SOLDIER BOY

Spencer Leigh investigates the links between the armed forces and rock’n’roll

PLEASE NOTE – This feature is a work in progress as there are undoubtedly other musicians who could be included and existing entries which could be expanded. Any comments about army life would also be welcomed. If you have any information, please let me know at spencerleigh@hotmail.co.uk and the piece can be updated. (7 December 2005)

“Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier.” (Dr Johnson)

"Hup, two, three, four: occupation G.I.Blues." (Elvis Presley)

PART 1 – SQUARES BASHING

Tommy Trinder (walking down Whitehall): “Which side is the War Office on?”
Soldier: “Ours, I hope.”
(Wartime joke for which the BBC was severely censured.)

Introduction

Rock’n’roll is the music of teenage rebellion. National service is about military discipline. Were the two incompatible? We all know about Elvis Presley and Terry Dene but what about the rest of the rock’n’rollers? Who was conscripted and who avoided service? Who served without complaint and who caused major headaches? And what did they learn from their experiences? Hopefully, this three-part feature answers the questions and a whole lot more besides.

What is conscription?

Conscription is a system whereby the state requires all men (and in Israel’s case, women too) to serve in the armed forces for a fixed period, often two years. It was Napoleon’s idea and generally it has been implemented in wartime.

After World War Two, five million UK servicemen were demobbed and to save them competing for jobs with teenagers, it was thought best to continue conscription, roughly for the ages 18 to 25. As a result, Britain, for the first time, had conscription during peacetime. At the time, no one objected publicly to the legislation: least of all, the potential conscripts. They did not want to be criticised for being shirkers or cowards, that is, as young men not willing to follow their brave fathers or elder brothers who had fought in the war. An unlikely exception to this, as we shall see, is the gangster-like promoter Don Arden.

The situation was similar in America and, as a result, this feature can go back and forth between the two countries with no real loss in understanding. American conscripts were called up when they were 23, but from the age of 18, someone could volunteer to do his service earlier. This means, for example, that Eddie Cochran, who died in April 1960, would have been called up shortly after his return home. Narvel Felts says, “If you passed your physical and you were not married, you were classified 1-A. If someone was married, he would drop to the next classification and if he had a child, it would be the one below that. You had the choice to enlist in either branch of the service or you would be drafted for two years. I chose the National Guard with a six year enlistment. It involved six months active duty, two weeks a year summer camp and once a week, National Guard drill. This changed to one weekend a month when Vietnam came along. At my 1965 summer camp in Fort Knox, the rumours were rampant that we would be activated, but thanks to Lyndon Johnson, we were not.”

There were allowances for conscientious objectors, notably Quakers, which, ironically, took courage during wartime. A conscript would have to show that he had held his beliefs for some time and that he was willing to undertake alternative work in hospitals and nursing homes. During the war Michael Tippett wrote an oratorio “A Child Of Our Time” to protest about anti-Semitic violence, but that didn’t prevent him from being jailed for refusing to comply with the conditions for exemptions for national service. Nevertheless, he was knighted in 1966.

There were exemptions for the sick and the handicapped and also those in certain key professions, notably medicine and mining. Bobby Darin was exempt because of the residual effects of rheumatic fever and Fats Domino was excused because of his flat feet. Maybe Fats felt conscious about this as “Korea Blues” suggests that he was serving. Ex-cons were exempt, though I fail to see why, and James Brown, Mac Rebennack (Dr. John) and Sam Cooke avoided service because of their misdemeanors. Similarly, Chuck Berry avoided the forces although he wrote about active service in “Too Much Monkey Business”. In the UK, university students would have their call-up deferred.

I am certain that Elvis Presley would never have done military service if there had been a war raging and there was the slightest danger of him being killed. It’s incredible to think that there was a time when there wasn’t a war on, but there was a little pocket of uneasy peace around 1959/60, though, admittedly, there was the Cold War between Russia and the West.

There had been a fair amount of conflict after World War Two – Korea, Suez, Cyprus, Palestine, Aden, Malaya and Kenya. Although 400 UK conscripts lost their lives, there were relatively few servicemen in high risk areas, and many of the other jobs appear preposterous. What could be more pointless than painting coal white or scrubbing a floor with a toothbrush?

Lee Hazlewood did his national service between 1947 and 1949 but he was unlucky as he was conscripted again at the start of the Korean war. Although he was in danger during his tour of duty, he also worked as a DJ on the armed forces radio service in Japan and so obtained valuable experience.

Despite impaired hearing through a bout of childhood measles, Link Wray was conscripted in 1951 and was sent to Germany and then Korea. He returned to the States in 1953 and ordered a Gibson Les Paul guitar. He developed his own style, playing louder than most because of his hearing. Wray was having problems with his lungs. In the forces, he had been told this was nothing to worry about but now it was diagnosed as tuberculosis. The left lung was removed and he was in hospital for most of 1956. He said, “The only reason I was doing instrumentals was because I couldn’t sing.” An example that genius, or something close to it, can come from adversity.

In 1952, Lloyd Price cut his big hit “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and then was drafted into the forces. On that first session, he also cut “Mailman Blues” which was about getting his draft papers “the night before last” (Strange postal system in America) and the postman tells him that they need him across the sea. Price served in the Special Services in both Korea and Japan and there was even a piece in Cash Box saying that he didn’t like the army. Actually, it wasn’t too bad for him as he formed a band, which backed visiting stars such as Jimmy Durante and Debbie Reynolds. More to the point, by the time he was demobbed, his record label had discovered Little Richard and he had to rebuild his career.

In 1953, Leroy Van Dyke was a special agent in the US Army Counter Intelligence Corps, which was stationed in Korea. Leroy was missing a guitar and asked his mother to send one. Not wanting to ship a decent guitar to the Far East, he told her to buy a cheap one from the Sears-Roebuck catalogue. The $34 guitar arrived undamaged in Korea. In the next few months, Leroy wrote several songs including one about his cousin’s job, “The Auctioneer”. He entertained at concert parties and he opened for Marilyn Monroe, who was visiting the troops.

He was an American; he was a star; he wore spectacles; he flew in appalling conditions; and he died in mysterious circumstances while he was on tour. 15 years before Buddy Holly, Glenn Miller died somewhere in the English Channel. He was billed as Major Glenn Miller and he had been one of the first to spot the kudos of being in uniform. Cecil Gant toured the south with his own band until the bombing of Pearl Harbour in December 1941. As a serviceman, he played for bond rallies and was known as “The GI Sing-Sation”. In 1944 he had a hit with “I Wonder” under the name of Private Cecil Gant and he would wear his uniform on stage. In 1951 and long out of the forces, he recorded an early rock’n’roll classic, “Rock Little Baby”. Similarly, when Buddy Knox went into the Tank Corps in 1957, he was allowed to make records. His “Rock Your Little Baby To Sleep” was credited to Lieutenant Buddy Knox. Although some performers were allowed to record while they were in the forces, the sessions were hurried and rarely represented their best work.

