Big ray

[Big ray]

Yesterday we did our winter run with mostly Jeeps, I took my Royal Enfield WD. CO. 350cc ohv.

We first visited a WW11 airfield, now converted to an industrial estate, but the old runway still exists. We had access to the runway from a country lane, the whole experience starts for me the moment that I accessed the pedestrian pathway that lead to the end of the runway, I immediately wonder just how many airmen have traversed this path on their way to the local village pub. By the time that I have reached the end of the runway I can hear the aircraft, and imagine them taking off for some mission. We left the airfield to go for some lunch at one of the country pubs on our route home, this journey was interupted in order to visit a crash site. In April 1945 a Lancaster Bomber crashed on take-off, she had a crew of nine, mostly Canadian airmen, all lost their lives in this crash, we must never forget the sacrifices that these people made to secure our liberty, not just the nine airmen, but all of their families and friends who also suffered their loss, this crash happened nine days before the end of hostilities in europe...... it really does tend to concentrate the mind.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

On one of my home visits from Germany in 1957 I went out one lunch time looking for my family members, who`s custom it was to partake of a liquid lunch in the nearest pub, I think that most of them suffered with alcoholic constipation, they could not pass a pub. Anyhow after trying several pubs I could not find them, so in desperation I went to the farthest pub away from their usual haunts. This pub was the "Boat and Horses" this watering hole was ran by a guy by the name of George Green and his wife Minnie. George was actually an ex G.I. that had met and married Minnie during his service over here in the U.K. Most unusually Minnie did not want to go to the States, and George was obviously happy to stay over here. This pub naturally became the favourite watering hole for the G.Is. travelling from their bases in East Anglia to Burtonwood Airbase in Lancashire. I had many conversations with the G.I.s when visiting this pub. George had a strong soutern drawl, talking very much from the corner of his mouth. I remember one occasion when talking to a couple of G.I.s as they left the pub to continue their journey, they were driving a Autcar and semi-trailer, I climbed up to look into the cab and they told me that they were having their truck replaced with a british Leeland, I had to explain to them that it was actually a Leyland Truck (for our u.s. friends thats pronounced Layland) On another occasion I went into the pub, again looking for friends and members of my family, a group of white U.S. airmen stood at the bar talking to George, and one black airman sat at the back of the room on his own. No one else was in the room, so I decided to sit with the black airman. I got into conversation with him, and rather foolishly asked him why he was not at the bar with his friends, he just shrugged his shoulders, I then much more stupidly asked him if was was this silly colour bar thing ( the U.S. had only intergrated its troops in 1948) He looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I agreed with the colour bar, I replied, of course not......... he said, well I do, p..s off. I went to get up from my seat, he streatched out his hand, took my arm and said, sit down..... I have made my point. That point was the fact that I had adopted a somewhat superior attitude towards him, and been stupid enough to think that we had a monopoly on the colour bar, I never made that mistake again. Life is full of surprises.:cool2:

[Big ray]

On one of my home visits from Germany in 1957 I went out one lunch time looking for my family members, who`s custom it was to partake of a liquid lunch in the nearest pub, I think that most of them suffered with alcoholic constipation, they could not pass a pub. Anyhow after trying several pubs I could not find them, so in desperation I went to the farthest pub away from their usual haunts. This pub was the "Boat and Horses" this watering hole was ran by a guy by the name of George Green and his wife Minnie. George was actually an ex G.I. that had met and married Minnie during his service over here in the U.K. Most unusually Minnie did not want to go to the States, and George was obviously happy to stay over here. This pub naturally became the favourite watering hole for the G.Is. travelling from their bases in East Anglia to Burtonwood Airbase in Lancashire. I had many conversations with the G.I.s when visiting this pub. George had a strong soutern drawl, talking very much from the corner of his mouth. I remember one occasion when talking to a couple of G.I.s as they left the pub to continue their journey, they were driving a Autcar and semi-trailer, I climbed up to look into the cab and they told me that they were having their truck replaced with a british Leeland, I had to explain to them that it was actually a Leyland Truck (for our u.s. friends thats pronounced Layland) On another occasion I went into the pub, again looking for friends and members of my family, a group of white U.S. airmen stood at the bar talking to George, and one black airman sat at the back of the room on his own. No one else was in the room, so I decided to sit with the black airman. I got into conversation with him, and rather foolishly asked him why he was not at the bar with his friends, he just shrugged his shoulders, I then much more stupidly asked him if was was this silly colour bar thing ( the U.S. had only intergrated its troops in 1948) He looked me straight in the eye and asked me if I agreed with the colour bar, I replied, of course not......... he said, well I do, p..s off. I went to get up from my seat, he streatched out his hand, took my arm and said, sit down..... I have made my point. That point was the fact that I had adopted a somewhat superior attitude towards him, and been stupid enough to think that we had a monopoly on the colour bar, I never made that mistake again. Life is full of surprises.:cool2:

