大象传媒

鈥淗urrah for the CRE鈥�

Edinburgh friend Ian Millar and I were posted to 504 Field Park Company R E of the 47th (London) Division at St Albans. Our 鈥淏ow Bells鈥漵houlder flash identified the Division with below it the horizontal blue and red strip of the Sapper, the heraldry of World War 2. I found myself a billet with a local bank official and his wife and eight year old daughter(Mr & Mrs Cockle & Christine,19 Palfrey Close), handed over my billeting allowance to Mrs Cockle and became one of the family.

About a month later one of my reconnaissance reports was well received at Divisional H.Q. and I was appointed as a junior staff officer (Field Engineer) at Thorne House St Albans, Headquarters of Lt Col S C Drury DCM RE, CRE 47th Division. He had won the DCM (the highest award for gallantry for a Warrant Officer apart from the VC) as a young Sergeant Major in France during the 1914-18 war, was a school headmaster and keen Territorial officer. A charming man, I always felt sorry for him when he went out in his Humber staff car with its red Divisional Staff flag flying. He suffered badly from car sickness

The Adjutant was Captain C.Stoker Sheriff, the senior Field Engineer was Lieutenant Tony Vinycomb, a Regular Army Officer who had just returned from a two year posting in Singapore and the Intelligence Officer was Lieutenant Jack Pym, a relaxed Old Etonian, direct descendant of Colonel Pym of Pym鈥檚 Parliament.The administrative backbone of the CRE鈥檚 HQ office was Regimental Sergeant Major Ivens RE of the Regular Army, a quietly efficient guide philosopher and friend to us all.

After a few weeks billeting allowance was reduced by the War Office. I said goodbye regretfully to the Cockles. Ian Millar (who was still with 504 Company) and I moved into an unfurnished flat immediately above the archway entrance to the Waterend Barn, St Albans, sleeping on the floor in our 鈥渟afari鈥� camp beds. As Waterend Barn was a 鈥淭he鈥� Dansant鈥� centre we led as active a social life as a busy work schedule permitted.

A Field Engineer鈥檚 job was to research and report on any military engineering requirement of the 47th Infantry Division of 15,000 men. It involved searching for large quantities of trench building materials, also in locating disused gravel pits and quarries and drawing up plans for their conversion to rifle, machine gun and grenade throwing ranges. There were other, unexpected, tasks.

When requisitioning sites I met many interesting people. Near Hatfield, in a large house decorated internally with every kind of African tribal artefact, with assegais and lion skin shields on every wall, I was entertained to afternoon tea by an old lady who was Cecil Rhodes sister.

While searching for a source of timber near Saffron Walden the Hon Mrs David Bowes Lyon and her delightful young children, ( close relatives of the late Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother) entertained me to tea.

Later in the year I knocked on the iron studded door of a drawbridged castle in Herefordshire and alone except for an aged butler, took tea with Her Grace the Duchess of Hereford, a charming old lady who, putting me at my ease, asked if I, as a Scot, was acquainted with her sister, the Duchess of Fife.

I was frequently attached for a few days to an outlying Infantry Brigade or Battalion for special duties and acquired a fine collection of military Ordnance Survey maps, a security risk in days when every signpost had been removed for security. Two years later when posted to India I left them on top of the wardrobe in our bedroom at 50 Duddingston Park Edinburgh, giving Marjory my wife strict instructions to burn them immediately if German parachutists should land!

Various odd jobs came up. Someone in 47 Div HQ 鈥淎ck and Quack鈥� (Administration & Quartermaster Branch) had had the idea of buying thousands of boxes of 鈥淏engal Lights鈥� - also called 鈥渓ifeboat fuzees鈥�.The idea passed to me for implementation was to attach two of these matches 鈥渟omehow鈥� to a bottle of petrol to set it alight when thrown at a German tank. This was the 鈥淢olotov Cocktail鈥� famous in the Spanish Civil War. In those days, with shortages of everything including rifles and ammunition a German invasion could easily have succeeded.

