Jack Henry

Reading Jack Henry’s obituary in The Guardian with details of his distinguished war record has solved a very old mystery for me. Jack interviewed me for the graduate trainee entry to Reuters in 1971. At the time I was an Oxford undergraduate who was good at languages but had no journalistic background. “Mr Morrison, would you like to be a war correspondent and report the war in Vietnam?” he asked me. We were sitting in his office on the fourth floor of 85 Fleet Street, a few steps away from all those rattling old teleprinters surrounding the World Desk. “Not particularly,” I said. I added something to the effect that I had no desire to get shot in a war zone. He didn’t comment, but after the interview I was convinced I had said the wrong thing. I was amazed when Reuters offered me a traineeship.

Now I realise that Jack, having served in World War Two with the British army, had seen enough of war not to be interested in recruiting young men whose one ambition in life was to get as close as possible to the sound of gunfire. I now realise there was a lot more to Jack Henry than I understood at the time. ■