Part 7 – Out
Of The Frying Pan
Our last acts at Middle Wallop were to have a farewell drink
with the lads and of course, get marched out of the quarter. This was a sad
day for me, as I felt instinctively that this would be my last contact
with the place, for Maggie too, as she had started to make friends with
several of the other wives in the Pads. I was too flat-out to even wander
across to the Sergeants’ Mess and celebrate my elevation in the time-honoured
fashion. Bert Hill, a retired WO from the Royal Anglian Regiment and the
Chief Clerk at Northampton AIO, had informed us that it would be at least two
weeks before we could take over the accommodation at Kettering AIO. As a
consequence, Maggie was to stay at her parents and I was to see if I could
fix myself up with single board and lodging until the quarter was available.
I drove to Kettering from Luton
on the A6 on my first day and found my way to the Army Information Office.
This was situated at the junction of Fleet Street and Trafalgar Road, just a hundred metres
or so down from the GPO and therefore very handy for the Town Centre. There
to greet me was a REME bloke Sergeant G-------- (hereafter referred to
as ‘Gilly’) and a Royal Anglian Regiment Colour Sergeant, G.R. ‘Dick’
Woods. My fellow REME bod was a friendly bloke but Dick Woods seemed to be in
a sour mood and I was not all that impressed with him as a future workmate. I
was shown the day-to-day routine of the Office and familiarised with the
requirements of Head Office in Northampton,
all dealings with them were through Bert Hill, the Chief Clerk and it
was stressed to me that he was a man who enjoyed the power that this gave
him! Later on that day I informed my two colleagues that I needed to see
about fixing myself up with local lodgings pro tem. Dick Woods thought this
was a good idea but Gilly wondered why I didn't just travel back and forth to
Luton, as I would be eligible for petrol
allowance, this being due to the Army's inability to find me quarters or
lodgings in the short term. Gilly said that he knew of a woman who ran a
lodging house and kindly gave me her address, giving me a nudge and a wink as
he did so. At four o'clock
Gilly suggested that I take off and see if I could find the place and check
up on the availability of bed and board. I found the place without too much
trouble, it was reasonably close to the Office and there was plenty of
parking space and no parking restrictions. I knocked on the front door and a
rather scruffy bloke answered the door, he eyed my uniform up and down and
when I enquired after the lady of the house, said he would see if she was in.
She was indeed and I was quickly invited in, it was immediately obvious to me
that this woman, who quickly informed me that she was a widow, was predatory!
I felt that any bloke staying there would be at some risk of being chased
rather than chaste, so after a cup of tea and a polite: "I'll be in
touch" I took my leave and then wended my way back home to Luton.
When we considered the cost of board and
lodgings, not to mention the risk, we reached the conclusion that it would be
better to run back and forwards to Luton
daily for the short time that it would be necessary. The journey was of about
90 minutes duration and therefore quite feasible, the more so as the hours of
the office opening were the standard nine to five. The rest of that week was
spent in learning the ropes and travelling the area, plus of course
introductions to persons that could be of some use to me as contacts, the
local Police Sergeants who did the desk duties for example. I had noticed
that there was a decidedly chilled atmosphere in the office and I was
constrained to ask Gilly what the hell was going on? He said: "I have
caused the Army some embarrassment mate! You may have noticed that my wife is
not here, that is because I was indiscreet with the girl who was cleaning the
office for us. She was only just sixteen and she let on to my wife about it,
she dobbed me in to the Major and that was that!” He went on to warn me that
I should watch out for Woodsie in particular, as he would drop me in it if he
could as a matter of course. He also said that Bert would enjoy
dropping me in it too. "The Angle Irons are very clannish." he
said. "Charming!" was the thought that went through my mind as this
revelation was made to me. Fact was though, that it merely confirmed what I
had come to suspect. I decided there and then that these blokes were not
going to get at me because I was falling down on the job, it was fairly
obvious also that their affections would be transferred to me once Gilly was
gone. I would be the heir apparent to all the aggro that his actions had
stirred up and as such could expect no quarter if I slipped up in any way.
Recruiting Sergeants -
Wellingborough, Northamptonshire
Sergeant Gerry PECK
REME/AAC and Sergeant Tom MARTIN Grenadier Guards
I very rapidly slipped into the
routine of the office and spent every spare moment clueing myself up on those
sections of QR & R's that were relevant to the job, as well as insisting
that I do all processing of recruits so that my paperwork skills were quickly
raised to the requisite levels of competency. My knowledge of the area was
going well too. This consisted of the towns of Kettering,
Wellingborough, Irthlingborough, Corby,
Rushden, Rushton, Desborough and Rothwell and of course all points in
between. I was very pleased with the way that I was fitting into the job and
Gilly's last words to me were to the effect that he thought I would be fine
if I remembered to watch my back. On my last solo trip to Kettering, on the Friday as we were to be
marched in to the quarter the coming Monday, I was involved in something
quite unexpected during the journey up the A6. It was very foggy and as I
drove along with about six miles to go before entering Bedford, a Vauxhall Viva that was showing
trader’s plates passed me. Whoever was driving it was in a hurry, because
they shot past me like I was going backwards, this despite the really poor
visibility. A few seconds after the Viva had disappeared into the fog I
heard what sounded like a huge paper bag being burst, figuring that something
may have happened to the Viva, I slowed right down and kept my eyes peeled. I
soon came across the scene of what was a minor disaster, the Viva was canted
over at the side of the road and was sort of banana shaped, slightly behind
it but further into the paddock was another car, this with a damaged front
end, just barely visible across the A6 was a third car, also with a damaged
front end. Blind Freddie could have worked out the scenario, old lead-foot,
who turned out to be an attractive blonde in her thirties, had shot past
another car and met someone head on, to then have the car she had been
overtaking catch her from behind! The two other drivers were wandering about
looking very dazed, so I pulled in off of the road and got them both
together, they seemed to be getting their act together so I asked them where
the other driver from the Viva was, as I could not see anyone in the Viva.
They had no idea, seeing smoke and steam coming from the wreckage I went
closer and spotted that the seat in the Viva was clearly off its mounting and
on a closer check, I found the lady driver on the floor of the car, with her
leg very obviously broken below the knee. I grabbed one of the two chaps and
bade him call for an ambulance from a house that I had passed and was just
a hundred metres or so back along the road. I told the second chap
that he would have to help me get the woman out of the car, quickly as I
could I shot and grabbed a blanket from the boot of my Anglia,
then we set about getting her clear. This was going to be tricky, as with her
leg canted at an angle that it was never intended for, there were ends of
bones to worry about; last thing needed was a severed artery! I was able to
wrench the back seat out of the Viva and this was going to be where
we would lay her once out. I got in next to her and explained to
her that help was on the way but we would have to move her because of the
fire risk from the still smoking and spitting engine compartment, she
was in and out of it and shivering violently, in shock for sure! I briefed
the other bloke that he would have to very carefully move her out as I would
be using my arm and the other free hand to splint and immobilise the injured
leg as best as I could. I made sure he knew to follow my instructions in
lifting and stopping when told, he seemed quite with it despite the blood and
bruising on his forehead and nose, he had what looked like a couple of
shiners coming on too. We set about it and stopped every time she cried out,
at one point she passed out for a few seconds and that gave us the chance to
get her clear and on to the seat, I got my assistant to wrap the blanket
around and over her and then sat there until we heard the sirens coming, the
woman had come to again and was asking me about her face, which was swollen
and had many small cuts from the windscreen, I reassured her that her looks
were safe, and kept my arm and hand in place as a splint. The Police and the
bloke sent to call for help arrived on the scene at the same time and they
immediately began to interview him, the other siren was right on top of us
and the ambulance pulled in no more than thirty seconds after the Police. As
the Ambos took over, I quietly retrieved my blanket, slipped away to my car
and drove off to complete my journey. I wasn't a witness to the accident and
let's face it, anything I could have said would only have made
things worse for the poor woman with the broken leg and bloodied face.
1964 - Army Recruiting
Office, Kettering,
Northamptonshire
Sergeant Gerry PECK
REME/AAC
That day I was shown the young lass who had been the
downfall of my predecessor, a very attractive young redhead who lived with
her parents just four doors down from the AIO in Fleet Street, which was a
cul-de-sac. I also learned about a lady called Heather, a large,
very predatory seeming woman (something in the water perhaps?) who lived over
the way in Trafalgar Road and who, Dick informed me, would make a point of
trotting across every time she saw a young man enter the office. He said that
this was a nuisance as she was very hard to get rid of. This surprised me and
I asked why he didn't just ask her to leave so that the office could function
as it was intended. He got up on his high horse and informed me that you
couldn't just talk to people like that. I recognised that he was one of those
unfortunate men that is overawed by large formidable seeming women, it
probably explained his sour disposition, although in all fairness, his wife,
when I met her, was quite petite and obviously devoted to him. I somehow
did not think that Maggie was going to like my colleague when she finally met
him. Meantime, I had met a couple of the Northampton
blokes and then on that Friday prior to the move into the quarter attached to
the AIO, I was privileged to travel over to Northampton and meet the rest of the team.
Into the Firing Line
That last Friday afternoon before we
took over the flat attached to the Army Information Office, I met the whole
team that functioned from the Northampton Office. With some help from a
friend from that place and time, this is the list of people that formed the
recruiting line up: CSM Nicholls of the Royal Engineers, CSM Croker of the
Army Catering Corps, BSM Foad of the Royal Artillery, Sergeant ‘Dot’
Winterton of the WRAC, Sergeant Drain of the Royal Army Ordnance Corps,
Sergeant Faint of the 3rd Royal Anglian Regiment, Sergeant Johnson
of the 17th/21st Lancers, and Sergeant Martin of the
Grenadier Guards. The support team that stood to with static or mobile
displays consisted of two 2nd Royal Anglian Regiment Privates
under the charge of Corporal Stainton of that regiment. Bert Hill I had
already met, he now introduced his offsider to me, a civvy called Dennis, a
nice bloke with a long-suffering demeanour about him. Bert informed me that
he was arranging for me to attend a course on the Bell
and Howell projector at the Army School of Cinematography at Beaconsfield. This would
be of one week’s duration and had to be organised as soon as possible so that
I could attend various places, such as Youth Clubs and Schools and show films
extolling the virtues of life in the modern Army. On the way back to Luton that night I looked in vain for the spot where
the drama of that morning had occurred, with the fog that had been about it
was difficult to note landmarks. It did seem surpassing strange though that
someone who was the first ‘wuss’ out of a gory Demonstration film, was able
to cope very well in a real life crisis involving severe injury traumas.
Army Recruiting Team
(right) Sergeant Gerry
PECK REME/AAC
Maggie
travelled up with me on the Monday, the car was jammed full of our personal
effects plus the cat and dog and was well down on its springs as we made our
way along the by now familiar (to me anyway) route to Kettering. I informed
Maggie as we crossed into my very own territory a mile or two before Rushden
and took a proprietorial interest in pointing out places and things of
interest. Maggie wanted to know how close we would be to Wickstead Park, a
well known focus of entertainment on the outskirts of Kettering, I reassured
her that it was only a couple of miles from where we would be domiciled and
that we would drive right past it on the way in. Maggie was well pleased with
the flat as we did the march-in. It was huge! Just behind the doorway into
the two offices that constituted the business end of the set up, was a
doorway leading down into a cavernous cellar, empty save for a few display
boards and a full-sized dummy. Directly opposite the office entry and the
other side of the front entry annexe, was the door into the ground floor
section of the flat, which consisted of a kitchen/dinette, a scullery and an
outside loo. Facing the front door entry were the stairs to the first floor,
which consisted of a bathroom and WC, two very large bedrooms and a huge
lounge room. The second floor consisted of two good-sized garret bedrooms.