In May 1954, the lead singer with the Drifters, Clyde McPhatter was drafted but he was stationed in Buffalo, New York so he could return for weekend gigs, if not for tours. When he was demobbed, he became a solo artist and he joined Bill Haley on a package tour. The Drifters recruited Johnny Moore but he himself was drafted in 1957. The Drifters have the most drifting personnel of all groups, and they certainly would not have drifted so much without Uncle Sam.

Here are the years that some notable Brits were conscripted: 1946 Bob Monkhouse, Roger Moore: 1947 Acker Bilk: 1949 Ronnie Corbett, Ned Sherrin: 1950 Michael Caine, Peter O’Toole, Arnold Wesker: 1951 Michael Aspel: 1952 Brian Sewell: 1954 Nigel Lawson: 1955 Michael Parkinson and 1956 Brian Blessed. If you were delinquent when you went in, you might very well stay that way. It was once a psychopath, always a psychopath with Reggie and Ronnie Kray. They were conscripted in 1952 but spent much of their time in military prisons. A case of “I fought the law and law won.”

Without doubt, Michael Heseltine had the most novel way to get discharged. In 1959 he had only been in the army for a few months when the Prime Minister announced a General Election. Hezza decided to stand, which meant an automatic discharge, his very move revealing the dexterity he needed to become a top politician.

By the late 50s, the UK had a huge army of conscripts, which was draining the economy. The country had to feed, clothe, train and pay these men, and two years was not long enough for a positive return on conscription. The politicians agreed to amend the legislation but many parents did not want National Service to be abolished – it taught children discipline and gave them trades. The call-up was one reason why being a teenager was regarded as simply a step to adulthood. Heaven forbid that teenagers should have their own tastes and preoccupations. Indeed, many adults viewed the Teddy boy fashions of the mid-50s with alarm and thought that the sooner they got into the army the better.

I was 12 at the time but I can still recall RSM Britton on “6.5 Special” in 1957. This fearsome man had the loudest voice in the army and he would shout his way through his appearances. What was the purpose of this? Was he meant to be encouraging recruitment? If so, it didn’t work as it had the opposite effect. Who wanted to stand on a parade ground and have RSM Britton bawling “You ’orrible little man” a mere six inches from his face?

The acceptance of army life can be seen in “Carry On Sergeant” (1958), the first of the “Carry On” films and although a series hadn’t been planned, it’s appropriate that the training of conscripts was the first target. Elvis had gone into the army which is why Gerald (“Billy Bunter”) Campion is polishing his guitar while others are cleaning their rifles, but he doesn’t play it. The wimpish Horace played by Kenneth Connor shows how difficult it is to escape from army duties, “Medical, huh! It’s a farce, a criminal farce! A1! Me! A-flaming-one! Army doctors, huh! I tell you, mate, two of everything you should have two of, and you’re in!” By the end of the film, the sergeant (William Hartnell) has made a man of him – or was it Nora (Dora Bryan) in the canteen?

Strangely though, even ten years after the war, there was still no rebellion against conscription. By and large, teenagers accepted it as something had to be done and made the best of it. Rather than wasting two years of their lives, many found the forces a blessing in disguise. They were trained for civilian jobs - at its best, commercial pilots. In addition, they learnt to drive and became sexually experienced: hence, Leslie Thomas’ novel, “The Virgin Soldiers”. Most significantly, the conscripts widened their experience by meeting recruits from other social classes, other ethnic groups and from other parts of the UK.

In 1957 an accounts clerk called Dick Teague formed a skiffle group but the lead singer Terry Harness was drafted. They wanted a new singer and a young Harry Webb auditioned and joined. It was Harry’s first group and he became Cliff Richard. Steve Turner, Cliff Richard’s biographer, says that Cliff was euphoric the day he picked up the Daily Mirror and saw that children born in 1940 would not have to do National Service.

On 13 May 1963, when Second Lieutenant Richard Vaughan walked out of an army camp and returned to civilian life, he became the last National Serviceman to be demobbed. On the whole, the professional servicemen were relieved. They believed that a high quality army was best served by the regulars, that is, those who wanted to be in it. Ever since then, whenever a reintroduction of conscription has been suggested as a means of resolving teenage crime, the forces have been unwaveringly against it. They do not want the forces to become a human dustbin. A good example of a reluctant recruit would be the disc-jockey John Peel. With his public school background, he was officer potential, but he hated army service and did the least he could with the minimum of enthusiasm.

Conscription continued in America, and when John Lennon was asked by an American reporter in 1964, “Will the draft break up your group?” he replied, “There is no draft in England anymore. We’ll let you Yanks do the fighting for us.”

The draft became a necessity for the Vietnam war, which, from the start, was a questionable undertaking. Few conscripts wanted to participate as there was a very real danger of being injured or killed. Many objected on ethical grounds, believing that America had no reason to be involved, but this was not regarded as an acceptable excuse by the authorities. Thousands of young Americans burnt their draft cards and settled in Canada. It was no longer unpatriotic to avoid the draft: indeed, quite the reverse. Nevertheless, a very macho record, S/Sgt. Barry Sadler’s “The Ballad Of The Green Berets” topped the US charts for five weeks in 1966.

In 1961 the Four Preps recorded “The Big Draft Medley” on which they suggested that the Platters, the Four Aces, Dick and Deedee, the Marcels, the Highwaymen and Dion should do army service:

“I’ll never smile again, our new record’s a bomb,
They’ve never heard of us in South Vietnam.”

The jokes were too parochial for the UK but the Barron Knights reworked the idea for “Call Up The Groups” in 1964, even though conscription had been abolished.

Although the Four Preps had made a humorous record, it made serious points. The Liverpool R&B band, the Hideaways, had one American member, John Shell. Ozzie Yue recalls, “John Shell was born in Dallas and because his mum was married to an American serviceman, he had American citizenship. He got his conscription papers and he went out to Vietnam. He was only there three months before he was killed in action. It was just a week after he got a Purple Heart for being wounded in action. He had wanted to see the world and had seen the call-up as an opportunity but it was the wrong way of doing it.”

In a bizarre move in 1969, conscription was turned into a televised lottery and if your date of birth was selected, it was hard luck or even goodbye. Conscription ended in the US in 1973 and since then, all vacancies have been met through voluntary recruitment or re-enlistment.

During 2005, a British serviceman James Blunt topped the singles and albums charts with wimpish love songs. The last track on his album, “Back To Bedlam”, is attributed to Capt. J Blunt LG and is called “No Bravery”. It is about the horrors of Kosovo: “I see no bravery in your eyes anymore, only sadness.” Blunt is seen as a model serviceman but that song isn’t far removed from Billy Bragg.

War service - I love a guy in uniform

One of the first show business personalities to avoid war service was Cole Porter. He relocated to Paris during the First World War and when he returned to America, he told the press that he had been in the French Foreign Legion. Total nonsense, but unlike today, no reporter checked the story.

