Figure 1.-- We became friendly with a German family during a 1958 camping holiday in Holland. They pitched their tent next to ours. There was a boy of my age, named Jurgen, and we became good friends. Here we are together. We visited each other’s homes during the following year.

I am the eldest of three brothers and we lived in England except for two periods in Germany, (1957-60 and 1963-65), when our father was serving there in the British armed forces. We were a middle class family and we boys wore the clothes typical of the times. I was at primary school in Oxfordshire until I was eleven and, like my male classmates, wore cotton shirt with a tie, grey shorts, pullover and Clark’s shoes year-round. When I was eleven, we moved to West Germany, to a huge NATO base not far from Düsseldorf and I entered my first secondary school. It was all British and there were several hundred kids there. I wore the uniform: long grey trousers, white shirt, school tie, school blazer and school cap. I thought it was very smart. We were a bit segregated from the German population except for trips into the countryside but the school bus conveyed us through the local towns. Some of the English boys wore lederhosen at home but my modesty precluded me from doing likewise as it seemed to me that they were far too brief. As for the clothes we wore at home, photographs show that we wore our school uniform for all but the most casual pastimes. We became friendly with a German family during a 1958 camping holiday in Holland. They pitched their tent next to ours. There was a boy of my age, named Jurgen, and we became good friends, visiting each other’s homes during the following year. I returned to England alone at 13, to start at a boarding school in Dorset, an experience I loathed. It was back into grey shorts for me, which I hated. The next year I moved to a different school where I wa happier. During our second tour in Germany, this time at an RAF base, all three brothers were at boarding school in England so we visited our parents only in the holidays. It was clear that the German boys of my age still wore shorts. We took a trip to the Netherlands during one of those visits.

Family

I am the eldest of three brothers. Our father was in the British armed forces and thus we traveled a good deal. Our family undertook travels around the country, Europe and the Empire. When I was very young we lived in Ceylon. We lived in England except for two periods in Germany (1957-60 and 1963-65) when our father was serving there as part of NATO assignments. We were a middle class family and we boys wore the clothes typical of the times. I wound up attending thirteenth different schools begging at age 5. school since the age of five, s So, I reckon I'm a pretty good judge of schools, from a boy's point of view!

Ceylon

Our father who was in the Royal Air Force was assigned to Ceylon (modern SrinLanka) in 1951. I was 5 years old at the time. So the whole family moved for 2 years to Ceylon. As I was so young, I can remember very much about it and wouldn't feel competent to write anything for HBC about boys' clothing in that part of the world, except that there was no need to wear much of it. There are some family photographs. One shows me, with my baby brother and our Sinhalese nanny, Rosalind (December 1951). We are off to a Christmas party. We wear white outfits. They weren't that common in England. Another photograph shows me with my small suitcase (June 1952). I am off to spend a few days in the RAF hospital, to have my tonsils taken out. It was my first time away from home. I'm kitted out now rather like a school boy back in England, only without a tie. The final Ceylon photograph is me and my brother again. We are off to another party. This one was to celebrate the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II (June 1953). I doubt if I knew just who Queen Elizabeth was, but then again it was party. Notice all the tropical vegetation and palm trees. That was the area around which are quarters were located.

Primary Schools

I was at primary school in Oxfordshire until I was age 11 and, like my male classmates, wore cotton shirt with a tie, grey shorts, pullover and Clark’s shoes year-round. I think there was a raincoat for inclement weather. I don’t recall having sports clothes so I suppose we wore our ordinary clothes for playing cricket and football. I can’t remember getting very dirty but neither did I exert myself on the sports field, so I probably got away with just muddy knees.

First Secondary School: Düsseldorf

When I was 11 years old, we moved to West Germany. [Note: English children at age 10 took a test to determine what type of secondary school they will attend. The children at a military base, however, would all go to the same school, rehardless of their academic capabilities.] We were stationed at a huge North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) base not far from Düsseldorf. I entered my first secondary school. It was all British and there were several hundred kids there. I wore the school uniform: long grey trousers, white shirt, school tie, school blazer and school cap. I remember thinking at the time that it was very smart.

