The Bugle Calls.
(William Holden.)
The railway station was a large victorian complex which was covered by a huge canopy of intricately woven glass and steel girders. Many years before it had appeared clean and resplendant in its still virgin coat of many colours, unfortunately,due to the passage of time and the excessive smoke from the trains, the glass was now blackened, and the girders once shiny and new were now encrusted in a thick coating of soot.
And as with all large stations of the early sixties was extremely cold, wet, and thoroughly miserable. My mother and I waited for the train to arrive which would take me away from my home, familty, and friends to a place I had never even knew existed. As we talked I noticed there were other young men waiting with their parents,some dreseed in uniform and like myself, in smart suits. My parents had saved for a long time to buy me the suit I was wearing and I at that moment I felt very proud.
Conversation between my mother and myself became very sparse,"as I'm sure you will understand," there were lot's of pregnant pauses or the occasional, "stop worrying I'll be okay."the majority of the time was spent in silence just waiting for the train.
I can remember that I never cried when the train arrived, just hugged and kissed my mum,"who clung to me like a limpit mine" when the train stopped at the platform my mother became a different person,somebody I never knew,she started panicking and kept asking if I had everything and tried to carry the bursting case closer to the train door.
After closing the door I stood and looked at my mum on the platform who by now was crying,but I understood, because there is a special bond between mothers and their sons and as I was the youngest well,it was a wrench to say the least.
Just as the train started to pull out of the station I kissed her one last time afterwhich the distance between us grew greater until she was a mere speck,and then gone.
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