WHEN actor John Mills died in April at the age of 97, almost every obituary described him the same way . . . "The quintessential British officer, soldier, sailor, airman and commanding officer, embodying the decency, humility and coolness under pressure so cherished in the British hero."

And that was indeed true. It seems inconceivable to consider any epic British war film without his name somewhere in the credits.

For those of us who came to know him in his later roles, it was a surprise to learn he actually got his start as a song-and-dance man, at first part of a travelling troupe.

Life is full of surprising coincidences and his occurred in Singapore when Noel Coward saw him perform. He was hired for some of Coward's revues and soon his war movies, where Mills' dancing shoes were traded in for a uniform.

From then on, for some time his career seemed to become a parade of films chronicling war . . . In Which We Serve, We Dive At Dawn, The Way To The Stars, Above The Waves, Dunkirk, I Was Monty's Double, Tunes of Glory, Oh What A Lovely War, Ice Cold in Alex, Young Winston . . . and that's just for starters.

Somehow, his soft-spoken, modest demeanour made him seem like what one reviewer labelled "everyman". Whether he played an ordinary seaman, soldier, RAF pilot or the commander of a Scottish regiment, he created the believable image of the neighbour, son, uncle or brother who bravely went off to fight the enemy and didn't always survive.

What made his performances so memorable was his naturalness, the ability to portray ordinary men who did extraordinary things during war. And that's how he seemed when we met on location . . . no hint of a prima donna, not the ego that overwhelms so many of far lesser fame and talent.

It was certainly a career unlike many others.

"I was making movies before you were born," he kidded.

In a career that spanned close to three quarters of a century, he had survived many of his co-stars, yet quite remarkably remained well known to the younger generation, as well.

OBITUARIES focused mainly on his war movies, but this travel-minded film fan tended to have another focus. Several of those we covered had so much emphasis on locations, the stars seemed almost secondary.

Director David Lean and Academy Award-winning Robert Bolt certainly know how to use locations to dramatic effect. Lean had first used Mills as Pip in Dickens' Great Expectations, then included him in the cast of Ryan's Daughter and eventually Lady Caroline Lamb.

Both those films also starred Sarah Miles, in each case playing a scandalous woman of very questionable character. But the dramatically haunting scenery of Ireland's Dingle Peninsula, combined with one of the best musical scores next to Chariots of Fire, brought Ryan's Daughter considerable attention.

We played one recording of the movie score so relentlessly that it actually wore out and Metro Goldwyn Mayer studios publicity department managed to come up with a second copy of the original score.

Those who have followed his career will remember Mills won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in the role of a mute, mentally challenged villager.

I'm always especially intrigued when a film focuses on English history, and Lady Caroline Lamb took one of London's more sensational 19th-century scandals and recreated it on screen.

"She was no lady," insisted a reviewer, shocked by her headstrong, wilful antics. Daughter of the 3rd Earl of Bessborough, at 20 she married William Lamb (Jon Finch) who became Queen Victoria's first Prime Minister, despite the blaze of publicity which had surrounded his wife's romance with poet Lord Byron (Richard Chamberlain).

Byron had become famous overnight as the celebrity of London's society for his Childe Harold. It was Byron who broke off their short-lived relationship, but not before they had scandalised everyone, including King George IV (Ralph Richardson) with their behaviour. Even the Duke of Wellington (Laurence Olivier) was involved.

Cameras focus on many sites easily explored on day tours from London. A major location was Chatsworth House, Duke of Devonshire's palace near Bakewell, Derbyshire. Originally built in 1549, it housed Mary Queen of Scots in captivity for 15 years.

When Prime Minister Canning (John Mills) and Lamb visit the King, they are actually in Wilton House near Salisbury, loaned to movie-makers by the Earl of Pembroke. Its superb 16th-century state rooms were designed by Inigo Jones, a dramatic setting for rich art treasures including Van Dyck, Rubens, Tintoretto and Rembrandt.

When Caroline follows Byron to dinner at the Duke of Wellington's home, the viewer is visiting Gorhambury Manor near St. Alban's, loaned to the production company by Lord Verulam as stand-in for Wellington's Apsley House.

Scenes involving Lamb's mother, Lady Melbourne (Margaret Leighton), were shot at Philips House in Wiltshire. Even Somerset House, noted as England's records office, became a ballroom in the film.

IT sometimes seems Mills was filmed either in a trench, on the deck of a battleship or a stately home. He's back in one of those supersize mansions again in Sir Lew Grade's The Big Sleep. If it comes as a surprise to find a Raymond Chandler classic in an English country house setting, that's only one of many surprises in this film.

Robert Mitchum is called to Hertfordshire's Knebworth House by an ailing General (James Stewart), who is being blackmailed. Soon he's surrounded by a varied assortment of villains ranging from Sarah Miles and Joan Collins to Richard Boone, Edward Fox and Oliver Reed. A lot of English favourites are in supporting roles . . . including John Mills, Harry Andrews and Richard Todd.

Knebworth is right up there among the most prestigious, beautifully maintained of country estates . . . crammed with treasures one has come to expect of these places. Built by Sir Robert Lytton between 1492 and 1540, it descended through generations of the same family.

"Did you know it became a favourite stopping-off place for Charles Dickens?" Mills asked. "He was a great friend of the family and often performed on the stage in the banqueting hall."

"Another interesting bit of history is the fact Churchill painted here." Mills had an above-average knowledge about Churchill's early life, partly thanks to his role in Young Winston in which he played the famous Lord Herbert Kitchener.

It's another in a list of videos to request when you want an intriguing look at history. That film has a heady dose of Churchill as a young war correspondent-soldier. It travels from the extraordinary battle of Omdurman in Sudan on to the Boer War.

To illustrate Mills' versatility and adaptability, he was equally comfortable and believable as the Viceroy of India in producer Richard Attenborough's Ghandi. The three-and-a-half-hour production masterfully recreated Mahatma Gandhi's life, criss-crossing India from Delhi to Bombay, with sequences stretching across Allahabad and Amritsar to Patna, Pune and Udaipur. Even the town where Gandhi was born, Porbander gets camera attention.

There are many interesting train sequences in the film showing Gandhi travelling across India . . . and Mills couldn't resist pointing out that the Prince of Wales railcar (vintage 1895) although elaborate, shows English nobles did not ride quite so royally as Maharajahs!

I'd gone off to the famous railroad museum in Delhi and touring the private cars of former Maharajahs was quite the experience. Those familiar with their palaces will not be surprised to learn they lived in an equally opulent style when they travelled by rail . . . inlaid wood panelling, gold trim, hand-carved furniture, custom-made china.

TRAINS have been running in India since 1853, a time when only seven other countries had started their railroads. There were 170 private railways by 1950 when they were all nationalised.

Mills' life work ranged from Goodbye Mr. Chips to Scott of the Antarctic and earned many honours and awards. Considered a national treasure, he maintained his air of debonair charm to the end, remaining "fit and remarkably youthful to old age". Daughter Hayley credited that to his joie de vivre.

At one time, his close neighbours in Buckinghamshire were Laurence Olivier and David Niven . . . can you imagine what cocktail hour with that trio might have been like?

He summed up his always even-keel disposition in one sentence: "I've never considered myself to be working for a living . . . I've enjoyed myself for a living instead."