Retro Sport with Roger Mann: Golf was a life-saver for my dad!

Both my mother and my father were born in Leyton, East London, and my father worked as a porter in Covent Garden Market before war broke out in 1939.

Dad was naturally very fit, and enjoyed sport, particularly long-distance running and soccer.

As a runner, he competed for Eton Manor, and, as a 16 year old, captained his Boys’ Brigade team at soccer.

Life was nicely balanced until Hitler stepped in!

As soon as war was declared, Dad joined the RAF as a physical training instructor and was sent to The Palace Hotel, in Torquay, to start work with the rehabilitation of wounded airmen.

Within weeks of arriving, he found himself part of a team which included some of England’s leading sportsmen.

Leading the team was Dan Maskell, at that time a top professional tennis star.

Famous soccer players Raich Carter, Peter Doherty, Jack Griffiths, and Eddie Hapgood were soon added, and Charlie Ward, the professional golfer, offered an alternative sporting exercise.

Patients were rehabilitated according to their injuries but it was felt that however severe they might be, the encouragement of well-known sportsmen, by their bedside, would prove especially effective.

Once off duty, the soccer players worked hard at their own fitness, and, of course, Dad was only too pleased to join them, after all, who knew how long this war would last?

The news that so many great players were based in Torquay soon spread, and, within months, they were being asked to send a team around the country to appear for wartime charities.

The RAF Medical Rehabilitation Unit Team was formed early in 1940, and weekly journeys of hundreds of miles began in earnest.

Dad was a regular part of the team, and remembered those matches, playing alongside Carter and Doherty, for the Unit team, and sometimes for Derby County’s Wartime Eleven, with huge affection.

He liked them both, and, later in life, when we watched Paul Gascoyne on television together, he would say: “He’s good, but not a patch on Raich Carter!”

As the war continued, more and more airmen found themselves sent to Torquay, and, eventually, as the hospital filled up, it became obvious that these 'jollies' would have to stop.

There were now 200 beds, and most were filled.

By the end of 1940, the soccer players were all re-stationed elsewhere, and Dad’s footballing adventures came to a sudden halt.

Dad told me that, from some angles, he was quite relieved because his work was important to him, and, however friendly the soccer stars might have been, they would always be a distraction to both staff and patients.

Dan Maskell, and Dad, were both Londoners, and they became close friends, while Charlie Ward, the golfer, had now bought a house in Babbacombe Road.

In front of the Palace Hotel, there was a nine-hole golf course, where Charlie would use golf clubs in all sorts of different ways to aid the rehabilitation of the patients.

Before he came to the Palace Hotel, Dad had never played a single game of golf, but now that there was no football on his days off, he began to watch Charlie Ward at practice, and began to hit a few balls off the tee.

Home for my mum and dad, while Dad was stationed at the Palace, was a caravan in Ilsham Tea Gardens, and in late 1941, that caravan became my birthplace.

It was very handy for Dad’s work, but, from now on, his spare time would be limited!

He still managed a few golf swings, now and then, but began to work on a Sunday, so that he could give Mum a hand during the week when she needed it most.

One Sunday, towards the end of that summer, Charlie Ward suggested that Dan Maskell and Dad should take the day off and enjoy a round of golf at Saunton, in North Devon, which was his favourite course in the county.

Knowing his standard of golf was not up to that of other two, Dad was hesitant at first, but finally agreed to join them.

At 11.14am on Sunday, October 25, 1942, just as they were standing on the first tee at Saunton, a German Focke-Wulf aircraft dropped the first of three bombs on the Palace Hotel.

It fell directly on the gym, and the officer taking Dad’s place that day was killed instantly.

In the 1950s, Dad became the captain of Torquay Golf Club for a year, and rarely spoke about that tragic day.

However, one day he turned to me, winked, and said: “Yes! I have a lot to thank golf for!”