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Chapter II - Working One's Ticket
The squad instructor returned and stated that after we had got the room ready for the 10am Picquet officers inspection, we were to make our way to the drill sheds and if you didn't know where they were, you had better soon find out. The Trained Soldier took over and warned us that each man was responsible for the cleanliness of his own bedspace, two men from a roster would be responsible for the centre of the room which will also be bumped and you do not enter the room again until after 10am..
We must have looked a pathetic sight as we lined up for our first parade. The Corporal's discretion of keeping us away from the prying eyes of the main square was more to save his own embarrassment I should imagine, than ours. He briefly pried into each of our backgrounds and eventually reached me. Was he short-sighted I thought or was he going to whisper something to me, no, he had spotted a hair on my chin and in the goodness of his heart, he plucked it out. He could have left it at that because I had got the message, but he insisted on enquiring by shouting out whether I had shaved that morning. I said 'I didn't think I needed to Corporal', that didn't seem to satisfy him because he said 'Then You'd better start as soon as you get off this parade and don't forget to put a blade in the razor and then get close to it', in a voice that spelt disaster if ignored. (My first shave, a close one at that)!
He first of all had the unenvious job of teaching us to stand up straight of all things, headup, chin in, chest out, shoulders back,also how to stand at ease, but it was to be sometime before either of these actions were to his satisfaction. I could tell this because he now started to raise his voice a little, more so as we attempted to come to attention from the at ease position as our unbroken-in-boots unrhythmically crashed down on our ankles. Getting more adventurous he endeavoured to teach us the slow march from the halt position,. first forward with the left foot then back, then the right foot forward then back and after several attempts at this ensuring that we kept the foot pointing downward and outward, he courageously gave the command for us to put all this into action with the command "By The Right Slooow March." with the result that we were soon forgetting what we should have been doing at the same time with the rest of our anatomy, because as our scalped heads began slowly disappearing into our wide collars, our clenched fists which should have been touching the side seams of our trousers, were now flailing behind a crouched torso whereupon his face signified what could be a pending heart attack as he screamed at us to halt a command that didn't enhance our popularity, because to stop abruptly at this stage of training, did not receive the synchronized spontaneity he expected as some found it more convenient to stop by attempting to climb up the backs of those in front of them and when he said that we were 'Creeping along like some out of work cat burglar' some clot twittered, so instead of the usual 'Shining Parade' we were slow marching up and down the barrack room until we got it 'somewhat' right sacrificing our leisure period from 9pm to Lights out catching up on our equipment preparation to be shown on the next mornings Breakfast Parade
On my first musketry lesson our relations with the Irish Guards were to suffer a setback when our squad was handed over to a Sergeant of that regiment. We had to sit around him in a semi-circle on long wooden forms (benches), he had very close cropped ginger hair and piggy eyes peering at us from under a short peak of a rather too small forage cap, I must admit he looked a fearsome character. He was to have talked to us about some theory or other regarding the rifle, but as he prattled on, we were trying to look intelligent, until he started to ask questions. Getting no response, he started to point quickly at each of us, his voice getting louder and louder at each interjection until his face was scarlet. The point was his brogue was so strong, we just did not know what he was on about. The next moment he picked up one of the heavy forms and raising it above his head, he slung it at us with the remarks 'GIT ART OF ME SITE, YA BUNCH OF IMBASOILS'. We did - fast!
Eventually we were allowed to venture out onto the awesome square where all the other regiments of Foot Guards in different stages of training were marching up and down in double quick time, whilst at the same time were shouting out the drill pauses with their instructors trying to shout still louder. We were to add to the pandemonium and would sometimes suffer the consequences as we tried, and sometimes failed, to attune our ears to the orders from our own instructor. With all of this going on it must have been embarrassing for the nurses next door trying to nurse their inmates back to sanity especially if they could hear the not so endearing discriptive vocabulary being afforded by hardened disciplinarians.to their charges whose only response at the top of their voices was a chorus of numerical breathless replys such as One Toop Three One.
Our P.T.I. Corporal Anderson assessed our limitation no doubt, by having us form a circle in the gymnasium, then producing two pairs of boxing gloves (less laces) thrown at certain unfortunates who would then proceed to knock the living daylights out of each other for about 10 seconds. Afterwards with the threat of having the impossible done to certain parts of our anatomy we would be made to tackle the tortuous contraptions that furnished the gym, before doubling away to the showers.
