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We were in a mess hall in Wellington Barracks in Aldershot when the officer said, 鈥淭hese are your new Army Pay Books 鈥� Army Book No 64 鈥� which become effective as of now, and which you must carry on your person at all times in the future. Turn to page 15 and you will find that it takes the form of a will, your last will and testament, which you will complete - just in case you get killed. If you are married, make it out to your wife, and if you鈥檙e lucky enough to be single, make it out to your mother. Sign it and bring it up to me and the Sergeant and we will sign it as witnesses鈥�.

I took the Platignum fountain pen, a Christmas present from my sister, out of my tunic pocket, but my eyes were so filled with tears that I could hardly make out the words on the will form. I wiped my eyes and managed to complete it, making it out in favour of my mother, Janet Cowan, and, in the space for executor, entered Rev. Douglas Alexander, my brother-in-law, and took it up to get my signature witnessed. And still the tears flowed.

Aldershot was, and still is, a large army complex 鈥� a small town with all the amenities of one, such as cinema, church, hospital, shops and, of course, living accommodation comprising scores of brick buildings, each with its own barrack square in front of it. After the wide range of billets we had had recently, it had a lot going for it. But would we have time to enjoy it ?

We soon became involved in a busy spell of taking up all the items of equipment we had been lacking these last months. More trucks, guns and ammunition. I was given a pistol 鈥� a thing I had never handled before 鈥� but no bullets for it. They would come later, I was told.

I also became the possessor of an Army-type gas mask to replace the little civilian thing I鈥檇 been carrying up till now. The army preferred to call it a 鈥榬espirator鈥�. The troops had another name for it.

It was coming on to midnight on that balmy June evening in 1940 and we were all expecting to be able, at last, to get our heads down and get some sleep. But that was to be denied us : instead, we were ordered to parade in the square outside. We were marched off and, after about half a mile, arrived at a brick building with heavy metal doors. We entered and found ourselves in a large windowless room and were ordered to put our new respirators on and break into a trot round the room. After a few minutes of this, it was 鈥淥ff with the face masks 鈥� but continue trotting鈥� and it was then that the tears started. After a bit, we were taken outside and marched back to our billet, convinced that these new respirators were at least one hundred percent effective against Tear Gas. The tears were still flowing in the mess hall when we were issued with the new Army books. After the 鈥榳ill signing鈥�, we were at last able to get to our beds, hoping that the next day would be a bit less hectic.

Reveille was sounded at six-thirty next morning but, instead of the usual queue at the washrooms, it was off to unload ammo from the arsenal and on to our gun-towing, 15-cwt Morris trucks. Then it was breakfast of porridge (made with sugar, of course, this being England) and bacon and eggs with lashings of strong sweet tea.

I was among the first to get into the washroom and had just finished shaving when the sergeant came in and called 鈥淗alt ! Out to the square at the double with your full kit on鈥�. He was greeted with groans of 鈥淎w, Sergeant鈥� and other less polite expressions. We paraded in our usual three lines in the square and an officer came down the lines to inspect us and segregated us : those who had washed and shaved were put into the front rank and the unshaven transferred to the rear rows. Then it was 鈥淎ttention, shoulder arms, present arms, etc. etc.鈥� After a bit, our Colonel, whom we hardly ever saw, appeared and addressed us :

鈥淵our Battery, No 213, is being posted to France and will set off this afternoon. You are paraded here because His Majesty the King is coming to inspect you and wish you well鈥�.

As you can imagine, this announcement did not seem a cause for celebration.

We waited there for about fifteen minutes before King George finally arrived, accompanied by an escort of high-ranking officers. We were standing to attention, eyes front, as he moved quickly down the line, but I knew when he was a few yards from me by the smell. It was my first encounter with male aftershave and men鈥檚 toiletries. I only got the briefest glimpse of him as he marched past but the strong smell of 鈥渟cent鈥� was unmistakable and his face looked as if it had been dressed with enamel paint. The reactions of the troops afterwards were not complimentary 鈥� 鈥減r鈥� and like descriptions being bandied about with disgust. Our interrupted ablutions were completed and we were left to hang about for what little was left of the morning. Then it was lunch - as I remember, soup, mince and potatoes, and custard pudding with a dollop of jam in it. And, of course, the inevitable and ever-welcome char.

At 1400 hours, the Battery formed up in the square and, for the first time since the beginning of the war, we had a full complement of equipment - three Gun Troops each with a Lieutenant with his own 8-cwt Morris truck and, behind him, four 15-cwt Morrises. Hooked up to each of these was a 2-pounder Anti-Tank Gun and, inside each truck, 2-pounder armour piercing shells, a Lee Enfield rifle and a Bren machine gun. A motorcycle despatch rider completed the complement.

Lined up behind the gun teams was Battery H.Q. section, the second-in-command Adjutant with a fully equipped Armourer and Mechanic鈥檚 truck, a 30-cwt Bedford truck loaded with all the necessary ammunition for the Battery (except bullets for pistols), Cooks and Stores trucks. I was mounted on my 500cc B.S.A. motorcycle and, as I looked around, I felt quite impressed but remembered that the other two Batteries in the Regiment had been plundered to make this possible.

An order was given, engines were started up and we were awaiting the signal to move off, when a Sergeant from the Aldershot Base Staff came running up, waving for us to wait. He was carrying a small carton 鈥� and it contained bullets for .45 Webley pistols. He gave each officer, sergeant, and despatch rider six bullets.

We were now fully equipped. Our C.O. gave the signal and 213 Anti Tank Battery (QORGY), Royal Artillery moved off to war.

John Cowan via Dundee Central Library

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