I was to research suitable bottles, inflammable and adhesive contents and methods of fixing and igniting fuzees. Having done so and demonstrated various patterns to satisfaction of my superiors I was to order up ten thousand bottles and contents for mass production by 504 Field Park Company. On various occasions and in great secrecy I visited a large Shell Petroleum Depot near Birmingham, Pilkingtons glass bottle factory at St Helens and Boots the Chemists main shop in Nottingham, ordering without prior warning ten thousand bottle corks over the counter! (鈥淐ertainly sir. Please collect in two hours time鈥�!)

I also penetrated the Ministry of Supply office in Birmingham for advice on where to buy hundreds of tin filler funnels and ladles for the bottle filling process.After waiting interminably I was ushered into an imposing office before a senior naval officer to be told that they only dealt in 15 inch naval guns - I had been misdirected.

Another job was to visit the Royal Gunpowder Factory at Waltham Abbey to recommend a suitable security system to prevent saboteurs infiltrating any of several canals which led into the site. Off I went to London and borrowed 鈥淩adiovisor Parent Ltd鈥� equipment operating an alarm by invisible infra red light. It was a forerunner of todays household security light.

All these firms were extraordinarily cooperative. A young 2nd Lieutenant arriving out of the blue on an Army motor cycle was taken completely on trust and given all sorts of valuable equipment and services with only at most an unknown signature as surety. Britain was at war. Everyone wanted to do their bit.

There was one occasion when it nearly didn鈥檛 work. I called on a County Surveyor and asked for some vital maps. I was ushered into the office of the great man, treated kindly, given a cup of tea and asked to state my requirements.

鈥淗ow鈥�, said the Surveyor firmly 鈥渄o I know that you are not a German parachutist in disguise?鈥� I produced my identity card 鈥淏ut it could be forged鈥� said he. It took a long time while he phoned the Headquarters 47th London Division and (how did he know it was the 47th Division.? Because I said so!) cross checking with Police and so on. I had visions of being put in front of a firing squad before the CRE could send a rescue party.

The possibility of German spies was taken seriously..One evening I was called in to the CRE鈥檚 office and told to prepare to motorcycle overnight to arrive at dawn at a whitepainted farm house overlooking an RAF aerodrome (Duxford I think it was). Aircrew were convinced the farmhouse, which was conspicuous and in line with a similar one on the other side of their airstrip, was being used as a Luftwaffe navigation aid for bombing attacks. The occupants were said to be foreigners.

On arrival I was to awaken them and serve a written order to repaint their beautifully whitewashed house and farm buildings a dark brown colour, immediately, on pain of military action. Yes, they were foreigners - a youngish American couple both astonishingly glamorous in pyjamas and dressing gowns more luxurious than any on sale in Britain.

They were understandably outraged. It was a dairy farm and they explained the white painting was to keep everything cool. However they did seem somewhat out of character, too stylish to be where they were. I did not hear of the outcome.

There were other little adventures in store! One wet Sunday morning in June 1940, the CRE鈥檚 office, now moved to Bedford, received a request to reconnoitre and report on a mysterious fall of bombs near Ely Cathedral. A line of mysterious humps had appeared in a field.

With a despatch rider in support and a shovel lashed to each motor cycle we speeded to a map reference about fortyfive m,iles away. There the local policeman took us to the location. The curious grassy mounds We attacked the curious grassy mounds energetically with our shovels. Digging in the rain was heavy going. We became convinced that we were in danger of breaking into a cavity. I decided to stop digging, make a sketch of what we had seen and get back to HQ at Bedford in the fading light.

At HQ we were received with relief. Efforts had been made to warn and recall us (there were no mobile phones in those days) after one of our Field Companies had earlier that day nearly lost a sapper in one of these carbon monoxide filled bomb cavities. The German bombs were not fused for the soft East Anglian soil and were penetrating too deeply before exploding to form 鈥渃amouflet鈥� chambers.