The whole place was very comfortably furnished and was in very good
condition. This was going to be a very nice pad indeed! I settled down for a
morning’s work in the office, opening the mail and listening to Dick's
running commentary on how he wanted to organise the week. He was making it
quite plain that he would be the man calling the shots, this was not going to
happen though because as the ERE Recruiter, the Office and ultimate
responsibility was mine, regardless of rank or seniority. Gilly had warned me
that this would happen with Dick and likewise the course instructors at
Woolwich had been adamant that the ERE man had to be in charge. Taking the
bull by the horns, I quietly and politely informed Dick that while his input
would be expected, heeded and valued, I would exercise the final word on the
Office agenda. His lip was actually trembling as he rose and started to say
that someone with my lack of experience should defer to him, I said that it
was not a case of deferral either way, rather a case of pulling in the same
direction and remembering whose neck was on the block and as it was mine, the
situation would continue as outlined by convention. He grabbed his hat and
stormed off through the front door, I thought to cool down perhaps but no, to
call Northampton Office from an outside line and have a whinge. That was
obvious because I suddenly got a call from Bert Hill cautioning me against
upsetting Colour Sergeant Woods and listening to such advice as he saw fit to
offer me. I repeated to Bert what I had said to Dick, hearing the outer
doorbell go as he returned to the outer office, I was tempted to call him
through so that he could hear me properly instead of eavesdropping. I
explained to Bert that I was not seeking despotic powers nor was I trying to
ignore or upset Dick, merely that I was going to do exactly what the Army was
paying me to do, be in charge of Kettering Army Information Office!
Dick, never a friendly or
outgoing person since the day we had met, now entered into a major sulk that
was to last for the remainder of the time that we shared the office, I was
not very pleased with the atmosphere that this created but put up with it in
the short term, thinking that a way to resolve the problem would sooner or
later occur to me. Maggie came bustling in with a cup of tea and some
biscuits for us after knocking on the interconnecting door from the flat, she
was beaming as she came in but soon noticed the frosty atmosphere emanating
from my colleague. At lunch time I was aware of someone kicking a ball
against the Fleet Street side of the house, going to the front door I saw a
group of workers from the clothing factory opposite playing soccer and using
the side of the AIO as a goal. Dick came up alongside of me and said that
this was something that occurred from time to time. When I asked if anyone
had ever gone out and told them to use the factory wall as we were processing
people, he said: "No". "OK then" I said, "Time to
start putting them in the picture". So I strode out and spoke to them,
pointing out to them that we would appreciate their co-operation as we were
likely to have recruits trying to sit test papers and that would be hard with
balls banging off the walls, nobody inside their place to be disturbed so why
not use their own factory wall? They saw the logic behind that and although
from time to time I had to go out and remind them over the two
years-and-a-bit I was there, it never again became a real problem. Dick was
aghast that I had gone out to them and said that he would not have come out
to my aid had they got upset with me, I said that I was quite capable of
handling that sort of situation without help from anybody so that was fine.
Meantime the Office being able to function without problems of that nature
was the important issue, there were other problems of that sort to be sorted
out too. The major one was called Heather, she was a large blowsy blonde who
lived over the way from the front window, in Trafalgar Road. She had been away on
holiday and had swanned into the inner office, which was where the recruit
tests were held and plonked herself down in an easy chair from which she sat
and leered at me in a very predatory way, Dick just sat there and chatted
sullenly to her in a desultory sort of fashion. When she had finally taken
her leave of us I asked Dick if she was in the habit of just swanning into
the inner office whenever she took the urge and he just nodded. When I said
that must be awkward if there is a recruit in there at the time, he nodded
again, I thought he was having me on but no, he went on to say:
"Whenever she spots a young bloke coming in, she waits about twenty
minutes and then barges straight in, so that she can check him out". I
couldn't help wondering if there was something in the water that these
Kettering-ites drank? This would also have to be addressed at the first
opportunity, large women perhaps intimidated Dick but that sort of thing had
to stop! In my time around the area I had noticed something that suggested to
me a possibility of bringing the Army very much to people’s notice and I was
determined to find out if my thoughts were practical. The only signs of an
Army presence up to my arrival consisted of small and sun-bleached A4-sized
notices pinned to the bulletin boards that were scattered throughout the
area, usually located outside Police houses for some reason that eluded me.
This was what I wanted to change; along with the rather slow rate of about
two valid recruits a week on average that we processed.
That evening as Maggie and I sat down after washing up
the plates from the evening meal, there was a short sharp rap on the front
door and suddenly the door was thrust open and in stalked this tiny little
woman, who announced that she was Doris and had come to introduce herself to
us! We were somewhat taken aback at first by the cheerful lack of convention
shown by Kettering folk, very different to Luton; in Kettering, people only
ever rapped and then they came straight in if the door wasn't locked. It
wouldn't do to wander around your home in a state of undress in that locale!
Lovely people as a general rule though and they certainly did make us feel
welcome in the Town, our neighbours in Trafalgar Road were delightful people
and their daughter Rosemary was employed as our new Office cleaner. She was a
really bright young lass and always cheerful, even with Dick and his gloomy
disposition, she was never fazed at all. Really, with the single exception of
my closest colleague, this was a great posting with heaps of potential.
Digging In
During my
initial forays around the area, with Gilly showing me around, I had noticed a
fair number of vacant shop fronts in the various towns and villages that came
under the aegis of Kettering AIO. I took a notepad with me now whenever I had
occasion to go out into the area so that I could jot down the phone numbers
of the various Real Estate Agents trying to sell or lease them. A quick word
with Bert Hill established that we had a vast store of window-type displays
housed at Northampton
that would be issued to us to alter our windows from time to time, six weeks
or so being the rule of thumb between display changes. The "Old"
display boards were then left to fester in the store room at the main office,
this meant that all the requirements for my plan were in place, all I had to
do was set it up!
Phone calls to the agents went
very well indeed, all of them that I approached agreed with me that a well
furbished window display would make a vacant shopfront more attractive to
potential buyers or lessees, so my offer to fill these windows with
attractive displays was very well received. I then wrote out a missive
addressed to Major Keilly to outline my idea and subject it to his perusal and
hopefully his approval, pointing out that this was a cost effective (free)
way of bringing Army careers to the attention of the broader community
throughout the whole of my area. Feeling the need to sound out Dick’s
attitude to plagiarism, I waited until I knew that Major Keilly had read it,
then I broached my idea to Dick, he took it all in but never really said
much. I left the office then to see to a War Office follow-up from a magazine
cutout coupon on Army Careers. When I got back from that Dick looked really
annoyed and said to me: "You never told me that you had already
submitted this idea to Head Office". So I responded with a comment to
the effect that as it was MY idea I naturally followed up on it as soon as
the practicalities of it had been resolved. He had obviously intended to
present the idea himself and take the credit for it, Bert Hill spoilt his day
though by stating that Major Keilly was already enthusing about the idea and
that arrangements were in hand to give me access to as much advertising
material as I wanted. Over the next three months I scored some fourteen
vacant shops throughout my area and the results were not long in coming in!
We had a real upsurge in numbers of enquiries and were doing very well as
regards the number of recruits actually inducted, this lead to my next spat
with Dick of course. Being the local recruiter, Dick was specific to the
Royal Anglians in his recruiting and would persist with pushing his Regiment
even when the potential recruit was keen on other aspects of the Army and
intellectually equipped to pass selection for them. This annoyed me, as on
several occasions his blunderings cost us a perfectly good man who would
otherwise have enlisted in the arm of his choice, when I spoke to him about
it, after the third such event, he became very irate. We had a fair old
ding-dong about it but I was determined to hold my ground as I was in the
right and I knew it, so did he! At the end of our discussion he was almost in
tears and did his usual "Walkabout" after which I got my usual call
from Bert Hill, asking me what I had done to upset Woodsie? Then I upset Bert
by saying that if he was aware that Dick was all of a dither, he would
certainly know the reason. I reminded Bert that I was running a Recruiting
Office, not a Royal Anglian Glee Club and I was not prepared to see good
material wasted because someone wanted to flog a dead horse. As Bert himself
was a former Royal Anglian he was left spluttering and indignant at my
candour, from my point of view, there was no way that I was going to win a
hearts and minds contest with this mob, so I was going to keep them on the
back foot instead! I then threw him a sweetener by saying that if he checked
the figures from Kettering
he would see that my methods were doing the trick and that of course I would
automatically recommend the Anglians to anyone that was Infantry material, so
where was the problem if Dick simply did the same? After all, the increased
number of recruits coming in would see enough men filtered through to his
Regiment to amply cover his perceived needs to show a good return for his
"efforts". This point was grudgingly conceded and he said that he
would make that observation to Dick, meanwhile could I make more of an effort
to get on with him? I responded cheerfully that I was making every effort to
bring him round but after all, it did take two to tango.
Another little bit of foot stamping occurred when I took the
opportunity to sort out the good Heather. She made the mistake of barging in
when I was handling a recruit and when I told her that I could not permit her
to be in the office during an interview, she responded by saying that she had
seen lots of interviews done there. I responded that I hoped she had taken
notice during her last one, because that was what it had been, her last one!
I then stood up and told her to leave immediately and to close the door on
her way out! The inductee was having a bit of a snigger; he was not at all
put off. Dick was out of the Office when this had happened but I filled
him in on the details, he never really said anything but his shade of gloom
seemed to deepen slightly so I figured that my approval rating had sunk
yet again! A few days later and Heather swanned in again as though nothing
had been said to her, so I told her again that she was not permitted beyond
the outer Office. She turned to Dick as though expecting him to leap to her
defence but Dick just shrugged, so off she tootled. Dick muttered something
about me turning off all the neighbours, so I responded that this could
hardly be the case as only the previous evening we had entertained our
immediate neighbours, Peter and Joan Seville and had enjoyed a most convivial
evening. I then suggested to him that perhaps what we needed to do was to
have himself and his wife around one evening, thinking that if we could
win her over we might make some inroads with Dick himself. A forlorn hope
alas, they did indeed come over and we met his wife, a nice enough lady but
very much an adjunct to Dick’s attitude to life in all its manifold forms.
Meanwhile I had met and established good rapport with every other
member of the team from Northampton,
working well with them on the display caravan that we put in the market
squares of the local towns from time to time. Corporal John Stainton was
usually the driver for that and he was a very obliging sort of bloke with a
very good attitude to the job, very keen. He went out of his way to be
friendly, so knowing that he was not long married I made a point of inviting
him and his wife around to the flat one evening, thinking that by doing so it
would give Maggie a chance to make a friend, alas for that idea, his wife
Glenda seemed to have a detached air about her and evinced no real interest
in gaining a friend. She was an attractive brunette and the reason
for her attitude became apparent a few days later when a very upset John
Stainton rang me to ask my advice as his wife had cleared off with some
bloke! We actually put him up in the flat with us for a couple of weeks or
so, until such time as he indicated he felt able to cope again on his own,
once he understood that there was no hope of a reconciliation he toughed it
out quite well. A week or so after he left I went for my course at
Beaconsfield, Maggie kept an eye on how things were going in the office, John
Foad, the BSM from the Royal Artillery, was seconded to work with Dick in my
absence and Maggie told me that he wasn't having any nonsense from anyone so
that was good. Maggie liked John Foad, he was always cheerful and respectful to
her and very much appreciated the steady flow of tea that Maggie supplied the
Office with as a matter of course.
