FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY?

[Stanley]

FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY?

31 May 2002

I see that there is going to be a programme on TV about basic training for the army in the fifties. I shall miss it, I shall be away when it is broadcast but it has prompted me to do a piece for all the old squaddies out there who had first hand knowledge of the process.
It may come as a bit of a surprise to my younger readers but until 1958 when it was abolished, every young man of 18 was liable for two years service in the armed forces, National Service. There were certain exceptions and deferments on the grounds of health, education or occupation but the vast majority of young men were called and served. How it worked was that a couple of months after your 18th birthday you got a buff envelope marked OHMS, the dreaded ‘Calling-Up Papers’. This contained a travel warrant and instructions to attend at the nearest Army Medical Centre where you were examined to find out how healthy you were. As I was working in Warwickshire at the time I had to go to Birmingham for my medical.
The medical itself was a frightening process for a young lad. You had to take all your clothes off in front of a lot of strangers and no part of you escaped prodding and poking! A few weeks later you got your grading which varied from A1 (perfect health) downwards. I got a bit of a shock, I was a fit lad but was graded ‘C3 (eyesight). Not to be employed in infantry or artillery’. The army digested this information and sent me another letter telling me to report to The Dale, Chester, home of the First Battalion the Cheshire Regiment. Once there for training I was told I would be serving in Anti Tank, in other words they had put me into the infantry and artillery at the same time! The same letter gave you your army number and, like a Co-op divi number, you never forgot it, I was 23050525 Private Graham. S. Basic training was horrendous. The Army took you in, reduced you to jelly and poured you into their mould. If you survived, and some didn’t, you came out a completely different shape than when you went in.
The first step was to send you for a haircut, the operative word was ‘cut’, actually it would have been more accurate to describe it as shearing, it all came off. Then you were issued your kit. In a remarkably short time you emerged from the stores with everything you needed to sustain human life. The only attempt made to make sure anything fitted was the best battledress, you had to go to the regimental tailor to have it altered to fit. I can remember being very shocked when this lady took considerable liberties with me to assess what she called ‘ballroom’!
Everything merged into a blur after that. We did everything ‘at the double’, we weren’t allowed to walk, we had to run everywhere. We were taken out on to the parade ground and taught to march and do rifle drill by sergeants and corporals who had been chosen for their sadism and ability to shout very loudly, usually in your ear. We hated them! We were taught how to ‘Blanco’ our webbing equipment. ‘Blanco’ was the trade name for a cake of green compound which you used like boot polish but with a wet brush to pipeclay and colour all your webbing equipment. Another essential art was ‘bulling’ boots, we were shown how to get a polish like patent leather on our best boots which were only used for special parades. At any time of the day or night we could have surprise inspections. Woe betide anyone who’s kit wasn’t clean, polished and folded neatly the way we had been taught. The punishment was ‘jankers’, this could be anything from extra drill with full pack, that is carrying all your equipment, to being locked in the guardroom or given extra duties. It sounds like hell doesn’t it? Believe me, it was. Every now and again we would have a change like the day we were given a lecture by a nice Padre who told us it was alright to kill the enemy because God was on our side.
The good bit came when they took us down to Sealand Ranges to fire our classification course on the Lee Enfield Rifle and Bren Light Machine Gun. The funny thing was that bad eyesight or not, I was a natural. I shot a Marksman score on the rifle and only missed by one point on the Bren. This was important because, apart from the kudos of being able to sport crossed rifles on your sleeve, you got more pay. They thought I’d cheated because nobody wearing glasses had ever shot this well. If you have someone in the butts who was on your side they could stick a pencil through the target and it looked just like a hole made by a .303 bullet. I was taken down to the ranges the following day by the sergeant major and made to shoot the rifle course again. It was better weather and I scored one better than the previous day! The SM congratulated me and I got my badge and pay rise.
So, looking back after all these years, what effect did it have on me? I think I was lucky, I took to the discipline and hard work better than most. A few broke under the pressure and vanished, we never knew what had happened to them, I came out of that six weeks far stronger and harder than I went in. We were sent out to Berlin eventually and held back the Communist Hordes so you could all sleep easily in your beds at night. I guarded Hess, Speer, Doenitz and Funk in Spandau Gaol. I spent six months with the Black Watch teaching them the 17 Pounder Anti Tank Gun (now they were hard lads!) I got botulism and I learned to sail on the 1936 German Olympic boats. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world! Would I want to do the training again? No way!

31 May 2002

[Gloria]

An interesting read Stanley, you’ve explained it very well.

[Stanley]

Thanks for the comment Gloria....