A BRIEF HISTORY OF LIFE IN REME
A Craftsman’s Story 1948 to I953 Contributed
by: Phil KEMPSTER Chapter One Blandford. Six weeks of
hell. April 1948
I
received my call up papers for national service on the 7th of
April 1948. I was instructed to report to the recruitment office in
Included
in the envelope were my travelling instructions and travel documents. Having travelled no further than We
were booked in and shown to our accommodation, this was a long wooden room
with rows of beds down each side with a cupboard at the side of the bed, the
floors were polished so that you could see your face in them, every where was
spotlessly clean there was a toilets and shower room at the end of the room,
all spick and span, we were soon to discover why every thing was so clean and
tidy, it was going to be our job to keep it that way. The following day was
spent being kitted out with Denims, K/D uniform, Beret, Boots, and loads of
Webbing items i.e. Gaiters, Belt, Small Pack, Large Pack, Ammo Pouches and
straps, and lots of small items like knife fork and spoon, set of Mess Tins,
Housewife [not the female kind] this was a small bag filled with buttons,
sewing needles, cotton, darning wool, small piece of khaki cloth, even a
thimble, I thought to myself “Bloody hell. I joined
R.E.M.E. to learn to drive and mend trucks not mend socks and shirts!” The
last thing we were issued with was a Kit Bag to put it all in, then we all
walked back to our room to try our nice new uniforms on, not a pretty sight I
can tell you. My uniform fitted where
it touched and believe me it felt like putting on something made with rough
blanket material, Khaki Drill clothing took some getting used to. Our room now looked like a bomb had hit it
with all our beds littered with our kit and clothing. A Sergeant came into our room and said
quietly “Get this bloody mess tided up and fall in outside you have got five
minutes”. I think this Sergeant could
have whispered over three fields and still be heard, my ears were ringing for
days. We soon had the room tidy and went smartly outside, still dressed in
our civvies, we were then marched off to have our hair cut and after that
ordeal we went to meet our squad drill instructor, a Corporal from an
infantry regiment, he had a few medal ribbons on his tunic so he must have
served during the war, he was to be our instructor for the next six
weeks. We
then went to the cook house for a meal that was another experience not to
forget. We had to queue up in front of a counter full of containers with the
meal of the day in them, as you moved down the line a cook orderly plopped a
dollop of spuds etc: on to your plate then you collected your pudding sat
down as quick as possible stuffed it down, then took your plates to a table
with three large bowls of hot water on, one was for washing, next one for
rinsing, the third one for final rinse.
We had approx half an hour to do this lot then off back to our billet
for our next task. This was to get our
gear ready to start our training in earnest at the crack of dawn next morning
after washing and shaving (mostly in cold water) then make your bed up with
blankets and sheets neatly folded in a set of three with a blanket wrapped
round them and all your kit laid out on the bed in a uniformed position with
your spare boots highly polished ready for morning inspection. Also the room
floor had to be polished and the shower room and toilets cleaned, then
breakfast before parade at 08.00hrs. We were a mixed lot in our squad clerks,
joiners, labourers, mechanics etc: you name it they were here. We also had
two ex soldiers that were rejoining the REME; one was a Jock, a right cocky
bugger, thought he knew it all!! The
other one was a nice chap and would help you out if you had any problems, as
most of us rookies did, especially with cleaning our kit and bulling up our
boots so you could see your face in the toe caps, This was done with spit and polish, another
tip he taught us was to rub a warm iron over the toe cap to smooth out the
new leather before you started polishing, you had to be careful not to damage
you boots as this would get you into serious trouble. The brasses on our
webbing were a pain to clean, there were so many of the bloody things, there
was a fastening buckle and two adjusting clips on the front of your belt and
two buckles on the back for the pouches straps to go on, each ends of the
belt were finished off with brass ends it could take nearly an hour just to
clean your belt. Then you started on your packs, straps, pouches, and gaiters
then all this webbing had to be coloured with green Blanco and left to dry in
the Blanco room, all our gear had our names and numbers marked on the inside
of every item so your kit did not get mixed with some one else's. Oh!
I nearly forgot our greatcoat buttons and cap badge, they were brass
and had to be polished, what a life. There
were 18 of us in our squad, some from the Then
outside for roll call ready to be marched out on to the
Apart
from the two old soldiers and one or two of us that had been in the Army
Cadets, most of the Squad hadn’t a clue how to march in a straight line and
one chap couldn’t synchronize his arms and legs, that was funny to watch, it
was called tick tocking. I felt sorry for the lad, the more the
instructor shouted at him the worse he got, he was a very shy sort of chap
and not too bright. Jock, one of the
old sweats, was always taking the Mick out of him. I suppose these days that would be called
bullying, anyway more about him later. I won’t go on too much about Marching
and Drill Movements, after a few days our Corporal started to knock us into
shape, he was very patient with us and didn’t rant and rave like some of the
other N.C.O.s on the parade ground.
