Transcribed by Susan Bergeron. Geo. News Chronicle Saturday, February 8th, 1941 Wonderful Britain No. 8 Friendships made on Home Guard night Patrol will outlive this WAR. By William FORREST It was after midnight when we left the village to climb the hill. It is a stiff climb, and the wind pierced the thickest greatcoat. Only men with a set purpose would climb the hill on such a night as this. Our purpose had been set for us. I was out with a patrol of the Aston Clinton platoon of the Home Guard, fulfilling an instruction to go up to "High Point" and see if all was well there. There were four men in this patrol, including the section leader, who told me he had worn the Queen's that is, Queen Victoria's uniform. All four knew the ground well, for this was the platoon's fixed observation post last summer when parachute-spotting was the chief preoccupation of the L.D.V. We tramped the windswept hilltop, back and forth, our boots crunching the frozen crust of snow, and finding nothing untowards, returned to Platoon H.Q. to report all well. Returning the challenge of the sentry outside H.Q., we passed into the warmth and light of the hut. Sausages were sizzling in a pan on the stove. The teapot waited for the kettle to boil. Counting the sentry, eight men were on duty; a sub-section of the platoon. There are eight sub-sections, and all take in rotation a night of "laying-in" duty. Hours : 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. It doesn't seem much, one night in eight; but there are drills or lectures every Wednesday night as well and on Sunday mornings there is always something on field operations, musketry practice or a full-dress rehearsal of an invasion alarm. Captain de L. LEACH, acting platoon Commander, was busy with plans for such a rehearsal when I returned with the patrol. He spoke enthusiastically of all his men. "I couldn't have wished for a better lot of chaps," he said. A year ago many of these men, although living in the same parish, were strangers to each other. Came that memorable evening in May when Mr. EDEN, then War Minister, broadcast his appeal for Local Defence Volunteers in every town and village. The three neighbouring parishes of Aston Clinton, Buckland and Drayton Beauchamp made the same ready response as everywhere else. The volunteers were asked to report at the house of Air Commodore P.F.M. FELLOWES. They met in the garden, farmers and farm labourers, grocers, building workers, stockbrokers and solicitors, publicans, insurance agents. With Air Commodore FELLOWES as commander the platoon was formed. The district was divided into eight sectors, to be patrolled at dawn and dusk. The volunteers had no uniform. Their weapons were any they could lay their hands on. During those anxious days and nights that followed Dunkirk, the patrols were out, morning and evening, always in pairs. Cars were stopped during Alerts. Suspicious-looking strangers were challenged. Mysterious lights were tracked down. And all this time, the work of fortifying Aston Clinton was pressed with feverish haste. The danger that threatened villa and cottage alike was enough to break down all conventional reserve and to found friendships that will long outlive this war. The platoon is now at full strength, with ample reserves of eager youths to fill the gaps as members are called up for the Army; and it is well equipped. As I drank my tea a hefty printing worker, who is in charge of the armoury, fondled an automatic rife as if it were a pet. A journalist buttoned up his greatcoat and went out to relieve the garage worker who had completed his two hours sentry go. I went out with my brother-journalist. "The Home Guard," he said, as he took up his post, "was a stroke of genius, don't you think? Men will fight to the last for their own homes." .....