National Service defined a generation of young men as a traumatised Britain emerged from the horrors of the Second World War.
Introduced by Labour PM Clement Attlee in 1948 to boost military manpower, the scheme conscripted all able-bodied men aged 18 to 30 to serve for 18 months with the armed forces.
During the Korean War, from 1950 to 1953, it was increased to two years, before being axed in 1963 at the dawn of the Swinging Sixties.
Some two million men – women were not expected to take part – served during that time, and even now there are calls to bring it back.
Prince Harry said in 2015 that the army had “done amazing things for me” and echoed calls to reinstate compulsory military conscription.
And now, 60 years after its demise, the Royal British Legion is organising an event at the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffs on May 16 to mark the sacrifices of the National Service generation.
Here, we speak to three ex-servicemen who carried out their National Service with pride…
I was excited, but feared Russia and Third World War
Ken Swann, 92
The former coal worker from Wigan and son of a soldier joined the Royal Artillery as a gunner aged 18.
He says: “I’d worked on the railways at 15 and did some maintenance on the Flying Scotsman. It was dangerous work though, lads got killed, so I left.”
Ken travelled to Liverpool for his medical, which he passed.
He adds: “I was excited, it was a big adventure. I wasn’t even slightly nervous. My dad was in the Army, too, and I was happy to follow in his footsteps.”
After basic training Ken was sent to Dortmund in Germany in 1949, where communists and former Hitler Youth members would spit at the British soldiers in the street and often clashed with them in riots.
He says: “One time there were 28,000 demonstrators. We were given a dustbin lid and a truncheon to deal with them.
“We worked with the German Fire Service, who got out their hoses during riots to disperse the crowds. One time they put green dye in the water and everyone who took part in the riot was stained green for the next two weeks.”
Every British regiment was on high alert around Germany, especially with the post-war threat of Soviet Russia. Ken says: “We thought the Third World War was coming, it was the height of the Cold War, and everyone was on alert. It was just a few weeks later when the fighting broke out in Korea.
“We knew that if the Russians attacked we couldn’t stop them, but we might be able to slow them down. We worked with the Royal Engineers to cover two bridges. If the Russians approached, our tactics were to shoot out the front two tanks of their formation, and the back two. That way they’d be stuck and we could blow up the bridges.”
When Ken’s National Service ended he joined the Reserves for five years. He was asked if he would volunteer for Korea, where UN forces had joined the South Korean army in fighting back the invasion from the North.
But just 14 out of 400 reservists volunteered, so Ken was told to
stay put and left the forces.
He adds: “I came out of the Army and straight down a mine near Wigan for two years before becoming a driver. Then I worked on building the M1 until it opened in 1959, the UK’s first motorway. I was paid £14 a week for that.”
Ken became a coach driver and met his late wife through the Royal Artillery Association, of which he is still a member.
He says: “We still meet at The Welcome pub in Blackpool twice a month, but we lost six guys during Covid. The Welcome is where I met my wife, she was collecting for charity. She worked as a telephonist in Blackpool, and we got married in 1961.” The pair had son Darren, who lives a few doors down from Ken.
Peter Backlog, 86
Peter, who lives in Fareham, Hants, was 18 years old when he became a National Serviceman in 1955.
His father, an RAF Bomber Command pilot, had been killed in the Second World War 12 years previously. Peter was studying for A-levels when called up.
He says: “It was post war, everybody was doing National Service and most of our parents had been in the war, so it was a normal thing to be involved with.”
The young Peter joined the Royal Marine Forces volunteer reserve and still remembers meeting the other nervous recruits at Topsham Station in Exeter.
“We all had huge kit bags,” he recalls.
“There were boys of all shapes and sizes, a professional footballer, bricklayers, even a couple of Teddy Boys wearing purple trousers.”
The recruits were driven by truck to the training centre, where they all had their first meal in civilian clothes, as not everyone had been issued their uniform.
The next day they were told to report to the barber for their first haircut.
