The whole ethos of Leighton Park was pacifist
- the pacifism of the School was stronger than its Quakerism, for many members of staff were pacifists of other denominations fleeing from
prejudice elsewhere in the public school system - Headmaster John Ounsted was himself a High Anglican pacifist, my German teacher Frank Button was a Baptist pacifist (a Baptist lay preacher) and my Geography Master John Prance was a Methodist pacifist - when it came to doing National Service, many of my fellow "Leightonians" stood out as Conscientious Objectors and refused to do their National Service - some would accept Ambulance service of some kind, which was an acceptable Quaker compromise.
But I concluded that I was no pacifist
- I decided that all forms of civic order relied ultimately upon the controlled and rational use of force, or the threat of force - I could not stand by, and let that key function be performed by others on my behalf - I joined the Royal Navy to be trained as a Russian linguist - at the age of 18, I became Leading Coder (Special) D/M 938594 - and Yes! I do still remember my Service number, as they always say you do... Home Port? Devonport, though I never visited the place.
That judgment still stands
, forty-six years later - I greatly value and respect the Quakers, but consider that they do not face up to the deployment of force in society, whether by the military or the police - I am still an Attender at Quaker Meeting - but not a Member of the Society of Friends - that die was cast, once and for all, in 1953.
But pacifism was to follow me
- my position as the Head Boy of a pacifist school was to deny me my Naval Commission, in spite of my personal views - as a top-flight linguist, I was interviewed at the Admiralty in Whitehall (at one of the deepest basement levels, far in the bowels of the earth) for my Commission as a Sub-Lieutenant - a Commission was essential if I was to go with the other top linguists to Cambridge, to train as an interpreter - Cambridge would only accept ranking-officers as undergraduates - the interviewing Panel cross-examined me anxiously about Leighton
Park, and did not like what they heard - I was "consigned to the ranks" and served my time as a lowly translator-serving with the "Other Ranks" at Bodmin in Cornwall and Wythall in Birmingham - that second rejection by the Establishment was as nothing, however, compared with missing out on the Llandaff Cathedral Choir in 1946.
OUTSIDER!
Certainly, I felt an outsider to England - a Welsh boy in a very English boarding-school - an academic in a muscular and athletic community - a defender and supporter of Wales in every international contest, regardless of the sport - "Chapel", in a seemingly "Church" English environment - excluded from the Royal Navy officer-class by fears of a pacifism I did not espouse. More important - as I now think - I became an outsider to the Cardiff and Swansea that I had left - I retained no friendships there - this unsettled me, and left me searching in later life for roots - yet helped me (as it helps all immigrants) to view English society more objectively, and understand its susceptibility to management, innovation, manipulation, deliberate change - those perceptions have remained with me throughout.
National Service was great
- I thoroughly enjoyed it - I became immersed in the Russian language and loved it, even when spying on Russian submarines making their way down the Danube into the Black Sea - I underwent an evangelical religious conversion in Cornwall, which lasted for about a year (triggered, I suspect by my designs upon Audrey, a deeply religious Cornish school-teacher, and another redhead) - I preached several fire and brimstone sermons in remote Cornish chapels, essentially to please Audrey - I continued performing out of the pulpit, too - in cabaret, with Joe Melia in Bodmin, with Denis Potter in the audience, both press-ganged Russian linguists - in Cyprus, at Christmas 1955, I shared a two-man Dickensian reading of A Christmas Carol with a failed-actor turned-soldier Jim Murphy - at 2 Wireless Regiment Famagusta, we played to great if uncritical acclaim, we were "big in Famagusta", for a few days..
While in Cyprus,
I took my guitar on a two-week bicycle ride around the Island in early 1956 - I learnt a special repertoire of Greek songs, To Spourgitaki was the top of the Cyriot Hit Parade, just before "The Troubles" began in 1956 - those were the last few days of peace, though none of us knew it at the time - I did not visit Cyprus again until Spring 1999, when Elizabeth and I holidayed in Limassol - it was physical affront to find the infamous UN Partition line in position, and Cyprus riven by bitterness and recrimination - those National Service days ended in Summer 1956, when I was almost 21 - and when I was due to start at Cambridge in the Autumn.
Next Page
The whole ethos of Leighton Park was pacifist
- the pacifism of the School was stronger than its Quakerism, for many members of staff were pacifists of other denominations fleeing from
prejudice elsewhere in the public school system - Headmaster John Ounsted was himself a High Anglican pacifist, my German teacher Frank Button was a Baptist pacifist (a Baptist lay preacher) and my Geography Master John Prance was a Methodist pacifist - when it came to doing National Service, many of my fellow "Leightonians" stood out as Conscientious Objectors and refused to do their National Service - some would accept Ambulance service of some kind, which was an acceptable Quaker compromise.
But I concluded that I was no pacifist 
OUTSIDER!
Certainly, I felt an outsider to England - a Welsh boy in a very English boarding-school - an academic in a muscular and athletic community - a defender and supporter of Wales in every international contest, regardless of the sport - "Chapel", in a seemingly "Church" English environment - excluded from the Royal Navy officer-class by fears of a pacifism I did not espouse. More important - as I now think - I became an outsider to the Cardiff and Swansea that I had left - I retained no friendships there - this unsettled me, and left me searching in later life for roots - yet helped me (as it helps all immigrants) to view English society more objectively, and understand its susceptibility to management, innovation, manipulation, deliberate change - those perceptions have remained with me throughout.
National Service was great
- I thoroughly enjoyed it - I became immersed in the Russian language and loved it, even when spying on Russian submarines making their way down the Danube into the Black Sea - I underwent an evangelical religious conversion in Cornwall, which lasted for about a year (triggered, I suspect by my designs upon Audrey, a deeply religious Cornish school-teacher, and another redhead) - I preached several fire and brimstone sermons in remote Cornish chapels, essentially to please Audrey - I continued performing out of the pulpit, too - in cabaret, with Joe Melia in Bodmin, with Denis Potter in the audience, both press-ganged Russian linguists - in Cyprus, at Christmas 1955, I shared a two-man Dickensian reading of A Christmas Carol with a failed-actor turned-soldier Jim Murphy - at 2 Wireless Regiment Famagusta, we played to great if uncritical acclaim, we were "big in Famagusta", for a few days..
While in Cyprus,
I took my guitar on a two-week bicycle ride around the Island in early 1956 - I learnt a special repertoire of Greek songs, To Spourgitaki was the top of the Cyriot Hit Parade, just before "The Troubles" began in 1956 - those were the last few days of peace, though none of us knew it at the time - I did not visit Cyprus again until Spring 1999, when Elizabeth and I holidayed in Limassol - it was physical affront to find the infamous UN Partition line in position, and Cyprus riven by bitterness and recrimination - those National Service days ended in Summer 1956, when I was almost 21 - and when I was due to start at Cambridge in the Autumn.