The Great Escape

Submitted by John Berry

Does anyone remember the infamous barrack room orders! I recall Beaufighter troop 64 to 66 when it was real summary justice if you put a foot wrong or failed to get tea and sarnies for the seniors on a Sunday. We had a piper in the troop (Paddy Winters) who used to pipe the terrified nig into a room full of the whole troop. The charge was read out (sort of) and sentence was passed. Usually over the lockers and under the beds while being severely thrashed by one and all. It's hard to imagine boy’s inhumanity to boys, but there you are! We were always told we'd be the judge one day, and sure enough....! The worst thing that ever happened was when they showed 'The Great Escape' at the Globe. Senior lads in the troop decided it would be splendid to have the nigs build a tunnel under the spider! Can you believe that? That was another punishment handed down at 'orders'. Maybe it was sanctioned as good training in the event of captivity? By the way, Paddy Winters was not particularly senior at the time and really loved his position. Would love to meet him now! Remember Holne Chase? How terrifying was that.

Sweets Chocolate on the Moor

Submitted by Mike Mangan

Yes we had some fun. I remember the Yeti taking Ginge Fawcett and myself and dropping us off somewhere in the middle of the moor one evening where the two of us camped out. The following morning the troop were to set off some miles away from us, each patrol from a different location.<br /> The first patrol to navigate reach us were to be given a cornflake box full of compo boiled sweets and chocolate that we had been given to hand to the winners. About midday we could see all the patrols more or less grouped together, legging it to be the first to us but by then we'd ate the lot bar a bar boiled sweets. Discretion being the better part of valour we donned our already packed kit and legged it in the opposite direction with them chasing us over the moor for a good while (not written into the exercise. Eventually we collapsed laughing our socks off. The first lad to us triumphtly claimed the goodies - they were so pissed off with us - and I couldn’t understand why they didn’t share our sense of humour!!. - Happy days.

Sports Afternoon

Submitted by Jon Ratcliffe

One sports afternoon, myself, Rollie Parks and Romeo Jubb decided that sport should be a purely passive occupation. So off to the race course we went. Having to sneak out of camp in civvies added that little bit extra. I remember we walked to Floggit to save money for betting.<br /> Anyway, we pooled our cash about 11 bob between us and sorted out our bets. If everything went right we would be cash kings of the troop. Standing in line at the bookies I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around I'm face to face with Sgt Rats Batten. What the hell are you doing here? he says. Sports afternoon, says I We came to watch the hurdlers. I didn't know if the was going to laugh or beat me to a bloody pulp. Anyway he tells us we are all on a charge and will hear more about it later. Well we lost all our money and had to walk back to camp in the rain. Went straight into out of sight mode. We never did get charged nor did Rats even mention it again. On looking back, I get the distinct impression we were not the only one who should have been someplace else that afternoon.

Sleep Walking in Denbury

Submitted by Jo 'Bo' Martin

This story concerns a young lad in my patrol of Jerboa troop, Ashley Chapman. Ashley was a small plump lad and not really cut out for army life. However, that wasn't the problem. Ashley was a sleep walker and we often followed him out of the spider in the middle of the night while he went 'walkabout'.<br /> Mostly he went out in his pyjamas with his 'eating irons' held smartly behind his back and marched to the cookhouse where he would say to himself, that's funny, they don't seem to be open yet. The most memorable occasion was when he got out of bed muttering something about going to the post office to draw some cash. We all jumped out of bed and followed him through the main gate and up the hill towards the village (Ogwell?) Ashley was in his pyjamas again and this time he had his POSB book clutched in his hand. We all gathered around him like geese whispering don't wake him up, it's dangerous to wake sleepwalkers. Luckily he woke up halfway up the hill, and we all went back to bed.