By now we have had the rough edges knocked off, but it would be sometime yet before we would be able to prevent our puttees ending up around our ankles. Have been shown how to lay equipment out for kit inspection and the complicated method of showing a clean pair of socks and shirt without flinging them across the room which was no easy task the procedure being that as soon as the inspecting officer entered the room, all were brought to attention,then on being approached by him, you identified yourself in the usual manner by shouting out your Number Rank and Name then shooting out both arms holding the shirt, 'Pause', turn it, 'Pause', then sling the shirt over your right arm and immediately fling out your left arm sideways which should be still cradling your socks, 'Pause' return your hand to your chest bring your elbows down then await the inspection of the of the rest of your equipment spread out uniformly on a clean white towel on your bed.
One of the periods of indoctrination by the higher echelon of the depot, was by the Quarter Master on the manipulation of our 14/- (70p) stipend, which after the withdrawal of a sum to cover potential barrack room damages there would be a specified amount put into what was termed 'Credits', an expression which was to bring a smile to many a barrack room lawyers face when asked to explain its manipulation. We had practised the procedural drill of 'Pay Parade' to obtain what was left over, but it could still be an awesome experience for the individual recruit when approaching the paying out officer, who surrounded by the eyes of authority and discipline, would pounce on the unfortunate whom they deemed of giving a slovenly salute, idle approach or departure whilst obtaining the princely sum of 8/- (40p).
Have by now been shown the method of putting trousers, jacket and greatcoat down to crease with the aid of a mouthful of water, a sliver of soap for the inside of the creases and the use of the button stick for stablising the bottom back end of the great coat crease then hope because of the unstability of the three biscuits (mattresses) to remain in place and the person sleeping on the top of them, pray that the creases do not appear where they are not needed.
Saluting being one of the essential parts of our daily activities, we practically, on every parade, were taught the various ways to cope with this problem depending on the situation. How to salute carrying a rifle, carrying a cane which always had to be carried when walking out in uniform, not carrying either, or when improperly dressed. My mate who I joined up with, has now been relegated to a more junior squad after hurting his arm during physical training. It was suggested by his fellow compassionates, that this was caused by his exuberant enthusiasm to salute anybody in sight whether entitled to one or not.
On the walls at the head of each bed are the names of the many battle honours the regiment has won during its immemorial past. It is imperative that we learn of their history, because during Shining Parade or during periods of square bashing on being brought to the halt to enable us to refill our lungs, we would be questioned on these subjects as well as being asked the ranks and names of senior officers and Warrant officers of the depot. We also had to learn the significance of the many bugle calls, so during certain drill parades one of the drummers responsible for the infernal interruptions throughout each day, would be detailed to render his skill. The R.S.M. would select squads at random to shout out the interpretation of the call, but would not include Reveille or Cookhouse among his repertoire as it would be accepted that recruits were by now familiar with them. Those calls not so familiar were soon identified by words attached to the tunes which had been handed down by previous uncouth recruits, thus making the calls more readily recognisable.
Shortly after the squad photograph, we had the misfortune of having a misfit by the name of Johnny Walker join our ranks from a more senior squad, relegated because he wasn't reaching the required standard, and we to our dismay were soon to find out why. On his first parade with our squad, the Corporal was carrying out his inspection in the usual way when there was an unduly delayed pause.
'What the bloody hell have we got here, you're like a sack of S-t. Don't look at me, look above my head when I am talking to you and keep your bloody head still'.
This would have been Johnny putting his head back to avoid the spittle because the Corporal's nose was about an inch from his.
'You're in the book , got it! Slovenly dressed and if it weren't for missing this parade I would put you where the birds can't S--t on you, you scruffy individual. What are you? I didn't hear .....WHAT ARE YOU? A scruffy individual Corporal...louder, etc.etc'.
We had learnt the rudiments of rapid numbering from the right for the purpose of forming two ranks from four and vice versa ( A drill movement that was dropped later with the introduction of forming up in three ranks) but Johnny was rather upsetting the systematic rhythm by continually forgetting whether he was an odd or even number (we could have told him). When we set off for the usual half hour chasing where the pace is such that the legs have difficulty in keeping up with the swinging of the arms and both have difficulty in keeping up with the squad instructors LefditeLefditeLef you can imagine the chaos with Johnny in the centre rank after a few sharp about turns. To get the squad back to some sort of normality, Johnny was put on his own wherebye he marched by the side of the squad but with left turns right turns and about turns in quick succession it would leave Johnny leaping about like a demented ballerina with the rest of the squad gasping for air and looking like well used dish cloths
Johnny was conversant with all the procedures of attending memoranda to receive more punishment as he was already attending punishment parades every Wednesday afternoon whilst we went on recreational training,also Saturday afternoons and Sundays where on attendance he would receive 'no credit' because of his unacceptable turnout which meant that although he would have to complete his punishment drill, it didn't count.
