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Another Chapter from my book chronicalling my enlistment and training in the early 1960's - Please check the book out on my website: http://www.crawldog.com/michaelruston/index.php
FIRST PARADE!
We were beginning to learn our lesson because most of the men in the room were up and out of bed before reveille. Before the Cpl arrived. However, he still arrived in the normal manner, shouting the familiar “Hands off cocks on with . . . . . “Strutting around the room, his stick tucked under his arm. He was telling us to be ready in fifteen minutes to parade outside in white PT vests and blue shorts ready for our first PT session. About midway down the room, on the opposite side to myself, he stopped to berate one of the lads who were putting the finishing touches to his bed pack.
“Call that square,” he bellowed. The hapless lad stood back, head cocked to one side.
“Looks OK!” He dared to say, patting the side nearest to him in an effort to correct a slight lean to the right. The Cpl began to hit the side of the pack with his stick moving upward and along the top.
“Its crap” shouted the Cpl. Then picking the pack up he shook it along the bed undoing the not so tightly wrapped bedcover and spilling blankets and sheets across the bed.
“You will have to try harder Heath my lad”
“Yes, Cpl” replied the lad, looking downhearted.
The Cpl was about to move on up the room when he suddenly stopped and took a pace or two backward. He leaned over the bed. Then pointing his stick at one of the sheets said.
“What’s this lad?” The unfortunate fellow leaned over the bed and peered at the sheet close to the end of the Cpls stick.
“Dunno Cpl!” He replied
“What you mean? You dunno!” shouted the Cpl.
“Dunno Cpl “he said again looking decidedly uncomfortable.
The Cpl lifted the sheet up on the end of his stick and trailing it along the floor moved on to the next man. “You know what this is Smith?” He asked
“No Cpl”
He moved on to the next man. “Do you know what this is Davies?” he bellowed thrusting the point of his stick under the man's nose.
“Looks like a spunk stain Cpl” he replied.
The Cpl walked backwards to Smith.
“Do you think that is what it is Smith?”
“Yes, Cpl”
“Well why didn’t you say so you moron!” he shouted.
He then moved back to Heath.
“Is that what this is Heath, a spunk stain, what have you been doing to yourself?”
Heaths face had turned crimson and he gazed up at the ceiling to avoid having to look the Cpl or any of us in the face.
“Nothing, Cpl” the poor lad shouted.
“Stains like these don’t appear from nothing Heath” the Cpl shouted back, then changing tack asked “Who does this sheet belong to Heath?”
“The Army?” replied Heath in a questioning voice.
“You and this bloody sheet belongs to Her Majesty the Queen, Heath”
“Yes, Cpl”
“Who does it belong to Heath?” the Cpl asked again, shaking the sheet under his nose.
“Her Majesty the Queen, Cpl”.
“What do you think Her Majesty would say if she found out that you were wankin all over her nice new best cotton sheets? The Cpl asked.
There was a snigger at this from someone behind the Cpl.
“Oh” he screamed turning around “You all think this is funny do you”?
There was total silence. You could hear a pin drop.
“Well if you all think this is so funny” he said very quietly, and then almost whispering went on.
“I think it would be a good idea for me to inspect all your sheets tomorrow morning” and then he bellowed “and if I find so much as a hint of a single solitary stain I will make all your lives miserable - for ever.” He placed the offending sheet over the head of the totally miserable Heath. “Right outside, three ranks, five minutes” and stormed out.
Five minutes later, we were all outside in our three ranks fanning our arms and jumping up and down in a futile attempt to keep warm.
The Cpl appeared.
“Attention”, move to the right in threes, right turn!”
We turned to the right.
“By the front, quick march!” And we moved off.
We had barely taken half a dozen steps when he called out.
“By the front, Double March” and we all broke into a feeble trot.
The Cpl moved abreast of the ‘Right Hand Man’ at the front and increased the pace. “Come on, keep up, stay with me,” he urged.
I could see that we were headed toward the football pitch on the other side of the camp. It was roughly a mile. By the time we were half way there our Section had begun to string out and gaps between the ranks expanded noticeably. Luckily, I was very near the front when we moved off. At the half way point, I was much nearer the back. Those stronger and fitter than I, overtaking every few paces.
By the time I reached the football pitch the whole Section was already there running on the spot. I had been about twenty-five yards behind everyone else.
“Come on Houghton” the Cpl, screamed at me “get a move on!”
I caught up and rejoining the section making a feeble effort to run on the spot but I was totally out of breath and trying desperately to suck in air.
“Section, Halt!”
“Whew! Thank Christ!” I thought bending and placing hands on my knees.
It was a very, very brief respite.
“On your faces! Down! The Cpl shouted and we all dropped face down to the ground. “Twenty press-ups begin!”
The Cpl did his twenty press-ups before the rest of us had got to five.
I am not sure I managed to do a single one successfully. The Cpl came over to me and taking hold of my belt and putting his boot on my bum hauled me up and down rapidly calling “One, two, three, four . . .” and when he got to twenty dropped me like a rag doll onto the grass.
There followed another half hour of agonizing exercises, which left my arms, legs and back trembling and painfully weak. When we fell back into our ranks for the run back to our Spider I could barely lift my feet off the ground. I arrived back at the Spider a good ten minutes after everyone else. I stood soaked in sweat, hands on hips, knees sagging, gasping for breath before a very angry looking Cpl.
