大象传媒

II. Training to be a tank crewmember
Bovington and Heveningham Camps

An open 3-ton truck met the new intake at Wool station to take the recruits to the Primary Training Wing, Bovington Camp, Dorset.
The training was mainly drill parades and lectures covering a broad spectrum from grenade throwing to instructions on the opposite sex. The recruits listened to the latter in bewildered anticipation and no doubt considered it more of a hurdle than grenade throwing. Training was in charge of a Captain Jones of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. He was ram rod straight and walked with an energetic judder; his peaked cap on a stylish rake shuddered in unison. A Corporal Dealey from the Beds and Herts Regiment helped him on the drill parades. The square bashing and rifle drill required a high degree of perfection and if this was not achieved then the culprit was told in no uncertain terms. If this did not have the desired effect then it meant running around the extensive parade ground with the rifle held above the head. When the Captain decided that possibly his career would be in jeopardy with the collapse of the recruit, he called him in. After the Captain had strongly admonished a recruit the Corporal would correct his rifle and whisper 鈥淭here is no need to worry鈥�.
If during lectures anyone was spotted dozing then it was up in front with arms outstretched and a grenade in each hand - unprimed of course. Despite the fact that the Captain was a martinet, he was popular. When the recruits had fallen out for a smoke he would tell of his experiences when he was in charge of a unit protecting British civilians in Nanking during internal strife amongst the Chinese. His account of how he saw a prisoner being bound and seated over a fast growing bamboo went down particularly well. He also solved the mystery of stolen money from the recruit鈥檚 lockers when he organised a marked note. The culprit was caught and never seen again.
The huts were rather ancient but cheerful with plenty of light. The Corporal had a room at the end.
Entertainment was limited; the NAAFI was popular, as the recruits were always hungry, with all the exercise. A particular favourite was a potato pasty as at the end of the counter where they were situated was the prettiest of the cheerful girls serving. The camp cinema was popular; the films were accompanied by an amusing running commentary from the audience.
When training at the Primary Training Wing had been completed the intake moved down to the 58th Training Regiment. The camp had been recently built when Hoare Belisha was Minister for War. The huts were spacious and the camp included a gymnasium. During one session the Sergeant PT Instructor gave the order for the recruits to take off their right gym shoe and beat their neighbour, which they did. The press-ups went on for a very long time. Instructions were given to prepare for a march to Wool, a nearby village, in F.M.O. - Full Marching Order. F.M.O. meant the big pack and the small pack had to be packed with all your kit in the approved manner. I noticed that a big pack was being filled with straw and when I enquired why, was told the Sergeant had told him to. We marched down to Wool and were told to break off for tea. For the return to camp the Sergeant said he was taking the long way round and at the double. Anyone lagging behind was encouraged with the swagger cane. Soon after the trip to Wool he was reported by some brave souls for 鈥榝lashing鈥� and he was never seen again.
The training included D&M (Driving and Maintenance) lectures and driving instructions. This was on the 鈥榁alentine鈥� and the 鈥楥hurchill鈥� tanks and the 鈥楲loyd鈥� carrier. Instructions were also given on the 15 cwt 鈥楪uy鈥� truck and the 3 tonner. The driving cab of the 鈥榁alentine鈥� was very cramped; the driver had to get in sideways via the hatch situated on a slope each side of the cab. I found it impossible to push the steering levers forward over a cam that would neutralise the brakes; pulling a lever back braked one track. The only way I could do it was by leaning back and putting my foot on the lever with the result that the tank tended to wander about.
The 鈥楥hurchill鈥� was different and easy to drive. The steering column was similar to a bicycle handlebar and the driver changed gear by looking at the rev counter. The engine noise could not be identified because of the clatter from the tracks when the tank was on the move. The driving instruction on the ancient A 40 was a sad story. Before setting out for the moon-like terrain of the training grounds the instructor warned me that the battery was flat and not to stall the tank which I did in a deep flooded depression. The instructor had to walk a considerable distance to get help and only expressed his discontent with 鈥� Stupid boy鈥�. The 鈥楲loyd鈥� carrier was a real pleasure. It was a small tracked personnel carrier with a canvas hood. The driver sat forward with two steering levers. There was an open space behind with the engine casing situated amidships. During manoeuvres in a wood near Ringwood with the carriers a camp was erected out of tarpaulins and poles cut from trees. A hibernating adder was disturbed when digging a posthole and promptly dispatched. One of the staff - a Corporal - suggested we should go to a dance in Ringwood. We returned to the camp in the small hours and to get past the guard we jumped a small river. He made it but I fell in and lost my beret. To dry it I opened the engine casing of the 鈥楲loyd鈥� and placed it on the engine whilst it was warming up before leaving in the morning. The order came to 鈥淢ount and start up鈥� and off we went up a steep bank accompanied by a dreadful noise from the engine. The beret and cap badge had been chewed up by the fan at the rear of the engine. The 鈥楪uy鈥� 15 cwt truck was notoriously difficult to drive as the gears were round the other way from normal.
There was a visit to the Lulworth gunnery ranges and one of the guns I fired was the 550 鈥楤oyes鈥� anti-tank rifles. It was similar to the conventional rifle but larger. For practice on the ranges it had half charge ammunition and then it had quite a kick. With a full charge it must have been formidable for the person using it but useless against German armour. There was also practice with the .38 Smith and Wesson revolver The way it was taught was one arm was placed behind the back and the revolver held at arms length, lifted above the target and then lowered and fired when on target.
To celebrate the end of the course the unit went down to the pub; I had flu and remained in camp. During the evening there was a red alert that indicated an invasion was imminent. An O.R. (other rank) was detailed to go on the Commanding Officer鈥檚 cycle to the pub and bring them back to camp but the cycle was missing; either stolen or borrowed. They were eventually brought back the worse for wear. Two were missing and a search party found them lying beside the road very inebriated.
