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Dispatching beer for the popular Derby brewery Offiler’s was a hectic and demanding job according to 90-year-old Joe Blackburn, of Shelmory Close, Allenton. But when the Second World War arrived Joe found himself faced with some even greater challenges, working as a cipher operator with the SAS, sending secret coded messages in the Middle East.

Joe at his Allenton home

Joe Blackburn, of Allenton, never seemed destined for a simple life. Born in London in November 1916, he was uprooted at the age of nine when both his parents died suddenly.

His twin sister, Carol, was relocated with a London relative but Joe’s future was to involve a journey to new horizons, one of many in his life.

He arrived in the East Midland’s town of Derby, where he was to spend the next 12 years living with a strict Victorian aunt in Dairyhouse Road.

“It was a massive change for me and it took me time to settle into a new way of life,” he said. “I was sent to St James’ School and at that time there were 50 in a class.

“My aunt was quite concerned when I came 49th in the first set of bi-annual exams but the headmaster was confident I would improve.

“I gradually found my stride and ended up breaking the school record by coming top of the class in the last five exams I took.”

Joe’s quick brain and potential to succeed was spotted by another influential figure in authority when, at the age of 14, he was offered a job by the larger-than-life and somewhat intimidating owner of Offiler’s Brewery, Harry Cecil Offiler.

Offiler’s Brewery, where Joe worked in Normanton, Derby

“I didn’t think I stood much of a chance at the interview,” Joe recalled. “I was up against five other boys from our school who had all been suitably equipped with long trousers for the occasion.

“I was very embarrassed to find myself the only one there still dressed in the short trousers we had worn for school. However, Mr Offiler still gave me the job, on the grounds that he had spotted a glint of cheekiness in my nature, which he seemed to think was a sign of being spirited enough to do well in life.

“I was delighted. The beer industry was a very wealthy one at that time and the wages it paid reflected that. They were far higher than anywhere else. At 15 shillings a week, I must have been one of the best paid office boys in Derby. ”

Joe’s relationship with Harry Offiler was to become an enduring one but always remained very traditional. It seems he was a man to be respected but at a certain distance.

One of Joe’s duties as office boy was to clean out his boss’s pipes, which were smoked on a fairly continuous basis. “After cleaning out the ashes, I was instructed to wipe them over with rum to enhance the flavour of the next pipe of tobacco,” he said.

This daily task inspired Joe to take up pipe-smoking himself at the age of 17, an indulgence which he has enjoyed ever since.

After rising to the position of clerk in the brewery’s forwarding department, Joe looked all set for a job for life. In 1939, with a weekly wage of £3 10 shillings (£3 50p) and a sweetheart, who also worked at Offiler’s, he was in a rosy and comfortable position but, as it turned out, Adolf Hitler had other ideas about how the future would shape up.

Before long, Joe found himself drawn into the uncertainties of a country at war.

Initially, he volunteered as a despatch rider with the 26th Light Regiment, which often involved transporting soldiers on leave to visit their families in Derby.

Any illusions he had about being part of a “slick fighting force” were, however, quickly dispelled when he realised he was expected to supply his own motorbike, gas mask and overcoat for this task.

As it happened, Joe’s despatch riding career came to quite an abrupt end one moonless night, as he transported a soldier from Melton Mowbray to Derby.

“Despite the blackout, a car drove up behind us with its headlights blazing. We signaled it to pull over and began to complain about the driver, only to discover our major from camp sitting in the back.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, Joe suggested the car could follow the tail-light on his bike as the driver was unfamiliar with the local roads.

“Unfortunately, I was not the best of guides,” he laughed. Slightly further down the road, I drove straight into a herd of milking cows which were being moved from one field into another by the farmer – in the dark!

“I dislocated my shoulder and eventually passed out with the pain. When I eventually woke up in the Army medical centre, I thought at first that I was hallucinating. The first person I saw was Derbyshire and England cricketer Sam Worthington, who was busy tending to my injuries.

“That was one of the things about wartime; people turned up in the most unlikely of places. War was a great equaliser in that way, too. Everyone was prepared to muck in and do their bit.

“I believe even H C Offiler became involved in directing the ARP service in Derby during the war.”

The next four years or so of Joe’s life certainly developed in that way, too, as he found him in some very unlikely places.

Joe is pictured marrying Dorothy when on leave in 1940

After marrying his sweetheart, Dorothy, on a 72-hour leave, Joe was sent overseas to the Middle East where he became involved in intelligence operations, enrolling for a course to become a cipher operator.

