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My Life My War - Chapter 2a

by actiondesksheffield

Contributed by听
actiondesksheffield
People in story:听
Bernard Hallas
Location of story:听
Deal
Background to story:听
Army
Article ID:听
A4112452
Contributed on:听
24 May 2005

MY LIFE MY WAR

By
Bernard Hallas

Chapter 2a - May 1935, The Birth of a New Life

From this small seaside town Royal Marines had departed, fully trained to man the guns of the fleet and to land on far distant shores to defend the distant outposts of what was then our Empire. Kipling describes a Royal Marine as 鈥淎ll over the world you will find him, a鈥 doing all sorts of things, like landing himself with a Gatling Gun, to talk to them heathen kings鈥. It would appear that even at this early stage; our shabby appearance had to be hidden from the curious eyes of the locals. And in the quickest possible time we were marched off the platform.

My first impression was quite bleak, leaving the station along with two other would be heroes and led by a corporal in an immaculate uniform, we were taken down the back lanes to our destination: an iron studded door half hidden by masses of ivy on a very high brick wall. The door was opened with a huge key and as we entered, I remember thinking that this was the point of no return and I also remember those immortal words that all mothers say to their daughters when they get married, 鈥淲ell, you have made your bed, now you have to lie on it.鈥

No one had ever bothered to tell me, just how hard that bed was going to be, well, for the next twelve months at least. We had now entered a large bathroom containing six communal baths, full to the brim with what appeared to be very hot water and having a strong carbolic smell. We were stripped down to our skin and all our clothes placed in individual cardboard boxes addressed ready for posting home. There was to be no danger of anything unpleasant entering this establishment. Standing there completely naked, I was amazed that there did not appear to be any semblance of shyness amongst us, we were as one and the removal of our clothes had put us all on the same level, we were now equals.

Stepping gingerly into the hot baths we were then instructed to scrub each others鈥 backs and soak our heads completely. Only when your guardian was satisfied were you allowed out of the bath and supplied with a large towel to dry yourself. Covering our nudity we then proceeded to the next department, which was the Quartermasters store.

We were now to be issued with our kit. It was quite unbelievable, starting from the ground up there was three of everything, three pairs of socks, three pairs of underpants, three vests, and three shirts then came the uniforms two plain blue serge trousers, and one pair of dress trousers with a bright red stripe down the side seam. Two plain blue serge tunics and a ceremonial tunic, two khaki tunics and khaki trousers, two khaki drill tunics with trousers to match and two pairs of khaki drill shorts plus three short sleeved khaki shirts.

I had never seen such a large selection of clothing. There were the necessary "Puttees鈥, a khaki bandage that was to be neatly rolled around the lower leg from below the knee to the ankle, this we were told, was to protect us from snake bites, a regimental coloured belt and a pair of cloth braces. Then came the 鈥淕reat coat鈥 a really smart overcoat that was, compared to those issued to the Army, an out standing garment. The last items to be issued were two pairs of overalls, for all the dirty work around the barracks. Packing all of this into a newly issued kit bag of huge dimensions we then entered the equipment store and started all over again.

A full set of green webbing, belt, shoulder straps, ammunition pouches, bayonet 鈥滷rog鈥 to hold your bayonet (I never did find out why it was so called), back pack, haversack water bottle, two rifle slings, one green and one white for ceremonial, one white ceremonial belt, one white ceremonial helmet, two blue uniform caps, one steel helmet, one gas mask and to complete the issue one entrenching tool with webbing cover, this was a small collapsible spade, which was, we were so informed, to dig your own grave when landing on foreign soil.

The last item was your鈥 Housewife鈥, a heavy twill roll with six pockets and in its appropriate pocket was a knife, fork, spoon, comb, button stick for keeping the metal polish off your uniform during the polishing process, and last, your wooden Name type block. An end pocket contained a Gillette razor and sharpening strop, and a toothbrush. Packing all this was a major task and we were all instructed to keep a sharp eye on everything, any lost item would have to be re-issued and paid for.

As a protection against anything lost or stolen, we had to pay sixpence for the wooden stamp. On one side was your name and on the other your regimental number. For the remainder of my service career I was to be known as Marine 鈥淏. Hallas. CHX1219鈥.

It was only a short walk from the stores to our allotted barrack room but in our pre trained emaciated condition we were glad to get rid of the two heavy kit bags and look at our surroundings. There were twenty beds and only eight of us; it was decision time, on whom for the next year or so was to be your next bed neighbour. I had already made the acquaintance of a pleasant lad from Scotland with an accent as wide as his smile, and it was by a mutual agreement that we decided that we should pair off.

From that moment we became firm friends for many years. His name was Anderson but to one and all he was always referred to as 鈥淛ock鈥. We stood side by side and studied our new world, which was a space approximately eight feet by four feet. The beds were just iron frames in two halves with a push and pull arrangement that enabled you to reduce the bed to half it鈥檚 size by pushing the foot end up and under the top half. At the back of the bed was your rifle rack and wooden pegs for holding your great coat and above all this was a small iron shelf on which you had to place tour equipment, it seems that there was a place for everything but there were no palliases or bed clothes. Apparently, that was no problem and we would soon discover the mystery of bed making.

