There are, of course, plenty of women interested in military history today. When I was growing up, however, I felt completely out of step with the other girls of my own age, none of whom knew anything about the subjects that fascinated me. While on the surface I pretended to be interested in boy bands and glittery nail varnish, in secret my time was spent reading history, especially military history.

In the first instance, I credit my love of history to my mother. When I was growing up, she used to read a lot of historical fiction (and still does), and she especially loved authors like Jean Plaidy, who wrote about the life and times of the European nobility. Plaidy is the reason I spent hours memorizing the dates of the reigns of English Kings and Queens (and yes, I can still remember most of them), and to a certain extent I continue to retain a fascination with the medieval English nobility.

We both read a lot of historical romance, because this was the only historical fiction marketed at women. The infamous “bodice rippers” were fun to read, and although critics have always poured scorn on historical romance, the authors of the genre usually carry out detailed research, and relationships are portrayed against a vivid historical panorama. Longer novels like Kathleen Winsor’s Forever Amber (about 17th English society) and Anya Seton’s Katherine (about Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt) were my favourites.

But it was Sharon Penman’s Sunne in Splendour that propelled me out of historical romance and into military historical fiction. Initially marketed as a romance, the book had a terrible romantic cover that betrayed its true nature as a hugely detailed investigation of the Wars of the Roses. I finally persuaded Tony to read it a few years ago, and although reluctant at first, he went on to adore the book too, so if you haven’t read it, please look it up! The story follows Richard of York and his son Edward on their journey to depose the weak king Henry VI, the life of Edward IV, and the subsequent reign of his brother Richard III, and I was enthralled by her excellent descriptions of the battles, and the political wrangling that went on around them.

I was thirteen or fourteen when I read this book, and so began my fascination with military history. I spent many evenings making notecards of the battles of the Wars of the Roses, copying out battle formations, writing up accounts, and studying the complicated family trees of the York and Lancaster lines. Indeed, I won over my husband, Tony, by talking about how the Battle of Towton was fought in a snowstorm – the poor guy didn’t stand a chance!

After this, I branched out into other military fiction, and especially loved Cornwell’s Sharpe novels. Around this time, I also developed an interest in archaeology, plus I began to consider a career in teaching. I took a combined honours History and Archaeology degree at the University of Exeter, and many of my courses focused on military history, including a study of fortifications in Europe, and analyses of the archaeological finds of weaponry. Templar knights, the Knights of St. John, and the Crusades fascinated me, and through studies of these I also grew interested in monasticism.

When I graduated, I continued to consider teaching as a career, but by this time I was writing practically non-stop, and to this day, the urge to bring the people in my head into reality has remained the main reason I haven’t ventured into the teaching profession (although I did teach archaeology to adults for two years). I branched out into reading fantasy fiction, my interest for this genre born from a lifelong love of fantasy and sci-fi created by my father’s insistence that I watch such quality TV shows as Buck Rogers in the 25th Century and Blake’s Seven in my formative years. Strangely, I began to realize how the historical and fantasy genres were often closely related, due no doubt to Tolkien’s influence. Books and their related movies like The Lord of the Rings sometimes discuss military strategy in detail, and I loved Peter Jackson’s portrayal of the attack on Helm’s Deep, for example. Episode 9 of Game of Thrones Season 4, The Watchers on the Wall, is a classic example of military history-meets-fantasy, and the siege by the Wildlings on the Wall was my favourite episode so far.

It was my interest in medieval fortification, in Templar Knights, and in monasticism, that forged the idea for Heartwood, a fantasy based around a group of holy knights who both worship and defend the world’s holy tree. The last third of the book focuses on the siege of the fortified temple, the culmination of years of fascination with medieval castles, weaponry, and sieges, as well as with fantasy.

My favourite movies remain those with a fantasy or military-focus like LoTR, Kingdom of Heaven, Black Death, Ironclad, Master and Commander, the Band of Brothers series, the Sharpe series, Hornblower, 300, Henry V, pretty much anything with a military historical slant.

As a member of the female sex, my main disappointment with the genre is the almost non-presence of women in the majority of military historical books and movies. Obviously, this is a direct reflection of history, and I’m certainly not advocating the interjection of female characters where none would have been present. However, I have to say that it is becoming acceptable to cast people of colour in roles normally reserved for white actors, like Hamlet, because the assumption is that the actor is playing a role—in this sense, maybe in the future could we see female actors playing male historical roles? I’d certainly be up for some swinging of the sword!