[Big ray]

When working for my family before my enlistment I would some times find myself being seconded to other businesses, usually to drive a truck. These were all business men that my family tended to socialise with. One such business was two brothers who ran a contruction Co. house building, they had one Bedford "O" model bus, the usual wooden slatted seating, and three tipping trucks, two Fordson V8s and one Bedford "O" model. I would usually be required if a driver was either ill or on holiday. The driver of the "O" model was a London guy, I guess in his forties, an old man to me at my age, he would never take any time off work in case someone else should drive his truck, he was fiecely protective of that motor. Not surprising really, the Fordson trucks had a nice V8 engine, but the brakes were abismal, rod brakes with of course no power assistance. The Bedford on the other hand, apart from being an allround nicer truck was fitted with the Clayton Dewandre braking system, providing excellent stopping.

One morning when I arrived for work I was told that the bus driver had failed to turn in for work, the other two truck drivers had by this time set off on their allotted work for the day.

I was told to take the building workers to their place of work, some 40 miles away from the depot, I explained that at 18 years of age I was too young to drive the bus, they said you will be fine, just take the bus, when you get to your destination leave the bus on site, return with one of the other truck drivers, continue my days work untill it was time to return the workers on the bus, leaving my truck on the site untill I took the men out again the following day, when I would continue with the truck. This procedure continued for that week, after which time the bus driver was back at work.............. That certainly would not happen today, just illustrates how that times have changed. The funny thing of course was the fact that within 6 months I was in the military driving any sized truck, from Jeeps to Tank Transporters...... just seems to make an ass of the laws really.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

When working for my family before my enlistment I would some times find myself being seconded to other businesses, usually to drive a truck. These were all business men that my family tended to socialise with. One such business was two brothers who ran a contruction Co. house building, they had one Bedford "O" model bus, the usual wooden slatted seating, and three tipping trucks, two Fordson V8s and one Bedford "O" model. I would usually be required if a driver was either ill or on holiday. The driver of the "O" model was a London guy, I guess in his forties, an old man to me at my age, he would never take any time off work in case someone else should drive his truck, he was fiecely protective of that motor. Not surprising really, the Fordson trucks had a nice V8 engine, but the brakes were abismal, rod brakes with of course no power assistance. The Bedford on the other hand, apart from being an allround nicer truck was fitted with the Clayton Dewandre braking system, providing excellent stopping.

One morning when I arrived for work I was told that the bus driver had failed to turn in for work, the other two truck drivers had by this time set off on their allotted work for the day.

