Once A Soldier

(Click photo to view original source)

In the late nineteen-fifties it was quite something as a young man to give up my science subjects in a soon to be set up University in Regent Street, London. Offhandedly, as it were, to join the British Army.

I reasoned it was something I had to do.

Leaving behind a small rural parochial village, home to my parents, brother and sister, for a bigger landscape, and joining untold numbers of like-minded men to be garrisoned in Catterick Camp was hardly likely to be a holiday.

It was bleak midwinter when we struggled out of our beds and into a run for ablutions, to don denims and then make the parade ground where we stood to stiff attention. We then suffered in silence to the drill sergeant’s outpourings of coarse and profane words which adorned the soldier’s new English vocabulary.

From then on, it was to be drill, drill and more drill with occasional stops for a cig and a breather in brass monkey weather. Now and again, a NMFI break for a cuppa and another fag and a riff perhaps of “Something in your mind cannot be denied …. smoke gets in your eyes.”

One day I was found wanting performing a tricky drill piece. We had to ground rifles, straighten up and then retrieve them from a squat position. Of course, I tumbled over during its execution as a small smile crossed my face.

‘Sergeant, that man there? Take him to the guard room, on the double quick march.’ I was shown the austere cells of the guard room and threatened with custody if I ever as much as smiled again during drill practise.

I will say that I joined the army at a moment of transition. Whether it was a favourable or unfavourable time is hard to say. For instance, if you liked the use of guns I was in the army when Sten guns were dropped in preference for new Sterling machine guns, for which I was incidentally hailed as a marksman. And old style Second World War .303 Lee Enfield manual rifles were substituted for automatic Belgian FN’s. Let alone that metal studded boots were replaced by rubber studded boots!

And cleaning brasses of uniforms and such forth was discontinued as all brasses contained stay bright ingredient.

This all meant more changes in drill practise. At any rate whatever the kit and weaponry we marched up and down the parade ground in all weathers ad infinitum.

Of course, there is so much more I could say about army life but I need to cut it short.

Until next time.

(Published in Shenley Village Matters – Issue 33, Page 37, Spring 2025)

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