He showed great promise at encoding and was rapidly promoted to the post of corporal. Half way through the course, Joe was asked to teach ciphering skills to others and, before long, he was dispatched to take part in intelligence operations on which the lives of thousands of soldiers depended.

“I really enjoyed the brain work, ” said Joe. “I’m quite a methodical person and it was a challenge to stay one step ahead of the Germans.”

But it could be quite an isolating job at times and it led to some long and lonely journeys across the Middle East. It also kept him away from home and his loved ones.

“I remember receiving a telegram from home while working at a town beside the sea of Galilee, telling me that my wife had given birth to a healthy son.

“I had become a father but it was another four years before I could meet my son and hold him in my arms.”

And there were times when Joe wondered whether he would ever get to see his young son, Derek.

Joe in uniform. He was working towards his sergeant’s stripes when he opted to re-join his wife and son in England

At one point, he found himself being whisked off the train from Cyprus to Beirut, at Haifa, in Palestine, to take part in a tricky operation on the Greek Islands.

“There was not even time for me to collect my back-pack from the luggage compartment,” he said. “I knew something big was afoot when we arrived at a nearby port and joined up with soldiers from the SAS, the SBS and the Long Range Desert Group. We all boarded a Greek destroyer heading for an unknown destination.”

The Allied forces were attempting to undermine the Nazi’s occupation of Europe by establishing a foothold in the Mediterranean.

In the event the plans were too ambitious. Joe’s camp on the Greek island of Leros came under constant attack and he found himself ciphering by candlelight in caves deep in the hillside.

“Eventually we had to get out of there in a hurry and I was on the last boat out. Fortunately for me, I knew too much about the codes being used to be left to fall into the hands of the Germans but, sadly, many men were left behind.”

After a couple of months in hospital suffering from exhaustion, Joe attended a further course in high grade ciphering in Cairo, Egypt, and was given the opportunity to earn an extra stripe and become a sergeant by taking a post in Eritrea, in North Africa.

“I embarked on a mammoth 500-mile journey from Cairo, travelling over land, up the River Nile by boat and across the Sudan desert by train, then through the mountains.

“I travelled alone and it took exactly a week to complete,” he said. “I often think of that journey and wonder how I did it. Even a trip into Derby, navigating my way successfully around the shops, can seem like a big task these days.”

In fact, Joe never fully acquired the title of sergeant. After 108 days in the post, he was given the opportunity to either stay on and earn his extra stripe, which was only another 72 days away, or de-mob and return to England to be with his wife and son.

“I had not returned home for four-and-a-half years,” he said. “It was a difficult choice in some ways because I was enjoying my post,” Joe recalled, “but I could not turn down the chance of returning home to be with my young family. “Our reunion when I returned home was incredibly emotional.

“Every soldier had to face the possibility of never making it home during those war years and here I was, safely reunited with my wife and young son.”

Joe’s next challenge was re-adjusting to civilian life and his responsibilities as a family man, particularly when there was a new addition – his second son, Alan.

Tense days spent working on codes and travelling across the Middle East were replaced by domesticity and bike rides in the Peak District.

Although he was offered the chance to take up an Army post in England, Joe decided to resume his work at Offiler’s Brewery and remained in the despatch department there for the next 18 years.

By 1964, he had been promoted to chief forwarding clerk but, two years later, H C Offiler sold out to Charringtons , which turned the Derby brewery buildings on Ambrose and Moore Street, in Normanton, into a depot.

Joe with his twin sister, Carol in 1990

“It became a very hectic job but I enjoyed the challenge, so it was quite disappointing when, in 1968, a merger with Bass led to the depot being moved to Burton.

“The majority of the Derby staff were made redundant.”

At the age of 51, this was not an ideal situation for Joe.

“I was offered a job with Canada Dry but decided to cut my losses and went to work for Rolls-Royce instead. “It’s not a decision that I regret. The social side of Rolls- Royce was always excellent and provided me with a good social life, which I valued hugely, especially after my wife, Dorothy, died soon after my retirement.”

Joe’s twin sister also died earlier this year (2007).

“We were both aged 89-and-a-half and she gave the other half to me,” he said.

Looking back on his life at the grand old age of 90, Joe says he has few regrets. Despite a difficult start, he feels life turned out quite well for him and counts his blessings.

“I came home from the war to resume my life with a loyal and loving wife,” he said. “Not everyone did.”

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County:  Derbyshire

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