A more idyllic occupation was soon to emerge. CRE鈥檚 HQ moved yet again, to Kidderminster. Shortly after arrival I was seconded for special duties to the office of the CRE Central Midland Area at Royal Leamington Spa. Here I fell on my feet by billeting myself with a charming family called Maddocks, of 1 Northumberland Road, Leamington. Mr Maddocks was 鈥渟omething in the City鈥� and commuted by non-stop steam train to London daily.

They had a son of my age serving with the Warwickshire Yeomanry in Palestine and immediately adopted me as a surrogate. Their daughter-in-law became my adopted sister! Life was good at 1 Northumberland Road with wine and cigars every evening. What delightful people they were!

At Central Midland Area HQ I was briefed on my new job - the planning and marking out of part of the Birmingham Defence Line. It may later have been called 鈥淪topline Black鈥�. This, in July 1940, was part of a defensive ring with a radius of about 25 miles around Birmingham against expected German invasion.

Each morning I was to rendezvous with Lt Col Walker of the North Lancs Regiment. Starting at Leamington we marched day after day along the railway line to Rugby. Being allergic to pollens, I sneezed my head off amid the long grass and flowers on the embankments and cuttings. We stopped at every bridge, culvert or tactical strongpoint, discussed how the enemy would come and agreed the location of strong points and demolitions necessary.

Despite the urgency of our task Colonel Walker was not going to allow us to drop with exhaustion. He had an old saloon car, driven by Mrs Walker, a seasoned army wife with a little daughter of about ten. She would drive us to our starting point each morning and then, synchronising watches in true army style, meet us at an agreed map reference for midday lunch of sandwiches and other goodies from a hamper she had prepared.. .

As the Colonel and I appeared over the horizon she would stop knitting and produce the picnic. For an hour peace would reign amid the buzzing of the bees and the perfume of the flowers in little Miss Walker鈥檚 garlands. Halcyon days!

Nearing Rugby we discovered the 鈥淒un Cow鈥� at Dunchurch to be a convenient headquarters for lunch, Perhaps Mrs Walker had become tired of making sandwiches. Beyond Rugby we struck North, using the A5 road as the defence line until we reached Tamworth. There, under an archway leading to the courtyard of this ancient hostelry, a much faded sign beside a bell pull said 鈥淩ing for Ostler鈥�! Here ended our section of the Birmingham Defence Line reconnaissance.

Meanwhile the HQ CRE 47 Div, which had moved from St Alban鈥檚 to Bedford, to Kidderminster, was now at 鈥淔airmead鈥� Legh Road Knutsford, Cheshire. I resumed experiments with Molotov Cocktails.The marks were still on the garden wall in the 1960s!

At Knutsford I billeted myself upon two sweet little old ladies in a rose embowered cottage. They were kindly, but so fussy that after a week I found it expedient to return to CRE HQ at Fairmead, preferring the more relaxed atmosphere of a bare boarded bedroom floor!. Perhaps it was my motorcycle dripping oil on to their crazy paving. They had quietly got rid of me!

From Knutsford in August to Asthal House, Fosterville Crescent Abergavenny, Monmouthshire. Here we led a relatively quiet life, punctuated by a stick of German bombs dropping at Crickhowell.

Our mainly Cockney troops were worried about the bombing in London.I went there on weekend leave to see what was happening.. Arriving at Paddington Station after midnight in the middle of an air raid, broken glass was falling out of the roof intermittently along with nose caps of spent anti aircraft shells. A friendly taxidriver took me to a nearby boarding house. As my head touched the pillow I heard a noise as of several express trains dropping out of the sky.Aware of the danger of falling roof joists I dived under the bed. The building shook alarmingly.

