Big ray

Thats out of sight..... not site. its my age you know.

Of all the food that we had in the fifties, we could not stand the dehydrated potatoe that was served up to us...... today its sold in supermarkets under the brand name of Smash, and people buy buckets of the stuff. The thing wrong with the stuff dished up to us was the fact that the cooks only mixed water into the mix, it tasted like wallpaper paste..... it just required a little butter and milk to improve the texture. The cooks obviously had no imagination, and presumably no milk and butter either. When out on exercises we used to take great tins of the stuff to any local farmer and exchange it for eggs..... the German farmers wife obviously knew what to do with the stuff. Most of the remainder of the food was pretty good, I remember the tinned bacon and tinned rolly polly pudding was very nice. The rolly polly was a jam (Jelly for any U.S. friends) pudding and was extremely nice to eat cold straight from the tin. Whenever my buddy Ray W. was driving the ration truck we would climb into it late at night, open a couple of tins of the stuff... for a few minutes we were in heaven, then we had to sneak out of the truck with the empty cans, and bury them to hide the evidence..... it was quite a serious offence, but well worth the risk.:kissoncheek:

Hi Paul, Im afraid that we bent a few ourselves......... I would love to do it all again.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

We had regular visits into our workshops from Canadian troops, sometimes a D.R. would arrive on his brand new Triumph motorcycle, I never understood why, but they had quite a bit of chromework, handlebars and exhausts, but they certainly looked lovely bikes compared to our WW11 stuff. Sometimes they would appear in a GMC M135, the post war successor to the Jimmy, ( It was called a Deuce and a Half after the war) The GMC M135 never caught-on with the US military, they favoured the REO, but the Canadians took to the M135 in a big way and continued to use it for a long time. The M135 was the first truck that I saw with the exhaust stack running vertical up the back corner of the cab, whenever it drove through the camp the motor sounded fabulous, they were of course relatively new trucks, the gear change always sounded very sweet, what I did not know, and did not find out untill about 20 years ago, they have automatic gearboxes..... The Americans had experienced a good deal less trouble during the war with vehicles fitted with automatic boxes, so GMC went down that route with the M135...........happy days.:kissoncheek:

On another one of our many exercises we stopped for the night in a most gorgeous German village. The village was like something off a post card, it had a circular green with cottages bedecked with climbing plants and flowers, a stream that ran around one half of the green, alongside that area was a farm with a quite large water wheel that was fed by the stream. The weather was a lovely summers day, I could not imagine a more idylic place to spend the night. When in our own garrison town, on a night out, we would buy cold lamb cuttlet, cooked in bread crumbs and washed down with a beer... very nice. The kids in the village gathered in large numbers to watch what we were doing, the boys were dressed in traditional german clothing, short leather trousers with the leather straps (laderhossen) knee length socks and the Bavarian type hat, complete with feather, they were extremely well behaved kids. One of the boys had a bycycle, and one of our group had the bright idea of asking him if he could obtain some lamb cuttlets for us.... well he did not speak english, and our german was very limited, so most of the communicating was by gesticulation, it must have looked very comical to any outside observer. When we felt sure that we had conveyed our requirements, we had a collection of monies (German marks.) and handed the money to this boy who immediately raced off down the road and out of site....... we looked at each other and began to feel that maybe we had been a little too trusting.... when quite a considerable ammount of time had passed, it only reinforced our earlier doubts, when suddenly the same boy came racing back up the road with a paper parcel, on looking at the contents we were knocked aback to see that the cuttlets were raw meat. We thanked the boy and told him to keep the change for his trouble. We now just stood and looked at this meat, wondering what we were going to do with it, at that moment one of the cottage doors oppened and the lady of the cottage gestured us to approach. She took the meat from us and presented it back sometime later, cooked........ and we had all just descended onto that village, and disrupted the usual calm of the place..... peoples generosity never failed to surprise me, we did of course express our profound gratitude.:kissoncheek:

Thats out of sight..... not site. its my age you know.