The Teddy Boys were in front of Peter, who says: “The barber says, ‘how do you want it?’
“‘Oh, not too much off the top,’ one of them says. And then we all ended up with number ones.”
The first few days of National Service were tough for the lads who had never been away from home before. Some of them had never done their own washing and were in for a rude awakening.
“We didn’t have washing machines so everything was done by hand,” says Peter. “You learnt quickly not to put your woollen socks in
water that was too hot or cold.
“We were given darning needles, taught how to fold our sheets, do the ironing. We were even instructed on how to wash our bodies correctly.
“One boy clearly didn’t want to be there and wouldn’t wash properly so we were invited to hose him down with long brushes.”
With strict punishments meted out for wrong or dirty uniform, the conditions were a wake-up call for many of the young men in training.
Peter says: “Rationing was still in place and if you’d been to public school like I had, you were used to corporal punishment. It toughened you up physically.”
During his service, Peter was involved in the 1956 Suez Crisis, where he joined the amphibious warfare squadron and took part in Operation Musketeer, for which he received the Naval General Service Medal. After the UN-proposed ceasefire, Peter saw a naval vicar carrying white crosses upon which was the name of his friend Sid Goodfellow, who had been in training with him and was shot dead.
“It was sad to see one of your mates’ names,” he recalls.
After serving for two years, Peter went on to sign up to the Royal Marines Reserves, where worked his way up to Major until being discharged in 1983.
On talk of bringing back National Service, Peter says: “Some form of getting away from Mummy, learning how to care for yourself and be a part of a team might be good for young men, but people who are disgruntled wouldn’t be much good in the army.”
Stench of buried decaying flesh stayed with me
Ken Keld, 89
Ken was an 18-year-old steelworker in Scarborough when he got the call-up for National Service. Some 14 weeks later, in May 1953, he was sent to fight in the Korean War.
He had completed six weeks of basic training, reporting to the newly formed 2nd Battalion Green Howards, and a further eight weeks continuation training.
He recalls: “We thought we were being sent to death row, we had no idea what to expect.”
He and eight others were transferred to the Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, then sailed for four weeks to Japan to receive their vaccinations – malaria, yellow fever, smallpox, tetanus and typhus – then off to Korea.
Conditions were grim. “A lot of time was spent digging new fighting pits, bunkers or trenches until an hour before first light,” Ken says. “We had improvised beds and would sleep fully dressed, including our boots.
“Bed was where we faced our second enemy – the rats. One time, I had two bars of chocolate and was eating one in the dark and the other bar had disappeared.
“I found a rat nibbling it at the bottom of my bed.
“When I threw my mess tin at the offender, it disappeared so I threw the bar away. One of the lads, Ron Smailes, found it and simply broke off the nibbled bit and ate the rest.”
It wasn’t long before the teen rifleman’s battalion were ordered to take part in the Third Battle of the Hook.
There, British troops backed by American and Turkish units, fought the Chinese army.
“I’ll never forget the collapsed fighting pits and bunkers and shallow trenches due to the heavy bombardment,” says Ken.
“Most of all the stench of decaying flesh from buried limbs and bodies has stayed with me.”
Of the more than 40 men in his battalion, just 17 walked away on May 28, the day of the worst losses. Eleven were taken prisoner, the others were killed or badly wounded. Ken says: “We were a very close-knit group, but only five of us are left now from that original platoon.”
A few months later, Ken’s fallen comrades were commemorated at the United Nations Cemetery in Korea after the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed.
He says: “I don’t think there was a dry eye on that parade and after the service we were allowed to visit the graves of our friends.”
Following his service, Ken met and married his wife Hazel. They had two daughters and three grandchildren. He became a self-employed ironmonger, making gates, and wrote a book called You’re Going To Korea!
He is also secretary for two branches of the 2nd Battalion Green Howards.
Of his National Service Ken says: “I made friends for life, some of who I still see. The list is growing shorter though. Out of the ones who went to Korea with me, I think I’m the only one left.”
