All this preparation work took place during the phoney war period 1939/40 - and it was indeed a blessing, that we were able, under relatively peaceful conditions, to alter, rebuild and equip the place, engage a nucleus staff, and in general prepare ourselves for the inevitable hot war to come.
I had an emergency dormitory fitted up with reasonable comforts, large enough for 20 or so people, and we recruited about that number of trainees from the West Country - below military age or rejects from conscription on health grounds - who lived on the premises and practiced their skills on subcontract work we undertook for what was then the Marconi-ekco Instrument Company who were hectically turning out part of the VHF radio communications system, which, although I did not know it at the time, was to be the vital communication link in the Radar Fighter Control System first used in the Battle of Britain.
Malmesbury, with which I was to be closely connected for the next six years was the ancient capital of Wessex, where King Athelstan had ruled in the tenth century, and where he was buried. The remains of the once famous Abbey, still huge, dominate the town overlooking a bend on the Avon.
To say it was a sleepy town would be an understatement as since the 10th century, history had passed it by, except for the birth there in 1588 of Thomas Hobbes the philosopher; and for its medieval historian, William of Malmesbury. The total population at the time, including the Malmesbury rural area, was between five and six thousand. There were five RAF stations within a ten mile radius, which could be useful, and there was a rail service of one train a day from the main line at Swindon, with bus services to some surrounding towns and villages.
Malmesbury had, strangely enough, a medieval connection with aeronautics; sometime in the middle ages, a monk, Brother Anselm, conceived the idea of attaching wings to his shoulders, and like Ikarus taking to the air from the top of the Abbey tower. It is not recorded whether the heat of the sun as with his mythical predecessor, caused his wings to fall off, but he landed ignominiously in a nearby garden with nothing worse than a broken limb.
That part of the town within the old town wall, which still stands in places, was governed under an ancient charter by a Town Council with a Mayor and Town Clerk, who were both something out of Dickens. Most of the population actually lived outside the wall in newer suburbs, or surrounding villages.
This outer area came under the jurisdiction of the newer Rural Council, regarded as upstarts by the Town Council proper, and although they had to co-operate in such matters as drainage, water supply etc., there was the minimum of contact between the two bodies. As most of our employees tended to live in the town and the factory itself was in the Rural area, this lack of co-operation was to lead to many frustrating, if at times comical situations.
After we had settled in, it soon became apparent that the sudden influx of a secretive crowd of modern "industrial types", was. to the inhabitants, a traumatic experience - they just did not know how to cope. Attempts to co-operate with the original Mayor and Council mostly resulted in complete failure; we spoke a different language, the area was completely feudal and a few local tradesmen and retired military men backed the Council but matters did improve when Dr. Hodge was elected Mayor in 1941. The local solicitor who was also clerk to the court, was the town's legal Poo Bah.
Whether it was a trivial County or Police court matter, a property to rent or buy, all roads led to his office. He was the trustee for the leading local families, and worked in cahoots with the Town Clerk. There was a wine and spirits shop in the town, owned by a member of the British Israelite Movement, which was always "out of stock" when any of our people tried to buy something. I was more fortunate - perhaps being recognised as a somewhat more genuine type of Israelite; and did manage to get an occasional bottle of Algerian wine or Cyprus Sherry.