Hi Paul, Im afraid that we bent a few ourselves......... I would love to do it all again.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

On another one of our many exercises we stopped for the night in a most gorgeous German village. The village was like something off a post card, it had a circular green with cottages bedecked with climbing plants and flowers, a stream that ran around one half of the green, alongside that area was a farm with a quite large water wheel that was fed by the stream. The weather was a lovely summers day, I could not imagine a more idylic place to spend the night. When in our own garrison town, on a night out, we would buy cold lamb cuttlet, cooked in bread crumbs and washed down with a beer... very nice. The kids in the village gathered in large numbers to watch what we were doing, the boys were dressed in traditional german clothing, short leather trousers with the leather straps (laderhossen) knee length socks and the Bavarian type hat, complete with feather, they were extremely well behaved kids. One of the boys had a bycycle, and one of our group had the bright idea of asking him if he could obtain some lamb cuttlets for us.... well he did not speak english, and our german was very limited, so most of the communicating was by gesticulation, it must have looked very comical to any outside observer. When we felt sure that we had conveyed our requirements, we had a collection of monies (German marks.) and handed the money to this boy who immediately raced off down the road and out of site....... we looked at each other and began to feel that maybe we had been a little too trusting.... when quite a considerable ammount of time had passed, it only reinforced our earlier doubts, when suddenly the same boy came racing back up the road with a paper parcel, on looking at the contents we were knocked aback to see that the cuttlets were raw meat. We thanked the boy and told him to keep the change for his trouble. We now just stood and looked at this meat, wondering what we were going to do with it, at that moment one of the cottage doors oppened and the lady of the cottage gestured us to approach. She took the meat from us and presented it back sometime later, cooked........ and we had all just descended onto that village, and disrupted the usual calm of the place..... peoples generosity never failed to surprise me, we did of course express our profound gratitude.:kissoncheek:

Hi Paul, Im afraid that we bent a few ourselves......... I would love to do it all again.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

We left the workshops for one of our many exercises, my friend L/cpl Ray W, a Yorkshire lad from Halifax was driving the ration truck, we encamped on some heathland. That evening he asked me would I like to walk down the road to a pub that we had passed on the way in, I said that I could not remember passing a pub, he said its only around the bend... so I agreed. Every bend that we went around I asked, where`s this pub, he would reply it must be the next bend. I think that we must have walked about five miles untill we reached the pub. On the walk back we passed a cottage type building in about one acre of land, he said that he had noticed lots of strawberries growing in the garden as we drove past earlier in the day, it was now quite dark. He sugested that I should go over the barbed wire fence and get some of these strawberries, I declined, he implied that I was afraid to go... I thought, what the hell, I fancy some strawberries..... I dont take to stealing anything normally, but I looked upon this as scrumping apples. So I climbed over the fence and felt my way accross the garden to where he had indicated that I would find the fruits. The garden was to the left side of the cottage, and he had indicated that I would find the srawberries roughly opposite the side door of the cottage. Once in that area of the garden I realised that the strawberries had been picked, so in a low voice I said, they have all gone, he said, what did you say, I repeated that the had all gone...... when he suddenly cried out... HE`S IN YOUR GARDEN, the occupants would of course not have understood what he had cried, but they came out to see what all of the noise was.... A shaft of light shot accross the garden, lighting me up like a christmas tree, I immediately bolted for the fence that I had crossed..... the bright light blinded me, and I ran straight into the barbed wire fence, I fell over the fence, ripping my trousers and lacerating my legs, all to the great delight and laughter of my "friend", I was sore in more ways than one for several days, and I am not very keen on strawberries to this day.......... he just had a wicked sense of humour, and we are still very good friends to this day, but I dont go looking for pubs with him any more. We were just young, mischievious and sometimes a bit stupid, particularly after partaking of a little Dutch courage.:kissoncheek:

Hi Ray

 

Ime a newbie as well and made to feel at home straight away, some very friendly helpfull guys on here

 

As we used to say in the Signals...we bend um you mend um

 

Paul

Hi Paul, Im afraid that we bent a few ourselves......... I would love to do it all again.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

The actor you are thinking of was Clark Gable:-)

Cheers Degsy, absolutely correct, its an age thing you know, some days I have trouble remembering my own name!!!!!! All quite worrying really, we should be born old, and grow young, just think of all the pleasures that we could look forward to..... ha well, dream on.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

Hi Paul, welcome to the forum.:kissoncheek:

I have retained many of my documents from my service days, amongst them is my permanent pass, a document issued to all servicemen and women doing their military service in Germany in the 1950s..... my pass was signed by a cpl Beale, this guy was very smart and sported a pencil moustache, I remember that he reminded me somewhat of the film star that played Rett Butler in Gone with the Wind, and who`s name escapes me at the moment. Anyhow Cpl B went home to England on leave during the summer of 1957, a week or so later men appeared and began to remove all of his belongings from his room, on enquiring why that they should be performing this task, I was informed that he had been killed whilst in the U.K. I was so stunned by the news that I failed to ask how that he had died, and because we never saw those individuals again, we never did discover the details......... Now I need to jump forward about 35 / 40 years to one of our re-unions, the venue for that annual meeting was Plymouth, Devon, on the south coast of England. As with all of our re-unions at that time we would meet on Friday afternoon in the lobby of the hotel and depart on Sunday lunchtime, for some it would be quite a long drive home. (We now meet on Friday untill Monday lunchtime, because we are all now retired with no job committments.) Whilst having breakfast on that particular weekend (Plymouth) we were doing what we always do, discuss the venue for the following year, and determine who will be responsible for making the arrangements. During those discussions one of the hotel guests walked up to our table, standing between myself and one of our group on my right, he simply exclaimed, You are all ex-REME, 5 Armoured Workshops, Hamm, West Germany. and then went on to say, you do not recognise me, do you?. We had to agree, but then it was some 35 / 40 years down the line, and people can change somewhat. We asked for a clue to his identity..... after which of course we did remember him. He introduced his wife, a German lady, who he had met and married in Hamm whilst serving in the workshops. He had been one of the many boy entrants who served with us. ( Boy entrants are guys that joined the forces at sixteen and a half, and moved into the regular forces at seventeen and a half......... with 22 years service ahead of them. I asked him if he had completed his 22 years, and he replied, Almost 30 actually... I remarked that he should have achieved a reasonable rank after that length of service, and he replied that he had taken a commission and left the service with the rank of Captain. After a lengthy discussion he intimated that he would like to join with us on any future re-unions, we were of course delighted and invited him to the next re-union, after making it perfectly clear that we were not going to salute him every time that we met him. He and his wife joined us over several re-unions, untill his wifes health began to fail.... we still keep in touch via phone / e-mail etc. During one of our meetings I was seated opposite them at the dining table, I mentioned the fact that I still had some of my documentation, inc the pass signed by Cpl Beale, a look of surprise came across his face, and he went on to tell me that Cpl Beale actually came from his home town, that they were very good friends during their early army service, and that they had both gone home on leave at the time of Cpl beale`s accident...... apparently a car load of friends were going on a car ride, and there was no room for Cpl Beale, he begged to go, and so he gave up his seat in the car for his friend..... the car was involved in an accident and Cpl Beale was killed.......... in conclusion he remarked, I have still not forgiven myself for giving up that seat........ it really is a small world, is`nt it.:kissoncheek:

Hi Ray

 

Ime a newbie as well and made to feel at home straight away, some very friendly helpfull guys on here

 

As we used to say in the Signals...we bend um you mend um

 

Paul

Hi Paul, welcome to the forum.:kissoncheek:

They sure are bantams! They're only single cylinders for a start, and they have plunger forks, whereas most M20's have girder forks.

 

Tom

Im sure that any M20s with plunger forks are a workshop (REME) modification........ the bored fitters would sometimes fit the front end off a wrecked plunger bike.

True, they are Bantams - but M20's only have one cylinder as well. All wartime M20's had girders and the rigid back end. A very different beast to those Bantys.

 

Fesm_ndt, I reckon if you are still at the point on the learning curve that you aren't aware of the big differences between them, then when viewing you ought to take a mate along who does Could save you being taken for a bad ride. (As if the M20 isn't bad enough!)

The Bantam was a 50s 2stroke 125cc bike used in great numbers by Post Office telegram boys.........only a baby compared with the M20. You really must take someone with you on any potential purchases, you could be well stitched up........ the bikes in the photo are Bantams.

To try and put my army service into some kind of perspective I will try to convey what my feelings were when I was discharged. We had an area between blocks 2 and 3 that was an unofficial graveyard, that is to say, people leaving for demobilisation were allocated this area to plant "gravestones" on which they expressed their feelings, these gravestones also displayed the date of enlistment and discharge, along with name and number. Some expressed the absolute delight at the prospect of returning home, whilst others were much more mellow in there content, but they all meant one thing to us.... we wanted to plant our own. The nearer that you got to your discharge date, the more significant this little area became, you began to think about what you might want to put on your own stone. I never did "plant" a gravestone, the nearer that I got to my discharge, the less inclined that I felt to do so, I began to realize that my life was going to be very different without my buddies.

