大象传媒

During my time at Leeds the local army command was carrying out manoeuvres and I was loaned as despatch rider to the group who were acting as referees for these manoeuvres. The headquarters of the defending army was a large barn on the outskirts of Harrogate and as part of the exercise a "German pilot", who was supposed to have bailed out of his plane and "captured" complete with a German uniform, was brought to the barn for questioning. I watched fascinated as the intelligence officer questioned in German the "pilot" who, true to his part, was refusing to answer questions and making a lot of noise. After some time the Intelligence officer broke into English saying something like "Well that's OK old chap, it seemed to go well". But our 'pilot' wasn't having it and kept on talking in German. People were getting a little fed up with this thinking that he was carrying the game too far when the door of the barn burst open and a new prisoner and escort arrived. This WAS the fake German pilot! It seemed that while the manoeuvres were under way there had been an air raid at Hull and the pilot they were questioning really had dropped in from the sky!
Once again the unit I was with was ear marked for overseas service and I found myself reluctantly moving from my Scottish friends in Leeds to an Artillery depot based in the Welsh border town of Oswestry to await a new posting. While waiting for this I was put on a fire-fighting course conducted by members of the Army Fire Fighting Corps. This also included training in the operation of light-weight, fire fighting trailer pumps. Given a good water supply these pumps could produce enough pressure to supply two lines of fire fighting hose. provided you could draw from open water such as a pond or, if drawing from the mains supply, they were of sufficient diameter to supply the required volume the pump would demand, but that was not the case at Oswestry.
The camp consisted of pre-fabricated wooden huts of the sort that were going up all over the country. The huts were set out in blocks of six units centred on common washing facilities. It was on one Saturday afternoon when most people were out of barracks that one of these units caught fire and within minutes was burning fiercely and causing what can only be described as pandemonium. When I arrived on the scene the fire picket had brought the pump to the fire but had no idea how to work it. I set it into the mains and ran out a length of hose, ready to be charged with water. Before I could complete this task the colonel who had now taken charge ordered me to run out more hoses and could not be convinced that the size of the main would not produce enough water for more than one. By the time he realised this the fire was out of control and threatening to engulf the next building. It was at this point that the Oswestry town fire brigade arrived, three men sitting on an elderly fire engine. Having backed their engine to a small pond from which to draw water the crew started to run a hose to the building but were being obstructed by men running about without direction. At this point the fire officer asked the Colonel to clear his men and himself away from the area but when the request was refused the fire officer shrugged his shoulders and wished the Colonel good luck as he started to roll up his hose. Good sense prevailed, the Colonel backed down and the professionals took over. They simply put their helmets on back to front and with heads down dragged their hose right up to the building. In a short time the fire was stopped in its tracks and was put out before it could do further damage.
The unit that I was finally posted to from Oswestry was the now famous Chemical and Biological Defence Experimental Establishment at Porton Down on Salisbury plain. Although Porton at that time operated under the auspices of the Ministry of Supply it had three military units attached to it and in addition numerous members of all the branches of the armed forces who worked within the research establishment itself.
The main military unit was a Royal Artillery battery of field guns consisting of some of the army's crack gunners and known as the depot battery. The battery's main function was firing the experimental shells that the research establishment produced and was unique in that it still had a troop of horses. These were used to cross the firing ranges that surrounded the camp and in particular for putting up the red danger flags that were flown when the range was in use. The commander of the battery, a regular soldier named Major Walker and with the nickname 'Hooky', seemed to spend more time with his own private horses than he did with anything else. Most of the members of the battery, like their commander, were also regular soldiers who had seen long service at Porton, with the married ones living in the married quarters that formed part of the camp. My unit was also under the command of a regular soldier, the camp quartermaster Major Bennett who had the nickname 'Bubbly' and who had been at Porton as long as most folk could remember.
The third and most popular military unit at Porton was a group of ATS girls commanded by the "Queen Bee". They lived in what was once the camp commandant's house which stood in splendid isolation in its own grounds, there was also the added protection of the married quarters between us and these innocent souls.
Our medical needs were catered for at the camp hospital and medical centre, a six bed hospital manned by members of the Royal Army Medical Corps under the command of the Medical Officer, yet another regular soldier, a Major. He was of Maltese origin with an olive skin and was affectionately known as "Black Jack". The military side of the camp was under the command of the camp commandant, a Colonel who, when out riding and recognising one of his soldiers would look down from his saddle and say "By George you're looking well, we must be looking after you, what"!