After breakfast I strolled the streets around Paddington Station appalled by the damage. Huge coping stones and other lethal debris littered the streets. Joining a knot of people looking down into a bomb crater I was engaged in conversation by a dapper elderly gentleman. He invited me to his nearby ground floor flat. It had a Sherlock Holmes, Baker Street, style of furnishing. Pouring two glasses of Madeira he sat down on the sofa beside me and asked me to tell him about life in the army. When he put his hand on my knee alarm bells rang! This old gentleman was a danger to young officers!. I made my excuses and left!

Abergavenny was one of the war鈥檚 backwaters. To acquire some feeling of usefulness I asked the CRE鈥檚 permission to take a Lewis gun up to the top of the mountain overlooking the town With half a dozen NCO鈥檚 and sappers we would lie in wait for the German bombers who night after night were attacking Cardiff and other South Wales towns. But the bombers were flying well out of range. At least we had the consolation of our crate of beer!. Our only enemy encounter was from a ram. which earlier had run down a slope on to the Abergavenny-Blaenavon road, turned smartly into our headlights and charged our Army truck head down with fatal results - fortunately only to itself.

Shortly afterwards I volunteered to join the newly forming Parachute Regiment. I was allowed to go to Western Command HQ, Chester, for interview. There I arrived once again after midnight in the middle of an air raid. The hotels and even the cells in the police station were full. (If no hotel accommodadtion was available one had the right to apply for a police station cell for the night.)

At the entrance to Western Command HQ the guard commander let me into a wooden hut, and produced a camp bed and some blankets.I awoke some hours later to a chorus of giggles. I was in bed in the middle of the ATS typing pool, where the girls were arriving for work. Dressing amidst much leg pulling I arrived at the interview somewhat bleary eyed. I was not accepted!

October brought my first army course-two or three weeks at the Army Gas School, Winterbourne Gunner, on Salisbury Plain.It was a sinister place but interesting. On return to Abergavenny I went for a few days to Halton, Lancaster to draw up plans for the extensive use of the Bridging Training School last visited in 1937 with Edinburgh University OTC. According to another Sapper officer I met at the end of the war the report I produced for the CRE seemed to have used and appreciated as a guide book to Halton Bridging Training School for all incoming units thereafter.

鈥淗urrah for the CRE鈥�

Edinburgh friend Ian Millar and I were posted to 504 Field Park Company R E of the 47th (London) Division at St Albans. Our 鈥淏ow Bells鈥漵houlder flash identified the Division with below it the horizontal blue and red strip of the Sapper, the heraldry of World War 2. I found myself a billet with a local bank official and his wife and eight year old daughter(Mr & Mrs Cockle & Christine,19 Palfrey Close), handed over my billeting allowance to Mrs Cockle and became one of the family.

About a month later one of my reconnaissance reports was well received at Divisional H.Q. and I was appointed as a junior staff officer (Field Engineer) at Thorne House St Albans, Headquarters of Lt Col S C Drury DCM RE, CRE 47th Division. He had won the DCM (the highest award for gallantry for a Warrant Officer apart from the VC) as a young Sergeant Major in France during the 1914-18 war, was a school headmaster and keen Territorial officer. A charming man, I always felt sorry for him when he went out in his Humber staff car with its red Divisional Staff flag flying. He suffered badly from car sickness

The Adjutant was Captain Stoker Sheriff, the senior Field Engineer was Lieutenant Tony Vinycomb, a Regular Army Officer who had just returned from a two year posting in Singapore and the Intelligence Officer was Jack Pym, a relaxed Old Etonian, direct descendant of Colonel Pym of Pym鈥檚 Parliament.The administrative backbone of the CRE鈥檚 HQ office was Regimental Sergeant Major Ivens RE of the Regular Army, a quietly efficient guide philosopher and friend to us all.

After a few weeks billeting allowance was reduced by the War Office. I said goodbye regretfully to the Cockles. Ian Millar (who was still with 504 Company) and I moved into an unfurnished flat immediately above the archway entrance to the Waterend Barn, St Albans, sleeping on the floor in our 鈥渟afari鈥� camp beds. As Waterend Barn was a 鈥淭he鈥� Dansant鈥� centre we led as active a social life as a busy work schedule permitted.

