Author:
Terry Brown 1.5.62 Bogard Troop After Recruits Tp
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Date Posted: 18:10:54 06/09/13 Sun
In reply to:
Dave P.
's message, "JLRRA ( Pt 1) - Let the saga begin" on 13:16:09 04/18/05 Mon
>OK, as promised, part one!
>
>I joined the Junior Leaders Regt Royal Artillery,
>Gamecock Barracks, Bramcote, Nuneaton, on May 1st
>1962. 15 years old, 5' 2", 6st ringing wet, snot
>nosed, 2 years out of short trousers and the first
>time away from home. I was shitting myself and didn't
>get much relief for the next thirteen weeks. The
>period of Recruits Troop.
>
>That first six weeks, we where subjected to the most
>horrendous period of Beasting, bullying and harassment
>that it is possible to imagine ( though no one
>actually laid a hand on us, that would come later!) by
>the permanent staff Troop Sgt and his Bdrs. Marching
>Drill (till we were ready to drop), kit cleaning
>(including bulling everything till it blinded you and
>was never shiny enough), kit inspections (that never
>proved good enough), changing parades (that were never
>quick enough), P.T. and the constant barrage of
>screamed insults and bad language that quickly became
>the only language that we understood. If it wasn't
>prefixed by F**king, we ignored it (a bit like playing
>'Simon said') but at our peril if we did. This went
>on from one hour before the official, Reveille until
>well past the official, lights out. It was nothing to
>be literally turfed out of your pit at two in the
>morning for an impromptu kit/locker inspection. God
>help you if there was a stitch out of place or a
>finger mark on any shiny surface. Your bedding would
>more than likely go out the window and your locker
>would be tipped over, thereby making sure that you got
>no more sleep that night, not if you wanted to be
>ready for morning inspection and parade.
>
>That first seven weeks, or so, was sheer bloody murder
>and many the night I cried myself to sleep (quietly,
>of course, didn't want to be branded a f****ink
>poofter) and I felt like a zombie most of the time.
>Life in boys service was divided into three terms of
>approx 12/13 weeks and where referred to as 1/62,
>2/62, 3/62 etc. Much like a public school (and we
>enjoyed much the same holiday periods too). At the
>seven week mark, we had a semi passing out parade.
>Everyone who made the grade was given a 36hr pass and
>allowed to go into Nuneaton for the first time.
>Sadly, your truly, wasn't one of the lucky few. That
>Sat night, as the lads who had made it came back to
>the block, the tales that they were telling of
>Nuneaton where absolutely un-bloody-believable! The
>bus service from the camp into Nuneaton bus station,
>was called 'Monty's Bus Service' and was a tatty old
>single decker coach (or as we called them in those
>days charabanc, go on look it up!). Anyway, the story
>was that as the coach pulled into the bus station, it
>was greeted by a bevy of local girls, all looking for
>a date. It transpired that the ratio of young girls
>to young boys in the town was 4 -1 in the boys favour.
> If you couldn't pull in Nuneaton in the sixties, you
>must have been a 'munter' of phenomenal proportions.
>This news, more than anything else, spurred us to
>higher efforts and ensured that, most of us, managed
>to pass out of Recruits Troop at the end of term and
>go to our respective Bty's.
>
>I forgot to mention that the only civvy clothes we
>were allowed, was Regimental mufti. White shirt
>(pressed and starched), Regt tie (pressed and
>starched), charcoal grey trousers (with razor sharp
>creases and NO shine!), brown/black leather belt,
>polished but not necessarily bulled???), grey or black
>socks, black shoes, highly polished. Moderate 'winkle
>pickers' were allowed but nothing too pointed. To get
>out of the gate on Sat afternoon, we had to pass the
>inspection of the permanent R.P Staff, and in
>particular, one Bdr Dobson. 'Dobbo' to his mates,
>certainly not to his face though. This process could
>take anything from ten minutes to a couple of hours,
>depending on how many times you had to race back to
>the block, polish shoes, press shirt/tie/trousers and,
>if you where really unlucky! wash/dry/press you shirt.
> The rewards were well worth it though and there was a
>great shedding of virginity, of both sexes in Nuneaton
>in the sixties............to be cont.
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