In the late 30s, a young John Lee Hooker was working as a cinema usher in Detroit when he lost his girl to a soldier. He said, “The women would go crazy over an army suit. You could get any woman, any chick you wanted.” Led by his libido, Hooker enlisted in the army and he remained stationed in Detroit. Maybe John Lee was Mr Lucky as he claimed he was not victimised although official army reports confirmed racism was rife in the forces. A military desegregation order was not issued until the Korean war in 1950. However, Hooker only served three months as the authorities learnt he was under 21 and without the signature of a parent or guardian. He was allowed to keep the uniform and, presumably, the girls. As a result of the discharge, he became ineligible for the draft which was introduced after Pearl Harbour.

Following Pearl Harbour, Muddy Waters became eligible for the draft. He obtained an exemption because he drove a tractor in the cottonfields, and the cotton was used for uniforms and bandages. Muddy Waters left the cottonfields in 1943 and told the draft board he was going to Chicago. He was told to report to the draft board but because of his illiteracy and weak eyesight and much to his delight, he didn’t make the grade. I hope he wasn’t driving that tractor on the roads.

The actor Kenneth More applied to join the navy but was told they were already full. He went back to his theatre and found the sign “Closed” on the door. The most bizarre role for an entertainer during the war was Clifton James of the Royal Army Pay Corps who became Monty’s double. The idea was to hoodwink the German high command into thinking Montgomery was somewhere else when he was about to launch the D-Day invasion. Montgomery couldn’t say his r’s so I wonder how James coped with “Break ranks and gather round.”

Dean Martin received his draft notice in 1942 but he knew he was safe because he had a hernia. When the doctors examined him, they discovered it was a double hernia. Dean returned home, pleased to be classified 4-F.

The promoter Don Arden (real name, Harry Levy) was called up in 1944 when he was 18. He was a professional singer and he didn’t want to fight. He wrote in his autobiography, “Mr. Big” (2004) “It’s one thing to face someone in a fight, man to man, but to put yourself in a place where you’re expected to face up to a landmine or a bomb or some bloody sniper you don’t even see – well, I didn’t fancy that at all.” He also disliked the smelly feet of the 50 men in his barracks. He did some singing in shows for ENSA and was discharged in 1945 after feigning a mystery illness. Arden doesn’t see it that way, but his story smacks of cowardice.

Frankie Baby

The authorities did not need to exert much pressure to impose conscription during World War Two as the situation was so immediate and so serious. Most able-bodied men between 18 and 40 made themselves available, and if you did escape it, you might become persona non grata in your home town. However, there is the curious case of Frank Sinatra.

In 1940 Frank had answered a Government questionnaire, “What physical or mental defects or diseases have you had in the past, if any?” and he answered “None”. In November 1943, the New York Times reported that he had been passed 1-A for military service by the New Jersey draft board. A few weeks later, he was downgraded to 4-F, which is “unacceptable for medical reasons”. The stated reasons were the chronic perforation of his left eardrum, chronic mastoiditis and emotional instablity. The FBI smelt a rat and asked him to attend again, but his 4-F status was confirmed. Captain Weintrob confirmed to J. Edgar Hoover that the classification was correct. He said, “During the psychiatric interview, the patient stated that he was neurotic, afraid to be in crowds and afraid to be in an elevator. He had been very nervous for four or five years and he was run down and under-nourished.” Not the way most people would describe Frank Sinatra.

It was suspected that Ol’ Glue Ears had paid backhanders to the examining doctors but nothing could be proved. The under-nourished Frankie returned to performing in public, making films and presumably taking the stairs whenever he was working in high buildings. As one headline put it, “Sinatra 1-A with US girls, rated 4-F by army doctors.”

Frank Sinatra’s evasion of war service rankled servicemen, though not, it must be said, their girlfriends. The Stars And Stripes newspaper intimated that he was a coward. Sinatra did consider entertaining the troops but thought better of it, realising that a new battleground might be himself against the soldiers.

In February 1944 Frank had another date with the draft board. This time he was classified 2-A but the army had decided that he was in a job “necessary to the national health, safety and interest”. This was even worse PR and led to headlines like “Is crooning essential?” The draft board relented, admitted to a mistake and said that Frankie was still 4-F. Possibly, Frankie could have played the Italian card, but that would have been risky and he might have been interred like many Italians in the UK.

Sinatra thought factory work beneath him but he agreed to some concerts following the German surrender. The concerts went surprisingly well but foolishly, he criticised the organisers. Marlene Dietrich, a veteran of such shows, chipped in, “He could hardly expect the overseas tours to be like the Paramount.” Dietrich both endured and enjoyed her tours. She would kiss men who were going into battle and she said in her autobiography, “The war gave me the opportunity to kiss more soldiers than any other woman in the world.” So she was doing what she would have done anyway.

Joking apart, Marlene Dietrich must be applauded for her actions. She had to leave her family to an unknown fate in Berlin and she sang to men who were relieved to be alive and apprehensive about what would happen next. She said, “I’ve too much respect for soldiers to tell them fairy tales such as ‘The war will be over soon’ or ‘You’re not as seriously wounded as it seems.’ I can’t endure the pain in the eyes of the bedridden, the despair in the voices and their frail arms round my neck.”

After Pearl Harbour, Bob Hope was entertaining the troops. He was never a soldier but he gave so many concerts in danger zones that he was highly respected as a result.

Cisco Houston, who had poor vision, fought in the war and risked his life several times. He chided his fellow folk singer, Woody Guthrie, for campaigning against fascism and yet not enlisting. Had he grown soft? Woody joined the merchant marines and was torpedoed. He was inducted into the army on 7 May 1945, the very day that Germany surrendered. He was a hopeless recruit, collapsing on the obstacle course and he wrote letters to his girlfriend, describing how masturbation was the only pleasure.

By and large, the public adopted a different attitude towards those who fought or boosted morale and those who didn’t. Many of Frank Sinatra’s contemporaries had fine war records – Frank’s records were of a different kind. To make it worse, rumours circulated that Frank hadn’t wanted to serve because of his Communist leanings and for some years, he lost much of his fan base.

When Sinatra came to the UK in 1953, he met the actor Douglas Fairbanks Jr, who was a war hero. When Sinatra told appeared in Blackpool, he told the crowd of the meeting: “I would have worn some of my medals but they scratch my chest. Besides that, they tilt me. I have to stand like this.” He risked being heckled with those remarks.

Contrast this with Audie Murphy, who was America’s most decorated soldier. When the war was over, he became an action hero in Hollywood films. He even played himself in “To Hell And Back” (1955). However, he was never too far from the real action and he was charged with attempted murder after beating up a man in a barroom brawl.

PART 2 – A GAME OF SOLDIERS

“I was not in the regular army. I was classified ‘4-P’ by the draft board. In the event of war, I’m a hostage.”
(Woody Allen)

Case histories

Alexis Korner began his National Service in 1947. He wanted to join the Parachute Regiment but shortly after his call-up, a stack of Bren guns fell on him. He was taken to hospital with a back injury. As he spoke fluent German and had a good knowledge of music, he was sent to BFN (British Forces Network) in Hamburg. Cliff Michelmore ran the station and other staff included Brian Matthew and Roger Moore. When Princess Margaret visited the station, he said, “Hello, I’m Alexis Korner. Who are you?” He bought a guitar and shortly before his demob in 1949, he saw Leadbelly in Paris and knew what he wanted to do with his life.