A mumps epidemic hit the camp, which meant we were confined to the hut. Food was brought to the hut and left outside for collection. Stricken men were taken away as and when they succumbed. Eventually three of us were taken to the American Harvard Hospital on the outskirts of Salisbury. This was a hutted hospital donated and staffed by the Americans who thought that the outbreak of war would mean epidemics in England. Post war the hospital became the Cold Research Centre. When we arrived we were given a bath and put in a ward for three in comfortable beds with sheets. A white uniformed nurse had an office in the corridor and apart from speaking out of necessity did not converse with us. Neither did the doctor with black bristling eyebrows who came in every morning for a blood sample. The way he came into the room, extracted blood and went out was a source of merriment for the rest of the morning. A trolley came round in the morning selling 鈥楲ucky Strike鈥� and 鈥楥amel鈥� cigarettes, chocolates etc. When we were able to get up we had the luxury of sugar on the table, crispy bacon for breakfast and as much food as we could eat from the self-service.
Punishment, known as 鈥榡ankers鈥�, for a misdemeanour was carefully designed to make life as uncomfortable as possible for the recipient. At the end of the day鈥檚 duty the culprit reported to the guard house in 鈥楤est Battle Dress鈥�, smartly turned out with webbing freshly blancoed. The next stage, later in the evening was attending a parade with small pack and then before lights out in 鈥楩ull Marching Order鈥�. In between it he had to parade in overalls and polish buckets so they resembled silver and scrape the guard room floor. Changing from one type of parade order to another could result in scuffing the blancoed webbing and this resulted in extra days of 鈥榡ankers鈥�. At the end of the training at the 58th we were given the choice of which service regiment we wished to join and I chose the 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards
Heveningham Camp where the 4th/7th Royal Dragoon Guards was stationed was near Halesworth in Suffolk. The rather ancient huts were in a wood with service roads and hard standings next to the huts for the tanks. There were two steps down into the hut which had stone flag floors and a 鈥楾urtle鈥� cast iron stove in the centre. Each side of the hut were wooden bunks with straw palliasses the shape of a body and pillows which were also stuffed with straw; the thicker bits tended to stick into your ear. The stove had to be put out at night so it was allowed to die down making the hut cold in the winter. If it was still active then it was usual to have a communal pee-in to put it out.
Any part that had to be removed from the tank during repairs or servicing was brought into the hut. When the gun barrel was cleaned it was also necessary to take the breach block out and to ensure it worked when it was replaced, a round of AP (armour piercing shot) was loaded and then removed. A gunner in the next door hut, after cleaning the barrel, noticing that the gun was cocked, absentmindedly fired the gun and the AP went through the corner of the hut.
The day was always busy and then there were the fatigues; two of the most unpopular were coal shovelling when it was delivered and the cook house spud bashing. The pile of potatoes confronting the few detailed to peel them was unbelievable; the cookhouse was not for sensitive souls. On guard one night I saw a figure flitting through the trees in shirt tails with his white legs showing up running in top gear. I ordered him to halt but he replied 鈥淚鈥檝e got the shits鈥� and bolted into the latrines. Then lights came on in the huts and everywhere there were running figures rushing into the latrine. It was quite remarkable that the 鈥榖ug鈥� had an effect at about the same time on so many.
The Squadron went to Langholm near Carlisle on a course in mid winter. The weather was appalling with heavy continuous rain, in fact so bad duckboards had to be laid to get about the camp. The 鈥榖ug鈥� struck the camp again, courtesy of the cooks. Christmas Day the cooks passed a hat around in the mess hall for donations and when it reached me - I was at the last table - the only item in the hat was a live round of ammunition.
On the way south again in a 3 tonner we stopped off at the end of the day at Doncaster racecourse where there was a camp but it was flooded. We spent the night sleeping in the lorry.
A more enjoyable interlude was a wireless course at Barnard Castle. The days were spent in a 15-cwt truck operating the No19 wireless set which the tanks were fitted with. We toured Teesdale with visits to the beauty spots including 鈥楬igh Force鈥� waterfall which at the time we saw it was a trickle. A Corporal who was older than I was joined me in the delightful walks in the area.
Detailed for picket guard, which was a mobile guard, during the night with an 鈥極ld Sweat鈥�, he suggested we retire to the drying room, where it was nice and warm, and stretched out on the slatted racks. We went to sleep and after waking up late and going to the guardroom, I heard him giving a plausible reason to the guard commander, why we didn鈥檛 rendezvous with the relieving guard. For the second 鈥楽tag鈥�, or session, he said he was going back to our hut to sleep so I sat on the edge of the bed in case the whole procedure was repeated.
Social life at Heveningham was restricted to a trip to Beccles in the 鈥楶assion Wagon鈥� to a dance. These were chaperoned unofficially by local matrons. On one occasion a girl in the dance hall was told to sit up and pull her skirt down. Another time the Troop Sergeant returned to the truck with vertical scratch marks down his face.
My brother was seconded to be in charge of the Squadron when the majority went off to Linney Head for gunnery practice. No one realised we were related. During a dining hall visit to enquire whether there any complaints, the men complained bitterly about the Squadron Sergeant Major, known as the 鈥楻at鈥�. My brother, I noticed, got on well with everyone. To counter the complaints about the 鈥楻at鈥� he said they shouldn鈥檛 talk about the S.S.M. in that manner and added, 鈥淲hat if he was my Uncle鈥�. Soon the rumour went around that the 鈥楻at鈥� was the uncle to the new Squadron Leader. During his stay I didn鈥檛 do a guard! After my arrival at Heveningham Camp I soon settled in with the Troop who I found to be very pleasant, helpful and civilised.

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