Telegram Boy

Towards the end of the second world war, my father, Harry was a fifteen year old telegram boy working for the post office.

One particular day he was given a letter addressed to a high ranking officer, so off he went to the army offices and asked to see the officer in question. The sergent whom answered the door said that he would pass the letter on, but my father said that he had to deliver it personally. The sergent said that it would be fine to give him the letter, but again my father insisted that he must deliver it in person. Eventuall the sergent took my father to the correct office and he grumbled to the officer that "This young lad insists on giving you this letter himself". The officer then replied "Quite right, he is doing his duty, and he is wearing the kings uniform just like you".

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