A Field Engineer鈥檚 job was to research and report on any military engineering requirement of the 47th Infantry Division of 15,000 men. It involved searching for large quantities of trench building materials, also in locating disused gravel pits and quarries and drawing up plans for their conversion to rifle, machine gun and grenade throwing ranges. There were other, unexpected, tasks.

When requisitioning sites I met many interesting people. Near Hatfield, in a large house decorated internally with every kind of African tribal artefact, with assegais and lion skin shields on every wall, I was entertained to afternoon tea by an old lady who was Cecil Rhodes sister.

While searching for a source of timber near Saffron Walden the Hon Mrs David Bowes Lyon and her delightful young children, ( close relatives of the late Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother) entertained me to tea.

Later in the year I knocked on the iron studded door of a drawbridged castle in Herefordshire and alone except for an aged butler, took tea with Her Grace the Duchess of Hereford, a charming old lady who, putting me at my ease, asked if I, as a Scot, was acquainted with her sister, the Duchess of Fife.

I was frequently attached for a few days to an outlying Infantry Brigade or Battalion for special duties and acquired a fine collection of military Ordnance Survey maps, a security risk in days when every signpost had been removed for security. Two years later when posted to India I left them on top of the wardrobe in our bedroom at 50 Duddingston Park Edinburgh, giving Marjory my wife strict instructions to burn them immediately if German parachutists should land!

Various odd jobs came up. Someone in 47 Div HQ 鈥淎ck and Quack鈥� (Administration & Quartermaster Branch) had had the idea of buying thousands of boxes of 鈥淏engal Lights鈥� - also called 鈥渓ifeboat fuzees鈥�.The idea passed to me for implementation was to attach two of these matches 鈥渟omehow鈥� to a bottle of petrol to set it alight when thrown at a German tank. This was the 鈥淢olotov Cocktail鈥� famous in the Spanish Civil War. In those days, with shortages of everything including rifles and ammunition a German invasion could easily have succeeded.

I was to research suitable bottles, inflammable and adhesive contents and methods of fixing and igniting fuzees. Having done so and demonstrated various patterns to satisfaction of my superiors I was to order up ten thousand bottles and contents for mass production by 504 Field Park Company. On various occasions and in great secrecy I visited a large Shell Petroleum Depot near Birmingham, Pilkingtons glass bottle factory at St Helens and Boots the Chemists main shop in Nottingham, ordering without prior warning ten thousand bottle corks over the counter! (鈥淐ertainly sir. Please collect in two hours time鈥�!)

I also penetrated the Ministry of Supply office in Birmingham for advice on where to buy hundreds of tin filler funnels and ladles for the bottle filling process.After waiting interminably I was ushered into an imposing office before a senior naval officer to be told that they only dealt in 15 inch naval guns - I had been misdirected.

Another job was to visit the Royal Gunpowder Factory at Waltham Abbey to recommend a suitable security system to prevent saboteurs infiltrating any of several canals which led into the site. Off I went to London and borrowed 鈥淩adiovisor Parent Ltd鈥� equipment operating an alarm by invisible infra red light. It was a forerunner of todays household security light.

All these firms were extraordinarily cooperative. A young 2nd Lieutenant arriving out of the blue on an Army motor cycle was taken completely on trust and given all sorts of valuable equipment and services with only at most an unknown signature as surety. Britain was at war. Everyone wanted to do their bit.

There was one occasion when it nearly didn鈥檛 work. I called on a County Surveyor and asked for some vital maps. I was ushered into the office of the great man, treated kindly, given a cup of tea and asked to state my requirements.

鈥淗ow鈥�, said the Surveyor firmly 鈥渄o I know that you are not a German parachutist in disguise?鈥� I produced my identity card 鈥淏ut it could be forged鈥� said he. It took a long time while he phoned the Headquarters 47th London Division and (how did he know it was the 47th Division.? Because I said so!) cross checking with Police and so on. I had visions of being put in front of a firing squad before the CRE could send a rescue party.