German Children

We were a bit segregated from the German population except for trips into the countryside but the school bus conveyed us through the local towns. Something I particularly remember is that whenever we passed a funeral procession, or even just a hearse, we all solemnly removed our caps and kept quiet. I doubt that would happen today. The German children seemed to wear clothes similar to ours, except that most boys wore leather shorts, Lederhosen, which were invariably much shorter than the terylene and worsted ones we wore. Of course, there were no fat kids then.

Home Clothes

Some of the English boys wore lederhosen at home but my modesty precluded me from doing likewise as it seemed to me that they were far too brief. As for the clothes we wore at home, photographs show that we wore our school uniform for all but the most casual pastimes. I think I wore a sweater over my normal school shirt and trousers and only on holidays away would we use what is now called leisure wear. For bed, we all had flannelette pyjamas. I never possessed any Lederhosen of my own, nor did my brothers and I rarely saw anyone wearing them in England. An exception here was a cycling weekend with a family friend durung an exeat from my boarding school in Dorset. Later on, when I had grown up and escaped from the terrors of organised sport, I wished that I had acquired some leather shorts for wearing out and about in the countryside but not, I hasten to add, Lederhosen of the highly ornamented Bavarian type. I was looking through the HBC catalog pages and was surprised at some of the underwear pages. As a boy, I thought only old people wore those tight fitting underclothes like 'combinations'. I never knew they were made for children too. I possess a pair of cotton 'long johns' and very useful I found them in my past adult life. I remember when I was about 7-10 years old my mother bought me some woollen underwear. I think it was called Chillprufe or something. Very prickly. I was really glad when I moved onto Aertex vests and pants (as we call them here). And I think I used those until about age 17. At that age, wearing an undervest was unmanly, or so we thought at school, and underpants became little nylon ones. Boxer shorts were never on offer and I've stuck with cotton briefs ever since.

My Brothers

When I was 11, when we first went to Germany, the 4 year age gap between me and the nearest of my younger brothers was such that we didn’t really discuss our observations of the world about us. A few years later, however, we would occasionally chat about the German boys wearing their lederhosen all winter, rather cruelly comparing their bare, red and blotchy legs with the fat German sausages hanging in the butchers shops. We agreed that the boys didn’t have it easy, since their lederhosen lacked pockets in the sides so there was nowhere to put your hands to keep them out of the cold. I am afraid to report that we might have had a giggle if we spotted a boy who wore his lederhosen so short that half an inch or so of white underpants was on display. Emancipation seemed to arrive during my later teens, because my brothers were not forced into the Scouts, or the Army Cadets and they went into jeans long before I did, starting the trend towards an easier lifestyle that marked the swinging 60s.

German School Children

I did not see German schoolchildren during the first visit to Germany but on the second visit, 1963-65, we lived in the town and mixed well, especially when I worked in the factory. I recall that the German schools started their day earlier than ours. The kids were certainly at their desks by 8 am, but I suspect they finished lessons earlier too. I never saw anything like a school uniform, although the children dressed similarly. The girls wore skirts and blouses. I never saw a girl in trousers, let alone jeans. The boys, except for some of the older ones, wore shorts, not always leather ones, and shirts of every hue. All the kids would go to and from school wearing leather knapsacks strapped on their backs, in which they kept their books. Conversely, we British kept our books in satchels, which you either carried by hand or slung over a shoulder.

