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George Spenceley relives his army training days in the 1950's and the many friends and memories he recalls
Later on in 1953, one of the Officers approached me as to whether I'd like a job as a Dispatch Rider. He'd been reading my records and noticed that I had a motorbike license. I jumped at the chance of doing something different.
Handing me a helmet he took me to where the motorbikes were stored and sitting astride one he said, 'Come on, climb on the back we have to meet some one'. I climbed on but was not quite sure what I was letting myself in for, the old soldiers motto was never volunteer for anything.
The Officer started the engine and let in the clutch almost throwing me off the back, I clung on to him, Officer or not, he was going far to fast for my comfort. I hung on as we sped through Colchester and out into the country.
We stopped at the entrance to a wood. Taking out a map he studied it then turned to me and said, 'This is the place we'll meet the others here'. We sat at the side of the road and chatted about my experience with motorbike until we heard the noise of a vehicle in the woods behind us.
'Come on' he said and jumped to his feet, 'that must be them'. We rode along a grass track until we came to a clearance at the top of a hill then looking down the track towards the bottom we saw a Bren-Gun-Carrier heading for a large pool.
There was another Officer standing at the front of the tracked vehicle shouting encouragement to the driver, 'Come on, come on, straight through and out the other side'.
There was a huge splash as the vehicle thundered through the water then carried on up the other side. 'Right' said the officer 'its up to you now lets see what you can do, ride down the bank through the water and up the other side'.
I'd done quite a bit of riding across the fields on the farm but they were fairly level, what was expected of me now was different all together, the bike was a BSA 500 cc. model much larger and heavier than the BSA 250 cc. that I owned.
There was the steep track down and the water to get through. I suppose I could have backed out and said I couldn't do it but I thought of a better way to get round it. 'When you are ready go for it, it should be easy' commented the Officer.
So I pressed hard on the kick-start and the engine fired into life, with the toe of my foot I engaged bottom gear, gave it a few revs, let out the clutch and I was away gingerly down the track.
I tried to avoid the places were other vehicles had left deep ruts and on nearing the bottom I steered clear of the spot were the tracked vehicle had ploughed through, then revving the engine I splashed through the mud and water to the other side then on up the hillside to where the other vehicle was standing.
I turned the machine round and the Officer on the carrier shouted, 'Well done gunner' as I set off on my return trip. My Lieutenant didn't seem too impressed with what I'd done and I'm the first to admit that it was no big deal.
'Here let me show you how I want it done, you'll have to go through far worse than this if you want to be a dispatch rider'. Taking the bike he set of at a thundering pace down the track heading towards the deepest part of the water at the same time as the other vehicle had set off on its return journey.
Officers always seem to want to play silly games with each another and the obvious happened. My Officer stalled his engine in the water just as the carrier was passing and it drenched him with mud.
Paddling almost up to my knees I ran to help him pull the machine out of the quagmire, the bike was so heavy it took all four of us to recover it and we had to manhandle it on to the Bren-Gun-Carrier. So much for his training!
I was now a qualified dispatch rider and whenever my regiment went on an exercise it was part of my job to go ahead of the convoy and direct the traffic, I enjoyed that.
George Spenceley, 2002
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