The possibility of German spies was taken seriously..One evening I was called in to the CRE鈥檚 office and told to prepare to motorcycle overnight to arrive at dawn at a whitepainted farm house overlooking an RAF aerodrome (Duxford I think it was). Aircrew were convinced the farmhouse, which was conspicuous and in line with a similar one on the other side of their airstrip, was being used as a Luftwaffe navigation aid for bombing attacks. The occupants were said to be foreigners.

On arrival I was to awaken them and serve a written order to repaint their beautifully whitewashed house and farm buildings a dark brown colour, immediately, on pain of military action. Yes, they were foreigners - a youngish American couple both astonishingly glamorous in pyjamas and dressing gowns more luxurious than any on sale in Britain.

They were understandably outraged. It was a dairy farm and they explained the white painting was to keep everything cool. However they did seem somewhat out of character, too stylish to be where they were. I did not hear of the outcome.

There were other little adventures in store! One wet Sunday morning in June 1940, the CRE鈥檚 office, now moved to Bedford, received a request to reconnoitre and report on a mysterious fall of bombs near Ely Cathedral. A line of mysterious humps had appeared in a field.

With a despatch rider in support and a shovel lashed to each motor cycle we speeded to a map reference about fortyfive m,iles away. There the local policeman took us to the location. The curious grassy mounds We attacked the curious grassy mounds energetically with our shovels. Digging in the rain was heavy going. We became convinced that we were in danger of breaking into a cavity. I decided to stop digging, make a sketch of what we had seen and get back to HQ at Bedford in the fading light.

At HQ we were received with relief. Efforts had been made to warn and recall us (there were no mobile phones in those days) after one of our Field Companies had earlier that day nearly lost a sapper in one of these carbon monoxide filled bomb cavities. The German bombs were not fused for the soft East Anglian soil and were penetrating too deeply before exploding to form 鈥渃amouflet鈥� chambers.

A more idyllic occupation was soon to emerge. CRE鈥檚 HQ moved yet again, to Kidderminster. Shortly after arrival I was seconded for special duties to the office of the CRE Central Midland Area at Royal Leamington Spa. Here I fell on my feet by billeting myself with a charming family called Maddocks, of 1 Northumberland Road, Leamington. Mr Maddocks was 鈥渟omething in the City鈥� and commuted by non-stop steam train to London daily.

They had a son of my age serving with the Warwickshire Yeomanry in Palestine and immediately adopted me as a surrogate. Their daughter-in-law became my adopted sister! Life was good at 1 Northumberland Road with wine and cigars every evening. What delightful people they were!

At Central Midland Area HQ I was briefed on my new job - the planning and marking out of part of the Birmingham Defence Line. It may later have been called 鈥淪topline Black鈥�. This, in July 1940, was part of a defensive ring with a radius of about 25 miles around Birmingham against expected German invasion.

Each morning I was to rendezvous with Lt Col Walker of the North Lancs Regiment. Starting at Leamington we marched day after day along the railway line to Rugby. Being allergic to pollens, I sneezed my head off amid the long grass and flowers on the embankments and cuttings. We stopped at every bridge, culvert or tactical strongpoint, discussed how the enemy would come and agreed the location of strong points and demolitions necessary.

Despite the urgency of our task Colonel Walker was not going to allow us to drop with exhaustion. He had an old saloon car, driven by Mrs Walker, a seasoned army wife with a little daughter of about ten. She would drive us to our starting point each morning and then, synchronising watches in true army style, meet us at an agreed map reference for midday lunch of sandwiches and other goodies from a hamper she had prepared.. .

As the Colonel and I appeared over the horizon she would stop knitting and produce the picnic. For an hour peace would reign amid the buzzing of the bees and the perfume of the flowers in little Miss Walker鈥檚 garlands. Halcyon days!