Some times when we got back to our room we had a shock. The room
looked like a bomb had hit it. If the
room inspection Officer noticed some thing not quite correct on your bed lay
out, the N.C.O. that accompanied him would tip the whole lot on the floor
then you would have to set it all out again and wait for the N.C.O to come
and check it again and have a little word in your ear like “If I have to tell
you about this again your feet won’t touch the ground! And you will be on a charge.” We continued with our marching and other
drill movements and we were getting better each day so our Corporal said we
were ready for small arms training. We
were marched off to the armoury to be issued with a Lee Enfield 303 Rifle and
Bayonet, complete with shoulder strap and cleaning kit.
We
were then taken to a lecture room to be taught how to strip down your weapon,
clean it, and put it together again, it took a few hours for this to sink in
but we got there eventually. We had to
sign a document for our rifles, these were to be kept with our other
equipment in our room and you were in serious trouble if you lost or damaged
it. Now we had to start learning arms
drill on the square, oh boy did those rifles make your shoulders sore and
your arms ache, doing slope arms, order arms, present arms, stand at ease
etc. After a couple or more weeks we were quite good at it and it was time
for us learn how to shoot these bloody rifles. We were taken in the back of I
remember one evening we were all busy getting our kit ready for the next
mornings inspections. Jock had been
having a go at this lad in the bed next to mine all evening and the poor chap
was almost in tears, and as Jock was crossing the room back to his bed space
this lad leapt off his bed and grabbed Jock by shoulders pulled him to the
floor and got him by the throat, it took four of us to get his hands from
round his neck. Jock had gone blue in
the face and was gasping for air and making all sorts of funny noises, a lot
us thought he was a goner, but after awhile he came round and a couple of
lads took him to the medical room. The
other lad was on his bed sobbing his heart out and I felt really sorry for
him, he settled down after a while and went to sleep. Jock was soon back in the room, looking
very sorry for himself and unable to speak, most of us thought he got what he
deserved. Usually after lights out we
used to take turns at telling jokes and funny tales and went off to sleep
with sides aching with laughing. I
tell you what, that night you could have heard a pin drop, I don’t think I
slept a wink. If I did, I had one eye
open on the bed next to mine I can tell you.
Next morning after breakfast on returning to our room there was no
sign of Jock, we assumed that he had gone to the Medical centre for a check
up on his throat, the other lad from the bed next to mine was missing and his
bed space had been cleared of all his kit. We were never to see this
unfortunate poor lad again, rumour was that he had been discharged on medical
grounds. Jock was soon back in with us, his usual cocky self. I wonder if he ever realised how close he
came to a sticky end. We
were now a man down in our squad and had to carry on our drill training with
17, leaving a blank space in one row, it made some of the movements a bit complicated
but we coped. We eventually completed
our Basic Training and finished with a Passing Out Parade with all the other
squads of men, mostly National Servicemen that had finished their training. Our Cpl Instructor was very pleased with us
and wished us good luck in our chosen careers, we then had a squad photograph
taken and that was that. We were now soldiers and went off to the N.A.A.F.I
that night to celebrate and swapped names and addresses, unfortunately I have
lost these over the years, all I have now are the memories. I remember a couple of the lads went on to
O.C.T.U. for training to become Officers, I hope they made it. Next morning, up at the crack of dawn, we
handed in our rifles and reported to the Orderly Office to collect our leave
passes and travelling documents ready to be transported to Blandford Railway
Station to go our separate ways and for some of us, never to meet again. I remember thinking to my self for the last
six weeks I have been taught how to drill like a Guardsman, shoot guns like
an Infantryman, make a bed look like a work of art, polish floors, clean
toilets, polish boots to see your face in, Blanco webbing, eat out of tin
cans (mess tins), wash and shave in cold water, change from Denims to full
marching order in 30 seconds, and worst of all, lost most of my curly blonde
hair, and I have not seen a set of spanners. I joined R.E.M.E. to become a
driver mechanic. Photograph
taken at the end of 6 weeks Basic Training at No.1 Training Battalion, REME,
Craddock Barracks, Blandford Camp, Dorset in May 1948.
Published: 1st August 2007
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