Sheepish Suprise

Submitted by Eric Hoare

The winter of 62 was certainly a cold and bitter experience. Capt Joyner approached White Swan troop and asked for volunteers to help out the local farmers. As most of the outside activities had been cancelled due to the weather we all thought it was a great idea so the whole troop volunteered. The following morning two three toners turned up to take us to the farms. We split into four groups of about twelve per group each being dropped off at different farms, my group was the last to be dropped off right on the edge of the moors. We met the farmer who invited us into the farmhouse to layout the plan of action for the day. He said all we had to do is to go and feed some sheep which had been stranded on the moor. I thought, great, easy this, just drive up there with a load of food, feed them and then go back to camp... WRONG... We were going to have to walk about four miles as the tractor couldn’t get through and have to carry the food made up of bales of hay, and that’s FULL bales. He also gave us two shovels to take with us. Prior to leaving his wife turned to us and said “I think you need something to warm you up” she then grabbed hold of a gallon jug and beckoned me to follow her, we walked across the courtyard to this outhouse where inside was this huge vat with one of those two part wooden lids on it. She said, “Open one side of the lid for me”, I did and looked inside. It looked like some sort of liquid with what seemed to look like a dead rat floating on the surface. I jumped a little and said EEEEK!! Is that a rat? She made no reply just pushing the beast to one side and filling the jug to the top. On returning to the farmhouse she served each of us with this liquid in jam jars, just less than half a pint. I didn’t let on to the other as to what I had seen. The liquid tasted very nice. We set off across the moor each with our bale of hay on our backs feeling quite chirpy with that warming drink inside us. But as any Junior Leader will tell you the moor contains many hidden dangers such as deep streams and marshes, during the summer these are quite easy to spot but with thick snow covering them they are impossible to see. Quite often someone would nearly disappear, quite funny really, it was only their bale of hay which stopped them from going right under. As we approached a huge mound about 8 feet tall by 100 or so yards long the farmer told two of us to climb to the top and start digging down very slowly. Pulling rank as I was the only NCO I volunteered two lads to do this task, they had gone down about 4 feet arriving at the top of a dry stone wall, the farmer then said dig down each side of the wall. They then started on one side and got down to ground level, he then said try the other side but be careful. As they dug down a further two feet they hit a pocket of air and saw something moving, we all started scraping the snow away to make a large hole. To our surprise a sheep came out followed by another and another from each direction they were coming, about forty in all. Their first priority was to attack us for the hay we were carrying. How they had survived in that tunnel God only knows. The farmer got out a torch and entered each side of the tunnel to see if there were any more, he did drag out a dead one which was quite sad. When they had all eaten the hay we rounded them up and took them back to the farm, upon arrival, the farmer’s wife had prepared a huge pan of stew with a further glass of that lovely drink which I later found out to be rough Devon Cider, my very first experience of drinking alcohol but not my last, he he. On returning to camp very merry we didn’t need our tea just our beds. The farmer was so pleased by our efforts he sent the CO a letter praising all the lads of White Swan Troop. The CO in return awarded us all a gold star which we had pinned to our uniforms for the rest of the season.

Regimental Rugby Team

Submitted by Dave Thomas

Being part of the regimental team had some very useful advantages, the most obvious was early morning training, not that anyone liked turning out at some unearthly hour, but it meant that we had specially cooked breakfast and our barrack room jobs had to be done the evening before.<br /> One major perk I recall was a trip to London to watch the All Blacks play; it was up and down in the same day, none of your overnights in the ‘Smoke’ after all we were still quite young then. The other unique experience some of us had was coaching by five of the then England Team. I’d just arrived home on leave in 61 when I received a telegram from Denbury, inviting me to Exeter University for the weekend, Chick Brister and Bill Hill were also there, and possibly Cess Parkinson but I can’t be sure. At the time it was quite normal for members of the forces to play in national sides (Rory Underwood & Tim Rodber are more recent examples), it’s only since the game went professional that this is becoming less common. Richard Sharp (Played wing for England) lead the coaching team, and Mike Starmmer-Smith (a brute of a man) 2nd row, took the forwards. Not a bad CV for a 16 year old.