The three majors who also lived in the married quarters were as different as chalk is to cheese. "Hooky Walker" was as smart as a new pin and liked things to be done by the book. "Black Jack" was a slight, calm man who always looked at you with a quizzical smile and knew every man on the camp. "Bubbly Bennett" was a rotund and somewhat elderly soldier, a character in his own right. He had joined the army at the age of 14 as a trumpeter and worked his way through the ranks, he liked his pint of beer and followed horse racing avidly and enjoyed a bet.
Porton, which had been established for some years, was located in an isolated position some miles from the nearest road. The outside of the camp was surrounded by security fencing and the bulk of the buildings were brick including the barrack rooms and buildings occupied by the depot battery which were built around the parade ground. There was a large NAAFI (canteen), church, fire station and a number of wooden huts that housed the outsiders; in other words those who did not belong to the depot battery, meaning us, Bubbly Bennett鈥檚 men.
Inside the camp boundary, tucked well away from prying eyes, was what was known as the 'closed area'. Surrounded by a high metal fence it contained the Chemical Defence Establishment itself. Security was high and entrance to it was by a pass, one of which I held. All passes were always thouroly War Department police who also provided the security at the main gate of the camp checked all passes conscientiously. This enclosed area was almost a small town in itself. Apart from the research laboratories, into which entry was forbidden, there were numerous workshops and stores, including a foundry, and its own saw mill. Its inhabitants were mostly civilians who came to work by bus.
As camp quartermaster, Bubbly was responsible for providing most of the camp services and had a small staff of military personnel and civilians for this purpose, which now included me. This part of the organisation had to be experienced to be believed. The Quartermaster's Office was a converted cottage run by a sergeant major who had been Bubbles' civilian assistant for years and who, at the outbreak of war had been called up and given his rank. As far as he was concerned, apart from wearing a uniform, things had not really altered; he still lived outside camp and came in on the 9 o'clock bus. The remainder of the unit included a sergeant of the Army Fire Service who had been a butcher in civilian life and who, apart from running the fire station, cut up all the meat for the camp. and an elderly bombardier, a Scot and a coal miner who had served in World War One, and who was in charge of our small section, about dozen of us in all. He spent most of his time dozing on his bed except when he was out collecting bets for the local bookmaker. In those days this was a criminal offence, on a par with riding your bicycle without a light, which could get the village bobby pursuing you for miles.
There were four other civilians on the quartermaster's staff, two who ran the huge coal yard and two who ran and maintained the narrow gauge railway that linked up to the local railway station. Both the occupants of the coal yard and the dinky railway had nice warm huts in which, like our bombardier, they spent most of their day dozing before catching the 5 o'clock bus home.
The unit, apart from providing all the supplies for the camp quartermaster鈥檚 department had two other essential functions. One was providing fire fighting cover for the camp where we were the fire crew, and the other was for salvaging the vast amount of metal in the form of unused experimental bombs and shells that were stored in odd parts of the camp, as well as being spread out in a large area adjacent to the road and railway that ran across the range. In addition to these dumps the ranges were littered with the debris of experimental shells that had been fired or discarded.
Our job was to gather all this together to ensure it was safe and then arrange for its transport to a huge scrap site in nearby Bulford where discarded armoured cars and tanks were also to be found. Although this was a relatively simple job it had inherent dangers because some of these bombs and shells still contained traces of gas or still had a detonator that had not been made safe. The Health and Safety Executive had never been thought of and we were dealing with scientists to whom the experiments came first.
To be in a unit with Major Bennet held all kinds of surprises. Porton at that time was mainly concerned in experiments with war gases and producing antidotes against them so that wandering around the ranges could be dangerous unless you knew what you were doing. There was an element about the place that was somewhat unreal. My section, for example, did not do any parades as such excepting an occasional guard duty with the depot battery. From the time I joined Porton to when I left the army the only time I wore my best uniform was when I went out of camp on my days off or on leave. I wore an old working battle dress or overalls and part of our working clothes, because of the risk of contamination, were Wellington boots with thick socks folded over the top, but actually getting dressed to go on parade was almost unheard of. We must have been the only soldiers in the British army that never paraded for pay.
Somebody at some time had conveniently deposited outside the NAAFI, an old railway carriage from the London Underground Metropolitan Line. This carriage, with the seats removed, made an ideal home for eight, the driver's cab making a marvellous glory hole. It did not take our small squad long to take over the carriage and make it into our home. Entering into the spirit of the game we made and planted flower boxes outside the door and painted the edges of the steps in white. The Colonel, on one of his weekly inspections, declared our home superb and from that day on excused us from his inspection. From which you will perceive that this is undoubted proof of the old army saying, "that bulls**t baffles brains".
Entered by Petersfield Library

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