German Friend

We became friendly with a German family during a 1958 camping holiday in Holland. They pitched their tent next to ours. There was a boy of my age, named Jurgen, and we became good friends. Here we are at the Dutch camp site (figure 1). We visited each other’s homes during the following year. He was much taller than me and wore clothes that would not look out of place 20 years later. Whilst I am pictured wearing my school shorts, a sweater, white socks and sandals, he wears a modern nylon shirt, very short shorts and sandals without socks. During my visits to stay with Jurgen and his family, in a large city in the Ruhr, I am pictured, still in my school uniform, while he and his friends look so much more relaxed in their little shorts and bare feet. The city had been badly bombed during the war and the pavements (sidewalks) were just sand, that was carefully raked each day to look neat. I remember that we played marbles on the firm sand and that seemed to satisfy us. I practised my German and the other boys their English. For the last few days of my visit, Jurgen's mother suggested I might feel more comfortable in more relaxed clothes, like the other boys. Oh no! Surely she didn't mean the dreaded Lederhosen! Jurgen and most of his friends wore them every day but I had long decided they were not for me. I began to panic. Luckily for me, she found me a pair of blue cotton shorts which I was happy to borrow. They looked extremely short on Jurgen but, he being so much taller, on me they seemed to reach halfway to the knees. One of the other boys lent me a nice short-sleeved shirt, I discarded my black shoes and long socks and, at last, I looked indistinguishable from my German hosts. It was much more enjoyable and I relaxed a lot more. When my father came to pick me up after my 10 days with Jurgen, I was once again wearing my school uniform and I never told my parents about my change of clothes, thinking they would consider that I'd broken our family's rather strict dress code.

Scouting (1957-59)

It reminded me that I was in the Scouts during 1957-59. I'll try to marshall a few memories of that experience. On the NATO base, with so many British servicemen and their families, there was a number of Scout troops and it became clear that I was expected to join one. So, late in 1957, I became an Air Scout and joined Owl Patrol. I was immediately sorry that I hadn’t picked the ordinary Scouts, on account of the uniform. We had to wear a grey cotton shirt, light blue neckerchief and beret, and dark blue shorts, which went to just above the knee, were unlined and constructed of stiff, woollen fabric that felt hot and itched like mad. It was even worse if you were out in the rain and they got soaked through, because they clung wetly and heavily to your legs and would not dry for ages. We wore thick, grey, itchy, woollen knee socks, which had to be kept up to just below the knee with special Scouts garters, with their green flash hanging smartly below where the top of the socks was turned down. Outdoors, we had always to wear a thick blue pullover, which, being a warm-blooded soul, I thought a bit excessive. Meanwhile, the ordinary Scouts wore a light khaki uniform of cotton drill, with khaki bush hats, very striking. Their shorts came to about 3 inches above the knee. I think everyone wore ordinary school shoes. There was quite a mix of nationalities and styles in our group, one very tall boy of about 15, possibly Canadian, sporting a unique uniform of cream shirt, brief pale blue shorts and tough looking sandals. On hot, sticky summer days, I think we Air Scouts all gave him admiring and jealous glances. We occasionally met German Scouts, who wore a variant of the khaki uniform but with lederhosen, very much shorter than anything I had seen before and which some of the more prudish Brits considered almost indecent. I remember we were bribed to attend ‘improving’ film shows (movies) on some of these joint gatherings, the bribe being a bottle of Coke, then a great luxury. One of our other duties was to attend church each Sunday, in a scratchy Scouts uniform. I do not recall learning anything of value in the Scouts and I was glad to leave them when I returned to England.

Boarding School: Dorset (1959)

I returned to England alone at 13, to start at a boarding school in Dorset, an experience I loathed. It was back into grey shorts for me, which I hated, for I associated wearing shorts at school with organised sports, which I have never enjoyed. I thought it was sadistic making us wear shorts all through the winter; after all, we had attained the grand old age of 13! Also, I had to join the Army Cadets, which meant spending one day a week in a ghastly khaki uniform which seemed designed to chafe and scratch at every part of the body with which it was in contact, i.e. most of it. It was even more unbearable on hot days. For the rest of the week, school uniform was all I wore, including at weekends. This was an all boys public school, i.e. a private, fee-paying school. You entered at 11, having passed the Eleven Plus exam and joined the first form. I arrived half- way through the second form year. All boys had to wear shorts until reaching the 3rd form, at 13 or 14. So when I arrived, my uniform was grey flannel shirt, school tie, grey flannel suit, (short trousers), school cap, black shoes and socks to just below the knee. In the summer we wore the school blazer instead of the jacket. This was a black and blue stripy affair with the school crest on its breast pocket. For PE lessons, we wore white singlet and shorts and to denote which team you were in when playing something like basketball, one team had to take off their singlets, and were called ‘skins’, to differentiate them from the ‘shirts’. I really loathed having to be in the ‘skins’, feeling very vulnerable and self conscious without a top on. Out of school hours, at the boarding house, the full school uniform was mandatory, unless you were wearing sports kit. Casual clothes did not exist. Baths were taken once a week, according to a roster prepared by Matron, my night being Monday. We even had to get changed into pyjamas, ready for bed, at a specific time, 8 pm, and lights out in the dormitory was at precisely 9 pm. Woe betide you if you were caught talking after lights out! When I ascended to the third form, I graduated to long trousers like the others in my form. Except, that is, for one individual, who remained in shorts all year. He was clearly embarrassed, often to be seen tugging at the hems to try to pull the trouser legs down. He was growing fast and his problems worsened as time went by. He was mercilessly ribbed for this by some of his classmates and his life was a misery. I was really glad to leave that school a year later.

