| Subject: Re: Did you say nutshell? |
Author:
Dave P.
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Date Posted: 22:34:37 04/17/05 Sun
In reply to:
Jim Martin
's message, "Re: 'Those Inkerman Depot Blues'" on 21:07:55 04/17/05 Sun
Jim, interesting story. Reminds me a little of my choice of service. There is no history of service in my family, except my dear old mum. During WW2 she was a range finder on an anti-aircraft gun but I can't remember the service, might have been Womans Auxiliary Service or something close to that. No idea what my old man did, he never said, though he used to mumble something about the Foreign Legion and when pressed about it when in his 'cups', he'd tell some wonderful stories about the 'Johnny Arab' and life in the desert. As young kids we would totally believe these stories and brag to all and sundry about our hero dad but, as we got older, dad never repeated the stories and they sort of passed into our own family myth.
Ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I wanted to be a sailor and at the age of fourteen (a few months before I was due to leave school at fifteen) I actually went to the R.N. Recruiting Office in Birmingham. Being a solid 5' 2" and weighing about 6st, they sort of told me to piss off and in a fit of pique, I went next door to the Army Recruiting Office who treated me with a bit more respect. Well they didn't tell me to piss off anyway! They told me all about the Junior Leaders Regts and about the Army Apprentice Scheme and gave me an aptitude test. I think, more to my, amazement than theirs I passed with flying colours and was exempt my Army Certificate of Education third class and I got interested in the Apprentice School at Arborfield, where I was keen to become an Engineer. That's when I fell for the old malarkey and let them talk me into the Junior Leaders Regt R.A. (the recruiting Sgt must have had a quota to fill, or got extra leave for every kid he signed up. He was R.A. after all) Anyway! it wasn't all bad news. I ended up in the best Bty in the Artillery and, even if I never did get a trade out of the Army, I had the privilege of serving with some great guys.
Just as an aside to this saga. In 1963 I had the pleasure of visiting HMS Ganges with our Regt Boxing Team. This was the Navies equivalent of our boys service, and if I thought Junior Leaders was hard (and I will tell you some hair raising stories about boy service, someday) it was nothing to HMS Ganges. They still had public flogging for Christ sake!! Their parade square was called the Poop Deck, or something like it, and at the head of it was a mock up of a sailing ships mast, complete with all the rigging etc. At the very top of the main mast (some sixty feet above our heads) was a tiny platform, called the 'button'. Their boys used to do a display, whereby they would reenact the setting of sails and rigging and one brave sole would go to the very top and stand on the button. During our visit, a hyper competitive event anyway, one of our lads was challenged to 'stand on the button'. His name was Shackell (don't recall his christian name) and he was built like the proverbial outhouse but compact with it (remember we where only boys!). He not only climbed up to the button but did a handstand on the frigging thing. I don't know who was more impressed, them or us!!!!
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