The record producer Joe Meek found the work on his family farm boring and uncreative and he was pleased when his call-up papers came in 1948. He wanted to be in the RAF and train as a radar mechanic. He was bullied during his first eight weeks training at West Kirby but then he was moved to Yatesbury, Wiltshire and received two months of technical training. He had to travel to various installations and he and another soldier would often be perched in small buildings on hills, checking out for an early attack. Did gazing into the sky give him the inspiration for “Telstar” and his other space epics?

Burt Bacharach was drafted into the army in 1950 and he avoided Korea by entertaining officers in their club in New York Harbour. He would play the piano in his “Bach To Bacharach” programme and even passed off a classical composition as an unpublished work by Debussy. He arranged for forces’ dance bands and when he was moved to west Germany, he continued as a musician, organising concerts and befriending a singing soldier, Vito Rocco Farinola. When they were demobbed, Bacharach became his arranger and the singer became Vic Damone.

Like many young poor southerners, Johnny Cash enlisted in the air force in 1950 when he was 18 and he was stationed at Landsberg, Germany, where Hitler had written “Mein Kampf”. He decrypted codes and intercepted Soviet transmissions. Cash located the signal of the first Soviet jet bomber on its maiden flight from Moscow and in March 1953, he was the first Westerner to learn that Stalin had died. He formed a band to play country and gospel called the Landsberg Barbarians and by the third year, he was going on three-day benders, often scuffling with the police. He knocked out two security guards who tried to stop him selling cigarettes on the black market. He picked up a crooked nose from a fight with a paratrooper and acquired a scar on his cheek from a drunken German doctor excising a cyst. A girl caused permanent damage to his hearing by rummaging in his ear with a pencil. As you do.

But it wasn’t all fun. Johnny Cash started writing songs in the forces, including “Folsom Prison Blues”. His poem about homesickness, “Hey Porter”, was published in Stars And Stripes. He felt lost from time to time and threw a typewriter out of a window, for which he was prescribed aspirin. When Staff Sergeant John R Cash came home in July 1954, he married Vivian Liberto, largely because he had been so impressed by her correspondence. Cash later said, “I spent 20 years in the Air Force from 1950 to 1954.”

Eddie Fisher was drafted in 1951. In his autobiography, “Been There, Done That”, he describes how he got 4,000 letters whilst others got two or three. The guys in the platoon answered his fan letters and some soldiers struck up relationships with the girls. After basic training, Eddie Fisher was assigned to the army band and they did more than 150 media appearances to help recruitment and giving of blood. Eddie had hit records while in the army including the US No.l “Wish You Were Here”. Fisher had an easy time singing for senators and congressmen in Washington but then he asked if he could sing for troops in Korea. He did 71 performances in 46 days in front of 150,000 UN troops, often working on makeshift stage areas and using jeep lights for spotlights. He wrote, “I wasn’t sorry when my two-year hitch came to an end, but I was very happy to have served. I’d spent two wonderful years in the army. I had even found time to get my high school-equivalency diploma, and when I was discharged on April 10, 1953, I felt like I’d become an adult.”

In February 1952, Gene Vincent’s father signed the papers to allow him to join the navy on a three year contract. He had just turned 17 and he wanted to experience action in Korea. At first he was a deckhand and then a boilerman. In January 1954 his ship, the Chuckawan, began a four-month tour of the Mediterranean and when he returned, he could wear the National Defence Service Medal and the Navy Occupation Service Medal (Europe).

Having completed three years’ service, Gene re-enlisted for a further six years. As a result, he received a cash bonus and he replaced his motorbike with a big Triumph. In July 1955, Gene rode his Triumph to visit a girlfriend. In Franklin, a small town close to Norfolk, Virginia, a woman in a Chrysler ran a red light, smashing into Gene and crushing his left leg. The doctors wanted to amputate Gene’s leg but when his mother visited him, he made her promise not to sign the papers. Unfortunately, Gene was so keen to get back into action that he ignored medical advice, and as a result, he remained in constant pain. The problem area was a wound the size of a £2 coin just above his ankle. He had several operations but nothing seemed to work, least of all his leg.

The police claimed the accident was Gene’s fault and it was settled out of court because Gene had signed papers while under heavy medication. He didn’t receive any compensation but he did receive medical pay from the navy of $136 a month. For the rest of his life, Gene was incensed about the way he had been treated – he felt he had been conned by everyone.

Engelbert Humperdinck told The Independent in 2005, “I served two years in the army between 1954 and 1956. I was never tempted to pursue it as a career. I’ve wanted to be a musician for as long as I can remember, but being in the army helped me to grow up and taught me some important lessons about discipline and hard work. I used to perform in the mess hall concerts, doing impressions of Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr and playing my sax. You risked heckling and even being booed off stage if you weren’t up to scratch. I learned not to take myself too seriously, and earned their respect that way.”

Kenny Lynch’s easy adaptability saw him through: “I went in the boxing team and I lived on steak and eggs for the first 18 months. The next six months I drove an amphibious Rolls-Royce jeep which was brand new to the army and I don’t know why they gave it to me as I messed it up about eight times. I used to come home and do gigs with dance bands but in the army, I only did a couple of nights in the officers’ club and the sergeants’ mess. I did them so I could get to know the sergeants and officers as I knew that I wouldn’t get so much hassle. When I got out, I started singing with dance bands and I’d had a very easy time.”

Special Duties

The film composer John Barry was called up in 1952. His brother had been in the navy during the war and John Barry commented, “You didn’t think about getting out of it. There was something very British about it. It was part of the culture. You went in and you did your stuff, much as you hated it.” Barry realised that he could do two years of what he hated or three years with music, if he signed up as a bandsman. He joined the Green Howards, a regimental band based in Richmond, Yorkshire. Unfortunately for him, the regiment was sent to Egypt for the Suez crisis. After that, he was sent to Cyprus and here he found he had ample time to take a postal course in orchestration and to play in several styles.

The noted sax man Howie Casey went into the army in 1955. “I wanted to see if I could get into the band. I went to the recruiting office in Liverpool and they said I would have to be a regular and sign on for a minimum of three years. It was a Liverpool regiment, the King’s Regiment, and it was a great grounding for me. I learnt to read music and I learnt about arranging and you had to practice and practice. You even got extra practice for making mistakes! I was in Germany for two years and I learnt to smoke and drink and date women.” Howie continued his education at the Star-Club in Hamburg with Kingsize Taylor and the Dominoes.