It has been nice recently to get more involved with the factual side of things, and writing historical articles has been hugely enjoyable. It’s also brought me in touch with many other historians, and ultimately that’s the great thing, being able to share one’s love of a subject with others.

Freya

I joined the Army at the age of 16 being unable to read a note of music, I only listened to pop music that was current at the time and in general would have been classed as a Philistine to most music lovers. During the first term basic training was done during the day but the Army Apprentice School required all apprentices to join one of the clubs that provided after hours leisure activity. As new boys we were taken round all the clubs including canoeing, photography, judo and many more and I had to join at least one of them. My father had advised me I should learn to play a musical instrument, so I joined the brass band.

I was given an E- flat bass, a three valve monster that you had to carry with a plastic strap attached for support.

I was given to an apprentice corporal who also played an e-flat bass to start my tuition. This sadist had a wind-iron (a piece of eighth-inch iron about 6 inches long hooked at one end for holding music down to your music stand on windy days) that he introduced to the top of my head every time I blew a wrong note when practising my scales. Within the first two months I was blowing notes well enough to sit in with the rest of the band during music rehearsals.

I had to serve 9 terms to pass my apprenticeship. Each term lasted three months with a break between each one. Before I left to go home at the end of the first term I was measured up for a dress uniform, or “blues”, that the band wore on ceremonial occasions. I was looking forward to going back in my second term to start learning my trade, military skills and further education.

The band met every day in the evening after work, where we practised the pieces of marching music required for Saturday’s parade, hymns for Sunday Church parade  and music scores from musicals like Oklahoma, West Side Story and many others that we played at Officers' Mess evenings and gala events. I also had to learn how to march, carry the instrument, read the music cards attached to the instrument and learn how to counter-march all at the same time.

It was during my second term that we were invited to play at the Royal Tournament during the warm-up session before the programme started. I practised with the band but was told by my trainer to concentrate on staying alert, keep in line and not to worry about playing too much music. On the evening of our performance I can remember the feeling of horror when the doors opened and we marched into the massive arena covered in rutted sawdust from the King's Hussars cannon troop and horses' earlier practice. I did stay on my two feet but I do not remember blowing much music!

Also during term 2 we had the honour of marching Mary Rand through the streets of Henley when she returned from Mexico with her gold medals.

In my third and fourth term I was playing better, I felt like I was now a band member and we were touring the South playing at carnivals as a marching band leading the Parade. We also were invited to play at Windsor Castle for the Queen’s garden party. This was mostly show music sitting down in the park and I did get to see the Queen.

Terms 5, 6 and 7 went by with plenty of events but most of my time was spent concentrating on my apprenticeship exams. I was promoted during term 5 to Lance Corporal after attending a cadre course on Brecon Beacons with other members of my division. It was during term 6 we played at a ceremony when the school became an Apprentice College and put on the REME badge.

Term 8 arrived with me becoming Band Sergeant. I arrived at the gate to sign in for the start of a new term and was told to report to the Regimental Sergeant Major immediately. Our band master had been involved in a car accident during the holiday period and his return date was unknown at this time. I was to ensure the band was ready for the Saturday parade and had rehearsed the RSM’s favourite marches. Then the Padre gave me the hymns for the church parade on Sunday. The band master did not come back for another month so it was pretty busy, leading the band and getting ready for my apprenticeship final exams as well.

Term 9 was a lot more relaxed, exams over and I had passed my finals and heard I was being posted to West Germany. Then the band master said we had to stay for an additional two days and provide a marching band and church parade at Winchester. We had to learn “Winchester Cathedral” for this special day and played it at least four times during the day.

I left Army Apprentice College Arborfield with fond memories. The band had been my saviour during the early terms of being away from home for the first time. But as I progressed through the school it kept me busy and eventually when the band became mine for the last two terms it got me out of the day to day army routines. This philistine now plays the saxophone in his spare time and appreciates most music.

Barry

With absolutely no forward planning on my part, my mother gave birth to me in London, England, in 1941, where I spent the first happy years of my life. When I finished my education, I applied for a job as a tape room boy, in the newsroom of the "London Daily Mirror" one of the most popular daily newspapers in England. My father was already a Printer, and in those days the only way you could get into the printing industry was to have a close relative in one of the Printers’ Unions. As a tape room messenger, (at the age of sixteen) my job was to race around London without delay, to chase up breaking newsworthy stories and copy from contributors (from politicians to freelance hacks) plus features from a team of famous writers. As there was always a deadline to make before the presses were put to bed, speed was of the essence.