At one time we did clean up his webbing and rifle for him before he went on one of his punishment parades, and also helped him to get dressed, but it was obvious that he was going to have a job to carry his pack with its 56lbs of contents because he had no figure as such to carry it.
We discreetly stood back and watched (we were not allowed to watch out of windows at any parade) and secretly observed. By the time he had got to the inspection area, after descending the stairs from the top storey, his pack was now in the middle of his back. On inspection we could see the Officer pointing with his stick, the Sergeant lifting up his pack whilst the Corporal was pulling down the front on his belt. That was enough, we knew that it had been a wasted effort. To crown it all, after they had completed their hour's drill the Sergeant gave the order to remove packs and empty contents. We couldn't believe it, apart from some legitimate items, he had without our knowledge tried to lighten his load with newspaper! We gave up after that.
During the course of the day we were to have another kit inspection and like all parades you don't have much time in between, so it's a bit of a scramble to display all of your equipment on the bed and make it presentable. I just had time to have a quick glance at Johnny's effort as he was the next bed to mine and it was unbelievable, just laid out in a take it or leave it fashion. The next moment we were brought to attention as the Corporal entered the room, I was naturally looking straight ahead with my socks over my left arm, shirt held in both hands ready to perform, Johnny had finished his introductory formalities, when the next moment a pair of socks came flying past my nose the result of Johnny attempting to display them for inspection. Then came a pronounced silence, I was imagining the Corporal's face which set me off with muffled giggles, and more so, when he gave a swipe with his swagger stick knocking Johnny's mess tin across the room. He then said casually to him'Open the window', then proceeded to pick up his buff and webbing equipment with his stick and flung them out, I was crying and shaking with muffled laughter and was scared stiff that he would come to me before I could control myself because the tears were rolling down my cheeks. Eventually it was my turn and I blurted out the formalities, he then snapped:
'What's the matter with you? Do you think yours is any better?'
I stated 'No Corporal' whereby after inspecting he passed on with a hint of a smile. No sooner was this over and quickly put away, we had changed into service dress and were out again pounding the barrack square.
Come 7pm we did relent and help Johnny prepare his kit for his second inspection, for which he was sentenced for his poor showing on the first.
It was obvious that Johnny was not of acceptable quality, mentally or physically, whatever punishment was thrown at him, or verbal abuse, he maintained the expression of 'Stan Laurel', which I suppose made it more aggravating for those trying to change his attitude. His placid expression with a body to match, straight up and down, no waist and sloping shoulders with pale drawn features, suggested to the squad that his lack of physical qualities was mainly due to too much blanket shaking?
The Saturday morning parades and march past involved all five Guards Regiments' recruits, N.C.O's and Officers which could have been over 1,000 strong. The Adjutant and Commanding Officer Major Cazenove both on horseback with the drums and fifes in attendance, it was quite an impressive sight. On this particular Saturday we were all formed up, the drums rolled which was the signal for the officers to fall in, and all went deadly quiet to await the next word of command from R.S.M. Dorman of the Scots Guards. Then from the corner of my eye and no doubt a thousand others, the stillness of the occasion was disturbed by a movement from the exit of York block. It was Johnny and he nonchalantly strolled onto the square to join our squad and under his arm he was carrying his puttees like a couple of toilet rolls. (The next moment reminded me of the picture of the Guardsman dropping his rifle). The momentary calm before the storm suddenly erupted as the R.S.M. started to bellow out.
'WHO OWNS HIM. GET HOLD OF THAT MAN. DOUBLE' etc., etc.
Two Trained Soldiers and a Corporal ran to meet him and they wishing to impress with the authoritative responsibility suddenly thrust upon them, were also verbally and physically ensuring that his feet didn't touch the ground until he got to the guardroom. We were not to see him again until a few days later when he returned in civilian clothes to say cheerio. We watched as he started his walk to the gate, then turning, knowing no doubt that we would be watching, he put up two fingers. I do not think his actions were a deliberate ploy to 'Work his ticket', but if it was, he certainly earned it.
A BILL BROWN EXPERIENCE
by Douglas Rothery

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