My discharge day finally arrived and I went through the process of walking along the lines of men assembled for the afternoon stint in the workshops, and progressively began to get a lump in my throat, this ritual was standard practice for all craftsmen and junior N.C.O.s. I returned home, and on the first night retired to what had been my former bedroom, I lay in my bed and felt an overwhelming sense of isolation, where were my buddies, with whom I would always have conversations, untill someone in the room would say, O.K. boys, lets get some shuteye, if someone had walked into my room and said, lets go back, I would have gone......... it was a very long time before that feeling left me, I later discovered that my buddies all experienced the same feelings.:kissoncheek:

I did say that I had several part time jobs in the workshops, one day they posted a notice on part 1 orders saying that they needed volunteers to drive a German 52 seater bus and give instuction to potential coach drivers. People were being invited from within 6 Armoured Div (Quite a large catchment) to apply to be tested........ I decided to apply. All potential recruites were to assemble at our camp to be tested. I expected the 52 seater to arrive on the day of the test, but a 16 seater bus turned up, this was a brand new german manufactured Ford bus, fitted with a V8 petrol engine. About 14 of us climbed onto the bus, the examiner instructed one guy to get behind the wheel and start to drive us in the direction of Munster (30 miles or so distance.) Periodically the bus was stopped and the driver changed, once in Munster we continued to drive around changing drivers when instructed. I was the last to get behind the wheel, this bus turned out to be a dream to drive, V8 with a syncromesh gearbox, I just forgot about my passengers and just enjoyed my time behind the wheel. Eventually I was instructed to drive the bus back from Munster. On arrival at our camp we were told that the test on this particular bus was to select the people that would now be tested on the 52 seater.... those chosen would have their names published on part 1 orders along with the test time and date. The names were eventually published, and mine was not listed, I began to think that perhaps I had enjoyed myself a little to much behind the wheel. On the day of the test I decided to ask the examiner if I had done something wrong, and if so, what. I approached the coach and asked those questions, he replied, you can drive this thing, can`t you, I replied, of course, he said, good, you have got the job, I am after a relief driver today. The bus turned out to be a German Buzzing Nag, forward control, with a lot of overhang, making it swing out at the rear onto the other side of the road on tight turns..... otherwise a very nice machine to drive. It was of course left hand drive, with a leather covered engine cover extending down the middle allowing for a triple passenger seat to be fitted on the right side of the engine cover, and facing me, this made any conversation with those pasengers very easy, with the minimum of head turning by myself. I went on to give instruction on a part time basis, but the very fact that the coach was there led to increasing use for all kinds of trips. If not taking troops to various locations, then I would be asked by the officers if I would take them and their wives on shopping trips or maybe to the horse racing at Lippstadt etc. These trips for the officers and wives were not compulsory, I was asked if I would do them, the result of all of this meant inevitably that I would receive tips...... wow, I had always got money in my pocket, and of course lots of smiles from most of the officers and their wives.

The original theory behind this volunteering for things was that it would make time pass more quickly.... but of course the extra funds were very handy.......... I had far from finnishing with my volunteering as you will see in any future posts.

Regards to all. Ray.

Maybe this one if pay day is ok

 

then have to work out how to dechrome it

 

[ATTACH]28501[/ATTACH]

Just leave it out in the British weather!!!!!! that should do it. Good luck, I hope that you have a good pay day.:kissoncheek:

I have used a Rotavator, is'nt that similar?

Not really, after 40mph its like using a Jack Hammer...... but what fun, I have an M20, royal Enfield WD CO 350, Harley Davidson WLC and a civvy Indian built R.E. Bullet, the Bullet has been extensively transformed by a classic bike firm to represent a 50s bike, I do however much prefere to ride the military bikes, perhaps its all that chrome that puts me off!!!!!!!:kissoncheek:

I have one as part of my collection - think they are great - used to take mine all over the place - Mine's a 1939 km20 deluxe with panniers but it is currently defunct due to a defective clutch!

