The government had started calling up men in their forties, but he was closing on fifty-six and stood no chance of receiving a letter telling him to get himself along to a recruiting office forthwith. He was anxious to do his bit – more than the fire-watching he was doing now – and felt that if he were a member of the armed forces, the war would soon come to an end. It was nigh on six months since the Allies had landed in mainland Europe and Italy had surrendered. The troops had been expected to reach Rome in a matter of weeks. In Jack’s mind the war had been virtually over, but they were still struggling to make their way up Italy and were still nowhere near Rome. The German army were putting up an unexpectedly good fight and thousands of lives on both sides were being lost. And what the hell was happening in Malta? If Jack had had the means, he would have gone there and found out, for Malta was where his son was based. Sean Doyle was in the Royal Air Force, and Jack felt he had a right to know what was going on.
What do You think about The Seven Streets Of Liverpool?
