Mémoire – (the late) Alan LOVELACE

(AAS Arborfield 51A)

Alan passed away in April 2006 IN MEMORIAM

“Bloody Arborfield” – Memories of AAS and After

1952 – Alan Lovelace at AAS Arborfield

l joined The September 49ers to see if l could find any 51A's knocking about, not to go on pretending to play soldiers again - done my bit! Reg HARPER, the first to be found, should have been in the same barrack room as me along with the unfortunate Dave HOOPER. Problem! My memory takes me around that room and l have come to the conclusion that Reg must have been next door along with MANNING and MAINWARING. Am l wrong about the barrack room?

My life after AAS? Well, where do l start? I know - I’ll deal first with the ‘fifties.

The e-mails I’m getting are all about my reputation, most of them exaggerated and out of all proportion. One claims l did a full year in out of the three in detention. In fact, l did 176 days ‘nick’, three PD1's and got the birch on two occasions, administered by my friend and yours, RSM bloody McNALLY.

1953 - John Johnson & Alan Lovelace

Since leaving AAS I’ve encountered ANDERSON at Sennelager, BAOR. He and several others from the Royal Engineers were trying to gyp me in the NAAFI queue and l told the clowns to get behind me - or else. Anderson turned around and started to mouth at me, but when he saw who it was and looked at my beret his mouth dropped open. I shall tell more of the story of the beret later, but will give you a clue or two - dagger, wings!

I also met Ralph LORD once. However, the one guy in 51A l have always been in touch with is John Titch JOHNSON.

Most of my anecdotes are lightweight, but not this one, it being the reason that l served 176 days detention; RSM bloody McNALLY kept telling me it was easily the most anyone had done. I also had PD1 on three separate occasions and the birch twice; administered by the RSM, bless him! I won't name names but you may be able to figure out who the villains of this piece are. Hint! They both made Apprentice CSM; one I think was from intake 49B.

I was only fourteen years old when l entered Arborfield and had to get special permission because l was at Grammar School. I had been at Arborfield for about ten days when we had a Commandant’s Inspection on the Saturday morning, and I was found to have some dust on my locker top. Fourteen years old and dust on my locker! My punishment was being taken to the showers, stripped naked, and scrubbed with a bass broom and a scrubbing brush by the Apprentice Corporal and his Apprentice Lance Corporal accomplice, supervised by a member of the Permanent Staff whose name I don’t remember. Cut and bleeding all over my body and still naked I was taken back to the barrack room and exhibited as an example of what others could expect if they were found guilty of this heinous crime.

At that moment l vowed that I wouldn't play this game. I would not co-operate with this sick system. Believe me, l didn't.

circa 1999/2000 – AAS Gates, dark and foreboding

I went back to Arborfield about six or seven years ago just to see it demolished and with barbed wire around the place. It made my heart glad; what l would have given to be on the demolition team!

I remember Aldershot and the Psychiatrist. I even remember one of the questions he asked: “What is the difference between lazy and idle?” My answer was: "Idle means to be without work and lazy means to not want to work, like Officers and the like, sir". Always polite, me. Drove ‘em wild!

Sex? At Arborfield? There wasn't any for God's sake, not if you resisted M’s charms which, l am glad to say, I did. Not difficult.

On the question of then tattooist I'd forgotten her name. I know she advertised herself as the only female tattooist in the country. I had a tattoo done there. As l was only there the once I must have braved the sight of Reg HARPER’s blood, unless l had mine done first. I don't remember.

Every other outfit in the blasted Army had a Commanding Officer, a C.O. Not us, just like Auschwitz we had a f---ing Commandant.

I don't remember the recruiting movie made at Arborfield. I bet they didn't ask me. Anyway, l was probably on the run again at the time. And I don't remember the guys in Reg HARPER’s room except HAWES. A mystery though. HAWES was in my barrack room; he came from Penzance, Cornwall. Could there have two of them?

We must have been in 6 Division because BREWER was an Apprentice CSM. In his infinite wisdom he decided that we had been a bit slovenly on our march to the workshops that morning and needed some extra drilling up and down the road outside the workshops during NAAFI break. Just a split second after his announcement l decided in my wisdom what l needed was a nice quiet walk in California-in-England - do you remember it? So off l wandered. After a few seconds BREWER noticed my seeming reluctance to go along with his plans and went bananas, shouting and screaming at me to come back. I simply ignored him; didn't even turn around. I heard him start to run after me and l too broke into a gentle trot and he soon realised the folly of this action. I was, after all, in the A.A.S. athletics team and he wasn't. He was a trier though. I didn't just run away from him as l could have done, I only just kept a little ahead. When l came to the fence l leapt over it into the lane running alongside the camp, then turned to look at him. What a lovely sight. He was flushed and nearly choking for breath. I gave him a cheery wave and just walked away up the lane.

By the way, was the MORTON in Reg HARPER’s barrack room and the MORTON in the Athletics Team one and the same?

I'd forgotten about the guardroom scrubs. Bugger!