Prank's

Submitted by Bill Stephenson

Remember those stupid little pranks that used to get played on us when we first joined Denbury. I remember quite a few that were played on me. Like the time I got sent to the pursers office and told to ask for a long stand! Go in ask and get told to wait outside I''ll call you in shortly. An hour later I'm still stood there! Another time I got sent for a hard stamp. Don't know who it was but my foot hurt for two days. There must have been a lot more and I am darn sure I'm not the only one who fell for them.

Mother's Pride

Submitted by Barrie Campbell

This relates to Nig Wing Sept 1961 with Sgt Bob Peak as our drill instructor. In our squad was a certain Tim Crook and Tim, unlike all the rest of us, had been an Army Cadet in his home town of Plymouth and thought he knew all about army drill movements and of course was a target for Sgt Bob Peak.<br /> We had been on the square for some considerable time trying to achieve some drill movement we all could not get 'correctly' together and Bob was about to blow his top. All those years ago there was an advert for 'Mothers Pride' bread and Bob Peak decides to say, in one of his many compliments to our shite endeavours to obey his commands, 'talk about f****d. Mothers Pride'. To which this voice next to me says, sliced or unsliced mother, which is the voice of one Tim Crook. Well Bob's face turns all shades of purple, on top of a squad which couldn't do left from right and were in his words f****** shite, our Tim decides to be funny! We are all desperately trying to hold back smirkers of laughter. Well Bob got his man (boy) and clever young Tim did the usual circuits of the drill square over and over and over again.

Morse Practice

Submitted by Bill Stephenson

The story I remember was a couple of us one night practicing our morse, if you placed your morse buzzer next to the barrack room radio (great old valve sets) you could pick it up on another radio in one of the other barrack rooms. Well me and this other lad were sending stuff to each other and in my wisdom I decided to send, “Sergeant Arnold a fat B*****d”. I had hardly finished sending the last letter ‘D’ when who came roaring into the room, yeh you’ve guessed it. Good old Bob Arnold himself. I thought he was going to kill me, anyway lucky for me he was in a good mood. I got a right bollicking but that was it and he even said how good my morse was! But I did nearly have a heart attack when he came screaming in.

Church Parade 3

Submitted by Dave Hopkins

I used to detest the enforced C of E church parades & padre’s hour. The ‘odds & sods’ who were able to attend outside churches were very fortunate. They were able to wear civvies or regimental undress.<br /> Which, I am sure we all remember, comprised of black blazer, white shirt with regimental tie, cavalry twill trousers & chukka boots. It is so long ago I cannot remember if there were drums beating & banners flying while marching to the church. I do recall standing behind the Colonel & his good lady, the collection plate/bag would come around & some of us were so broke all we could do was hit the underside of the bag as it passed along the row. Jog any memories? There was one way out of this torturous Sunday ritual & that was to take Holy Communion which was held at 8 a.m. By doing so you were excused the main service & another reward was a huge breakfast! So, I signed up for the necessary classes. I distinctly remember the Irish Padre, a Major whose name escapes me, telling us that if at any time we could not fulfil what was asked of us then we would be released from the class. That sounded good to me because I was there for the wrong reasons & I knew it. After several weeks I knew in my heart of hearts that this was not for me. Believe me, the church parades were looking good by comparison. It took some courage to confront the Major & explain my reasons as to why I wished to be released from the class. Number one, he was a Major & quite close to god! Number two, I was a lowly J/Sig who was in awe or fear of anyone with rank who was not a J/Leader. After I blurted out my reasons the man just looked at me & roared, " I need 16 boys in front of the Bishop of Exeter on (such & such a date) & you will be one of them!" I was. It gets worse..........a few weeks after I was confirmed with the other 15 souls it was declared that no-one would be excused the main church parade. I cannot speak for anyone else but I do know that there was one less at the 8 a.m. service from then on. How I felt then & how I feel now about the clergy is another matter. It is rather ironic that some 29 years later I find myself living in the Bible Belt of America.