There are no photographs or humor with this blog, none are required.
From 1974 until 1981 I worked for Michelin in Burnley. I worked in the maintenance department as a mechanic and though that I knew everything. I was successful, having more good things in my life than I ever thought I would have. I was married, lived in a new house full of nice furniture, and had just bought a new car. For a 22 year old my life was pretty good, we had a great social life, I played football for local clubs, we had money to spend and all we needed. Not surprisingly my (big) head told me that I was always right, why would I think otherwise? I had made good decisions so far and things were working out, and my wife and I had done it all ourselves.
One of the members of the mechanics shop at Michelin was a diminutive man called Harry, (I apologise but I have forgotten his last name) Harry was a ‘Burnley boy’ as he would proudly say. He worked as an oiler, with a very unglamorous job, which was not in the conventional way of thinking, skilled work. Harry was a typical ‘Lancashire lad’, he turned up for work every day in a shirt and tie, which was tucked into his coveralls, his grey hair was combed neatly and he did exactly what he was told and worked hard. Harry was the butt of many jokes in our department. He was small, five feet nothing, and he looked and acted as if he belonged in a bygone era. You could imagine Harry tipping his cap at the bosses horse and carriage car as it drove by. A genuine, Lancashire working class man was our Harry.
One day I turned up to work with a stubble, normally I was clean shaven, mainly because beards and me don’t mix, but also because it was the fashion to be ‘smooth’. But this particular day I had no shaving cream at home and took a childish strop and just went to work unshaven. Harry was always immaculate, even though he had a dirty, heavy job. He was always clean shaven, well groomed and wore clean coveralls. When Harry saw this he asked me why I hadn’t shaved, I told him that I had no shaving cream and ‘obviously’ could not shave. He asked me why don’t I just use soap, of course I told him that he was a silly little man and he should know better, if you have no shaving cream how can you shave I asked.
Harry did not get mad, he just left me alone, later in the day we met up again at break time, when we sat down and he told me his story. Harry had been in the second world war, and was one of the first British soldiers captured in Burma by the Japanese. He was sent to a forced labour camp, building roads. Many men died, effectively worked to death, or were executed by their captors. Harry told me how the captured British soldiers always shaved every day, sometimes using their own urine for water, without soap or shaving cream. They did this because it separated them from their captors and made them feel ‘British’. He then told me that every man executed was clean shaved, even though they knew there was no point. Harry was a hero. This little man, standing five and a half feet tall was braver than anyone I had ever met. His story was told not because he wanted to embarrass me, but to teach me that you don’t need luxuries, and that self respect is worth more than anything. As he said, “you’re not a bad lad, you just don’t know”
I felt embarrassed, two feet tall, humbled and upset with myself. I was standing next to a small man who was ten feet tall, a war hero, a man who had seen more horror than I ever will, and who was a real gentleman. Life is full of lessons, choices and actions. Harry proved that the spirit of a man will not be broken by brutality. I had proven to him that I was spoilt brat that needed a life lesson. I got one of the best lessons I have ever had.
I have always remembered my conversation with Harry. I can recite every word. I can still see his face, his eyes that had seen so much, now with a hint of a tear. November 11th is a working day in England, with two minutes silence at eleven o clock. Harry would stop work, bow his head, stand straight up and salute, and then go back to work. For a couple of years before he retired I saw him do this; then he just got on with his job. I still feel embarrassed when I think about how self centered I was, the only thing bigger than my head was my ego, I had become an all round prat. Here was harry, A brave and very proud man, a living hero. I feel privileged to have met him and to have known him. Thank you Harry.
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