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There were about sixty officers and men present in a large room which turned out to be an ante-room to the Hall in which the investiture was to take place. A private, who had been awarded a DCM, and I were the youngest there. I was by far the youngest officer to be up for the DSO so a large, fierce and extremely important colonel addressed me personally.
“Now, mind what you are at. March up to him and stand to attention facing him. You've got your ribbon on? Well that's something at any rate”, he said with the tone of one who must be thankful for any mercy however small. He continued, “His Majesty will put the medal on you so keep your hands out of it. For God's sake don't try to help; just stand to attention. Don't move and above all do not try to engage in chat with His Majesty. When he's done, step back and march out. Remember – no chat!”
I couldn't possibly have engaged in chat with anyone, let alone ‘His Majesty’. The only thing I could have thought of saying was, “For God's sake get me out of this hole.”
At last the ghastly moment came. There were few DSOs and before I could tell how, I was in front of the King with what looked like a picture hook stuck into my ribbon. On this he hung the DSO. As I was about to back out he started to chat.
“You were at Cambrai? That was a very fine action. You lost your tank I believe? Did you get it back?”
“No sir, but the infantry did.”
“Ah! Excellent.”
I could almost feel the colonel breathing fire down my neck; why had he not told His Majesty “and above all – don't chat!” Why pick on me?