The record producer Tony Hatch recalls, “Within nine months of joining Top Rank, I got my call up papers. I was hoping that they would have forgotten about me or not need me anymore. I was born on 30 June, 1939 and if I had been born on 1 July, I would have missed the call up altogether. We had made a couple of albums with the Band of the Coldstream Guards so the Director of Music who was Major Pope had a chat with my boss Dick Rowe. He said, ‘Tony’s got this problem, he has been called up.’ Major Pope said, ‘He can’t do two years with the Band of the Coldstream Guards but he could do the minimum commission which is three years and we would be delighted to have him because he is an excellent musician’ and that is how I joined the Band of the Coldstream Guards. There was six weeks’ basic training and then I was based in London, and I found out that any musician could work in his spare time provided he fulfilled all the duties in the Queen’s Regulations. Sometimes I would just be copying march cards because they had got wet in the rain – there was no photocopying then. I would start at 8 am and my duties were over by 1 pm. Top Rank had almost closed, but they gave me a retainer and I worked part-time, in the afternoons and evenings. When Top Rank did close, Pye offered me a similar deal. Pye appreciated that if they had an A&R meeting in the morning, one of their main producers couldn’t be there”

Is This The Way To Amarillo?

Buddy Holly was 18 when he registered for the draft in 1955. It was a grim time as a Russian attack seemed imminent. His draft notice arrived on 28 May 1958 and he was told to report for a physical examination. Joe Mauldin of the Crickets recalls, “We were on our way to do a tour and Buddy said, ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop in Amarillo, I’ll go inside and take my physical and then we’ll head on down the road for the gig.’ Buddy was classified 4-F and so he didn’t have to go into the service. That is the classification when you are deferred for medical reasons and you never get called up. Buddy was real pleased.” For once, Buddy Holly was glad to have an ulcer.

Joe adds, “I thought I could get out of it very easily too. I had a letter from my doctor that I was unfit to participate but sure enough, when I came to do my physical, they said, ‘You’re great. We’ve got lots of doctors who’ll take good care of you.’ I did go in and so did J.I. Sonny Curtis went in as well but as we all went in at different times, we could keep the group going.”

Sonny Curtis tried to keep the momentum going while he was in the service: “I can’t remember why I wrote ‘Walk Right Back’. I was into Cole Porter and Don Gibson at the time and ‘Walk Right Back’ may be a combination of the two. I got the idea when I was in England picking with the Everly Brothers. During that tour, I was drafted into the United States Army. When I got back, my mother said, ‘The army’s been looking for you.’ I got into trouble because I was late reporting. When I got to basic training in California, I’d go down to the dayroom and play an old beat-up guitar that somebody had. I wrote the first verse to ‘Walk Right Back’ and I got a three-day pass and went to Hollywood to see the Everly Brothers. They were studying acting for Warners although nothing came of it. We had a few laughs and I sang ‘Walk Right Back’ to them. They said they’d record it if I wrote another verse. I was trying to think of another verse but the army keeps you pretty busy. I had nine days right after basic training and I wrote the second verse then. I put it in the mail but the next day I got a letter from J.I. saying that the Everlys had cut it. I knew that they hadn’t had time to get my verse and it turned out that they sang the first verse twice.” Sonny has since recorded that second verse, which is a good one.

The numerous male doo-wop groups had shifting personnel as members came in and out of the forces. Take the Five Satins. Fred Parris formed the Scarlets in New Haven Connecticut and they had success with “Dear One” (1954) and “Cry Baby” (1955). They enlisted together with a promise that they could stay together if they entertained troops and officers. As soon as they went in the forces, they were sent individually all over the place. Fred Parris was stationed in Philadelphia which enabled him to form a new group at the weekends, the Five Satins. While Fred was on guard duty, he wrote “In The Still Of The Night”, but Fred was in Japan when the single was released. The record company wanted more tracks and so Bill Baker sang lead on another legendary cut, “To The Aisle”. When Fred was demobbed in 1958, he formed Fred Parris and the Scarlets and when the Five Satins disbanded, he reclaimed the name.

The Everly Brothers themselves had kept deferring their service, but they realised that unless they volunteered, they could be drafted without any control over where they would be sent. Their management agreed to a six-month spell of duty and allowed them to serve together. This suggests that they were better friends than has been reported. Don chose the Marine Corps as he liked the uniform, but it was a fighting unit. They reported for duty in November 1961 and soon had the regulation haircut and were training at 4.30 am. Phil said, “Don was a platoon leader which meant he got to wear a wrist-watch which during boot camp was a big deal. I was a flunky, sweeping up and things.” During their leave, Don got married and they appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and released one of their best singles, “Crying In The Rain”. In return for entertaining the troops on their return, they were discharged after six months, but they remained in the reserve, having to spend a month in training every year until 1965.

Performing in England in October 1962, Phil told the NME, “We are first reservists for the US Marine Corps and if President Kennedy calls, then we shall have to go – even if it happens right in the middle of the show tonight. It doesn’t frighten me: we Americans are very tired of the threat which Cuba holds over our country.”

Avoiding service

The jazz saxophonist Dick Heckstall-Smith of Colosseum was a conscientious objector. He refused to do National Service in 1956 and was given work in a hospital for 18 months. He did nine due to a back injury which was to plague him for the rest of his life.

Before the mid-60s, homosexuals were regarded as a race apart and neither the US nor the UK authorities wanted them in the forces. After all, they argued, they would see other men in the shower and it would be like a holiday camp for them (or a camp holiday). Some homosexuals would not want to admit their sexual preferences and would do military service, but many heterosexuals played the gay card to avoid conscription. The question was: how did you prove your sexuality to the examining doctor?

The actor Anthony Perkins was determined not to go in the forces. There was no war and he feared it would ruin his promising career. His first ploy was to feign mental illness: he consulted a psychiatrist who told him that he could only sign an exclusion if he became a regular patient. He didn’t want that so he effected Plan B, to admit he was homosexual – and in his case, he was. He was mocked and subjected to penis and rectal examinations, which he found painfully embarrassing. Still, he avoided the draft.

The self-important Michael Winner says in his autobiography, “Winner Takes All”, that he wanted to avoid National Service: “I considered it a complete waste of time. It was bound to be abolished in the next three years. If I went to Cambridge immediately, I’d stand a chance of avoiding it.” He did a degree course but National Service hadn’t been abolished by the time he graduated. He saw a psychiatrist and told him he was homosexual. He was then classed as medically unfit. As it happens, I rang the actor Graham Stark at a time when he was reading “Winner Takes All”: “This is an appalling book,” he said, “Michael Winner boasts about getting out of military service by pretending to be a poof. We all accepted that we had to do our bit for the country.”

In the mid-60s, Winner’s approach was the accepted behaviour in America. If your birthday was picked under the lottery system for military service, then you could present your case to the draft board, Guys would put on lipstick and act bonkers so as to be classified as unsuitable. Note the recruitment scene in “Alice’s Restaurant”.

