Jarrolds' Jackdaw Library paperback edition - c.1942
When the Second World War broke out in September 1939, Jarrolds had already started the first of their new series of paperbacks, under the title Jarrolds' 'Jackdaw' Crime series. These continued until 1940, with No. 16, Moray Dalton's The Stretton Darknesse Mystery being the last published. However, most publishers continued to bring out paperbacks for the Armed Forces, on very cheap, fragile paper. Penguin had their Forces Book Club, which issued a series of 120 paperbacks between October 1942 and September 1943. I have a lovely copy of John Meade's Falkner's The Nebuly Coat, published in July 1943. The ten sent out that month included E.M. Forster's A Passage to India and Evelyn Waugh's Put Our More Flags. Strangely, although Penguin was the first to bring out such paperbacks, its Forces Book Club was a miserable failure and, when it ended in September 1943, the publisher was left with significant quantities of unsold stock.
Jarrolds, too, brought out a few paperbacks in their 'Jackdaw' Library. Few survive for obvious reasons, but my copy of The Reluctant Erk is as new. On the back cover, it reads: This edition is produced for the SERVICES CENTRAL BOOK DEPOT Artillery House, Handell Street, London, W.C.I for circulation to the FIGHTING FORCES OF THE ALLIED NATIONS. On the bottom it states, HIS BOOK MUST NOT BE RE-SOLD. There were only around half a dozen other titles published in the series, as far as I can gather, one being Ethel Mannin's Women Also Dream. I have not been able to track any of them down.
What of John Macadam's (autobiographical?) reminiscences of his time as an R.A.F. Erk? I had never heard of the word, so I turned to the Imperial War Museum's excellent website. An Erk was the R.A.F's equivalent of the Army's 'Tommy'. All airmen below NCO status were Erks, and the title embraced men of all trades and occupations. Wikipedia states the term is short for aircraftman, an old R.A.F. nickname originating in the Great War, which started out as airk. So, there we are. The author has sensibly supplied a Glossary at the back of this slim paperback (just 126 pages long), which may not have been necessary to the servicemen reading his book in the War, but is very helpful to the modern - ignorant - reader. Apparently, Charlie and George were names given by Corporals to every Erk; whilst Blue was the other ranks' uniform. Thus, working-blue and best-blue.
Although, the brief reminiscences were not really my usual 'type' of reading, I must admit I quite enjoyed the author's account of the trials and tribulations of an Erk, which he accompanied with lashings of Service humour. From the very beginning, when twelve hundred erks on parade in the early morning stiffly conscious of their creased uniforms and the weight of the stuffed kit-bags and the biting packs; stomachs distended after the excited rush of breakfast...the bawling of drill corporals from the other drill grounds comes to them on the morning air. They tilt their ears to it, attentively, like animals scenting danger...to the last chapter, where the onetime Erk becomes a 'gentleman' and makes his way from the railway station to the Officers' School, the author keeps up one's interest. There is a marvellous range of 'characters' (I kept thinking of Sergeant Bilko - that dates me! - and It Ain't Half Hot, Mum). The Actor - a good-looking cove and dead West-end, even in his working blue. He had his missus starch his collars and send them on to him and he used to get one of the erbs (aircraftman) to shine his boots. As far as I could see, all the erb got out of it was an autographed photo; Shino - who spent his time polishing his buttons, morning, noon and night; Titch - the smallest, littlest bloke I ever did see inside a uniform, and he had the biggest eyes...big, brown things, like at Saint Bernard's, that seemed too heavy for his face, which was thin, bony and white. When he moved his eyes it looked like a big physical effort. They slewed round; Young Izzy, with a PLAN - to become the Camp barber, but got killed in a German air-raid.
Above all, there was the Sarnt (sergeant), who shouted in Capital Letters - YOU LEANING AGAINST THE WALL. GET OFF THAT WALL BEFORE I PUSH IT OVER ON YOU. ..You're going for your inoculations. NEVER MIND WHAT AGAINST...THERE'S NOTHING TO FEEL SCARED ABOUT..(Fond memories of Battery Sergeant Major Williams in It Ain't Half Hot Mum!). One chapter commenced: The argument was all about Sarnts. Funny thing, but when you get a bunch of erks together they're either talking about women or grub or sarnts, which about the only things they have any time to think about apart from their jobs.
One of the stories which I fondly recall is that entitled 'Madame'. The author, Titch, Bluey and the Actor are asked to visit 'an old dear' living in a big house all alone with a 'butler cove' waiting to meet and greet them. In conversation, they established she was once a famous opera singer. Apparently, she had suddenly ended her career (she had been the lead role in Carmen) on her husband's death in a mountaineering accident, and not sung a note since. The four Erks revisit and Bluey presents her with a present - a model of Carmen. The old lady leaves the room and they hear in the distance the sound of a piano being played and 'Carmen' being sung, like an angel...the butler cove's eyes are still popping out of his head and a big tear's streaking down his cheek. The lady returns to the room, saying "It came back only for a moment".
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