I was told to take the building workers to their place of work, some 40 miles away from the depot, I explained that at 18 years of age I was too young to drive the bus, they said you will be fine, just take the bus, when you get to your destination leave the bus on site, return with one of the other truck drivers, continue my days work untill it was time to return the workers on the bus, leaving my truck on the site untill I took the men out again the following day, when I would continue with the truck. This procedure continued for that week, after which time the bus driver was back at work.............. That certainly would not happen today, just illustrates how that times have changed. The funny thing of course was the fact that within 6 months I was in the military driving any sized truck, from Jeeps to Tank Transporters...... just seems to make an ass of the laws really.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

In 1957 whilst serving in Germany I was offered and accepted a 6 weeks course at the Veterinary Corps Training Centre in Senner-Lager. The course was anatomical and management of horses, including instructions on how to destroy an animal humanely if you were denied access to any weaponry, this was one aspect of the course that I could not see myself implementing if the need should arise. I am not into blood sports, and that runs over into humane destruction. I would not like to have been tested on that point. (Maybe a distressed animal might have forced that issue) I was viewed with considerable curiosity when I arrived at the centre in Senner-Lager, the tutors and administators could not understand the presence of a REME N.C.O. on such a course, obviously this was a first. All my fellow students on the course were members of either the Veterinary Corps or Cavalry Regiments ( Now armoured, but still using horses for ceremonial duties) The barracks were built on the same lines as our own, obviously even the German military did tend to work to a particular design. I was allocated a bed space and I soon settled into the routine, one particular memory that I have of my time spent there, was sitting on the ledge of the open window whilst revising, a column of troops marched past wearing M1 helmets, I first thought that they were U.S. troops, but I soon noticed that they were chanting in German, chanting in much the same way that I had heard american troops chant, one, two, three..... four, etc. I remember thinking at the time, I wonder, who copied who?.... perhaps some of our U.S. friends might know the answer to that one. It happened on several occasions whilst I was there, there must have been a German army barracks close by. The German army had only been reformed during the fifties to help combat the Russian threat. I seem to remember that at that time the German constitution forbade the stationing of its troops on foriegn soil. All of the students were allocated a number of horses into their care whilst on the course, the horses were inspected regularly, and points were awarded onto your course work. I was responsible for the management of three horses, two chestnuts and one black by the name of Lalarook, when grooming these animals for inspection I would always leave the black until last, the reasoning behind this was because the white flecks of scurf would show up like a beacon against the black hair, so I spent considerably more time on that horse. After a few days following that procedure, a veterinary officer doing the rounds inspecting, instructed me not to bother too much with this animal because it will be going for slaughter in a couple of days.:undecided:

[Big ray]

In 1957 whilst serving in Germany I was offered and accepted a 6 weeks course at the Veterinary Corps Training Centre in Senner-Lager. The course was anatomical and management of horses, including instructions on how to destroy an animal humanely if you were denied access to any weaponry, this was one aspect of the course that I could not see myself implementing if the need should arise. I am not into blood sports, and that runs over into humane destruction. I would not like to have been tested on that point. (Maybe a distressed animal might have forced that issue) I was viewed with considerable curiosity when I arrived at the centre in Senner-Lager, the tutors and administators could not understand the presence of a REME N.C.O. on such a course, obviously this was a first. All my fellow students on the course were members of either the Veterinary Corps or Cavalry Regiments ( Now armoured, but still using horses for ceremonial duties) The barracks were built on the same lines as our own, obviously even the German military did tend to work to a particular design. I was allocated a bed space and I soon settled into the routine, one particular memory that I have of my time spent there, was sitting on the ledge of the open window whilst revising, a column of troops marched past wearing M1 helmets, I first thought that they were U.S. troops, but I soon noticed that they were chanting in German, chanting in much the same way that I had heard american troops chant, one, two, three..... four, etc. I remember thinking at the time, I wonder, who copied who?.... perhaps some of our U.S. friends might know the answer to that one. It happened on several occasions whilst I was there, there must have been a German army barracks close by. The German army had only been reformed during the fifties to help combat the Russian threat. I seem to remember that at that time the German constitution forbade the stationing of its troops on foriegn soil. All of the students were allocated a number of horses into their care whilst on the course, the horses were inspected regularly, and points were awarded onto your course work. I was responsible for the management of three horses, two chestnuts and one black by the name of Lalarook, when grooming these animals for inspection I would always leave the black until last, the reasoning behind this was because the white flecks of scurf would show up like a beacon against the black hair, so I spent considerably more time on that horse. After a few days following that procedure, a veterinary officer doing the rounds inspecting, instructed me not to bother too much with this animal because it will be going for slaughter in a couple of days.:undecided:

