. For one period of the war he was stationed at Stowmarket. There was a Gun Cotton Factory there and Stowmarket being only12 miles away my Dad was able sometimes, to get weekend leave, and in that day and age Soldiers and Beer went well together, of course making it a bit lethal was a drop of Home made Wine, and my goodness they could certainly make it in those days. Three pints of Trumans Bitter and a half pint of home made wine would start to make you rock. This particular time Dad was home on week-end leave and he had had his share of beer and wine. When it was time to go back to Stowmarket on the Sunday night, on a bycycle he had borrowed, he went down Prentice Street, but he could not turn round the corner and finished up in Prentice River. There was ructions between Mum and Dad as his uniform was soaking wet. Another thing I can remember as a little boy, I had a tape worm inside me, it was terrible, I had it, it seemed like weeks before Doctor Hudson, the Lavenham Doctor, got it away from me. I believe it was due to malnutrition. I was four years old when I started school. My first teacher was Mrs Boby, a big buxom looking woman, with ginger hair. We were all scared of her, but she could be kind as well as stern. In the afternoon if you got tired there were hammocks to rest in, we had slates and chalks to draw anything we liked. When school was over it was a case of waiting for Mother to come home from the looms. Father of course was in the Army as the first World War had been on over a year. My young sister Ivy would have directions from Mother as to when to pop the dumplings in the big saucepan. I used to manage to be there when this operation took place, we used to pinch a cup of rabbit broth and then replace it with two cups of water. Mother would prepare the rabbit 2 stew the previous evening, when she came home dinner time she would place it on the oven and about 6 o'clock at night all of us would sit round the table, we had two big dumplings each, this was served seperate from your piece of rabbit, swede, greens and potatoes, second course was unheard of in those days. At mid-day meal you had to have anything what was going. About twice a week a soup kitchen would be runned from the Church School. My mother would send me with a huge jug, it must have held at least three pints, it used to take all my strength to carry it home. It was delicious soup with all the best ingredients in it. My jugfull would cost me about tuppence, this was realy for those in need. I shall never forget one day, I had got my soup and was crossing the road from the Doctors towards the Swan, intending to go up Lady Street. As I crossed the street, my eyes on the brimful of soup, I walked right into Jackie Walker, he was on his bycycle loaded with bread, bread and soup flew across the road. Jackie and myself were unhurt, he picked the bread up, brushed the dirt off with his hand and mounted his bike, not one word of reproach. Myself I was terrorstricken, I daren't go home, I wandered about Lavenham all day after coming out of school. At 8 o'clock at night I summoned enough courage to go home, there was Mother waiting for me. No questions asked, she gripped me by the back of the neck, rattled my ears and pushed me up the stairs, I had had no food since breakfast time. I was severn years of age when Dad came home from the War. He went to work on Manor Farm, Preston, belonging to a Scotsman, Mr Gray, he was a nice man. We used to hold our Sunday School treats on his lawn in front of the house, they were very enjoyable times. I once asked my Father why he walked all that way to work, it was over a mile, "To keep your bellies full" he replied. He would set snares every night on his way home and in the morning he would pick up the rabbits. Mr Gray would permit him to take a couple of swedes from the field. Every night I had the job of watching for Dad coming round the corner at the bottom of Prentice Street, he would enter the Anchor Inn and have his pint of Bitter, as soon as he came out I would tell Mum and out would come the lovely dumplings. Father would be the first one to be served, when we had finished eating rabbit, swede, spuds and greens we - were full up, I am now nearly 76, I would not swap that dinner for one at the Savoy Hotel. Round about this time my Mother was subjected to sick head aches, it seemed terrible as a small boy to watch my Mother so much in pain.