On The Job
Almost on the heels of the Beaconsfield course I
was sent to a training depot at Troon in Ayrshire for three days, this was to
show me at first hand the recruit handling process, after AAS they had to be
kidding! All of the nonsense attended to, I was now right into the job and
thoroughly enjoying the challenge, this despite the constant carping and
sniping from my offsider. I simply treated it like any other background
clutter, although I did make sure that I left no avenue open for him to drop
me in the plid! An idea had occurred to me while returning on the train from
my short sojourn in Troon, the more that I thought about it the better I
liked it. It seemed to offer a solution to the vexing problem of Dick’s
inability to accept the facts of life, like most ideas that are to be applied
to solving people problems it had something for everybody. Once again, I did
not discuss this with Dick, it was bad enough sharing an office with him,
there was no way that I was going to see him try to grab a share of any
credit for my ideas! I arranged to have an interview with Major Keilly, as I
spoke to Bert Hill on the phone about setting it up, he commented that I must
be psychic, as he was about to call me to arrange that very thing at the
Major’s behest. I drove to Northampton
two days later to see the Major and once seated in his office he led off with
a question as to how I was getting on with Dick Woods? Never being one to
mince words, I responded: "To be perfectly frank Sir, it is difficult to
maintain a convivial atmosphere in the office, whether that is due to baggage
left over from Sergeant G........’s unfortunate faux pas or from personal
antipathy to me is a moot point. My sole concern is the effect on office
morale and efficiency". "Quite so" he responded. "To try
and alleviate this situation I do have a suggestion I would like to run past
you Sir". He wished to hear this, so I laid it out for him. I would draw
up a roster covering the next two months, as a trial period, so that we took
it in turn, week and week about, one to run the office, the other to attend
to the area. The area man would take the Saturday duty. Every morning and evening,
there would be a half-hour interface so that all relevant information to
ensure a smooth running set up could be shared. As I explained to the Major,
this would keep us apart as much as possible without detracting in any way
from the efficiency of the office. He concurred completely and thanked me for
my frankness and ingenuity; as if he didn't know all about it anyway, Bert
Hill would run to him with every bit of tittle-tattle. I then said to the
Major that I wanted it clearly understood by all parties that I was in
complete charge at Kettering
and that I expected my goodwill to be reciprocated. The Major seemed to be
very happy with my suggestion and said he would leave me to set it up and see
to its implementation. He then went on to ask me about my foot problem,
commenting that it would be a good idea to have an Orthopaedic Surgeon take a
look and see if anything could be done to reduce the discomfort and perhaps
sort out my limp. He had a personal friend who was a Surgeon at the Manfield Orthopaedic Hospital
in Northampton.
Would I like him to see if he could set something up for me? I answered in
the afirmative, what did I have to lose? He said that his friend was abroad
for another few months but that he would see to it as soon as he was back in
his practice.
Well satisfied with my sortie into
Northampton I returned to Kettering and informed Dick of what I intended to
do, he brightened up at once and said that it was an excellent idea, as for
me, I pulled no punches and told him that the only way we could ever
work together was to stay apart as much as possible. I also made it quite
plain that I was not relinquishing my control of the AIO and to that effect I
would discontinue the experiment at the first sign of any hanky panky as
regards not being kept fully informed when it was my turn in the area. He
almost fell over in his haste to assure me that he would co-operate fully to
make sure that this was complied with. I then went on to say that all
inter-office memos would be seen and signed in by me, while
those originating in Kettering
would be sent by me. Margaret would continue to provide him with tea
throughout the day and he was welcome to continue using the upstairs toilet
rather than have to go around the outside of the building to the backyard
loo. He was almost smiling when I had finished, although I can't honestly say
that I ever saw him actually do it.
I have to say that this worked a treat;
he did not break his word to me and did nothing to rock the boat, not even
when I again raised the subject of not pushing blokes towards the Anglians to
the detriment of our success rate. We had the best-maintained area of any
station in the UK
I should think. The Police board posters were changed on a very regular
basis and the shop fronts were doing a great job for us, with a twelve-week
changeover if the shop was still available to us over that length of time. At
no point did our number of shops drop below eight and we went as high as
sixteen at one point, I made myself as high profile as possible wherever I
had to go. Introducing myself to persons of interest wherever possible,
School Principals, Presidents and committee members of Youth orientated
Clubs, Scouts and so forth. I normally had two or three places to go and show
films to every month. We attracted good interest with the display caravan
that we manned every third week for a few days, this was a steady source of
recruits, another source was that of the coupons that could be cut out and
sent to the War Office for anyone that wanted to enquire about Army careers.
These were called "follow-ups" and the War Office simply posted the
filled in coupon to the nearest AIO for someone to call on the enquirer. This
was a good cost effective way of getting the odd still warm body but I did
cop a bad one on one unforgettable occasion. I should mention that Corby was a most unusual place. It was a
"steel" town and the Scottish firm of Stewart and Lloyds had opened
huge open-cut mines there that directly fed the furnaces in the town. Because
they had brought their workforce down with them, you had an English town
where everyone under the age of thirty or so spoke with a Scots accent,
regardless of their true nationality! This Coupon I had was for someone in Corby who wished to learn more about Army apprenticeships,
not having the area that week was of no matter, both of us were in accord
that this one was for me to do! I set out that evening looking like a dog’s
dinner with all my bunting on and my shoes absolutely gleaming, finding the
address presented no problems and I was relieved to see that the house and
garden were neat and well tended, as this was normally a good sign. I entered
through the front gate and knocked briskly on the front door. The door opened
after a moment to reveal a nuggety-looking little man with a shiny bald head.
In a Scots accent you could've cut with a knife, he asked me what I wanted. I
glanced at the name on the coupon and said that I had come in answer to
Andrew’s request for information about apprenticeships within the Army. His
eyes went wide and he started to splutter and carry on alarming. The gist of
what he was struggling to enunciate appeared to be that his "Wee Andy
wusnae gowan intae nae Army, Not noo, not ever!” I said to him that I didn't
want Andrew to think that his request had been overlooked and if he was out,
could I leave a card? His response was to tell me that if I were still in his
yard in two seconds I would be leaving my trews! As I opened my mouth to
speak again he roared out: "Prince, sic the B@$t@rd". At the far
end of his hallway I saw the biggest, meanest looking German Shepherd this
side of Nagga come charging into sight. I beat it to the front gate by about
a yard, the pain from my foot was something else but at least my 'arris
wasn't providing a snack for Wowser the flaming dog! I was lucky in that I
never got any other bad responses, but that one was a talking and laughing
point for weeks, even Dick managed a smirk!
Social Life
Although the
hours were long, in the sense that many of the follow-ups from the War Office
had to be chased up outside of normal Office hours and such things as film
shows made inroads into evenings and occasionally a weekend, we did enjoy a
reasonable social life. Neighbours often popped in of an evening once the
Office was closed, even the redoubtable Heather called in a couple of times,
she always made me feel uncomfortable though, as she followed you with her
eyes even if she was talking to Maggie. We had a particularly good rapport
with the Seville
family who lived in the adjoining house that fronted Trafalgar Road, their daughter Rosemary
was a bright young girl and they had an older son who was a student at the
time. On one weekend they invited us to go down to visit the yacht squadron
to which they belonged, this was on Thrapston Water which was a couple of
lakes that had been working gravel pits at one time. I decided that I would
prefer to try my hand at fishing while they took Maggie out in the boat,
while I was busy catching a handful of small Roach and a couple of slightly
larger Perch, Maggie was flying across the lake in this small yacht. She was
quite chuffed with herself for not getting her head banged by the flying boom
each time they tacked across the lake, she did get a bit nervous a couple of
times though when the side dipped so that the water was hissing along close
to the gunwhale as they heeled over. We even went to a wrestling tournament
one night, where the duty hero, one "Joe Cornelius", was so taken
with Maggie that he was busily smirking directly at her and forgot to place
his knees on his opponent’s shoulders for a fall! His hapless partner in
deception was slapping his leg to remind him of his role in the charade and
the crowd got quite antsy about it. We thought it was as funny as hell! I
annoyed Mr Cornelius by leaning in front of Maggie and blowing him a kiss,
after which he concentrated more on bread and butter issues. John Stainton
was a regular visitor and once he began to circulate around he found himself
a girlfriend, a tiny little thing she was. He brought her along to us to
solicit our opinion of her, what could we say? Better that he was chancing
his arm than moping after that which was over and done. Then he turned up
unannounced on our doorstep one night, really upset. His girlfriend had announced
to him that she had got herself pregnant by her boss; she hoped that it
wouldn't matter though, as she really liked John! This absolutely shattered
him and he again moved in with us for a couple of weeks until he was more
settled, we soon snapped him out of it, rather than see him moping about, we
played all sorts of pranks on him to take his mind off of his misery. So he
was introduced to an apple pie bed and one night I removed the light bulb
from the corridor outside his room and stood the cellar dummy, clothed of
course, just along from his door. When we called him downstairs for his late
night cocoa, he trotted into the corridor and nearly had kittens!
John invited us up to stay with
him and his aunt and uncle one weekend. His aunt Winnie was a lovely lady,
always smiling and cheerful, while Dougie, her husband was profoundly deaf
and virtually a mute. They made us very welcome and we had a most pleasant
and convivial time on the farm where Dougie was employed as a
"tied" labourer, the cottage that the job entitled them to was very
cosy. The nearest town to where they lived was Mablethorpe and that was a
quiet and pleasant place to spend some time too. On this big Farm/Estate
where Winnie and Dougie lived and worked there was a largish lake that the
Landowner allowed access to by way of day fishing licenses, these could be
bought by anyone who was that way inclined. As was the case with every pond
in the British Isles, a monster pike was
reputed to lurk in its depths. As John was regaling us with yarns about this
local beast, a young lad of about thirteen was setting up his keep-net and
baiting up a battered looking short rod with an obviously home made lure from
a tatty bait box. We stood and watched him cast out his line and a couple of
minutes later stood there spellbound as there was a sudden huge swirl of
water and a glimpse of a scaled body near where his lure had gone in. Some
three minutes later almost everyone in the immediate vicinity had crowded
around to watch this kid land the biggest Pike I had ever seen. When he left
with his catch a few minutes later, there was an air of anti climax emanating
from all the other anglers, many of whom then called it a day.
We spent some
weekends in Luton too, usually staying at
the Cosiers’ house because even though we were now on speaking terms with my
Mother and Stepfather, there was always that touch of frostiness towards
Maggie by my Mum. This I always felt was due to the fact that I had always
been Mum’s offsider whenever the chips were down, some of my earliest
memories were of traipsing around the town trying to find out at which pub my
father was holding court with his cronies, or at which dance hall he was
strutting his stuff and of course with whom! Maggie was philosophical about
it and said that she would bear with it but it made us infrequent visitors.
