My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyarmy' was created in Britain, and it is likely to be the last, for such an enterprisewould today be a serious breach of the law. The question is often asked, how was itdone? The answer is partly by force of necessity and partly by inspiration of the spiritwe gave it. This spirit could not have been so fully and enduringly created without thecommunity of the old Black House. The basis was that in a class-ridden society, ourlife together was entirely classless. In the black shirt, the traditional duke's son anddustman could meet in the mess with complete equality, scarcely aware of eachother's origin. This was the second great advantage of the distinctive dress, whichmade our men all look the same.The discipline on parade aspired to be up to Guards' standard, but did not exist in themess, where all ranks met in equality and complete companionship. This was thebasis of a new model army, with its new political idea, and a new ideal of life.'Opportunity open to all, but privilege to none,' was intended to ring with the classicappeal of an army whose every soldier carried a baton in the knapsack. Our moralitydeclared that all was permitted, provided an act did no harm to others; or to the manhimself, thus impairing his dedicated service to the land he loved. It was designed toinstil a renaissance of manhood. Such an attitude did, indeed, produce a new spirit.Deliberately, we willed the birth of a type who was half soldier and half politician,partly a tough warrior in hard and practical tests, and partly an inspired idealist whoreached for the stars with his feet firmly on the ground. This was our dream of theblackshirt character and in many fine young men it was largely realised.I am often pressed to answer more fully the question, what was my relationship withthese men and what was the effect on me of the extraordinary life I led for seven years,between 1932 and 1939? My relationship with them was the companionship of adedicated order. We were a band of companions wholly given to the saving of ourcountry for purposes in which we passionately believed, and by methods which webecame convinced were entirely necessary. In action, all command depended on me,but in the common rooms of headquarters, or in the local premises of something overfour hundred branches throughout the country, I was just one of them. I joined in thefree discussion of politics which always prevailed among us, in the sports to whichour spare time was largely given, in the simple club-room gatherings where we woulddrink beer together or cups of tea prepared by women blackshirts.This was the most complete companionship I have ever known, except in the oldregular army in time of war, more complete even than my early days in the LabourParty, when I enjoyed every night the warm hospitality of a different working-classhome. It was more complete because we were banded together by the common dangerof our struggle and the savage animosity of the old world towards us. Most of themwere very like members of the Labour Party in the days when I was first a member,when it still suffered ostracism and persecution. They liked dressing up and havingbands and banners, just as the miners did at the Durham gala; symbols which werethen anathema to the shy middle-class with its public school inhibitions, thoughrecruits from their ranks were soon infected with the gay panache of which, inEngland, East London is the spiritual home. They were English people of the very soilof England, with their warm geniality, humour and ever-ready courage.Panache is a French, a European word, while most of our members were very British,but it best describes the outward aspect of the blackshirt attitude. They certainly255 of 424