Nearing Rugby we discovered the 鈥淒un Cow鈥� at Dunchurch to be a convenient headquarters for lunch, Perhaps Mrs Walker had become tired of making sandwiches. Beyond Rugby we struck North, using the A5 road as the defence line until we reached Tamworth. There, under an archway leading to the courtyard of this ancient hostelry, a much faded sign beside a bell pull said 鈥淩ing for Ostler鈥�! Here ended our section of the Birmingham Defence Line reconnaissance.

Meanwhile the HQ CRE 47 Div, which had moved from St Alban鈥檚 to Bedford, to Kidderminster, was now at 鈥淔airmead鈥� Legh Road Knutsford, Cheshire. I resumed experiments with Molotov Cocktails.The marks were still on the garden wall in the 1960s!

At Knutsford I billeted myself upon two sweet little old ladies in a rose embowered cottage. They were kindly, but so fussy that after a week I found it expedient to return to CRE HQ at Fairmead, preferring the more relaxed atmosphere of a bare boarded bedroom floor!. Perhaps it was my motorcycle dripping oil on to their crazy paving. They had quietly got rid of me!

From Knutsford in August to Asthal House, Fosterville Crescent Abergavenny, Monmouthshire. Here we led a relatively quiet life, punctuated by a stick of German bombs dropping at Crickhowell.

Our mainly Cockney troops were worried about the bombing in London.I went there on weekend leave to see what was happening.. Arriving at Paddington Station after midnight in the middle of an air raid, broken glass was falling out of the roof intermittently along with nose caps of spent anti aircraft shells. A friendly taxidriver took me to a nearby boarding house. As my head touched the pillow I heard a noise as of several express trains dropping out of the sky.Aware of the danger of falling roof joists I dived under the bed. The building shook alarmingly.

After breakfast I strolled the streets around Paddington Station appalled by the damage. Huge coping stones and other lethal debris littered the streets. Joining a knot of people looking down into a bomb crater I was engaged in conversation by a dapper elderly gentleman. He invited me to his nearby ground floor flat. It had a Sherlock Holmes, Baker Street, style of furnishing. Pouring two glasses of Madeira he sat down on the sofa beside me and asked me to tell him about life in the army. When he put his hand on my knee alarm bells rang! This old gentleman was a danger to young officers!. I made my excuses and left!

Abergavenny was one of the war鈥檚 backwaters. To acquire some feeling of usefulness I asked the CRE鈥檚 permission to take a Lewis gun up to the top of the mountain overlooking the town With half a dozen NCO鈥檚 and sappers we would lie in wait for the German bombers who night after night were attacking Cardiff and other South Wales towns. But the bombers were flying well out of range. At least we had the consolation of our crate of beer!. Our only enemy encounter was from a ram. which earlier had run down a slope on to the Abergavenny-Blaenavon road, turned smartly into our headlights and charged our Army truck head down with fatal results - fortunately only to itself.

Shortly afterwards I volunteered to join the newly forming Parachute Regiment. I was allowed to go to Western Command HQ, Chester, for interview. There I arrived once again after midnight in the middle of an air raid. The hotels and even the cells in the police station were full. (If no hotel accommodadtion was available one had the right to apply for a police station cell for the night.)

At the entrance to Western Command HQ the guard commander let me into a wooden hut, and produced a camp bed and some blankets.I awoke some hours later to a chorus of giggles. I was in bed in the middle of the ATS typing pool, where the girls were arriving for work. Dressing amidst much leg pulling I arrived at the interview somewhat bleary eyed. I was not accepted!

October brought my first army course-two or three weeks at the Army Gas School, Winterbourne Gunner, on Salisbury Plain.It was a sinister place but interesting.

On return to Abergavenny I went for a few days to Halton, Lancaster to draw up plans for the extensive use of the Bridging Training School last visited in 1937 with Edinburgh University OTC. According to another Sapper officer I met at the end of the war the report I produced for the CRE seemed to have used and appreciated as a guide book to Halton Bridging Training School for all incoming units thereafter.

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