[Big ray]

I asked why this horse was being put-down, I was told that it was suffering from vermicular decease, thats a small bone (The vermicular bone) in the horses hoof. When the bone becomes deceased the inflexible hoof will not allow for the swelling that`s associated with this condition, subsequently the horse becomes lame, with no prospect of a cure. I felt nothing but compassion for that horse, over the ensuing days I gave it a lot of fuss and attention. When the dreaded day arrived I was ordered to take charge of the small party dealing with this animals final moments at the local German knackers yard. I tried very hard to avoid that duty, but the officer was very insistant, so I travelled with this animal on its one way journey, accompanied with three regular troops from the stables. On arrival at our destination I asked the three guys if they were happy to deal with this animals demise, they had done it all before, they confirmed that they were fine with that arrangement. I smoked in those days and I was never more in need of a smoke than I was at that moment, so I stayed outside leaning on the wall and lit a cigarette. I had no sooner lit the cigarette when a Mercedes saloon car appeared driven by the officer that had detailed me with this task. He slid from his car and asked if it was all over, I replied no sir, they have just gone in. He immediately ordered me into the building. The building was like most town building, it was new construction. My first impression on going inside was how clean the interior was, but the purpose of this building was only too evident when you looked around. The three troops with me were just standing to one side of the room, they snapped to attention when the officer entered. The German slaughter man, who spoke on English was standing in the middle of the room holding the horse by its alter............. I will continue with my next post:-(

[Big ray]

The slaughter man could not have treated that animal with more concern for its final moments, he made sure that stress was reduced to a minimum, he spoke softly in German to that animal whilst stroking its face, when the end came the horse never knew what hit it. It left me with considerable respect for the man and his ability to perform his work in such a manner. That respect came later, on reflection........ at the actual time I was left quite traumatised, so much so that I have remembered the name of a horse that I cared for for a few days, thats now almost 55 years ago, I cant even remember the names of some of the men that I served with after that length of time. Perhaps I need to qualify what I am about to say now, I volunteered for that course, I also had years of hands on with horses, and I was very interested in my course work. Most, if not all of the other students had been ordered onto that course, with no previous experience with horses ( Other than the short time that they had spent in military stables) and not much enthusiasm for it. So it was not a surprise to me that I should achieve top marks on the completion of the course. The instructors made it known that they were dissapointed to see a REME bod top the class amongst so many of their own, I have to confess that after the original reception that I received I felt rather smug about it all. On my return to my own workshops if asked I just said that I had passed the course, however when the Adjutant received my course papers they were accompanied with a letter, he came down to the stables to congratulate me very enthusiastically, then left the stables and told everone that was prepared to listen to him....... I think that he felt more smug about it than I did. I have never witnessed the destruction of another animal since. I do realise that someone has to do it.... just glad that its not me.:kissoncheek:

[Tony B]

Doesen't get any easier Ray, no matter how many times. Though it the last duty you owe to the horse.

[Big ray]

Doesen't get any easier Ray, no matter how many times. Though it the last duty you owe to the horse.

Hi Tony, I know, you are absolutely right, but somehow its like killing a friend, wonderful, majestic animals. :kissoncheek:

[Tony B]

I know Ray. when you get on a horse you are trusting your life to them. They are a lot stronger than you, even the little ones. Yet they will consent to carry you. The best lesson I was ever taught is 'You have absolutley no right to ride a horse and expect it to accept your control, until you can control yourself'! The book, play and hopefully the film War Horse has a passage where a German Soldier goes mad, when he hears the scream of injured horses, calling 'Why the horses? They didn't ask to be here!'