In November 1957 Little Richard, on tour in Australia with Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent, threw his rings off Sydney Harbour Bridge, renounced the Devil and all his works and enrolled at Bible college. I’ve always wondered why he did this, and now it’s obvious. He was almost 22 years old and the last thing he wanted was to do military service. Even though his sexuality was blatantly obvious, he probably did not want to admit it and he thought that studying religion should work. But it mightn’t. Hence, a truly epic gesture to show how serious he was. It was just as well as I couldn’t imagine some corporal ordering a demented Little Richard to do something. Don’t know though: he did have a regulation cut when he was studying.

When the playwright Alan Ayckbourn was called up in January 1960, he deliberately answered the multiple choice questions wrongly and claimed to faint at the sight of blood. He considered breaking his foot in a lift, but didn’t have the courage to go through with it. At the medical, he feigned a dodgy knee and, fortunately for him, the doctors by then were accepting excuses and he escaped what would have been two years of hell for him.

Adam Faith in his autobiography, “Acts Of Faith”, tells a similar story. He was making a name for himself and he didn’t want to lose the impetus by serving Queen and Country. He thought of swallowing soap before the medical or pretending to be deaf but was told that such tricks would be rumbled. In desperation, he asked a doctor in Harley Street to cut off one of his toes. He was shown the door. He tried several other doctors, but they all refused. He concludes, “As it happened, their lack of compliance was just as well; National Service was scrapped just before it was my turn to be called up. It was as if I’d been on Death Row and somebody came along one bright sunny morning and said, ‘It’s OK, you can go home now: they’ve abolished hanging.’”

Some people appear to have just been lucky. Charlie Gracie and Bo Diddley were never called and I asked Jerry Lee Lewis’ biographer, Chas White, why Jerry didn’t do military service: he might not have been much good on the parade ground but he surely would have loved the shooting practice. Chas said, “Jerry told me that he got the card but he never replied.” Nobody followed it up which was probably just as well for everyone.

Being discharged

Carl Gardner of the Coasters signed on with the army when he was 16, thereby leaving his pregnant girlfriend behind. He wasn’t prepared for the hard training of the army so he plotted a way to be dismissed by failing the IQ test.

Jack Scott released “My True Love” in 1958 and then was called up. He wrote “Goodbye Baby” about leaving his girlfriend behind. He was stationed at Fort Knox, Kentucky in the first months of 1959 and “I Never Felt Like This” released while doing service. He was discharged in May 1959 because of stomach ulcers, odd perhaps when he was a physical fitness freak and weight-lifting enthusiast. Jack got out of the forces, had an argument with his girlfriend and wrote “What In The World’s Come Over You”.

In 1953 Brian Epstein found being in the army bad enough and he was annoyed to fail tests to become an officer. He loathed the discipline, had no interest in the army and hated physical work. He loved his home comforts too much and he hated having to stand in a queue and salute for his weekly salary. He fell over on the parade ground but he was a diligent clerical worker. One night after being in the West End, he returned to the Regent’s Park Barracks with an umbrella, bowler hat and pin-stripe suit and he was saluted as officer. This led to a trumped-up charge of impersonating an officer and he confined to barracks. He was sent for psychiatric tests and told that he would be discharged immediately, probably because they had guessed his sexuality. He had served ten months.

The files relating to Jimi Hendrix’s military service have, surprisingly perhaps, been released by the National Personnel Records Centre in St. Louis. He joined the army in May 1961 and the records show that he was a terrible marksman and took little notice of discipline. Jimi was more interested in playing with his private parts than being a private as he caught masturbating in the toilet. He was branded an “habitual offender” (!) and he was discharged (okay, you make the jokes) after a year. Soon he was playing guitar for Little Richard’s band, where such behaviour would have been tolerated, if not encouraged.

PART 3 – FORCES OR FARCES

Terry: Where are you off to?
Bob: Home!
Terry: Leave?
Bob: No, I’m out. Discharged!
Terry: You what? I’ve just signed on for three years!
Bob: Medical discharge.
Terry: Three years!
Bob: Flat feet.
Terry: Three bloody years…
(“Goodbye To All That” episode of “The Likely Lads”, 1966)

Star Treatment – US Style

A fuller account of Elvis Presley in the US army is in my book, “Baby That Is Rock & Roll” (Finbarr International, 2001). I was rocking with laughter as I was researching and writing the chapter as the US armed forces seemed more like Dad’s Army than the world’s supreme fighting force. Elvis was lucky to have escaped Germany without several court martials, paternity suits, criminal charges and a hefty prison sentence. Had journalists then been as inquisitive as today’s, his career would have been ruined. Consider the facts:

July 1956
Elvis asks the Memphis Draft Board to warn him of when he will be called up.
October 1956
According to Billboard, Elvis will go into the Special Services, effectively doing six weeks’ basic training and then performing shows for the troops. He can keep his sideburns. Elvis is annoyed with the Draft Board for releasing this story, but it was concocted by Colonel Tom Parker, although Elvis never knew it. The thought of Elvis giving free concerts appalled Parker, so what was he playing at?
November 1956
Many ex-servicemen complain about Elvis’ proposed easy option, although it was standard for entertainers. Colonel Parker tells his gullible client that, to assuage criticism, he should do the full monty, no Special Services for him. The US army is as shocked by the suggestion as Elvis himself.
January 1957
Elvis has a preliminary medical for the army at the Kennedy Veterans’ Hospital, Tennessee and is graded A1. Elvis has no wish to be yelled at from dawn to dusk and to lose his superstar status. Colonel Parker listens to his client’s complaints but he has already made up his mind. He appeals to Elvis’ patriotism and Elvis was always very patriotic.
March 1957
Colonel Parker goes to Washington and tells the forces’ commander, William Arnold, to regard Elvis’ induction as a wonderful opportunity for army recruitment. He says, “If the hero of today’s youth is prepared to do his bit, then so will everyone else.” No-one is a match for the rock’n’roll spin-doctor who really sees this as an opportunity for free, positive, international publicity for Elvis. In particular, Colonel Parker is concerned over criticism, especially from the church, of Elvis’s outlandish performances: doing his bit for Uncle Sam will show that Elvis is a good, all-American boy after all. It may be two years out of Elvis’ life but his career will last longer as a result.
19 December 1957
The chairman of the Memphis Draft Board delivers Elvis’ notice to Graceland. The date is inconvenient and, prompted by Colonel Parker, he requests, and gets, a 60-day deferment to make the film, “King Creole”. Presley is confused by being drafted. He tells the singer, Barbara Pittman, “Why me when I can stay here and make so much money? My taxes are more important than sticking me in the service.”
24 March 1958
Elvis reports for duty in Memphis. He is put in charge of 12 other recruits who travel on a Greyhound bus to Fort Chaffee, Arkansas. His number is 53310761 and his pay is $78 a month, the only money he will earn between now and his death that isn’t reduced by Colonel Parker’s 50% commission. Elvis is the only private in the US army to employ a Colonel.
25 March 1958
The induction is a circus - over 200 journalists watch Elvis getting prodded, poked and inspected by doctors. In a highly symbolic act, the star is shorn by the camp’s barber, James Peterson - he still looks cool though, and is that jacket and trousers really regulation army wear? Well, he’s still got make-up on. “I don’t think rock’n’roll will die out before I get back and if it does, I’ll sing ballads,” he surmises.
28 March 1958
Elvis goes by army bus to Ford Hood, Texas to receive eight weeks basic training. He is assigned to A Company, Second Medium Tank Battalion, Second Armoured Division, once under the control of General Patton. That night’s episode of “The Phil Silvers Show” is called “Rock And Roll Rookie”, a repeat of an episode from 1957.
April 1958
Elvis’ training is going well, although he thinks that the gunfire may affect his hearing. He wins a medal for marksmanship but his written tests are not good enough for officer material. He says, “I never was good at arithmetic. That’s Colonel Parker’s department”, little realising that he’s commenting on the costliest mistake of his life.
May 1958
Elvis finishes his basic training with 20 mile marches in the Texas sun. The first is an ordinary route march, the second combines walking with running, and the third is with an 85 pound combat-pack on his back. It rains continuously during the bivouac week - the platoon is kept on the move, deprived of regular sleep, to give the feeling of battle. Many recruits collapse but Elvis keeps going.
2 July 1958
“King Creole” opens in America to great commercial success. Other top films of the year - “No Time For Sergeants” and “A Farewell To Arms”.
14 August 1958
Elvis is at his mother’s bedside for 36 continuous hours. His father tells him to take some rest so he goes to the movies with three girls (as you do). While he’s away, his mother dies from a heart attack, and Elvis becomes inconsolable.
16 August 1958
Elvis is overcome with grief at Gladys’ funeral. He throws himself on the coffin, his cries alternating between “Everything I have is gone” and “She’s not dead”.
24 August 1958
Elvis is posted to West Germany as part of a NATO exercise. The Cold War is on and if the Soviets attack, it could be through Germany. If the Americans considered this a threat, why did they allow servicemen to bring their families? Even stranger, Elvis takes Vernon and his granny, as well as his Memphis buddies, Red West and Lamar Fike. As Elvis is going out to Germany, Lloyd Price is coming back.
22 September 1958
Before setting sail to Germany, Elvis gives media interviews. Examples of the Elvis wit: “What is your ideal girl?” “Female, sir.” (Laughter and applause).
1 October 1958
The troopship USS General Randall sets anchor at Bremerhaven, West Germany. The troops are taken to some barracks built by Hitler for his SS troops at Friedberg, 20 miles north of Frankfurt. Elvis will be based there for the rest of his army service of 17 months. His first job is driving a jeep for Captain Russell of D Company of the 1st Medical Tank Battalion of the 3rd Armoured Division.
Elvis is given a “sleeping-out pass” which means that, unless he is on night duty, he can return to his family some 15 miles away at five o’clock. Some days he even returns for lunch. Just as well that he is sleeping off the camp as he has brought his mother’s nightgown with him, though what he does with it is a mystery.
October 1958
Captain Russell finds the attention that Elvis is getting unbearable and so Elvis is moved to the scout platoon. His job is to be a reconnaissance jeep driver.
November 1958
Elvis leaves his luxury accommodation for an army tent close to the border with Czechoslovakia. One of the officers gives Elvis Dexedrine to stay awake on guard duty - it is his first exposure to drugs. Always doing things to excess, he soon has a quart pot of Dexy’s midnight runners.
27 November 1958
Elvis is promoted to Private First Class. He is up to his knees in mud at the Grafenwöhr training camp and remarks to a fellow soldier, “Boy, do I hate this shit.” Nevertheless, Elvis looks immaculate in all the photos released of him in the army: thank Lamar and Red, who clean his boots and press his uniforms throughout his stay in Germany.
December 1958
The Elvis entourage moves from a hotel to a three-storey house surrounded by a picket fence at Goethestrasse 14, some fifteen miles from the camp. Another of Elvis’ girlfriends, Elisabeth Stefaniak, is invited to live there - but as a secretary being paid $35 a week.
28 December 1958
Bobby Bare, about to be drafted, writes and records a parody of Elvis’ induction, “All American Boy”. Because Bobby is unavailable for promotion, it is released under a friend’s name, Bill Parsons. It enters the US chart, climbing to No.2, but is only a minor UK hit.
March 1959
Dee Stanley, ten years older than Elvis, is in the process of divorcing her husband, an army sergeant. She fancies a relationship with Elvis but settles for Vernon. Elvis is not amused.
May 1959
Anita Wood writes to Elvis while on tour with Robert Goulet. Goulet adds a P.S - “Hey, Elvis, don’t worry! I’m taking good care of Anita!” Elvis is furious and years later, when he sees Goulet on TV, he puts a bullet through the screen.
3 June 1959
During night manoeuvres, Elvis tries to heat his tank and nearly kills himself with carbon monoxide fumes. He is taken to Frankfurt Military Hospital and the world is told that Elvis has tonsillitis.
June 1959
Elvis, on leave, goes to Paris in a chartered plane with Charlie Hodge and his friends. The party goes to the Lido nightclub and to everyone’s surprise, Elvis sings and plays a Sinatra song, “Willow Weep For Me”, on the piano. During the ten day visit, the gang goes to the Folies-Bergère, the Café de Paris, the Carousel, the Moulin Rouge and the Four O’Clock Club. At the Four O’Clock Club, the good ol’ boys take an entire chorus line back to the Hotel Prince de Galles for rogering. Elvis is enjoying himself so much that he almost misses his deadline to return to base. He hires a Cadillac to get back on time which costs him $800.
August 1959
Captain Joseph Beaulieu arrives in West Germany and is stationed in nearby Wiesbaden, living off the base with his wife, Ann, and 14 year old step-daughter, Priscilla (born 25 May 1945). A 28 year old airman under his control, Currie Grant, moonlights as a compère at the Eagle Club. Currie often visits Elvis and, as part of his friendship, he procures young women for Elvis. Currie is delighted when the beautiful Priscilla asks if she can meet Elvis and he has several meetings with her so that he can try his luck first.
13 September 1959
Why do the Beaulieus allow their 14 year old daughter to visit a 24 year old sex symbol? Whatever their reasons, the only constraint is a midnight curfew. Well, it is school the next day. Priscilla returns home at 2 am, and her mother is delighted that she has kept Elvis’s interest up for so long.
October 1959
The film producer, Hal Wallis, visits Elvis and suggests a light comedy loosely based on his army life, “G.I.Blues”, though he has no idea that Elvis’ army life really is a light comedy. Elvis, a docile creature in front of authority, agrees.
November 1959
Elvis and his bodyguards go to the Moulin Rouge nightclub in Munich. In the photographs, Elvis looks like a guy who’s been having nonstop sex, which he has. His conquests include a five hour marathon with a female contortionist.
January 1960
It is freezing cold. Elvis fakes a temperature to get out of more manoeuvres, proving he’s a decent actor after all.
20 January 1960
Elvis never becomes a five star general, but he is a buck sergeant and commands a three-man reconnaissance team in the 32nd Scout Platoon. The prospects aren’t that good so he decides against enlisting for a further term.
2 March 1960
Sgt Elvis Aron Presley leaves Germany and Priscilla waves him off. On returning home, he shows the press his final pay cheque for $109.54. He has lost a stone over the two years and is much more muscular. Incidentally, he wears an extra stripe on his discharge, thus promoting himself to staff sergeant, no doubt a trick learned from Colonel Parker.
5 March 1960
Elvis is discharged from the US army.
Late April/Early May 1960
Elvis records the soundtrack for the Paramount film, “G.I.Blues”.
12 May 1960
Elvis Presley is Frank Sinatra’s guest on a TV special, “Welcome Home, Elvis”, not in the circumstances, the most appropriate host, but Elvis sticks to Sammy Cahn’s script and doesn’t ask Frank about his military service.