I think all would agree about Arborfield being a hell-hole at the time we were there. I was there in the Tailor's shop. I was there in the Cookhouse. I'd forgotten about them. The Tailor's shop was about us trying to get BD - battledress. Funny, nowadays all squaddies wear as their N^o 1s the sort of tunics we despised. You know, one of the overriding memories of Arborfield is that I always felt hungry, except on Friday nights when we blew our four bob on a few cakes and a coke; 20 pence in today's money.

My ‘history’ really starts with me getting twenty-eight days ‘nick’ for buggering off to Ireland with one of the WATTS twins from ‘A’ Company; Dick, l think. We funded this adventure by stealing bikes from shopfronts and taking them to second-hand shops. We travelled all over England too and were away for over four weeks. It was nearly at the end of the three years and the final exams were due. The Commandant had always told me l would never get a discharge and whilst in detention l wrote to my parents telling them that it was obvious that l wasn't getting my ticket (discharge), so l would knuckle down and make the best of a bad job. On Commandant's Orders a few days later, to my amazement, he offered me my discharge. Needless to say l snatched his bloody hand off.

I was to be discharged the day after I completed my sentence and when the great day arrived I was marched off to get a demob suit and my final pay. On leaving the office l was arrested and told l would be held in the Guardroom until my release the following day. I protested of course, but to no avail. The next day l was taken to the Commandant's office. RSM McNALLY was there and I pleaded with him to let me say goodbye to my mates. "Orders is orders, son" l was told. Eventually l was taken to the gates and escorted off the premises. However, what they had forgotten was that l had been paid. A pittance certainly, but it was enough to buy me bed and breakfast in Wokingham. That night l sneaked into the camp and said goodbye to my mates after all. Sod ‘em all!

I think what Arborfield taught me above all else was: “never let the bastards grind you down.”

Civvy Street

l went home, worked on a few jobs and then after just four months a letter came inviting me to do my National Service. Do you remember ‘B’ Coy CSM PATY, Ox & Bucks Light Infantry? Guess where l ended up? Yep! I found myself in Oxford at the Headquarters of the Ox & Bucks. Oh Boy! Lots of fun still to come, l thought.

Back to The Army Again

Oxford. Well, l did my basic training. It was a piece of piss of course. The drill was slightly different because it was a Light Infantry Regiment, but no sweat for me. At the end of it l applied to join the Paras. More money was the motivation at the time but l presumed I was rejected because of my AAS record.

I joined the Regiment at Belfast Barracks, Osnabrück, determined to keep my head down and just do my time. That was plan ‘A’. After about ten days l was put on guard. The Officer of the day was a National Service 2nd Lieutenant called PAYNE nicknamed Nutter because of his habit of always running someone in the Guardroom from the parade. Guess who he picked on? Knowing what l now know it was a set-up, and I was placed on CO's Orders the next day for having blanco on my belt back buckle. Yes, three years Boy’s Service and l had blanco on my belt back buckle - a likely story. Anyway, the CO read the riot act and told me he wasn't going to tolerate any nonsense such as I’d been up to at Arborfield. Telling him l didn't have blanco on my buckle he called me a liar and awarded me fourteen days detention. I was fuming, told him I’d never do another guard duty in this regiment and was awarded an extra fourteen days for insubordination. Twenty-eight days ‘nick’ for goodness sake, so much for Plan ‘A’.

Plan ‘B’ was put into action and each time l was put on guard l buggered off to the beer bar. Twenty-one or twenty-eight days ‘nick’ every time. Then it went pear-shaped on me. RP Sergeant Taffy MORGAN came down to the beer bar on one of these occasions with six of the guard, grabbed hold of me and tried to drag me over the table. I reacted with a beautiful right-cross, felling him like a sack of spuds and got six months in Bielefeld. Boy was l fit when l came out!

The day after my release l was put on guard duty. Did l do it? Did l hell! To the beer bar again, and then down town. The MP's brought me back to camp and the following morning on CO's Orders the CO laid into me once again. I was scum etc. He informed me l wasn't wanted in the Regiment and was being transferring to one that may just find a use for trash like me.

And so it came to pass that l found myself travelling back to Blighty thence to the Headquarters of the SAS at Hereford. I reported to the guy at the guardroom and was told to report to the Squadron Offices across the square. The smell of food from the cookhouse made me realise l was starving and, giving in to the impulse, I went in and got myself some dinner. After about three or four minutes a sergeant appeared, walked over, sat down opposite me and said: "Lovelace l presumes. I thought you were told to report to the office.” I told him that l hadn't eaten since the day before and was starving. He then introduced himself. "I'm Reg GATES" he explained. There was no “Sergeant” in there, just “Reg GATES”. Then he amazed me by observing: "I suppose there's nothing spoiled, who dares eats. Enjoy your meal Alan.” “Alan” I thought, not scum or trash. “Alan” l was to him. As he got up he turned and told me that he was my instructor for the following six months training, adding with a smile: "I think you and l are going to dance a little aren't we, Alan.” Talk about the smile on the face of the bloody tiger!

Alan Lovelace, 2006

To cut a long story short, six months later following the two-week’s final selection course on the Brecon Beacons, over 90% had failed and I won the shield as the best recruit.

First Published (posthumously): 1st May 2006

In Memoriam link added: 15th April 2009

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