One such weekend there was a knock on the front door and Charlie Cosier
answered it, to find my rather battered looking younger brother there asking
for me. He came in and told us what had happened, an argument between him and
Bill had started up and ended in an exchange of blows. Duncan was candid
enough to admit that he had got the worst of it, he was on leave from Germany
and wanted me to go down to the house with him and keep the peace while he
got his gear out of the house and around to his mate’s place. I agreed and
when we arrived in Beech Road
made Duncan
wait in the car while I went in to arrange a truce for the retrieval of his
stuff. Once I had secured Bill’s word that he would permit Duncan to come in without any more agro, I
went out and brought Duncan
in. We had hardly crossed the threshold when Bill started yelling and Duncan
reciprocated, before we made it to the stairway Bill launched a physical
assault and I tried to keep them apart as promised, I was succeeding quite
well too until Bill struck out just as Duncan pulled on my arm to try and get
past me, as a result of which I was the recipient of the blow. I actually
copped another from my brother as I stumbled back from the wallop that had
caught me on the side of my head. I quite literally saw red, I remember
throwing my brother so hard that he landed up in the scullery, and then I
went for Bill. He weighed in at around sixteen-and-a-half stone to my
ten-and-a-half at that time and he was about forty-four years of age then, to
my twenty-five or so. He lasted about half a minute, at the end of which time
my screaming Mother managed to get through to me that I was going to kill
him, he was in a real mess and my knuckles were raw. My brother stood there
looking dumbfounded, so I snarled at him to get his stuff, meantime my Mother
was on the floor cradling Bill and yelling at me to get out and never return.
It was not until after the birth of my eldest son in 1970, that I was to see
and converse with Mum again, Bill had just left her for good then, taking off
for Cornwall
with a younger woman. Meantime, as is so often the case, my younger brother
came home on leave again some six months after the incident and walked into
the house in Beech Road
as though nothing had happened, blessed are the peacemakers?
We often had
other members of the Recruiting Team from Northampton drop in for a bit of
chit chat and a cuppa, Gerry Johnson, Tom Martin and John Foad in particular,
very often one or the other would bring me some posters and such for my extra
window displays via the back of the Land Rover.
Tom Martin was a keen fisherman
and we often went across to Thrapston to try our luck, he reckoned that I put
the mockers on him though, as he lost a lot of line and hooks whenever we
went out there. I recall one Sunday when he proudly produced a Pike lure that
he claimed had set him back about twelve quid, an absolute fortune in those
days, it was superb I have to say. As he prepared to cast out for the first
time with this stupendous piece of fishing technology, I said to him, in jest
of course: "Mind that you don’t snag it on the Sea Scout Whaler."
This boat was moored a really long way out into the lake, so Tom said:
"Very droll I'm sure!” then promptly did exactly that; boy was he ever
upset and he was really ticked off with me, my having hysterics probably
didn't help mind you! When I was able to get myself sobered up enough to
speak without choking on chortles I suggested that he cut the line and leave
a note under the door of the Sea Cadets’ small hut, with his name, address
and phone number on it, or one of his cards? He did so but not with good
grace, I swear he begrudged me every one of the half dozen tiddlers that
briefly occupied my keep-net that afternoon!
Steady As You Go
At the risk of making it sound
as though I was slipping back into old and bad habits, I did get into
another scrape within a couple of weeks of the fracas at Mum’s place. This
occurred at the 21st Birthday party of my cousin John, he was the
only son of my Dad’s sister, my Aunt Joyce. John was a quiet inoffensive
bloke who never did a bad thing in his life, he was gentle and considerate as
a rule, even though he enjoyed his beer, and he never became obnoxious with
it. The party was a rather staid and quiet affair too, with more people of my
Aunt’s age group than John’s. Consequently it came as a real surprise when
the Police knocked on the door and asked to speak to the householder about a
complaint they had received concerning excessive noise. They came in and
spoke to Uncle Len and Aunt Joyce, saying that they had parked across the
road for some 15 minutes and had not heard any noise to speak of, they were
concluding that it was just a nuisance call and would log it as such, with no
further action required. They wished John a happy birthday and left. I was
sat with Maggie and a couple of my female cousins when suddenly Aunt Joyce
came charging in from the front door screaming that the neighbour had slapped
her and was killing her John. A couple of the older blokes went out, as did
I, sure enough, there was the bloke next door thumping the lights out of poor
hapless John. The other two blokes stood there wringing their hands while my
Aunt Joyce was restraining my Uncle Len, who was a sick man. I stepped up to
the bloke and pulled John away from him, saying to him that he had done quite
enough harm, how about leaving well enough alone? I stepped backwards as I
said it of course and he did a silly thing, he shot forward. Then he shot
backwards as I walloped him hard, he rolled on to his belly and I helped him
towards his front door with an inch or two of toecap. Aunt Joyce said that
she had gone next door because they had quarrelled a week or three previously
and she knew they had called the Police out of spite at not being invited.
She was concerned at the fact that he was the eldest of three brothers with
bad reputations. The following day, my Uncle Doug and I made a call on him
and explained what would happen to him if another hair on the heads of our
family was as much as displaced. Uncle Doug, the Peck family
enforcer, was big, mean and well known for sorting out people that upset
him, the message was taken to heart! He spoke like that to Bill once, the day
after he had put my head through the prefab ceiling, Bill was a bit wary
about how hard he hit us after that, didn't stop him but it sure cramped his
style!
Meanwhile I had annoyed Bert
Hill by foiling his constant attempts to find deficiencies in my work. He had
sent through an amendment to recruiting requirements, this meant a change in
a section of the form AF6595, upon which a recruiter had to write a personal
summary of the applicant as interviewed. This was a make or break document
for the would-be recruit as it was all the Army had to go on until the
recruit had finished basic training. The amendment didn't seem to make a lot
of sense to me but I logged it and was ready to apply it, next morning
along came another amendment that sorted out the anomaly from its
predecessor. Later that morning I processed two applicants and later that
night made my daily walk to the GPO just around the corner at the top end of
the street and posted the completed documents to Northampton Office. Bright
and early next morning I had a phone call from Bert and his voice was almost
purring as he asked me if I had eye problems as well as foot problems, I
responded that all my problems came from a different part of the
human anatomy. He then had a real gloat and suggested to me that I
should get some specs sorted out, as I appeared unable to read amendments and
understand them. "What amendment would that be, Bert?” I asked him. He
rattled off the one that had been so rapidly rescinded. "I read that one
Bert, I also read the next one, didn't you?” When he demanded to know what
next one, I responded that it would surely be in his log, the same as mine
was and perhaps he should check and see. He rang off, only to get on the
blower about three minutes later. "That was entirely Dennis's fault, he
was the one that logged the second amendment in the book!” I had him then!
"Bert, isn't it your job as Chief Clerk to countersign all entries into
the Office diary every day? Surely you checked the content before you signed
it, so how can it be Dennis's fault?” Made my day that did, Dennis rang me
later to say that Bert was almost strangling as he put the phone down after
the second call.
Worse was to
come. A few weeks later, about eleven thirty of a Thursday night, I was woken
up by a loud knocking on my front door, I slipped my head out of the
window and made out what appeared to be a Leyland ten ton bin-type wagon
parked in the street below and a beret covered head attached to the body that
was beating on my door. I called out that I was coming down and opened the
door to see a man in the Royal Signals standing there, I asked him in and he
wanted to know if it was OK for his co-driver to come in too? We made them a
cup of tea while I found out what it was they wanted. They produced movement
orders for them to sign for and take a vehicle from some place in Scotland down
to a Camp near Folkesone in Kent.
They were very low on fuel and had been instructed to call at the nearest
Army unit whenever they needed to obtain PLO facilities, I was the nearest
Army unit so here they were. I asked who the hell had picked their
route, the lance jack who had knocked us up confessed that he had.
Fortunately I was aware that in the safe was a book of requisition vouchers
that I could sign and stamp to offer to the proprietor of a civilian Service
Station. Whether or not they would choose to accept them was the moot point.
I rang my usual Service Station, the Shell outlet that was an all nighter and
after a short chat with the late shift manager, was able to send them off
with a chitty that I knew would be accepted. Knowing that Bert would go
troppo if he suddenly got such a chitty for him to organise for reimbursement
without prior knowledge, I rang him next morning and told him of what I had
done. He promptly went troppo anyway. When he had finished his long-winded
spiel of outrage I asked him a couple of questions. Firstly why were the
chitties there in my safe if they were never to be used? He said that they
were there to be used on his authority only and that in not asking him first
I had overstepped the mark. I then said: "OK Bert, I can take it as
read that if another such truck rocks up at my place at some ungodly hour of
the morning I am to ring you at home and ask your permission to open my safe
and sign my documents, right?” “No!” he said. I then raised my voice
slightly and said: "Well, make up your fickle mind mate, I am not going
to be left out here in the lurch, got it?" That concluded the
conversation apart from a snort as he slammed the phone down. He
unfortunately did not learn his lesson from that as a later and similar event
proved all too conclusively, much to his chagrin.
On my next trip
into Northampton, Major
Keilly informed me that his Surgeon friend was back and that he would take the
first opportunity to mention my problem to him and solicit his advice. I
thanked him for this and said that I would be pleased if some way to sort out
my problem was to come of it. Pain is a funny thing, I appear to have been
blessed with a fairly high pain tolerance and have always been able to
over-ride it in a pinch, and nevertheless it was not pleasant walking around
as though you had a boil set an inch or two behind your toes. So if Major
Keilly’s mate could sort it out, I was not going to knock him back! Within a
month the Specialist had seen me and he had been most informative, he
explained that there were two arches in the foot, just as there are in the
hand. One stretches back from the toes or fingers to the heel or the back of
the hand and the other one is a transverse one formed by the knuckles. Both
of mine had collapsed in my right foot. The transverse one in fact had
reversed itself completely so that what was normally the highest knuckle was
now the lowest, he felt that there was some nerve impairment too, probably
due to "pinching". He suggested that I have the affected nerve
removed to alleviate the worst of the pain but did say that there would
always be some discomfort from the foot. He said that he could operate on me
in about seven months if that was agreeable and did I mind if medical
students were invited to see what went on? That was fine with me, I was happy
that someone was prepared to do something for me!
A Friend In Deed
I was very
surprised to get a telegram from my old mate Smudger Smith one afternoon, it
was succinct and to the point. It said that he was in the UK with his
two very young children and if we were able to offer him accommodation, would
I ring him on this number? I did so and it turned to be the Army medical
facility at Netley in Hampshire that I was ringing. Smudger briefly explained
that there had been some problems with his German wife Thea and that as a
result he had been posted back to the UK from Aden. Thea was undergoing psychiatric
treatment at Netley and he was without a place to stay other than some hostel
that was, according to him, a set-up that looked like a prison. I told him
that we had plenty of room and that Maggie would be happy to tend to the two
kids, all he had to do was get himself and the toddlers up to Kettering. The
following day Ron turned up with his two kids, Peter who was coming up for
three and Sonja who was about eleven months or so. Maggie was in her element
and soon had the kids sorted out and well fed. Ron had quite a tale of woe to
relate to us, the marriage had apparently been on the rocks almost from the
onset as Thea had not been a good housewife, that may well have been true as
Peter was not really housetrained in any way and Sonja was a very lethargic
little morsel, with some skin problems that we felt might have been caused by
nappies changed too infrequently. Peter was very introspective and not what
one would expect from a toddler of his age, he was not talking for example.
Once Ron’s leave was up, he went to Wallop and we had the run of his two
babes during the week, even at weekends he was happy to let Maggie and I
handle the two kids.
Naturally we
became very attached to them. I was very annoyed when, a week or two into
their two-month sojourn with us, Bert Hill rang me and asked me if I wanted
to register as a Welfare Agency? I got into a real snot with him over that
comment, I told him that he would apologise or I would be straight in to Northampton and get him
to apologise in front of the Major. That remark was uncalled for in my
opinion and damned the man forever in my eyes, I told him that what Maggie
and I did within the confines of our home was none of his business and that I
did not need his permission nor desire his interference in my private life.
