Side fact for last 2 posts

[Tony B]

During the Napolionic wars, French prisoners were used to work on fortifications and construction around Woolwich, Deptford and the Arsenal. It caused a lot of ill feelings among the locals as they were out of work, and it cost the goverment more than emplying the locals.

[Snapper]

Prisoners also built the London dock. One of the brandy stores survives and part of the vaulted basement holds the Times and Daily Sketch picture library. A lot of people have seen the compulsory ghost. Not sure if he wears complete Imperial Guard uniform or not. The rodents don't wear the uniform at all - and we've all seen them, here. Some are as big as.....mice.

[Jack]

Ok I can add to this they were also used here in Dorset to build many of our water meadows......

[AlienFTM]

Prisoners also built the London dock. One of the brandy stores survives and part of the vaulted basement holds the Times and Daily Sketch picture library. A lot of people have seen the compulsory ghost. Not sure if he wears complete Imperial Guard uniform or not. The rodents don't wear the uniform at all - and we've all seen them, here. Some are as big as.....mice.

 

 

Flashback to 1981. One summer afternoon I was sat in the B Sqn FHQ Troop cage (room) in the cellar of the Squadron offices, repairing - I mean soldering over the snap-fit connectors which kept coming undone, muttering, "That'll fix you, you little bleeder" - Clansman bonedomes and other radio kit. All along the passage were the other troops' cages. I became aware of a commotion outside. I went to investigate.

 

There was a member of Surveillance Troop.

 

Recce Regts always had an extra sabre-but-not-sabre troop on the OrBat (if you see what I mean). We had had an Assault Troop of Panzergrenadiers to give us organic infantry support. We had had a GW Troop giving us Swingfire ATGM capability. Now we had Surveillance Troop, in Spartans with ZB298 Doppler Ground Surveillance Radars. Every year in BAOR, our Surveillance Troop was entered in the Boselager Competition.

 

We were 100% professional, regular army recce troops at a time when every other NATO country was largely conscript. Apart from the Americans who were still coming out of their disaster in South East Asia, and anybody with the brains to do a good job in the US Army would not go near it. The quality of the US Army in those days made us laugh. They invested huge amounts in PR in the style of the film Private Benjamin to attract people to join up.

 

Boselager was a recce competition. Every NATO country entered teams. Our team figured they were a shoe-in to win or at least do well in the competition, but every year between 1978 and 1980 they came back disappointed at only finishing in mid-table. It was only when I did my residential Civil Service German (Army) Linguist course through most of 1980 that I realised that in every other country, Recce is a euphemism for Special Forces. So what was worse? Our team fishing as low as mid-table? Or that they beat half of NATO's Special Forces?

 

So, as you can see, this seven-foot tall member of Surveillance Troop represented a genre of meanness, a lean, mean killing machine. He was staring at a pile of rubbish (old mattress, broken chairs, etc) that had temporarily been dumped at the foot of the stair well.

 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

 

"I saw a rat. It was at least this big," he replied, his arms outstretched in the traditional anglers' stance."

 

"This is what we'll do. You go to your troop cage and get a pick-helve. I shall remove items from the rubbish pile one by one until the rat makes a break for it. When the rat breaks cover, you engage it with the pick-helve. The floor is concrete and will take any punishment even you can give with a Self-Loading Pick-helve (Army joke). We can mop up the blood later. Ready?"

 

A few items of rubbish later, the rat broke cover. Said Trooper engaged the rat, laying down a beaten zone with his Self-Loading Pick-helve. All the while he screamed like a little girl and he totally failed to hit the target. The rat ran up the ramp to the surface and off into the trees.

 

Sad ... but true.

[Tony B]

I feel sory for the rat! poor little thing must have been frigtned to death. Mind you the Arsenal at Woolwich had it fair shre of goulies. One was the Legend of Airey's fingers. When Airey Neave was assasinated in 1972 the remains of the car were taken to Woolwich. rumour has it that a pair of his fingers were found, buried with sutiable rverence under a rose bush alongside a big willow tree. Of course waliking under it the branches brushed you so the legend was born. One new MGS arrived and was promptly apraised of the story. It took 3 weeks to coax him past the tree after dark.