[Big ray]

When we returned to Hamm in 1989, our former camp, Newcastle Barracks had been closed down as a REME workshops since 1958, when it became a british army school (Children). The last few months of our service had been spent in Cromwell Barracks,(Situated about a mile away, further into the town centre) a camp that had formerly been occupied by the MSO Organisation. The MSO (Mixed Services Organisation) was made up of displaced persons, usually of East european origin, the officers were of course british army, the MSO guys used british army uniforms, but all dyed blue, with MSO shoulder flashes. The MSO were a tank transporter unit, given that our time spent their in Germany (1956 - 58) I often wondered if some of the MSO guys might have had a somewhat shady past?. We decided that we would like to visit that barracks before we left for home ( The barracks at that time was occupied by a Tank Transporter Co. of the Royal Logistics Corps. We approached the guard on the gate and explained that we were ex-REME, and had been stationed there during the last months of 1958, and could we go inside and pay a nostalgic visit. He went first to the guard commander, and then someone was dispatched to a higher authority to obtain permission. After about ten or fifteen minutes

one of the guard approached us and said, sorry I have asked the Sergeant Major and he is emphatic, we would not be allowed access...... then he whispered, its the IRA threat you know....... sorry. We replied, do we sound Irish, then turned on our heels and walked back to the bus, we felt rather cheated after all of the effort that we had made to get there, but thats life, more dissapointments than triumphs, or do we just remember the dissapointments more readily.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

One of our cooks in Germany was a "Geordie" a guy from the north east of England, I knew that he was courting one of the German women that worked in the cookhouse. He was demobbed early in 1958, so we said our usual goodbyes and assumed that we had seen the last of him.

Some months later I was out exercising one of the horses and whilst riding past the disposals unit situated behind our workshops I saw this guy working, I did a double take, and then asked, his that you, he replied yes. I got into conversation with him and discovered that what I had thought was a mere flirtation was indeed something much more serious, he had returned to Germany to marry this lady, and indeed did so. I had often wondered if the marriage had stood the test of time, I made enquiries a few years ago to ascertain whether they were still together, it transpires that they were very happy, but unfortunately he had died a few years ago. Unfortunately I seem to be losing far to many of my friends just lately, I have just been informed that one of my friends in the military club has just died, compared to myself a relatively young man, sad times.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

I have many friends in the military club (MVT) one of those friends was Mark G.... Mark has always been a very popular member with not only our area, but I suppose because of his geographic abode, he was very popular with adjacent areas. We have all enjoyed many,many shows and visits abroad France,Holland etc with Mark. He was always a great deal of fun to be with, sometimes he would be made the butt of the joke, but he always went along with the fun, anything that we thought might be funny, he could usually improve on it. Mark died this week, he was only 48 years old, he should have had many more years ahead of him, or perhaps I should say that we have been cheated out of many more years with him. He will be sadly missed, rest in peace Mark. Life can sometimes be very cruel.:angel:

[Big ray]

I had to take my wife Margaret for a hospital check-up, nothing serious, we hope. Because we had to remain at the hospital for what we thought was going to be a considerable time, I asked our son if he could take us for the visit, it would save on all the parking problems. He took us to the hospital and we arranged to ring him later in the day to collect us. However, our time at the hospital was considerably shorter than we had expected, so we rang and told him that we would walk the short distance to town, and then catch a service bus home. We have got our bus passes, and we hardly ever use them. On the short walk to town I began to notice a lot of changes that have taken place since the second world war. You dont realise, you drive past these places almost daily but have no time to take-in the scenery. We decided to stop in town and buy lunch before going home, Margaret knew of a nice bistro, tucked away down a side street. We went inside ordered our food and drinks, sitting at the table we found ourselves next to three people, who were at least our age, but actually turned out to be older by some three or four years. The building that we were sitting in was most certainly there before and during the war, but I sat racking my brain as to what it had been when we were young. Margaret was raised a few miles outside of town, so was not a regular visitor during her school days, I on the other hand had been raised on the outskirts, so it was a regular haunt for me. No matter how hard that I racked my brain I could not remember, so Margaret turned to our fellow diners and asked them if they were local residents, which they were, she then asked if any of them knew what the building had been before becoming a bistro. Yes, replied the nearest gentleman, this used to be a chinese laundry, by the name of Lee. I immediately remembered the laundry and even the name, Lee. We then got into quite a disscusion about the changes within the town, amazing how that your memory soon gets jogged. We also went on to discover that they were all interested in collecting memrobilia from the 30s-40s-and 50s. I told them that I was involved with restoration of wartime military vehicles....... we have now been invited to join with them for lunch each Tuesday when they meet...... and I thought that we were just making a visit to the hospital, funny old world isnt it. :kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

We left our workshops in Germany on one of our military exercises during 1957, we arrived at a large area of heathland, an area used regularly for such exercises. We did all of the usual unloading of trucks and setting up of the camp area. We were equiped with small pup tents and groundsheets, we had to be careful not to pitch our tents on some of the ant hills dotted about the site. When we had completed most of our tasks, the R.A.F. trucks arrived, all unexpected by us, all new German manufactured trucks. When they dropped the tail boards we noticed that the first few trucks were loaded with beds....... thats was when I realised that I had joined the wrong service. :cool2:

[Big ray]

During one of our exercises we found ourselves camped down by a wooden landing stage adjacent to the railway line. There were many of these such landings to be found out in open country, they had been constructed before and during the war for the movement of troops. This landing stage was serviced be a cinder track leading from the nearest mettalic road.

I was sitting on the landing stage attempting to get a primus heater working in order to make a hot drink, when I heard the sound of what I instinctively knew was more than one Jeep approaching down the cinder track. The track leading from the road ran first up to the brow, and then down to the landing stage, subsequently the Jeeps were initially hidden from my view. As they began to travel at speed, engines screaming, I realised that they were infact driven by U.S. troops. I could see that each of the two Jeeps had a driver and a machine gunner on board, complete with 30cal m/g. Both machine gunners were actually laid across the back of the jeeps with their hats pulled down over their eyes, the drivers saw me, ralised that they had taken a wrong turning and just spun their Jeeps around, kicking up a cloud of ash and shot back up the path, at the same time the two gunners just lifted their hats, looked down at me and waved...... I can still see that incident in my minds eye as if it was yesterday.:kissoncheek:

[abn deuce]

Always interesting how a chance encounter can become so much more . I hope you and your new friends will have a lot of stories to share for a long time to come .

Edited January 23, 2011 by abn deuce
spelling

[Big ray]

In the 1930s my grandfather travelled by car from the North Staffordshire area to Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the north, a journey of some 200 miles. Now first of all you have to understand that my grandfather knew absolutely zilch about motors, he did not even have to pass a driving test to obtain his license. I know that he had passengers, all male, but I dont know how many. Anyhow on the return journey they decided to stop in Manchester for a drink (of the alcoholic variety) So they parked the car in a side street, you could park anywhere in those days, they went into the nearest pub, did`nt like that one very much so went to look for another one, then another one and so on, no real problems with drinking and driving in those days. Eventually it was time to return to the car and complete the journey back home, some 30 or 40 miles, they looked and looked but could not find the street where they had parked the car, gradually becoming more and more lost in the process. In the end they had no alternative but to go to the nearest police station and explain their plight. In those days the police used to call in regularly from stratigically placed police call boxes. When the policeman made his call to the station, they were asked in turn to look out for this particular car registration and call in when they found it. As you can imagine the whole process was very slow, but eventually a policeman called in to say that he had found the car. My grandfather and his passengers were given a map drawn up by the station sergeant and set on their way. When they arrived at the car several policemen were waiting for them. Whilst waiting for my grandfather the police had ample time to inspect the car, apparently the lighting was of the old carbide system, and the car itself must even then have been quite an antique..... the police were not very impressed and told my grandfather never to return to Manchester in that car..... I would have loved to have seen it, knowing my grandfather it must have been a real joke to say the least............ years later when I had started to drive I would occasionally ride with my grandfather driving.... he could`nt drive to save his life.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

I think that all british army cinemas, certainly in Germany during the 1950s were called "The Globe", and they were located outside of the main camp. Being situated outside meant that you had to be properly dressed at all times in order to book out of the camp, makes sense I suppose. The british military cinematigraphic unit shared all fims with the Canadian military. The Canadians were based a few miles (20 or so) away from ourselves, they had two camps, one at Verle and the other at Soest. It was quite normal for anyone amongst the junior ranks to be detailed to go to Soest (Fort Henry, if my memory serves me correctly) to collect the film or films for the coming week. On this particular occasion in 1957 I was detailed to take go to Soest to collect the films, it was also usual to take a craftsman from the workshops along with you. We set off in a Volkes Waggen car, we enjoyed an uneventfull trip to Soest, a journey that neither of us had ever made previously. We arrived at Fort Henry, we pulled up to the barrier, manned by a canadian soldier who after enquiring about the purpose of our visit, lifted the barrier and instructed myself to park just inside the camp, immediately in front of the guard room. We proceeded into the guardroom for instructions, and what we expected to be directions to their cinema. The first thing that the guard commander asked us for was indentification.... we were both dressed in workshop denims, we never needed to carry documentation in our own workshops, based on the fact that "A" we were somewhat isolated geographically, "B" we had no M.P.s based in our town (Hamm). "C" any paper documents would most certainly not have lasted long if subjected to oily hands. The canadian would not accept my explanation, and he detained us untill their C.O. could come down to the guardroom and allow us to continue with our appointed task.

Whilst standing around in the guardroom we became aware of the fact that a soldier in one of the cells was actually marking time at a fair rate of knotts, sweating profusely. I managed to get near enough to his cell to ask him who he "had murdered", he replied that he had returned to the camp in a drunken state, that was his crime. I asked him what his punishment was, he replied NINETY DAY`S...... I could not beleive it, thats three months..... just for being drunk, for some of our guys that was almost obligatory, at least once a week. When the C.O. did arrive we had remembered that we were wearing our metal dog tags, something that you tended to forget about because we never took them off, even when showering, so we were allowed to continue. Whilst moving about the camp we came accross one of our canadian friends, he said, its lunch time would we like to join with him and some of his buddies in their room, we agreed. On arrival at the room they opened the door, and we were about to step inside when they stopped us dead in our tracks. The floor of the room was polished like a mirror, and they never,but never, stepped on that floor with shoes or boots, but actually stood on polishing cloths, and skated accross the floor........ and I thought that we had pretty stringent discipline.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

One day we were detailed to go to the rifle range, most guys really enjoyed those days because rifle shooting is all about ability, your own ability, and there was a great deal of pleasure to be gained from performing well. I know that I made a great effort to perform well.

However you would always have people who were to say the least wimpish when using weapons. They would hold the 303cal rifle very loose in the shoulder, not realising that the 303 had a terrific kick, the net result was that they would have very severe bruising to the shoulder. We had one guy who held the sten gun very tentively when firing, reciprical action on an automatic weapon tends to want to pull to the right, so you normally fire such weapons to the left of the target and sweep to the right. This guy just pointed the weapon at the target and pulled the trigger, he immediately started to swing to the extreme right, way off the intended target, and a danger to everyone around him, the sergeant major went ballistic.

Another guy simply could not hit the target, every time that he fired he missed the target. Inevitabely the sergeant major soon paid particular attention to this guy. The S/ major did his best to get this man to hit the target, all without any success. Finally in desperation he prodded this man in the back, he was laying in the prone position on the ground, he told him to fix his bayonet and charge the target!!!!!! The army always had its lighter side.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

Tentatively, tentatively........... 100 times, tentatively, there`s no substitute for a young sharp mind, this getting old ain`t all that its cracked up to be. :nut:

[Big ray]

When we were in the army the authorities in their wisdom decided to put bromide into our drinks, tea etc. I am now almost 74, and I am thinking of writing to inform them that its just started to work.:cool2:

[Big ray]

When we were in the army the authorities in their wisdom decided to put bromide into our drinks, tea etc. I am now almost 74, and I am thinking of writing to inform them that its just started to work.:cool2:

 

The bromide was to stop us from being interested in young ladies.