U.S. Army choir at Romsey

A wartime memory from St Luke’s Hospital (also known as The Gardens) Romsey, at the time a military annexe to the Royal South Hants Hospital, Southampton.

The New Year’s Eve social was a very special event, for Mr Walter Cook, the Master, would arrange a wonderful social evening for the benefit of off-duty staff and any patients fit enough to attend. He would contact well known Romsey or Hampshire artistes (soloists or elocutionists) and even some members of the staff would be persuaded to get together and perform a couple of sketches. A small dance band would be hired, and so with refreshments available it was always a truly happy evening. The Casual Ward would have been decorated together with a huge Christmas tree, and now only the floor had to be prepared for dancing.

About 8pm the invited guest would begin to arrive. Remembering that most menfolk were away on war-service, the Master would invite, perhaps, British Army boys stationed locally as dancing partners for off-duty nursing staff. One year most of a U.S. Army Coloured Choir (40 strong) stationed the Romsey area came. Half way through the evening a quartet sang a couple of items. Their conductor, Mr. Outler, was then asked would the choir like to sing a carol to the in-patients of the Hospital Block. Quietly they filed out of the hall over to the Main Entrance, some carrying lanterns, where after a sign from the conductor, they hummed or sang “Silent Night” unaccompanied, as they quietly wandered along the three main corridors.

I recall now that the building had previously shaken from bomb blasts and there was the noise of shattering windows too. With the hustle and bustle of casualties (from incendiary bombs) being admitted at Main Entrance, we had sat on the floor of the lower corridor the safest part of the hospital, for we had no other shelter. On this special night the resonance of the men’s voices filled the building and as I followed them I was spellbound.

The choir returned to the hall and dancing continued. At the close of the evening Mr. Outler thanked Mr. Cook and the staff for being so hospitable and making them feel so welcome “not forgetting the little baby girl “.

My parents remarked more than once that many of the young men were merely 18 years of age, and one fears that many may have lost their lives later on the Normandy Beaches. On visiting Omaha Beach only recently I tried to read names on the memorial stone there, and I am sure that I recognised some.

My parents would entertain Mr. Outler at their quarters at the institution, and he was always so interested in any of my little music books (fascinated that a child could read the notes). His choirboys used only shapes (a quick way of learning notes I imagine) and he wrote these in my first Ezra Read’s piano tutor book. Sadly lost of course!

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.