To this end, I was allowed to travel around London employing the fastest method of transport, whether it be the tube train or a London black cab. I was given a small expense account, enough to pay fares on buses or the Tube, and if I needed to use a Cab I would get the "Mirror" doormen to settle the fares. It was a very exciting life and I loved every minute of it. 

The London Cab drivers were (in their own way) wonderful tour guides; what they didn't know about London just wasn't worth knowing. I would sit in the back of their Cabs whilst they would keep up an informative dialogue on every historical monument, building, or district we drove through.

I soon fell in love with this wonderful city, a love affair that continues to this day. Almost every week, I would learn something extraordinary about this place and the people that have lived here through the centuries. I couldn't believe that here was I, a young boy, sipping a coffee in "Ye Old  Cheshire Cheese" a favorite haunt of Dr S Johnson, and walking past the very house that (during the great fire) he was said to have buried his precious cheese in to protect it from the flames.

During my jaunts around London, I was constantly amazed by the unending historical sites and layer upon layer of this great towns' foundations: from the remains of Roman occupation, through the Iceni revolt led by Boudicca, the English Civil War, and two World Wars, over 2000 years of English History, a fascinating collage of bricks and mortar seeped in history.

"Look!" my cab driver guide would say, "this is one of the walls built by the Roman invaders. It would have run up to Aldgate, just one of the seven city gates they built: Aldgate; Bishopsgate; Cripplegate; Aldersgate; Newgate; Ludgate.” (Moorgate was not strictly an original, quite modern, having been built about 1415.) "Hey, look over the road! In that church are the mummified remains of a cat believed to have belonged to of one of London's most famous mayors: Dick Whittington."

"See the clock opposite? The two giants that ring the bells on the hour are Gog and Magog, protectors of the City; legend has it that a princess, Landona (a close friend of the giants) was with child and gave birth to a baby boy, who was given the name Prince Cockney. He was born in Bow (within the sound of the bells?) and as the boy grew older he developed a twisting of his legs, and they started calling him ‘Knocknee’."

After a while, and a little laughter (although this story is perfectly true) the cabbie would continue: "This building is the banqueting Hall, King Charles I was beheaded just here." He would point to the middle of the road. "Must have caused a bit of a hold up," I would quip. "Well, of course, the buses never used to run along here in those days," he would retort.

"Just over Southwark Bridge, Samuel Pepys watched as the great fire swept through London.There was Bankside of course, the Globe theatre, the Bear baiting pit—a bit of local entertainment, in case you got fed up with the hanging up at the Borough; there was once even a Rat baiting pit (dogs would wait whilst dozens of rats were freed into the pit, and the onlookers would make wagers on the time taken for the dog to finish them all off)."

Navigating a series of narrow passages between Fleet Street and the Embankment, you will come upon a beautiful sand-coloured church in remarkable condition, (having survived for over 800 years). Stepping inside the Temple Church, you come face to face with nine grave effigies in full knights’ attire; these wonderful gentlemen are Knights Templar, included is the likeness of William Marshall a famous Knight. He made his early living jousting for riches, and he was also an accomplished swordsman. A legend in life, he died in 1219, a friend of King Henry II. The king in fact was so impressed with William and his fellow knights, he determined to become a Templar Knight himself, and he in fact joined the order just months before his death. A popular 21st century movie A Knight’s Tale was based on his early life. I have always been fascinated by the Knights Templar, and well remember the excitement of finding this wondrous place.

As many historical facts as you could wish to know, and all you had to say to your knowledgeable cabbie was, "What is that building over there called?" Then I would just sit back and enjoy.

In 1791, James Boswell published a biography of his good friend Dr Samuel Johnson; Boswell lived in Edinburgh, but loved the excitement of London. He would make regular visits every year to visit his friend "Johnson". During one of these visits he asked his friend, "I love London but fear I would tire of it after a while!" Dr Johnson's reply has become as famous as the man himself. "If an intellectual man is tired of London, he is tired of life itself, for there is, in London, all that life can afford."

Probably the finest books about this wonderful City have been written by Peter Ackroyd, and I would recommend them most highly; I think he could give my cab drivers a run for their money!!

When I was courting as a young boy, my now wife and I would take long walks in the evenings through the city streets and along the river, and we would seldom meet a soul. The city was devoid of people at night, save for office cleaners and the like. It was a strange but comforting being a very small part of it all.

John Robertson