He blustered a bit, made some sort of apology and tried to say that he was
only trying to prevent me from getting out of my depth in other peoples
problems. I said to him that this was a friend, if he ever found anyone to
like him he would understand but until such time as he did, he could remove
his big shonk from my business! The man was insufferable sometimes! Thea was
eventually released from Netley and turned up at the AIO with a Welfare
Officer, who presented documents outlining that the children had been given
over into Thea's custody. That was the last that we ever saw of them, they
were different kids to the ones that we had taken in, that's for sure. Maggie
was quite upset of course at having to part with them, there was no sign of
any kids on the way for us, despite having tried at least twice, only
kidding! Smudger’s trips to us slowed down a bit after that as he was getting
involved with another woman and so we only saw him occasionally. On one such
infrequent trip to us he met my brother Duncan, who was staying with us for a
week while home on leave. I had to prevent them from getting stuck into each
other; they disliked one another on sight and that made for an uncomfortable
couple of days as they bristled around each other.
On that leave my brother did
something that could have caused me some grief, perhaps he wanted to impress
me, I really don't know. What happened was that we had decided to go out and
eat at a very nice Chinese Restaurant in Kettering. After a very pleasant meal, we
made our way back towards Trafalgar
Road. Coming towards my brother, who was several
paces in front of Maggie and me, were two blokes about his age. Duncan did not make way
for them and as they arrived face to face it seemed as if he shouldered his
way between them, obviously as keen as him to have some agro, they jumped him
immediately. This created one hell of a problem for me. No way could I leave
him to what possibly may have been his just desserts, equally, no way could I
afford to get into a fracas that would bring the Army into disrepute here on
my own doorstep, as it were. I solved the problem by doing something that I
had never done before, nor since. I attacked without warning and from behind,
I told Maggie not to move and darted in to deliver a kidney strike to each of
the blokes punching away at Duncan.
This rendered them both hors de combat and I whisked Duncan and Maggie home
as rapidly as possible. Fortunately there were not many people about so there
were no repercussions, when I got up Duncan about causing trouble he claimed
that in fact they had jostled him, either way, I could not risk any trouble
of that sort.
Tom Martin, the
big eighteen stone Grenadier Guardsman was a good bloke whose company I
enjoyed, we had the odd fishing expedition together and had never really had
a cross word. Having been told to shut down the Office early in order to
attend a full conference of all recruiters at Northampton and subsequently
been treated to a pep talk from the Major, we retired to enjoy a cuppa in the
Staff rest room before leaving for home. Tom was feeling boisterous and
started playfully shoving everyone around by way of using his weight to move
them out of the line up for the tea spigot. When he got to me I shoved back,
he grinned and really moved in, expecting me to succumb to his obviously
greater strength. Instead and at some considerable distress to my foot, I
began to slowly but surely move him backwards. I could see from his face that
he didn't like it but I had the upper hand and was rather enjoying his
discomfiture and the comments from the others. Eventually I had him pinned by
the stove in the corner and suddenly he gave a loud yell that his hand was
burning. I immediately stood back, he swore at me and threw a punch, I
avoided it and the one that followed it, then I saw red and shot forward as
he came at me, right hand streaking for his chin. I had to pull the punch and
spin to one side though because Dick Woods had stepped in front of me and
raised his hand to stop Tom's advance. Tom immediately ripped off an epaulet
from Dick’s shoulder in his desire to get at me, then he saw the look on my
face and was less keen, the more so as I was daring him to come on. Gerry
Johnson and Jeff Faint grabbed me before I could duck past Dick and get into
Tom, who was by now calm again, I was not! The two holding me were having
trouble holding on to my arms and it took a concerted effort from all of them
to calm me down, I had never enjoyed nor easily tolerated being bullied at
any stage of my life and I had really got my dander up. Tom apologised to me
and then suddenly all the anger was gone, Dick Woods was meanwhile moaning
about his damaged jacket and then suddenly the rest of us were all laughing,
it was at that moment that the Major came in and asked what the ruckus was about?
"A harmless bit of horse-play Sir" John Foad told him. People
looked at me differently after that day, I was no longer seen as just a
jumped-up and smart-mouthed ex-Brat but as someone to be reckoned with.
Operation “Foot”
Eventually the day for my entry into the Manfield Orthopaedic Hospital
for the operation came around and John Stainton was good enough to pick me up
in the Land Rover and drive me into the Hospital. I was placed in a ward with
a gaggle of blokes in all sorts of casts and in some cases slings, wires and
pulleys. Having a bloke in uniform hump my case into the ward for me, which
was very kind of John, caused something of a stir and they quickly asked me
who I was and what I was in for. I had a big bloke of about 40 years of age
in the bed to my right, name of Bull, what a misnomer that was! He was
apparently in to have an operation for an ingrown toenail and had one of
those cages to hold the blankets over his feet, the operation was being
delayed a couple of days to permit an infection to be cleared up first. He
was always buzzing for the nurses to come and do things for him and he had a
whining way of talking for such a big robust seeming man. He really ran the
nurses ragged and we could all see that they were a bit fed up with his constant
whingeing and requests for painkillers and such. The bed the other side of
Bull was inhabited by a bloke who was a pilot, he made a good living by crop
dusting normally but had pranged his aircraft and had as a result been in a
cast and traction for many weeks, he was full of pins and screws, as he liked
to relate to us. I called him "Biggles" and he and I became bosom
buddies, yarning about the idiosyncrasies of light aircraft and their Jockeys
to the general amusement of all. Biggles was out of traction by the time that
I arrived there but was still undergoing intensive physiotherapy, this was to
get him able to walk properly again because of the muscle shrinkage he had
suffered.
I was operated on late in the afternoon of the second
day and came to with a cage similar to Mr Bull’s over my feet, the right foot
was throbbing quite badly and felt sore, as one would expect. The sister in
charge of the ward warned me not to attempt to get out of bed under any
circumstances and not to lower my foot out of the bed at all. I foolishly
tried to ignore this a couple of days after the Op and because of the pain,
promptly fainted as my legs swung out of the bed! I copped a right telling
off for that! John Stainton was kindness itself while I was stuck in the Hospital,
he made sure that Maggie had a lift in every evening to visit me, they used
to sit and listen to Mr Bull running the poor nurses ragged. Biggles and
several of the others would get up Bull about his demands on the nurses but
that didn't slow him down one iota! Once his Op was done, on the day after
mine, he was even worse of course. He complained to the nurses that he was
constipated a day or so after he had been sorted out, so the nurses gave him
a Yellow Peril pill, still no joy after about four hours so he was haranguing
the poor nurses when suddenly Biggles shot his hand into his bedside locker
and brought forth a tin of Andrews. With a big wink and a leer in my
direction, he poured about half of the tin’s contents into a glass and then,
as the nurses left Bull’s bedspace asked him if he would like some Andrews?
"Ooh, Yes please my duck" twittered Bull. As soon as Bull had
removed his glasses ready to take the Andrews, and making sure that the
amount was hidden from sight, Biggles filled the glass with water and
promptly handed it to Bull, who squinted his eyes shut and drained the wildly
frothing glass. Within twenty minutes, a visibly desperate Bull buzzed for a
bedpan. Visitors came in about half an hour later and all that could be seen
of Bull was a bed screen, from behind which came terrible squishy noises, a
ripe smell, groans and the occasional demand for another pan as "this
one is full". All the rest of our visitors, and us once the facts had
been explained, were hooting with laughter. The nursing staff, who had been
let into the secret, were all wearing wide smiles.
I had received the odd visit from other members of the
Recruiting Staff at Northampton, all of whom had offered to run Maggie into
the Hospital if needed, I was grateful for that. The evening before my
discharge from Hospital, after a long chat with the Specialist, who had
informed me that he had found a growth (Interdigital Neuroma) that had been
caused by the constant grinding of the nerve between the knuckle bones, I was
visited by a very upset Maggie and John Stainton. John had been on duty with
the caravan at the Corby town square and
during the lunch hour had rung the Office to ask Maggie if she wanted a lift
to the Hospital that night, Gerry Johnson was my relief at the caravan and
Dick was manning the office. Maggie always answered any phone calls when the
office shut for lunch, so she answered to the effect that she would be very
grateful, and then suddenly Dick’s voice was on the line! He got right up
John Stainton and told him that he was not to ring the office with matters
not relating to recruiting. Maggie straightaway told him that he had no
business monitoring calls intended for her, Dick ignored her and hectored
John into terminating the call. As luck would have it John Foad had also
called in to see me, so I was able to ask him to request the Major to visit
me in the flat as soon as possible. This had to be sorted out! Maggie
meanwhile told me that she had stormed into the office and told a very
startled Dick Woods that as a result of his rude, unhelpful and boorish
attitude, he would no longer be given cups of tea from the flat, nor would he
be permitted to use the inside toilet. This would mean a few soakings in days
to come for Dick, as Maggie is always as good as her word. I returned home
the following day, having to literally bum my way upstairs and once up there
I was stuck upstairs. The Hospital had provided me with a stick; this was
well used for another month or so until I could bear some weight on my foot
again. The first thing I wanted to do was have a look at the mess my foot was
in and to that end I had Maggie remove the dressing and hold a mirror so that
I could take a look at my sole. The cut and the stitch holes formed an angry
red formation that was fully eight inches long and started immediately behind
my toes, very impressive.
I was really frustrated to be
so close to Dick Woods but be unable to get at him, the Major finally popped
in to see me three days after my return home to the flat. As soon as he was
seated and the pleasantries dispensed with, I raised the issue of what Dick
Woods had done, explaining that it was the normal practise for Maggie to
handle any calls coming in during lunch hour and that the call had been made
by Corporal Stainton during his own lunch hour. I said that for Dick to
listen in on the office extension was the height of bad manners and that once
he knew that it was a private call he should have got off of the line, not
interrupt the conversation to order John off the line. Something had to be
done to separate Woods and myself or I would not be responsible for what
might happen! Major Keilly looked at me and said: "I have already
listened to what Colour Sergeant Woods has had to say on this matter and I
will support him". I could not believe that I was hearing what he was
saying! I called the Major an extremely rude name and yelled out that when I
laid eyes on Woodsie I would reconstruct him so he looked more like the
vermin that he was. The Major got to his feet, looked at Maggie and said:
"Mrs Peck, I can see that your husband is quite distraught and far from
recovered, I will take my leave of you now". He then set off down the
corridor towards the stairway. I had struggled to my feet and was attempting
to hobble after him, calling out: "Hang on you (expletive) I
haven't finished with you by a long shot!”
A fortnight afterwards, when I was ready to begin my
duties again, Woodsie was told in no uncertain terms what I thought of him as
a man and I described at some length my theories on his antecedents and
origins. I told Woodsie that if he as much as blinked sideways at Maggie, or
me I was going to cripple him for life! I rather fancy that he believed me
and although I have never seen myself as a vindictive person, I did all in my
capacity to make the remainder of the time we spent as a "Team" as
miserable as possible for him, figuring that in the end he would request a
move. Maggie meanwhile cut him dead and would neither serve him tea, look at
him nor answer him if he had to speak to her for any reason. Sow the wind and
you may reasonably expect to reap the whirlwind!
Meantime Major
Keilly had poor old John Stainton posted back to his Regiment, obviously
feeling that by doing so he was sending me some sort of subtle warning, as if
I was going to be intimidated by that! Any bullyboy tactics only work if the
recipient can be pressured, hurt or scared in some way and they knew by now
that I was afraid of nothing in their armoury. Having as I saw it a point to
prove, I simply carried on doing the job as best I knew how and watched twice
as carefully that I didn't put a foot wrong, if you'll pardon the pun! With
the absolute exception of Bert Hill, I knew that the sympathy of all the
others was firmly on our side and that was a source of some comfort to Maggie
and I.
Hanging In
The situation with regard to Woodsie was to drag on for
another six months or so; he was never spoken to unless it was necessary to
do so for the sake of the job. I was brusque whenever the need arose to exchange
conversation with him; Maggie treated him as though he was invisible. In the
interim Bert Hill continued to plot my downfall and I was told by several
people that his oft repeated cry was that he was going to trim my wings for
me. I simply did not give him the opportunity to come at me although he
was always ready to try; I was hoping that one day I would be able to return
the favour. It really was just Woodsie and Bert; everyone else was fine with
me. It was actually Dot Winterton, our WRAC recruiter that I felt sorry
for though. She was an attractive, cheerful and well-spoken woman who was
very good at her job. Being among a group of feisty males as she was at Northampton, she was
the subject of much innuendo and the object of a lot of fantasies from the
blokes, all of whom were married. When, quite rightly, she kept them all at
arms length, the usual rumours started, I have to say that she was as
feminine a lass as I have ever seen and a credit to her Corps and calling.
Bert was still indulging himself in his favourite
pastime, trying to pull me down. I had processed a recruit who had
aroused my suspicions because of the nature of some of the answers he gave to
my innocuous appearing questions. I had endorsed his application with the
words: "I suspect that this applicant has previous Military experience
despite his claim to the contrary and I am not prepared to recommend him
without further enquiries being made". These enquiries were to be made
through the Desk Sergeant at the local nick, he was not on duty until the
following day and I had not at that time met the new bloke doing the shift
when I initially rang, so was unable to ask for the information I needed. The
applications had to be forwarded the same day as they were processed, so Bert
had picked up on my comments as soon as he opened the mail first thing in the
morning. His opening line to me as I answered his call was: "So you
fancy yourself as Sigmund Freud now do you?” Once he had clarified what the
hell he was going on about, I made my answer: "Don't know about that
Bert, just doing my job mate." He spoke down to me in his usual
endearing fashion, although to be scrupulously fair, he did that to
everybody. "Your job is to get recruits, not indulge in flights of
fancy. Is this your way of trying to slow down the flow of recruits into the
Royal Anglians?” I responded that I was doing what was required of me, making
sure that I only sent usable material for induction into the Army, no matter
which arm they were intended for. "Well I intend to red ink through
your comments." I told him not to do that until I had finished my
enquiries, as I was very sure that this bloke was not kosher. He snorted and
told me not to waste too much time. A call to the Police Station and a quick
chat to the right bloke and a police car was despatched to the address
given by the bloke in question, where he was arrested on
outstanding warrants. The Police also informed me that some three years
previously he had been arrested by the Military Police for desertion and held
in Kettering Station overnight. Seems he had served some eleven months in the
RAOC until he was discharged as "Services No Longer Required". It
gave me great pleasure to call Bert and drop that on him, telling him at the
same time that I would be very wary of using red ink on any forms that I
sent in, where I had highlighted some observed discrepancy or anomaly in a
recruit’s background. A week or so later Bert was gloomily listening to me
announce my rating from the War Office on the observed and noted potential of
recruits in my personal summaries, it was in the high nineties!
The scene was
about to be set for Bert
Hills come-uppance, it
came about thus; around three-thirty on a Friday afternoon a very
distressed young woman came into the office. With her she had a bewildered
looking young toddler of about three. I asked her what was wrong and how I
could help her? She responded in a rapid-fire explosion of German that she
needed help and spoke very little English. She then said that her husband was
a soldier. I managed to find out what the basic problem was. She had married
a British Soldier some two months previously and he had been posted to Singapore, he
had arranged for her and her daughter to remain with his aunt in Kettering until such
time as he had a married quarter arranged for her so that she could join him.
The aunt had taken a strong dislike to her and had just thrown her out, she
was desperate, didn't know a soul and spoke virtually no English.
A sympathetic taxi driver with a smattering of
German had delivered her to my door. I had Maggie come through to fetch her a
cuppa, I acquiesced to Maggie’s suggestion that she take them into the
flat, then got out my Military Directory and rang the Military Hostel in
Blackpool. That Hostel was at
that time the designated emergency accommodation centre for
servicemen’s families that were homeless. The person in charge there was
most helpful and told me that he would organise somewhere for them to stay,
all I had to do was arrange rail warrants and then let him know which train
to have met for her at Blackpool. Piece of cake! Except that I had to ring Northampton and ask
permission to issue a railway warrant, I did so and asked Bert if he could
put me through to Major Keilly, I was brusquely told that he was not going to
disturb him and what did I want? I told him and he said: "Welfare
problems do not come within the ambit of a Recruiting Office, just get rid of
her, send her home." I immediately said to him that in fact such
problems were germane to the nearest Military unit and that was I. He said to
me: "Look, we have covered this ground before, you were wrong then you
know and you are wrong now." Dick Woods came into the office at this
point and sat down at his desk opposite. I said to Bert that a
failure to do the right thing in this instance would reflect extremely badly
on the Army and set recruiting right back on its heels. He said I was talking
nonsense and that I was in no circumstances to issue a warrant without
appropriate authority, which he was not going to give. I repeated my request
to speak with the Major and was told again that he would not disturb him and
that his word on this was final. He then hung up the phone. I quickly looked
in the Directory as I filled Woodsie in on what had transpired, he had
nothing to offer and just sat there filling his pipe. I found the number that
I wanted at the War Office and just to be sure, pulled out QR & R's to
double check if I was in fact justified in what I was about to do. Dick Wood
in the meantime had gone outside to get the display boards that he had
removed from one of our expired window sites, so he wasn't aware of where or
whom I was calling. I rang the War Office department that dealt with Married
Accommodation for the UK
and spoke to the WO who answered the phone. He told me he was transferring my
call and suddenly I was talking to the Brigadier in charge of the whole
shebang! I went through the whole sordid tale for his benefit and explained
to him that even though I was damning myself locally, I could not stand by
and do nothing for a distressed serviceman’s wife and that further to this
any bad publicity ensuing from my blind acceptance of what I knew to be wrong
would afford the Army very cold comfort. He said that he would see about arranging
board for the wife and daughter and was quite surprised to learn that this
had been my first step. He asked me for my particulars, then asked for the
full title of Bert Hill, the name of my commanding officer and the telephone
number of Northampton Office, he finished by giving me the authorisation
number from his department for the travel warrant I was now to make out. He
then said: "Well done Sergeant, you did exactly the right thing".
Dick Woods was by now back in the office
and looked at me askance as I made out a travel warrant to Blackpool
and then rang the Station to ask for the times of trains and what transfers
if any she would have to make. This organised I then called out to Margaret
to bring the woman out from the flat and into the office, so I could work out
with her what time train she could catch. Having her two cases with
her, this turned out to be the next one, which was in 50 minutes time.
So I rang the people at Blackpool and told
them what train they would be on and what colour clothes they were wearing,
for identification. As soon as I got off the phone it was ringing again and
it was Bert Hill, he was furious and yelled at me: "What the hell have
you done, you (expletive)?” I responded thus: "Listen you
obstreperous, useless cretin, I have just paid you back in your own coin, you
have been trying to screw me since I got here, today it's your turn in the
barrel. While I have your undivided attention let me tell you something else.
I have been got at by experts since joining the Army and you just don't
measure up to that demanding standard, you are out of your class and if you
try me on again I will rip you a new fundament". "The Major is
going berserk!” he said. "Not at me he isn't Bert and I am just off to
drop my refugees at the Station, bye" I replied, and hung up! A
week later I had a telegram from a very grateful Corporal in the RASC to say
that his wife had been overwhelmed by the kindness shown to her by Maggie and
myself and that she was on her way to join him in Singapore.
Paradise Regained
The situation with Dick Woods continued for some
weeks, he wore a constant hangdog expression even more lugubrious than his
normal gloomy demeanour. He began trying all sorts of ploys to regain some of
his lost ground but Maggie was adamant she would have nothing to do with him
and I rebuffed every overture he made. On the odd occasion that he tried to
justify his actions on that day, I simply looked at him and said: “That
subject is closed!” I did not of course, allow that to interfere with the
running of the office, although I was aware that Dick was spending less time
on the area than he should have when it was his turn out of the office.
Whispers kept coming back to me that he was spending a lot of time at Northampton office and
chatting at length with Bert Hill and occasionally with the Major. As there
was nothing I could do to prevent this, I simply concentrated on making
myself as fireproof as possible. It was during this time that our lovely
black cat disappeared, he was a very affectionate cat and would lay on my
chest of an evening with his forepaws either side of my neck, a real friend.
We both missed him a lot. My time for putting in my first option to terminate
my service was fast approaching and both Maggie and I had come to the
conclusion that any future for us in the Army had been compromised, probably
beyond reasonable repair. The simple truth was that I had developed
intolerance for fools and that is not a good attitude to hold when clad in a
ginger suit! Likewise the foot problem was not going to alter in the short
term, despite the operation there was still a high degree of discomfort when
walking and such things as climbing ladders was simply not on. The specialist
had confirmed that my problem, as far as the Army's PULHEEMS requirements
were concerned, had not been altered one iota.
To that end I began, on our trips to Luton, to ask around about employment prospects. Our
friends Ted and Beryl came up with an offer to put my name forward with the
Electrolux factory where Ted worked in middle management. I must say at this
point that this wonderful couple had been a tremendous influence on my life,
even to the point that I modelled my approach to married life on their
example. I count that as the best decision that I ever made in my entire
life, never once have I had cause to regret that and my time with Maggie has
been enriched beyond measure as a result. I freely acknowledge the debt that
I owe those lovely people and I am happy to say that many years later I
was able to put something back into the kitty for them, with one of their
grandchildren. What goes around comes around! We began to seriously save
every spare copper that we could lay our hands on as we wanted, if possible,
to buy a home of our own. I even tried very hard to persuade Maggie that we
should look at going out to Australia but she wasn't keen, at that time, on
parting from her family so completely.
As we were starting to gear ourselves up
ready for me to put in my notice of intention to request demob, I was asked
to go across to Northampton
to see the Major on a matter of some importance. I did so and was ushered
into his sanctum with a minimum of fuss and bother. He got to the point
immediately, by saying that while he was extremely pleased with the consistently
high results that Kettering
was achieving, he was less than satisfied with the acrimonious state of
affairs between Woodsie and myself. He went on to say that he was not
apportioning blame and then, surprise, surprise, to say that he knew Colour
Sergeant Woods was not an easy person to get on with! He then made my day,
year even, by saying that Woodsie would be returning to the 2nd
Royal Anglians in a couple of weeks or so and that his replacement at Kettering would be a
Sergeant Edwards. He asked me if I was able to assure him that I would
make every effort to avoid the sort of situation that had prevailed in the Kettering office since
Woods and I had been together. I thought: “Right, I'm not having that!” I
asked the Major if I might speak frankly and he responded, with a small
smile, that to his certain knowledge I always did! I responded: "Thank
you Sir. You will be aware of the situation that I faced when I arrived in
Kettering, my predecessor left me with a well-defined aura of resentment to
contend with. There already existed a high degree of antipathy between
Sergeant G--------- and Colour Sergeant Woods, that was transferred to me
lock, stock and barrel and then aggravated by a naked grab at taking over the
office, in direct contravention of standing orders defining the status of ERE
and local recruiters. I handled that situation to the best of my ability and
at no point permitted it to interfere with the running of an
efficient office. I can assure you, Sir! That I will treat any replacement
that enters my office with complete goodwill and that I will not exercise any
prejudice whatsoever based on unmerited antipathy." He sat for a moment
and looked at me, then commented that he had expected no less of me and that
he would ask a further favour of me, if he might. I responded in the
affirmative and he went on to say that Sergeant Edwards was blind in his left
eye as a result of an accident on the rifle range and would I oblige him by
teaching him to drive! This would serve a double purpose in gaining him a
sound knowledge of the area as he was taught the fundamentals of driving a
vehicle. He assured me that a replacement would be sent to cover my normal
duties while this was done and that Dick Woods would also be there for a
couple of weeks to assist in any training that his replacement might need. I
demurred at that last bit, pointing out that I would prefer any bad habits
Sergeant Edwards picked up to be mine, thank you. That got me another wry
smile from the Major! I left Northampton
feeling as though a huge oppressive weight had been lifted from my shoulders
and suddenly found myself looking forward to my final months as a soldier
with a much-refreshed attitude of mind. Maggie was delighted when I told her
and said that she couldn't wait to meet the new man and see if he was going
to be an improvement as far as being someone to work with was concerned, how
could he not be?
Happier Days
Eddie Edwards turned out to be a very likeable bloke
who was some four years my senior in age, he was about my height, medium
build and with black hair that was going a tad sparse on top. The first thing
that struck me about him was his cheerful attitude and his ready smile; this
was certainly a change for the better as far as Maggie and I were concerned.
I had a good chat with him on his first morning and asked him what he
was doing about a vehicle, he responded that he had purchased an Austin A40
and that it was garaged back at the ‘hiring’ the Regiment had arranged for
him, he confirmed that he had his learner’s permit and the L plates for
display and then asked when I intended to start teaching him? "In about
five minutes" I responded. Tom Martin was my relief and had just turned
up in his own car; ready to man the office while Woodsie disappeared on some
mysterious errand of his own. That suited me fine, as I had no intention of
giving Dick the chance to queer my pitch with the new bloke. We drove back to
his place and I was introduced to his wife, a tiny, charming and cheerful
dark haired lass, she was busy with their very young daughter as we arrived
and was surprised to see us there, not thinking that the lessons would begin
quite so quickly. I explained that the Major was anxious for Eddie to be able
to carry out the full range of duties as quickly as possible, so I had been
urged not to hang about. We quickly fixed the plates to the A40 and I drove
out to a quiet little estate on the periphery of Kettering, only about a
third of the blocks of land had been sold and a mere dozen or so homes
commenced as far as construction was concerned. The paved roads were all set
up though, so that made it an ideal place to start showing him the ropes.
First thing I did was to ask him what he understood about the various
controls; not very much was the consensus after a few minutes of hemming and
hawing! I spent the best part of an hour filling him in on what everything
did and why, so that he would understand such basics as the need to operate
the clutch in order to interrupt the drive train from motor to wheels when
gear changing or stopping. I then did a few demos on how to start the car and
how to pull away in it, with especial care to make sure that he checked the
road before he moved off. With the handicap of just one eye I felt that this
was of paramount importance and was worth stressing so that it became second
nature. I asked him how good he felt he was at judging distances in view of
his lack of binocular vision and he said that he had learnt to compensate for
it, that was a good positive answer and I said that he would need to always
factor that in when driving at night or when overtaking other vehicles. Once
satisfied that he had a good grasp of the strengths and weaknesses of driving
a vehicle, we started on the actual driving part, he was intrigued at the
ability of the car to leap great distances as he released the clutch. After
about ten or so pull always from the kerb, he did a good one and already he
had mastered the art of dipping the clutch to control the leaping and to
prevent stalling when stopping. I felt that he was going to become a good
driver in a fairly short time and told him so, I drove him back to the AIO so
that we could have our lunch and then we went back to the estate to start
again. I said to him that he would get sick of the sight of the place because
I would be sticking to it until I was sure he was ready to face heavier
traffic and busy roads, before we quit later that afternoon I had him
changing up the gearbox into top gear, and explained to him that while I
would tolerate his looking down for the gearstick for the first 48 hours I
would swear at him whenever he did it thereafter. He seemed to grasp what I
meant when I told him to always think of the ‘H’ shape when he was going to
change gear, I said: "Just make sure that your brain is also in
gear and you will know what gear the car is in, eventually you will
subconsciously be aware of the gear by virtue of the transmission noise and
the ‘feel’ of the car as it moves." He thought not but as every driver
knows, that soon becomes the case as you familiarise yourself with the
performance of your vehicle. I was extremely pleased with the days progress
and I made sure that Eddie was aware of my approbation of his efforts, he was
grinning like a Cheshire cat when he got home, because I stuck him behind the
wheel and let him drive it a few yards outside his house, to the absolute
delight of his wife.
Major Keilly
rang me very early the next morning for a progress report and was very
surprised when I told him that in my opinion Sergeant Edwards would be ready
to sit his test within a fortnight, if he continued to progress at the rate
he had delivered on the first outing. As is usually the case when starting
out with a complete novice, the first lessons have to be relearned over the
first three days, nevertheless, by the weekend Eddie was getting very
proficient at changing up and down the box and was handling the car very well
in light traffic on some of the quieter roads around the area. Very occasionally
he would be too abrupt with the clutch but he was correcting himself without
any undue drama or prompting from me, I arranged to take him out at least
once over the weekend as I did not want him to regress through lack of
practice, he was fine and was obviously enjoying the experience of driving.
He had a very good grasp of the fundamentals as far as road etiquette was
concerned and his recognition of road signs and their meanings was excellent.
On the Monday I reported as much to the Major, going so far as to suggest
that if he was prepared to arrange for the MT Officer or instructor from the
Northampton depot of the RPC (Royal Pioneer Corps) to organise a driving test
for the Friday, I was quietly confident that Eddie would do very well. The Major
was very pleased and said that he would act in accordance with my
recommendation and would I let Sergeant Edwards know? I thought for a
moment and responded: "Not until Thursday, Sir. I want to let his
confidence grow enough so that the news won't faze him at all, he will then
make a better fist of it". That was the way that it was done, Eddie
seemed a tad shocked when I told him on the Thursday morning that he would be
tested the following day, I told him not to worry as the test would be on
roads that he was now familiar with. He turned out an immaculate day’s
driving for me and I was well chuffed, saying that if he repeated that
performance in the morning I might get a permanent teaching job out of it. On
the Friday morning the Landrover from the RPC turned up just after ten o'clock and we all watched
Eddie and the examiner, a WO2 in the RPC, set off in the little A40. Forty
minutes later they were back and Eddie had a grin on him so wide we thought
the top of his head would fall off! He had gone through it like a dose of
salts and the WO2 had praised him on his aptitude, saying that his driving
was of a very high standard. Eddie wanted Maggie and I to go across to their
place for a couple of beers on the Saturday, by way of celebration, we did so
and enjoyed a most convivial evening with our new friends. What a contrast
with Woodsie, who now spent his last few days at Northampton and of course
never said cheerio or fare thee well before he left for his Regimental Depot.
I decided to keep to the format that I had devised
because of Dick Woods, so that we spent week and week about on office and
area, even though Eddie and I got on like a house on fire, the office simply
functioned much more smoothly that way and the flow of recruits had never
flagged since its inception, coupled of course with the Window Displays
scattered throughout the area. Eddie threw himself wholeheartedly into the
routine and proved himself to be a willing and unflagging worker, it was a
pleasure to see his beaming face every day and we never had so much as a
ripple of discontent to mar the smooth running of the office. Bert Hill had
pulled his head in since our last little run in and now that his crony had
disappeared he was not so disposed to stir things up, he was still as bombastic
as ever of course but that was the quintessential Bert and that would never
change! Meantime, Maggie and I had gained another cat. This came about as a
result of my finding a convenient spot to pull over in and enjoy my lunch
while doing the northern section of the area one day, as I sat there
enjoying a slice of Maggie’s delicious home made apple pie, I heard a rather
feeble sounding ‘Meow' and there by the side of the car was the sorriest
looking kitten I had ever seen. It really was in a bad way and was famished,
scoffing my apple pie as fast as I put a piece down for it, knowing for
sure it's fate if I left it there, I picked up the sorry looking mite and
took it back with me. Maggie was appalled at the state of it and we took it
around to a Vet's surgery that night. He found that it had all sorts wrong
with it and we spent a fortune on all types of medicines and such that the
Vet insisted were essential. Even then he felt that the cat would be dead
within a week as it was so far gone. We took it back a fortnight later to see
if it needed any further treatment and at first he would not believe it was
the same cat, it had filled out and all the harsh looking hair had been
replaced by a glossy looking coat. This was due to Maggie’s secret weapon,
which was milk and cod liver oil with fresh eggs beaten into it, the cat
doted on that and thrived accordingly, after a couple of days the dog and cat
had got used to each other and there was no more hissing and carrying on.
Trixie the dog was a lover of water and we could not keep her out of it if we
went to Thrapston or the lake in Wickstead Park, trouble was that there were
a couple of territorial white swans on the lake and whenever they spotted the
dog in the water they would charge across the water at her with their wings
all raised and their beaks agape. When we went down to the lake with the
Edwards family their daughter would dance on the grass as she watched Trixie
swimming for her life with two great swans hissing in her wake. These were
really great times for Maggie and I and when we contrasted them to
what had gone on before, it all seemed like a bad dream.
Final Fling
I can only describe the latter days that
Maggie and I spent at the Kettering AIO as halcyon days, there was an aura about
the place that made people coming in to us relaxed and at ease it made our
task an absolute piece of cake. Certainly the potential recruits that we
handled seemed to drink it in and I am certain that this ‘happy’ atmosphere
went a very long way towards allaying any small doubts or worries that they
might have entertained about an Army career. Someone at the Royal Anglian
Depot had used some nous and as a consequence Eddie had gained his
projectionist skills prior to his detachment to the recruiting team. This
meant that Eddie was available right from day one to do his full share of all
the tasks required of us, what's more, he was keen as mustard and ready for
anything at a moment’s notice. As far as compatibility went, we might have
been designed each with the other in mind. Our figures improved yet again,
not so much because we were working harder, more because there was not as
much ‘wastage’ by wannabes that chickened out before crunch time. I knew
beyond argument that the number of enquiries per se had not gone up,
so what other reasonable explanation was there? Blokes were leaving the
office with a grin or a smile on their faces after processing and actually in
some instances ringing us up later, to see if the wait for entry could be
shortened. Lambs for the slaughter you might think? Not so really, because I
had always told every wannabe that the first twelve weeks would be tough as
hell, explaining that the Army had a need to find out if recruits had the
right sort of gumption before they spent a fortune on training them fully.
Kinder on both parties to find out by a good shake-up at the outset, rather
than have a disaster for both later, to a man they all seemed to follow the
logic of that. Eddie utilised the same format and we never looked back!
I do recall one bloke that came into the office during
that happy time who did not have a smile as he departed, poor devil was very
eager to get in but alas he was unable to muster the incredibly low mark
needed to get in at barrel-scraping level. At the training School for ERE
recruiters, it had been drummed into students that you did not ‘push’ blokes
where they did not seem keen to go, even if it meant an Einstein becoming a
cook if he so chose. The other strict no-no was to ‘fiddle’ someone’s scores
to get them into something they really wanted by marking their scores ‘up’.