Star Treatment – UK Style

In 1959 Anthony Newley played Jeep Jones in a quickie parody of Elvis Presley’s army life, “Idle On Parade”, with Sid James and Lionel Jefferies. I’ve not seen it for years but from what I remember, it was a typical British comedy of the period. Trouble was, by the time was film was released, the British public had seen a “Carry On Army” for real with the semi-comic, semi-tragic story of Terry Dene.

Terry Dene was having reasonable success with “A White Sport Coat” (1957) and “Stairway Of Love” (1958) and he had a stage act featuring American rock’n’roll songs. He had problems with his success such as throwing a “No waiting” sign through a shop window and wandering around London in his underpants.

His bass player Brian Gregg says, “Terry was brought up in London and he wasn’t evacuated during the war. It made him very insecure and he ended up with emotional problems. He couldn’t handle the fame. He never should have gone in the army - he had various medical letters saying he was unfit for military service. Conscription was coming to an end and they were worried in case youngsters wouldn’t go in the army, so they put Terry in. He wanted to be treated like any other soldier but he was given the star treatment and it embarrassed him. The other soldiers didn’t like it and they gave him a hard time. Also, he was having problems with his marriage to Edna Savage. He had a breakdown and he was thrown out after a week. The press leapt on him and they finished him.”

Terry Dene did not suit khaki: “I knew before I went in the forces that there was an element of risk. I’d had a long record of being medically unfit, but because I was a big success, a lot of that was pushed under the surface. I had to go out and be this star, but underneath I was very shy and nervous. When I was confronted with the army, my call-up was delayed. I decided that I wanted to go in because I was getting letters saying I was a coward - I was sent white feathers in envelopes. When things did go wrong, they went wrong in a very short space of time. I came under medical supervision and they put me in a military hospital. In the end I was told, ‘We’re terribly sorry about this, there’s been a mistake’, meaning ‘You shouldn’t have been here in the first place.’ What a cock-up.”

Terry’s time in the army became a national issue. “It was brought up in Parliament and everyone was wondering why they had taken ‘Screwball’ in the first place. It was very nasty publicity. I came up before the army board and they asked me if I would get my job back. I said, ‘You tell me.’ They knew the whole thing had been handled very badly and that I had to face the vultures, as it were, by being exposed to the press. They offered me an army pension as compensation but I turned it down.” Noticing the UK fiasco, Colonel Parker issued a ridiculous press release, allegedly written by Elvis and entitled “My Army Life Is Fine”. The press release praised Colonel Parker.

Civilian life proved to be just as traumatic for Terry Dene: “I had a great band with Brian Gregg and Clem Cattini and it was really electric but there were fights every night among the fans. One fan hit somebody over the head with her umbrella because he was saying nasty things about me. There were death threats and I had to be hustled in and out of theatres and hotels. But we played to packed houses.”

Brian Gregg: “We came out at a place behind a cinema and there were Teds waiting in the shadows for us and we got hammered. Clem Cattini was a big guy who saved the day with his drumstand. They let the handbrake off the van once and it crashed into a car I was sitting in with my girlfriend and the car was a write-off. They nearly killed us and they were definitely out to get Terry.”

Joe Brown: “I did one show with Terry Dene which was absolutely frightening. Terry was a nice boy but he was sick and the Teddy boys wouldn’t accept that. They thought it was awful that he wouldn’t go into the army. We did a show at Southend and they tried to get him by battering the stage door down with a telephone pole they had ripped out! I was sitting backstage terrified. They had to call the dogs to get them off. I got paid ten bob for the evening.”

Brian Gregg continues, “Terry was a big star before he went in the army and within six months, he was finished. I did a tour with him and Dickie Valentine and we had to have police at the front of the stage to stop the soldiers from the local barracks from getting at him. He had death threats which didn’t help his emotional state. He went abroad, got married and went to Sweden and became an evangelist.”

The army was reluctant to recruit other pop stars. Vince Eager: “I missed the call-up by days but I remember my manager John Kennedy saying to me, ‘The first one of you to go in the army and show you can do it will be made for life. You’ll get good publicity and the army will give you everything. You will get Sundays off for concerts and long furloughs. You will sell out the concert halls and have hit records.’ Nobody did it and I wish I had. John was right as it gave Elvis a much broader base.”

Emile Ford was very disappointed by the standard of sound equipment in the British theatres. There was a headline in “Disc” – “I will join the army unless…” He wanted better equipment in our theatres or otherwise we would become a soldier. As most theatre managers considered him a pain in the butt, they would have been delighted by the news. Emile, of course, never joined the forces.

Instead of going in the army, Marty Wilde appeared in the West End musical, “Bye Bye Birdie”. He says, “It had been on Broadway and it was a good show. It poked fun at rock’n’roll a lot – well, at the singer really – he was not so much an Elvis as a Fabian, with more looks than talent. It definitely wasn’t Elvis as he was too good for that.”

Marty Wilde: “I went for my medical and had my interviews but they didn’t take me in the end. I was discharged on medical grounds, which was partially true. They said I had a malfunction in my foot and so I couldn’t march, but they just needed a good excuse not to have me there. They didn’t want to catch another cold. Actually, it wouldn’t have been so bad because my father was ex-Sandhurst and I could have made a go of it. I’m glad it didn’t happen though as it could have killed my career stone dead. It also wasn’t my cup of tea as I don’t like people shouting at me. I might have socked someone and been in the clink.”

Marty Wilde’s assessment of his own career is probably wrong. Going in the army would not have killed his career. On the whole, conscription did not make much difference to the progress of the individual singers, but it was a different matter for groups. The personnel could change completely as members came and went, which is why it is so difficult to draw up a family tree for the Drifters and why so many of the doo-wop groups are one-hit wonders.

Look at the British beat scene of the early 60s. The beat groups were formed from musicians in the same cities and because conscription had gone, they had continuity. For example, Ringo Starr and John Lennon were born in 1940, Paul McCartney 1942 and George Harrison 1943. They would have been called up at different times so would they have been able to keep the group going? If conscription had been retained for even another year, we might never have heard of the Beatles.

Ringo thought so too:

Reporter: “If there had been National Service in England, would the Beatles have existed?”
Ringo Starr: “No, ’cause we’d have been in the army.”