We were each issued with a fairly strong large cotton cover and we trooped down to the stable, the instructions were very strict. Working in pairs, each cotton bag had to be stuffed with as much straw as possible, one of each pair, would then stand inside jumping up and down to pack in as much straw as you could, if you failed to comply with the instructions supplied by the Instructor, within a week or two, you would be very sorry indeed and you would be sleeping on a very hard metal frame.

That night there was no sleep for any of us. Balanced precariously on this huge mound we were disturbed many times by the sound of bodies hitting the hard floor and the ensuing curses in many different dialects.

The next day was fairly easy. Our first duty after breakfast was to stamp all our items of kit with our name and regimental number, after which we were introduced to our squad Instructor Corporal Blank; I have omitted his name for reasons that will be explained at a later date. He informed us that for the remainder of our time in the Depot we would be known as the 225 Squad.

In the next few days, we carried out various fatigues which included keeping the barracks spotlessly clean, until we arrived at our full strength of forty and could be called a squad. As we had no experience of marching, we were contained on the Theatre Parade, so called because it housed at one end of the square the very ancient Globe Theatre where on so many nights in the week, it was possible to see various films and at times, plays, organised by the senior squads. It was a smaller edition of the Holy of Holies, the main parade. This smaller edition was situated out of sight of the remainder of the barrack inmates and there we would be incarcerated until it was considered that we were fit to be seen.

It was hard; mistakes were made and corrected time after time. For the first two weeks there were no punishments, but it was inevitable that we were due for a sudden change in the third and fourth week. By that time we had decided that our Instructor had had no Father, but as one man we suffered in silence, our day would come. In between drills, we had been inspected in all our uniforms by successive officers, first the Company Commander, followed by the Adjutant, then the Brigade Major and finally by the Commandant himself.

At each parade, the Master Tailor would make alterations, marking with his triangle of chalk every correction that that particular Officer demanded. Each uniform was then returned for alteration after which it was once again re inspected until it was considered by each successive officer to be in a fit state to be worn. At the end of the fitting sessions we could be forgiven for walking around the barracks as if we were Beau Brummels.

On the Monday morning of the fifth week we joined the main parade, and as the junior squad, took our place at the rear of the squads, the 鈥淜ing鈥檚 Squad鈥. This squad because of it鈥檚 seniority was of course the leading squad and was inspected first. The remainder were seen one by one by the Parade Sergeant Major, and having satisfied himself by dealing out the appropriate punishments for all sorts of minor crimes, he took his appointed place for the dismissal of the squads. One by one the Instructors marched their squads off the parade to their different destinations.

Now was the moment. I had already stated that the squad as a whole had decided that we could no longer put up with the excessive punishments meted out for very minor offences by an instructor who had shown us that he had sadistic tendencies, but how to express our dissatisfaction without incriminating one particular person.

The previous evening we had called a meeting of all the squad and it was agreed that on the next day鈥檚 parade, after we had been inspected and dismissed, we would as one man ignore all orders given by our instructor. This was crunch time. Standing perfectly to attention, we awaited his orders. 鈥淢ove to the left in threes, left turn鈥. There was no response from the squad, and the order was repeated, still no response, we were like statues.

It was almost unbelievable, everyone in the vicinity of the parade was now in a state of tense excitement, even the leaves on the trees had stopped trembling. It had never happened before in the two hundred and seventy one years of the Corps鈥 history, the junior squad on parade defying the lawful commands of the instructor.

It was now the turn of the First Drill, 鈥225 Squad, and move to the left in threes, left turn.鈥 It was the smartest left turn executed that morning, there was an audible sigh of relief from around the parade. 鈥淐arry on Corporal,鈥 bellowed the First Drill. It was a stalemate, once more the voice of Corporal blank rang out 鈥225 Squad, by the left quick march,鈥 and once more there was no sign of movement from the squad.

It was now obvious that Sammy Sparks, the Parade Sgt Major would have to take a hand, 鈥淪quad, by the left, quick march.鈥 Forty left feet hit the ground as one, as we stepped off in unison and the tension seemed to ease, it was short lived. As we came to the edge of the parade, our Corporal gave out the order, 鈥淐hange direction left, left wheel,鈥 he might just as well have said nothing. There was no way we were going to change direction on his say so, we kept marching straight ahead, crashing through the ranks of the immaculate King鈥檚 Squad who, after circumnavigating the parade just happened to pass at the wrong moment.

As we came to the wall of the Infantry Training room, it was apparent that the parade Sgt Major had had more than he could stand. 鈥淔irst Drill, take over that squad, Corporal Blank, fall in outside my office,鈥 he bellowed and marched off the parade and out of sight, no doubt to take his tablets. Meanwhile the First Drill marched us off the parade and up to our barrack room. We were dismissed and the First Drill left and made his way back to report to the Sgt Major. In the parade office, the senior parade staff, in their wisdom had decided to play it low key, and as no officers had made their presence known, decided that no further action, other than a very expressive warning, would be taken.

It took some time for us to realise that our collective action had been successful, our Instructor was returned to his home base, Plymouth, and we were to be placed under the personal supervision of the most respected Instructor in the Depot, i.e. First Drill Fletcher.

As for the squad, we had been instructed to erase it from our memory and not to discuss it around the barracks. Fortunately it was a one-day wonder and died a natural death. There was no further trouble for the remainder of our training and we were treated no worse nor better than any other squad as we progressed through the daily routines.

PR-BR

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