We both stood there, as this strapping lad left the office at five to five,
he was looking really downcast and dejected. The redoubtable Heather, who had
given up on raiding the office in search of stimulation, was stood in her
doorway opposite and we watched her as she called out something to this big,
simple but honest seeming chap. He paused and she was across the road like a
shot, we watched in fascinated horror as she coaxed him over the road and
into her parlour. Well, it's an ill wind as they say and the lad's luck was
obviously about to change, although I hesitate to say in which direction this
was to be. I never saw the going of him but Eddie and I spotted him on
several later occasions trotting up to Heather’s front door, whereat it would
open and he would be whipped very smartly inside, literally perhaps? He never
again came in to us, to see if he could do better on another go at the
Recruit Test, we suspected that he was marching to the beat of another drum
entirely.
With my notice of exercise of option in and duly
recorded, I began to look at work prospects after my career terminated with a
tad more urgency. Kettering
was a really nice place, lovely people and an altogether pleasant ambience.
Problem was that although houses there were really cheap, the work situation
was not good and looked like getting worse as time went on. This was due to
the area being heavily involved in the making of traditional footwear. Cheap
imports, and the first signs of the really casual footwear trend, were
starting to make serious inroads into the local industry and people were
being laid off. A load of old cobblers you may be forgiven for thinking. Ted
Allford’s offer was still the best thing I had going for me and we decided
that unless a managing directorship at a Brewery came my way, we would see
what he could do for us. We looked at a lot of homes at weekends and those
evenings when I was not encumbered with follow-ups or film shows. We found
many that we liked but still we were not ready to risk setting up somewhere
that was a bit iffy for work.
As the weather improved into our last few months at Kettering we enjoyed
many jaunts into Wickstead
Park, where the
miniature golf links were given a real pounding by the Edwards' and
ourselves. I was still frantically checking up to see if there was anything I
could find that would enable us to live and work in Kettering but it was not to be. Services
such as the fire brigade that would have viewed my Army service as an asset
were precluded because of my still extant foot problem and I was too short
for the Police. I discovered that there was a waiting list for employment at
the GPO for both mail sorters and delivery officers, service station managers
looked blankly at me when I mentioned my trade qualifications. Reluctantly we
concluded that we were meant to return to Luton.
At least Luton was a good town for
employment, with a plethora of factories producing a multitude of goods.
As I headed into my last month before my demobilisation
leave, I was told by Ted Allford that I had an interview to attend at the
Electrolux Factory in Oakley Road Luton, this was an area that I knew very
well from the years between Australia and my advent as a Boy Soldier. I
arranged to have an afternoon off in order to attend this interview and took
Maggie down with me, as this would give her a bit of time with Beryl Allford
while I was otherwise engaged and then after the interview was all sorted, we
could drop in on Charles and Vera before making our way back to Kettering
that night. Because the morning had been a working one I was in uniform, with
the weather being quite wet and windy I was wearing my issue raincoat over
the top of everything. I introduced myself at the Personnel Manager’s office
at the appointed time and was soon being escorted through the factory towards
the ‘Unit Machine Shop’. Once inside that I was taken for a long walk past
rows of busily clattering and diverse machines towards a centrally located glassed
off area. All of the operators that we passed seemed intrigued by the fact
that I was in military attire and had a strange coloured beret on. No rank
insignia was visible because of the ‘mac’ I was wearing of course. Inside the
glassed off area I was taken into the Inspection Foreman’s office and
introduced to one of the biggest men I have ever met, one Percy Batchelor by
name. I could tell right away that big Percy was one of those men that
expected everyone was going to be overawed by him, so I decided not to be. He
asked me a few questions and then indicated that he would take me around the
Machine Shop to show me what would be required of me, I started to remove my
topcoat but he suggested that it was not a good idea in case I got splashed
by coolant. "I should stick your strange hat in your pocket for the same
reason if I were you" he remarked. I concurred. He then went on to say
that it was probably not a good idea for me to have turned up in uniform in a
factory. I snapped back immediately that I had done a full day’s work before
venturing down to Luton for the interview
and that clothes did not make the man anyway, did they? He looked a trifle
surprised at my forthright answer but I was going to be taken on as I was or
not at all, no point in pretending to be Mr Nice Guy to someone who probably
ate a couple of those every day for snacks! At the end of a very interesting
50 minutes, he took me back to his office and asked me if I thought I could
handle the job, stating that he needed someone who could stand up to foremen
and supervisors when it was necessary. I said that I was not afraid to stand
up to anybody if a given situation warranted it and that I was not put off by
the fact that an inspector in a machine shop is not the most popular animal about!
He looked me up and down, mostly down of course and said: "OK, the job
is yours." I walked out of the place in a bit of a daze really, here was
me about to leave the only lifestyle that I had known for twelve years and
this place was to be where I earned my daily bread! Ted came home later and
said that Personnel had informed him of my success and that Percy had liked
my outspoken and forthright attitude, apparently saying that if he didn't
frighten me nobody else at the factory would!
As is almost always
the case, everything seems to speed up as you get closer to some momentous
event in your life and certainly this was no exception to that general rule.
Maggie was busily making sure that the flat was going to be spotless for the
handover and I was simply flat out with a very busy office, the summer months
always brought in the most applicants and this was a doozie so far. I had to
squeeze in a drink or two with the lads of course and it seemed like there
weren't enough hours in the day for all that had to be done. The rumour mill
was flat-chat as usual and I heard that Dick Woods was coming back to Northampton as a WO2
and that the Paras would supersede the REME once I had relinquished the
office. Both turned out to be true and Woodsie arrived to take up his post at
Northampton just five days before my release, thankfully our paths never
crossed and this news was not greeted with joy by his new playmates either!
Meantime all sorts of Para paraphernalia
were arriving at Kettering
and being shunted down into the cellar out of the way. The last thing that
Maggie and I did in the place at Kettering
was to make the rounds of the neighbours and say our farewells to them, we
would miss the cheerful smiling Sevilles in particular; they were standouts
as far as nice neighbours go.
I had a brief message from my ‘spy’ in Northampton
Office, yes I did have one and he had been invaluable to me during the lean
times when I was fighting for my life as it were. He let on to me that Bert
Hill was preparing an ambush for me as regards the question of Reserve
Service, having gone to great lengths to ascertain that even a P3 L7 BE
PULHEEMS assessment did not preclude a retiring Servicemen from Reserve
commitment, I thanked my valued friend for that and smiled to myself. On my
last day as a Soldier I had to take all my uniforms and gear across to
Northampton Drill Hall ‘Q’ Stores to be signed back in, it was all complete
and in good order and repair. Then I had to report to Major Keilly, Bert took
me along to the Major’s Office and said, with a smirk, that I had some
documentation to sort out before I left to hand over the flat to the Hirings
and Quarters people. The Major bade me sit down and asked me if I had any
regrets at leaving the Army, I responded that I was not really prepared to
linger on in a sort of Limbo, dependent entirely as to the goodwill of
whomsoever might be set over me as to whether I had a career or not from day
to day. He nodded and passed over my release papers for me to read, here goes
nothing I thought to myself as I grimly looked to see what had been written
about me. The words written into my AF B108 were thus; (verbatim) Conduct on
Discharge "Exemplary". The summary read: "Sgt. Peck is a
trained Aircraft Technician Class 2. From his reports he appears to be a
hardworking efficient technician who has a sound technical knowledge and
applies himself with enthusiasm. He is reliable and gets on with his work
without supervision. He has a pleasant, cheerful personality and seems to get
on well with most people." I was totally rapt I can tell you! I looked
at the Major and he smiled and said: "You have done a good job in a
somewhat awkward situation, I wish you every success wherever you go, Good
luck lad." Then he shook my hand and I took my leave of him. Bert Hill
was hovering as I came out into the corridor. "Righto then, let’s sort
out your final hurdle and then you can be off" said Bert. He practically
frogmarched me into his Orderly Room and shoved some papers at me, saying:
"Just fill in the name of the Drill Hall you wish to be attached to,
either Old Bedford Road
or Marsh Road Halls, if you please, then sign in the appropriate place.” I
just stood there smiling at him. "Come on, I haven't got all day"
said Bert, "Just decide which one you want." Still smiling like a
Cheshire cat, I said: "Neither thank you". Bert snapped:
"Right you smart arsed little git, I have been waiting for this moment
since you arrived here, your medical grading does not excuse you your Reserve
commitment so shove that in your pipe and smoke it". "Is that right
Bert?” I said with my smile as wide as ever. "Yes it bloody well is, so
get this signed and clear off". "Not necessary mate" I
responded and waved my AFB 2140 at him, winking at Dennis as I did so.
"What is that supposed to be?" snarled Bert. I said that it was a
change of engagement form I had signed in 1956 and that I would read him the
relevant section, which read as follows: "PARA iv: If, having the right,
I terminate my Colours Service at the end of nine or more years from the date
of my attestation as aforesaid, I will not be liable to serve in the Royal
Army Reserve, but will be discharged." His eyes were bugging out of his
head and he was shaking as he stood there glaring at me, I said that I was so
sorry to have rained on his Parade and brushed past him to shake hands with
good old Dennis. Bert took off down the corridor and that was the last I ever
saw of him.
The handover of the Quarter went off in
the customary manner, which is to say, without a hitch, all that was left for
Maggie and I to do then was to load the last of our personal gear into the
car, get the cat and dog organised and off we went, heading for we knew not
what. On that journey down the A6 we did some soul searching but both of us
felt that we had made the only real choice that we had. On a personal level I
was bitterly disappointed to have lost the chance of a long-term career but
that knowledge had been in-situ for some three years so it was pointless
griping about it. Did I think I had been a good Soldier? Well, you the reader
are better placed than I am to judge that, I am biased after all. I will say
this about my time though. Colours Service was an absolute doddle after the
AAS, at no time did I feel unable to cope with such as the Army saw fit to
toss at me and like most of those in uniform, I scratched out what sort of
‘turf’ I could and defended same to the best of my ability. To some extent
you were able to utilise your personality to ‘empower’ yourself in the
Regulars. Boys Service provided no such thing, unless you count the illusory
status of Apprentice rank or seniority by Division, all of which disappeared
like magic if a Permanent Staffer intruded into your personal space. In a sense, the Army seems to expect a
certain amount of high spirits from its Private soldiers and even permits a
small degree of skulduggery to go unremarked, as long as it does not reflect
badly on the Army or the Unit in which they serve. Whereas it will not
tolerate too much of either from its NCOs and such. Army life is not quite
that simplistic of course but that seems to be a basic tenet of the military
lifestyle. I was fairly typical then, in that I had a ball while I had no
true responsibilities, other than to my immediate colleagues that shared my
daily routine. As an NCO, I took pride in what I did and was intolerant of
anyone or anything that I perceived as an impediment to the performance
of my duties to the absolute best of my ability. Without a shadow of a doubt,
this was the true legacy of the Arborfield AAS. Did I enjoy my
time in a ‘Ginger’ suit? Yes I did, because the good times far outweighed the
bad and even at the absolute nadir of any given period, I never lost faith in
myself.
It is my wish to dedicate this entire mémoire to my dearest wife
and tireless companion, Margaret Ann Peck and to those of my companions in
arms (and legs) who shared so many of my experiences, to all of them,
mentioned herein or not, I say: "Bless them all".
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