Boarding School: East Anglia (1960-64)

My family returned to England in 1960 and, thankfully, I transferred to another boarding school, in East Anglia. It was a public school like the school in Dorset. I was much happier there, for a variety of reasons. One sas there was no mandatory Cadets. By now, it seemed normal to wear school uniform. We had a uniform of gray suits. Now I was back into long trousers – for the whole of each term. We wore grey shirts, but 6th formers could wear white shirts. We also had a striped blazer for sports, a jaunty black, purple, and white. Caps were required, but the older boys could wear boaters which were popular. We did possess other, scruffier clothes which we wore for what then seemed like daring escapades on our bikes into the surrounding countryside in search of illicit drinks in quiet pubs. That was, of course, because we didn’t want to be identified. How naïve! I was now beginning to acquire more relaxed clothes for wearing at home in the holidays – a pair of jeans made its first appearance.

Holidays in Germany

During our second tour in Germany, this time at an RAF base, all three brothers were at boarding school in England so we visited our parents only in the holidays. It was clear that the German boys of my age still wore shorts. Having by now got used to having my legs covered most of the time, I was intrigued by this. The older teenagers wore leather shorts they had presumably grown up in, as the leather was very well worn and, the shorts having grown no longer, the boys’ legs were now almost completely bare. Some shorts were so brief that the wearer’s underpants showed below the hem of the shorts. The clothing the German boys wore above the waist suited the climate, their woollens and anoraks seeming much more sophisticated than ours. I would have been mortified having to expose so much leg, even in summer but the boys never seemed uncomfortable or self conscious. I suppose it just wasn’t an issue, any more than it had been an issue for me to wear school uniform at home, or on holiday. And of course I have to tell you about our Paddy.

Dutch Trip

One bitterly cold day (about -10° C) in 1963, we went to Holland and, waiting at traffic lights, in an icy wind, we saw a Dutch boy of about 16 years old on his bike. He wore a grey jacket, no gloves, no overcoat and extremely short shorts. His legs and hands were red with the cold. However, he seemed not in the least perturbed and smiled at us as we sat shivering in the car. ‘He’s probably going to church’ said my mother. I felt a real wimp. Whenever I feel a bit chilly, I recall that image and tell myself to buck up.

German Job

When I was seventeen, I took a holiday job in a German factory near the air base and worked with a local youth of the same age. During that summer Dieter cycled to work in shirt and shorts, pulling on heavy woollen trousers for the factory shift and getting back, very gladly, into his leather shorts for the journey home. What I did not expect to find when I worked there at Christmas was that his routine was just the same. He would arrive at 7 am in these tiny little shorts and, after work, put them back on for the cycle ride home in the dark and the snow of the North German winter. I plucked up the courage to ask him why and he looked surprised that I should be concerned, saying that he really hated wearing the itchy woollen trousers and anyway he felt it was healthier operating as he did, just so long as he kept moving. I began to realise that he epitomised the German health ethic and must say I found it rather admirable. I sometimes wish I had had the courage to follow his example.

Postscript

I feel now that the Dutch and German boys I have just mentioned were probably typical of their contemporaries and that I should have taken notice of their obvious vigour and led a healthier lifestyle, albeit drawing the line at presenting myself half-naked! Nowadays it seems sad that so many children and young people of the West seem to wear the same, amorphous uniform of T shirts and baggy, sagging jeans and resent having to get to their feet, put away their computer games and be active.