“You are going to have to do something about your fitness Houghton and fast” he shouted
“Because if you don’t Houghton you are going to find yourself down the road so fast you won’t have time to blink”
“Yes, Cpl” I gasped. Turning away, the Cpl said
“I got more strength in my dick than you have in your whole body!”
At breakfast, I ate like a horse and even dared, as Oliver did, to return to the hotplate for seconds. The Chef gave me a balling out telling me that if everyone wanted seconds he would have to cook 24 hours a day. Again, my new friend Peter stepped in.
“Come on Chef” he said “the poor lads skin and bone, needs fattening up, you should consider it a challenge” The Chef made no reply, but looking me up and down with a look of utter disdain, plonked another slice of fried bread on my plate topped with a large scoop of scrambled egg.
Back in our room, we changed into Barrack Dress ready for an hours square bashing. Half way through this session of drill, Sgt Steel called me out.
“What happened to you this morning Houghton?” he asked.
“Nothing Sgt! Just felt a bit under the weather,” I explained.
“You failed to reach the bare minimum this morning” Sgt Steel told me,
“You will need to toughen up”.
“I will Sgt!” I said, “Just need a little time”
I felt close to tears and terrified he would have me kicked out.
“Give me a chance Sgt”, I said, “that’s all I am asking”.
“You are quite famous, Houghton” he told me.
“Who me?” I said surprised.
“Yes, You!”
“Why’s that, Sgt?”
“You are known all over the camp as ‘The Windowlene Man’”
I could not help myself and actually laughed at that.
“Well Sgt”, I said “I done something right then!”
He laughed too, and then told me.
“We will be keeping a very close eye on you Houghton” he said “And I’m going to be very generous, I am going to give you the rest of this week and all of next week. If you fail to show a significant improvement by the end of next week then we will have to consider your future in the Army. That clear?”
“Yes, Sgt” I said feeling and looking totally abjectly miserable.
The Sgt patted me on the back
“You can do it Houghton, keeping trying hard, and never give up!”
“I won’t Sgt, I won’t”
“That’s my boy, off you go.”
That lunch time all the lads wanted to know what the Sgt wanted with me. I tried to bluff it out and make excuses but I think most of them guessed I had received a warning.
“Tomorrow,” Peter told me “run alongside me, I’ll see you through”
“Thanks Pete” I told him.
That afternoon there were three sessions of classroom work, basic map reading, military symbols and how to strip, clean and reassemble a .303 rifle followed by a final session of drill on the parade ground. By the time dinnertime arrived, I had cheered up quite a bit. I felt that I had done well in the classroom and that it would stand me in good stead.
That evening was rather comical. With everyone in the room taking their sheets down to the washrooms for a little extra laundering. This was in anticipation of having to have them publicly inspected the following morning. Even though this was only our second full day together in Room 1, Spider 10, I could sense that there was a definite sense of ‘we’re in this together’ comradeship developing. We were getting to know each other and were chatting away happily. We were less afraid to ask each other to help. Some were better at making bed packs and some were better at Blancoing their equipment and some could wield an iron as good as Old Mother Riley.
I had never used an electric iron in my life. On the very rare occasion of having used an iron, it was a cast iron flat iron that had to be placed on the fire or gas stove. Several lads had bought a new iron so we had more to go round.
We all bought a spare razor, brush, soap container and toothbrush in order that we could put those out for inspection and hide the ones we used in our ‘private drawer’
Peter took me along to the gymnasium at about eight o’clock. He taught me to run a hundred yards or so, walk for about fifty, then run another hundred yards and so on. Surprise, surprise, it seemed to work because it I did seem to get there less exhausted. Inside we ran around for a bit and he had me doing leg lifts and other small exercises. I even managed three or four press-ups without collapsing. An improvement on this morning.
Peter encouraged me to do this every day and twice on Saturday and Sunday and that he would come with me. Back in our room, Peter had found out that, the room next door had a transistor radio and that he had asked the Cpl if we were allowed one in the room. It turns out we could, so long as it was put away during the day.
Peter telephoned his father and asked him to drop his off at the guardroom over the weekend. Apparently, Peter’s home was a short forty minutes drive away. Having had to wash our sheets that evening and then to iron them dry before making our beds it had pushed our conservancy routine back a good hour. Most of us did not finish getting the various pieces of kit ready for following day’s activities until gone one o’clock. Heath had cheered up after his morning humiliation at the hands of the Cpl. He had been rather quiet up until this evening but he turned out to be quite a comedian.
He seemed to have an endless repertoire of jokes, most of them disgustingly rude but they were hilariously funny.
He was also a great mimic and could take off the Sgt’s and Cpl’s voices off to a ’T’.
One of the lads had received a parcel from home, which had included fruitcake and biscuits, and in no time we had the kettle boiling and we sat around stuffing ourselves listening to Heath and his jokes Our newfound camaraderie cost us another hour of precious sleep and it was after two when someone shouted “Bloody ‘ell, its after two o’clock” and almost reluctantly, we all went to bed.
One thing I did notice was that practically everyone took that little extra something to bed with them that night. Either a piece of toilet roll, tissue, or if you was posh like Peter a silk handkerchief!
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