My son`s M20 is also off the road with oil on the clutch plates, I beleive that you can uprate the clutch with a more modern one ( B40 perhaps ? anyone know for sure?, and if so where to obtain the bits) :kissoncheek:

Hi, you missed a great deal, but would it have been good or bad, who knows...... myself and all of my buddies, who I still meet with each year, would not have missed it for the world, so the chances are that you would have had similar experiences, they are not just friends, they really are blood brothers.:kissoncheek:

To try and put my army service into some kind of perspective I will try to convey what my feelings were when I was discharged. We had an area between blocks 2 and 3 that was an unofficial graveyard, that is to say, people leaving for demobilisation were allocated this area to plant "gravestones" on which they expressed their feelings, these gravestones also displayed the date of enlistment and discharge, along with name and number. Some expressed the absolute delight at the prospect of returning home, whilst others were much more mellow in there content, but they all meant one thing to us.... we wanted to plant our own. The nearer that you got to your discharge date, the more significant this little area became, you began to think about what you might want to put on your own stone. I never did "plant" a gravestone, the nearer that I got to my discharge, the less inclined that I felt to do so, I began to realize that my life was going to be very different without my buddies.

My discharge day finally arrived and I went through the process of walking along the lines of men assembled for the afternoon stint in the workshops, and progressively began to get a lump in my throat, this ritual was standard practice for all craftsmen and junior N.C.O.s. I returned home, and on the first night retired to what had been my former bedroom, I lay in my bed and felt an overwhelming sense of isolation, where were my buddies, with whom I would always have conversations, untill someone in the room would say, O.K. boys, lets get some shuteye, if someone had walked into my room and said, lets go back, I would have gone......... it was a very long time before that feeling left me, I later discovered that my buddies all experienced the same feelings.:kissoncheek:

I think of the motors that we used in the 1950s, the Diamond T, just to push stuff anywhere that we reqired it to be, a Chevrolet 1.5 tonner c/w winch, we constructed a crane on the front of this motor, using the winch to lift stuff, our first crane........ then we aquired two Thornycroft Amazons with Coles cranes, then two Michigan Bay City Cranes, which we eventually sold to a firm on the Dutch / German border. We had to dismantle the two Bay Cities and export them to Holland in kit form as spares in order to avoid the export / import duty......... for a young man 17.....18 years old, it was a fascinating time.:kissoncheek:

Another vehicle that we used for lifting work was a Dodge Command car, we converted an old chassis, tapering one end and fitting a pulley, mounted that on the front and supported with wire ropes to the rear of the Dodge, we then filled the back of the Dodge with house bricks for counter balance..... the back was never dry with all of those brick, and it eventually went rotten.... but then who wanted a Command car, only garages to use for breakdown trucks, and they butchered the back area and fitted Harvey Frost cranes, if only we could turn back the clock!!!!!!:kissoncheek:

My mind has just wondered back to my pre-army days, when working for my family in the scrap / war surplus stuff. In the very early days we had very little equipment for handling the heavy stuff, trucks would for example be transported into the yard on the back of another truck... to unload the truck we would pull under a particular tree, tie a rope (long enough) from the bough of the tree to the rear of the loaded truck, and just drive from under the truck at a fair rate of knotts. Of course the first thing that you had to do was get the loaded truck out of gear with the hand brake off.....most of these things were being scrapped, regardless of condition. Well, we had a new guy working with us, Harold, now we should have guessed that Harold was a little slow on the uptake, and this simply serves to highlight the need to be specific when giving instructions... we told Harold to climb up and take the truck out of gear and release the hand brake..... what we did not expect was that he would sit in the cab to do this......... you`ve guessed, he was still sitting in the cab when we drove from under the tree, he just sat there, shell shocked, and whiter than white........ there were lots of stories about Harold, I will stick them on here as I remember them!!!!!!!

I think of the motors that we used in the 1950s, the Diamond T, just to push stuff anywhere that we reqired it to be, a Chevrolet 1.5 tonner c/w winch, we constructed a crane on the front of this motor, using the winch to lift stuff, our first crane........ then we aquired two Thornycroft Amazons with Coles cranes, then two Michigan Bay City Cranes, which we eventually sold to a firm on the Dutch / German border. We had to dismantle the two Bay Cities and export them to Holland in kit form as spares in order to avoid the export / import duty......... for a young man 17.....18 years old, it was a fascinating time.:kissoncheek:

Hi, you missed a great deal, but would it have been good or bad, who knows...... myself and all of my buddies, who I still meet with each year, would not have missed it for the world, so the chances are that you would have had similar experiences, they are not just friends, they really are blood brothers.:kissoncheek:

My mind has just wondered back to my pre-army days, when working for my family in the scrap / war surplus stuff. In the very early days we had very little equipment for handling the heavy stuff, trucks would for example be transported into the yard on the back of another truck... to unload the truck we would pull under a particular tree, tie a rope (long enough) from the bough of the tree to the rear of the loaded truck, and just drive from under the truck at a fair rate of knotts. Of course the first thing that you had to do was get the loaded truck out of gear with the hand brake off.....most of these things were being scrapped, regardless of condition. Well, we had a new guy working with us, Harold, now we should have guessed that Harold was a little slow on the uptake, and this simply serves to highlight the need to be specific when giving instructions... we told Harold to climb up and take the truck out of gear and release the hand brake..... what we did not expect was that he would sit in the cab to do this......... you`ve guessed, he was still sitting in the cab when we drove from under the tree, he just sat there, shell shocked, and whiter than white........ there were lots of stories about Harold, I will stick them on here as I remember them!!!!!!!

Thank you for posting your stories Ray, they are fascinating and I look forward to reading more.

I missed doing National Service by only a few months but had, of course, always expected to be called up and have often wondered exactly what I might have missed.

Hi, you missed a great deal, but would it have been good or bad, who knows...... myself and all of my buddies, who I still meet with each year, would not have missed it for the world, so the chances are that you would have had similar experiences, they are not just friends, they really are blood brothers.:kissoncheek:

I have to admit covering for your mates is part of the comradeship of being in the military but I would have expected the norm to be when it all went to hell that the actual offending guy has the testicular fortitude to step up and take the wrap.

 

This comradeship is something I will always miss. Seems to me the civilian workplace is being filled up by people that act like little school girls running to management to stick the knife into someones back. These antics truly offend me and even being a manager I normally discourage such petty rubbish. Another advantage of living someplace where political correctness is not tantamount I can tell them what I really think

 

I remember the many times we get asked, who's responsible and the whole section would take one step forward. Or the best comment on the parade ground whilst the RSM was prodding a soldier "theres cr@p on the end of this stick" to which the reply was "not this end"!

 

Or another great banter was I was in the command post and I just sent the code prepare to move and accross the net at like 2am in the morning, in clear came the words "this exercise is f#cked". The OPCP officer immediately grabbed the microphone and started saying "unknown callsign respond with call sign, over" after a few attempts we got the reply "its not that f#cked, out"

 

Anyhow Ray good on you a true freind to that guy

I was lucky really, everything worked out fine in the end, had it not have done so, I am quite sure that he would have taken that one pace forward....... he was a young married man dragged away from the love of his life, and I have to say that scrutiny by the C.O. catapulted me into his line of vision and proved beneficial in the end, I enjoyed the remainder of my army service, and managed to stay out of trouble. (Sometimes by the skin of my teeth):kissoncheek:

Wow Ray,

 

New to the forum and just got to the end of your thread, just fantastic.

 

My father was in Germany in 1950ish (Artillery surveyor) I must tap him for some stories.

 

I just love reading personal stories told in the first person keep them coming.

 

Cheers Ginge

Coax him, he will have hundreds of stories.......... he may just need a little encouragement.:kissoncheek:

Next time, go futher south! :-D

We were out on exercize in Germany, we were travelling through rolling countryside when at the end of the day we stopped near to a bridge, at the base of the bridge on one side of the river was a large flat grassed area with good vehicle access down to it. It was decided that this was where we would encamp for the night. We set up camp and cammoflarged the vehicles, higher authority decided who would stand guard and we were appointed our times for the usual single picket guard. This was early in my time in Germany, and pre-promotional days, I was however by this time driving the C.O. One of the nominated guys for guard duty had failed to get up from his sleep and do his guard, and he was the last to be on, which meant that he was responsible for waking everyone at 6.00am.........we all overslept. The crap hit the fan and this guy was in deep trouble. He was one of only a few married conscripts, and he was due to be going home on leave in a couple of weeks. I felt sorry for the guy and told him to tell the Chief Clerk (W.O.2) that I had been instructed to waken him, and that I had failed to make sure that he was up from his bed, I told him that I felt sure that the C.O. would not do a lot to me, I was his driver!!!!. We were both put on a charge and marched before the C.O., who was sitting behind a desk, on a river bank with an early morning mist swirling around everyone. He asked what had happened, and I claimed full responsibility...... expecting to get a serious repremand..... how naive can you be, not to mention stupid, he gave me fourteen days detention, I think that my shoulders must have visibly dropped several inches on hearing that sentence..... not what I had expected, I knew that that sentence would remain on my service record permanently, I was gutted. I was immediately confined to a tent with a guard posted over me, it was not long before the C.O. came to the tent and said would I prefere to be incarcerated in this manner, or would I prefere to work my sentence. I immediately opted to work and work I did, from dawn till dusk, doing every conceivable job immaginable, from shining shoes to digging holes, one such hole was six feet square by four feet deep, I took pride in digging this hole with its neatly cut corners, on inspection I was told that it looked very good, now fill it in again, everything was done to break me down, but I was not going to let that happen, I had messed up, now I had to work my way out of it!!. It continued like this for the eleven days that we were out on exercize. When we returned to our camp (I had continued to drive the C.O. all the time, whenever we moved, he spoke very few words to me, only instructions) I stopped outside of the Admin block, the C.O. got out and instructed me to return his gear to his residence in the married quarters, I then returned to camp, where the C.O. was standing in front of the Admin block, conversing with another officer. I stood at attention beside the Jeep awaiting instructions from the C.O. Once he had completed his conversation with the other officer he turned to me and asked what I was waiting for, I replied that I still had three days of my detention to complete, and that I needed someone to march me into the guardroom. He asked me what detention was I refering to, and I replied, the fourteen days that you awarded to me out in the field, Sir.

He replied that he had no reccollection of giving me a custodial sentence, like the fool that I was, I insisted that he had, he replied you had better look on your service record young man, I dont think that you will find anything on there............. I have watched how you have worked for the last eleven days, but one things for sure, YOU WONT DO IT AGAIN, WILL YOU. I replied, no Sir, thank you Sir.......... and he promtly excused me any duties for the next two days, wasnt I lucky after being so stupid? The other guy got his leave!!!!:kissoncheek:

Hi, I am going to be off line for 10 or 12 days, I will have no access to a computer.... perhaps I can jot down a few things for when I am back on line..... thanks.:kissoncheek:

I and about 20 or so of our club members have just returned from a 10 day visit to the Isle of Guernsey,we were there as invited guests of the Guernsey M.V.T. , all to join in with the commemoration of their liberation in 1945 (65th) to any non U.K. friends Guernsey is one of the Channel Islands, situated south of England, and nearer to the French coast than the U.K. French influence can be seen all over the Islands, street names etc. We took the ferry from Poole in Dorset, to St Peter Port Guernsey. This crossing was extremely calm, compared to a later crossing from Guernsey to the Island of Sark, that crossing was quite frightening, it was so rough. The ferry used on that trip is only a small walk-on walk-off thing, capable of carrying about 30 people. The sea was extremely rough, I felt quite sure that the ferry would capsize, I was not looking forward to the return trip........ which turned out to be just as rough. Our members had taken several vehicles, Canadian Chevy and Ford trucks, U.S. Dodges and Jeeps, and like me several people took motorcycles, Norton, BSA, Royal Enfield, Harley Davidson, all WW11 motors. Most people stayed on the camp site, twelve of us stayed in the local hotel, a ten minute walk from the camp site. We had a fantastic tour of the Islands German fortifications, our tour guides were of course our hosts.

At one of the gun batteries (Coastal) the massive gun was fired TWICE for our benefit by our hosts. We went into many tunnels that have recently been excavated, one such tunnel was found to contain lots of very rusty German wartime equipment that had been dumped in there after the liberation in 1945. We did a static show in the local park on the Saturday, and we drove in the liberation cavalcade on the Sunday, the cavalcade went along the prmenade at St Peter Port, we drove in both directions and over 100 military vehicles took part. We all enjoyed our time on the Island very much and we have to thank our hosts for all of the hard work that they had to perform on our behalf. The return ferry journey like the outward one was very good (Thank goodness, I would never make a sailor)

Regards all. Ray.:kissoncheek:

Hi Ray,

 

Really enjoying your memories here. Keep them coming please. You have had over 2,100 views of this thread so far, so many others are enjoying it as well.

:thumbsup:

 

regards, Richard

Hi, I am going to be off line for 10 or 12 days, I will have no access to a computer.... perhaps I can jot down a few things for when I am back on line..... thanks.:kissoncheek: