Church Parade 2

Submitted by Harry Harris

On reading Dave Hopkins story Church Parade. It reminded me of an incident that I was involved in with two other miscreants from Jerboa Troop, Emrys'Spike' Evans (who I have tracked down to Doncaster) and Charlie Dixon, a geordie. We had all skived church parade this particular Sunday and had gone to the Church Army for a late breakfast when a raid was mounted by some J/SSM on the trail of fame and glory. Despite hiding behind the battered piano and pretending to be trees the aforesaid J/SSM spotted us and took our names, warning us that we would be hearing more about this on Monday morning. Returning to the barrack room I had a brainwave. The thought of more jankers did not appeal to me and I had some previous for missing God's hour on a Sunday. Therefore I suggested that we go to the civilian church in Denbury that evening thereby we would fulfil our duty and obligation to the Church of England, the Padre etc. We duly went to Evensong at Denbury C of E church and made sure we were noticed by sitting in the front pew and singing our little hearts out. I'm sure the vicar was impressed and I knew I could call upon him as first witness in our impending OC's Orders the next morning. Spike and Charlie thought I was a genius and I slept soundly that night thinking I had avoided jankers and the grease pit in the cookhouse. Major 'Louis' Joyner scarcely glanced up as I burbled on about being devout church-goers and how we preferred to go to evensong at Denbury as it suited us better and we only went to the Church Army on Sunday to see 'Captain' about some religious matter or other. The SSM was beginning to twitch with impatience and I thought I had better shut up as I was overegging the pudding. After a short silence Maj. Joyner asked for the Manual of Military Law to be produced as he realised he was dealing with a young Perry Mason - although I suspect he had made up his mind as he had my conduct sheet in front of him. I was what they in legal circles call, a persistent offender . After reading quietly to himself for a while he then read several paragraphs to us which meant little or nothing. The gist of it was that Church Parade is exactly that - a parade and we had absented ourselves from that parade - we could have stood outside the church for all he cared but... we had missed a parade. Seven days RP's.. I don't remember much else except Spike refused to Right Turn on account that he was a first offender and was bleating about his clean conduct sheet... By now the SSM was foaming at the mouth and his face was now an interesting shade of scarlet. Charlie and I tried to shuffle Spike out sideways between us as Maj Joyner was about ready to call out the RP staff to have him removed forthwith. That evening in the 'grease pit' we consoled Spike about the unfairness of it all and he realised that there was a funny side to it all. So much for my cunning plan. Tracking down Spike 35 years later the first words I said to him on the 'phone were ...but Sir, I have a clean conduct sheet, it's my first offence,Sir... He laughed - he still has a sense of humour... and I think he has forgiven me.

Last Bus to Denbury

Submitted by John Thompson

I was usually in Newton Abbot on a Saturday and Sunday and the last bus back to Denbury was quite important if you did not want to walk back. I think it was about 11pm from the bus station - an ancient Devon General double decker with a conductor, driver sat alone in his cab, 3 or 4 Denbury residents and 300 or so Denbury camp boys. When the bus got to Ogwell Hill it must have taken 5 minutes to get to the top in crawler gear, it must have kept the residents of Ogwell awake in its passing. Anyway (takes a while to get there) …… One summer evening we were all on board the last bus at the bus station, the driver was on and the engine running - I don't know who it was but someone from camp jumped on, pressed the bell ''ding ding'' and off we go without the conductor who had gone to lock up or something. As we pulled out of the bus station we could see him charging along after us like Blakie from On The Bus's. When we got to the end of the camp road, we all got off, pressed the bell and off goes the bus to Denbury Village where presumably the villagers got off. The next day the police were at camp, and everyone on the bus had to go on parade. It seems when the bus got to Denbury village, after waiting a while, the driver went to find the conductor. Not finding him, a big search ensued - you can imagining the rest. We did not get any more free rides after that - in fact I am not sure if we did not have to pay up at that parade.

Junior Drill Lesson

Submitted by Tony Gask

Remember a poor sod who couldn't co-ordinate this arms and legs - his left arm move forward at same time as left leg etc - I believe called duck marching - I can still hear Ssgt Topper Brown (Nig Wing) shouting, you''ve got it Nunny - keep going Nunny - you''ve got it Nunny, Bloody Hell Nunny your doing it again - get to the back of the squad - I believe he got chucked out. Charlie Drake (smallest lad in Denbury) - he didn't march he jumped from pace to pace to keep up with the rest of the Squad.

Introduction to the Assault Course

Submitted by Pete Penfold

We were given a very brief introduction of how to negotiate the assault course. This is how it's done and off go the PTI's at breath-neck speed with us trying to keep up and see how they did it. When it came to my turn I scrambled up the net, lent over the top and grabbed the wood footholds. I launched myself into space only to find my hands automatically opening and me doing a good impression of an out of control skydiver. I landed on my chest over the large log that supported the bottom of the net, flipped over and slammed into the deck. I was taken to see the Doc who didn't even examine me, told me to lay down and get my breath back. Despite a painful chest I was expected to carry on with normal duties. For ages I refused to flip over the top of that net until one day I closed my eyes and tried it. To my amazement I found that I was still holding on and lowered myself down the net. On seeing this heroic action I was immediately told to go round and do it again, and again, and again.....and again! Must have done it twenty times on the trot. Found out years later that I had an old injury....A broken a rib, I wonder where that came from?. Oh happy days!!!

Initiation Ceremonies

Submitted by Bill Woodhead

Does anyone remember the initiation ceremonies that used to take place in the centre well of the spider? Cold water and hot water from the stirrup pumps just because we had survived Nig Wing and joined our troop. As if that was not enough there was the blanco and boot polish on ‘yer parts’! Did anyone run the gauntlet down the centre lino in the barrack room? Them web belts don’t half sting. Some unfortunates I recall had to do it on their knees pushing a matchbox with their noses. One in particular was Bryan (Mousey) Moseley from Walsall. I even think he enjoyed it.

In the Glasshouse

Submitted by Bill Stephenson

Another time I remember, was when I was doing 28 days in the glasshouse for going AWOL. I was really at a low ebb and was feeling very sorry for myself. The Provo Cpl who was on duty, a great big bloke can't remember his name now, said something to me and I lost my rag. I said if I had some rope I'd hang myself. Well he must have known I wouldn’t because he threw me a piece of rope and shut the door on me! Sometime later, can't recall how long but it was a few hours he let me out and said, "see your still here then". Well that did something to me and I said to myself they'll not get too me anymore and I just got stuck in and did my time. Still I was stupid and went AWOL again, another 28 days but this time it didn’t bother me. Then I think I told you the rest. The CO had me in and a good talking too and I got stuck in and enjoyed the rest of my time there, even getting made up to the dizzy heights of J/L/Cpl.

Ice, Fire and Baccy

Submitted by Mick 'Happy' Taylor

My first traumatic recollection was the end of Christmas term Outward Bound competition, a night trek from ??? north to Okehampton Battle camp. As the dreaded day approached we could see the snow building on Hey Tor. A row broke out between the MO and the CO about the advisability of carrying on. The CO said "My boys can cope". The MO disagreed, and began signing light duty chits as fast as people could get to the medical centre. He ran out of time, and the net result was that platoons were decimated, just 3s and 4s. We were coached out to Dartmoor, wind howling and snow falling, wearing just battledress. This was the Thursday night, and they were still finding people wandering lost on the Sunday. I remember Tony Thompson from F troop was one of the last picked up, and it turned his head: he was shipped quietly out and medically discharged. We were lucky : completely lost, stumbling through the blizzard when we caught a glimpse of headlights swinging in a circle, above us to the left: it was one of the trucks turning on the loop of road through Okehampton Camp: We were heading merrily north, about a mile off course. Where we would have got to without that sign I shudder to think: that stew tasted good. I can also remember the fire that burnt out the old F troop spider. I had the bed next to the fire door in the middle wing, and when people ran into the room followed by whisps of smoke, shouting "FIRE", I was off my bed and out the door. Got to the bottom of the ramp, and remembered my guitar, went back in for it, and in those few seconds the fire travelled the length of the room, and I lost my eyebrows getting out, Saved the guitar though. The speed of the fire was all that polish on the floor. I remember standing looking up the room, and watching lockers drop through the floor in opposite pairs : very regimental. The other hazard was the shower of exploding pieces of asbestos from the roof. ( and all those hidden tins of contraband compo rations). I still have a piece of molten glass with Denbury soild inside that used to be my window. The one piece of new kit they couldn't immediately issue were stable belts, so it became a mark of escape from the fire to wear jumpers outside trousers, until the powers got tired of our little rebellion and clamped down. I was also reminded by Jim Brown of my nasty habit of spending all my wages on Old Holborn, and once people had squandered their hard earned on taylor made fags and a Friday night out, I became the snout baron, breakfast tea in bed, boots polished, shirts ironed.

Happy Days

Submitted by Jim Browne

Having the surname Brown puts you second in the queue which sometimes works to your advantage, but not always for me, in nig wing. I was the first bed on the left as you entered the barrack room and was an easy target for Sgt Bob Peak when we did bed layout he always used to like to tip one bed over which in his mind was rubbish. 9 out of ten times it was mine as he left the room. After suffering this for weeks I thought I would beat him to it ,so one morning as he entered the room I tipped my bed over, without a word he inspected the rest of the and walked across the room to me, now then 759 he said there was no need to do that as this morning I was going to leave you alone,and with that he turned around and tipped up the lads opposite. Needless to say normal service soon resumed. Happy Days.

Guardroom Slogans

Submitted by Mick 'Happy' Taylor

Those who spent an innocent time at Denbury, and didn't spend as much time as me in the nick or on jankers, may not remember the slogans over the guardhouse door to the cellblock: TEDAANA - "Treat Every Day As A New Adventure" and AATAOLBYK, WTHBWCW "After All They Are Only Little Boys, You Know, We Try Hard But We Cannot Win". I have these same slogans on the wall of the Youth Club I now run.

Fun Days on the Moor

Submitted by Dave Stokes

On one of our ‘Fun days’ out across the moors, we had been out on the Thursday eve/night, bivvy’d down to early morning, then off again on our jolly jaunt. Needless to say, as you know it ‘must’ have been raining, it had to, it always did. After a day of map and compass bearings, soaking wet through to the skin, and every time you stopped to take another bearing, a trickle of cold water would run down from your collar down the middle of your back down into your pants, and you would shudder with the cold of it. You are now cold hungry and miserable, and just can’t wait to reach the rendezvous, because you know on the truck there will be plenty of piping hot stew as much as you can eat, and as much steaming hot sweet coffee as you can drink, then the ride back to camp. You all know the feeling, you’ve all been there. As we approached, the daylight was dimming, and we could see a fire burning and two figures standing by a Land Rover, it was at this point feeling a bit happier and with a spring in our step, singing ‘Cheers Cheers the boys are here....... Then!! To our horror we witnessed the truck with ‘Our Food’ on, pulling away! As we arrived, the comforting words of ‘Where the F--- you lot been!!’ ‘Your grubs gone, you’re late!’ ‘ Get your arses round the fire, warm up while we wait for the others to turn up!’ Which they eventually did, our punishment for being late we soon learned, was to make our own way back to Denbury - no food, no hot drink—nothing!! They sent us off in pairs, staggard times. At one stage we came across Dartmeet, in those days there was just a wooden shack with a lift-up hatch to serve food and drinks to tourists, walkers etc: Now what do you do when its dark, you are cold and hungry, and you come across a box of food? Yup! You open it - low and behold loads and loads of chocolate bars and biscuits, stale cake - no hot drinks though, and worst of all ‘no’ fags!! Still, me and Larry Lamb we got stuck in and stashed our pockets - soon we were accompanied by a few more wet and hungry squaddies. At this point we opened the hatch and were then very busy serving our many customers with a smile, and no charge, what a lovely kind couple of guys we were. Then we went on our way, a lot less hungry, but feeling a bit sick - too much chocolate? On our long trek back to camp, we decided that no way would the law know who it was, as the Marines were out as well as us tonight, plus any other old hobble-de hoy who had passed by. Finally reached Denbury after getting a short lift with the Padre, who felt so sorry for us. Thankfully we were allowed the morning off to sleep. Monday morning shortly after 1st works parade Lamb and me were wanted down at the Squadron office at the double by ‘old Bender’ the SSM, who wondered if we knew anything about the Dartmeet café, as the police were in the office with the OC, who was at this moment ‘very upset’ that they would think there was someone on the camp who would let ‘The Regiment’ down, let alone the squadron— I say’s ‘Not us sir, not anywhere near there we weren’t sir! As God is our witness!’ SSM (Bender) stiffens up and says ‘Well it must have been ‘him’ then - we will soon find out for sure, as he left one of his eating utensils behind with his serial No on, and do you know what - its exactly the same No as J/Signalman Lamb, now ain’t that strange!!’ I think that was the first time I ever used the word ‘Plonker’! To cut this very long story shorter, the police were happy to leave it with the regiment to sort out, we got 7 days inside, obviously losing the 7 days pay, plus we had to pay back what had been taken from the shack, - which had been grossly exaggerated by the owner, bloody cheek, you just cannot trust some people sometimes. As you know it was a long way up to the Cookhouse from the Guardroom for meals, with Sgt Yates’s little fat Corporal Nicholls marching us double time ‘eft-eite-eft-eite-eft-eite-eft!!’ (he never could spell) until we were nearly out of ear shot, then ‘Abaht - Tern!!’ then back down past him until nearly out of ear shot again, this repeated, all the way to the cookhouse, we finally got there - Knackered!! But at least we went straight to the front of the queue!! Then back with indigestion!