大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Vijiha Bashir, at 大象传媒 Scotland on behalf of Duncan Cree from Paisley and has been added to the site with the permission of Johnstone History Society. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

When Britain stood alone after Dunkirk, we never thought of the canteens helping morale as we took them for granted, yet to the service men and women they were a godsend 鈥� be it Churches, Chapel, Salvation Army, To H etc, it made no difference, we were always sure of a cheery welcome from the friendly smiling lady volunteers. The NAAFI canteens were ok but always seemed to be branch of the Army.

On our night off from the gun sites, we headed for the canteen in the nearest village for the welcome cup of char and homemade cake before making your choice between the pub, picture house or dancehall, finally it was back to the canteen and refreshments before the journey back to the gun sites.

Two of us on 48 hours leave up to London from buzz bomb alley at Eastbourne, were too late to book overnight beds. However the sympathetic lady in charge contacted her friend who drove us to an Underground station only partly constructed, but having beds along the two unfinished tunnels, there was a kitchen for evening and breakfast meals, sprays and toilets, what more could we ask for? It was great.

The girl driver thought we were heroic, encouraging the buzz bombs at the coast, with us insisting that she was the brave one. Driving around London when the buzz bombs were overhead, listening for the sound of the engines which were liable to cut out. Now reaching journey鈥檚 end鈥� we at least had slit trenches to dive into.

I have fond memories of the Chapel Road canteen at Upminster just outside London When billeted in empty houses while painting the Regimental signs on the Bofor Guns and the Bedford Tractors, not forgetting the large Allied White Stars. These special ladies organised dances and concerts even giving the battery back some money spent at the counter, and never turned away late arrivals when ready to close. We were lucky.

If on your night off you returned to find the gun team had packed up and left, you retracted your steps to the village cop-shop where you were given supper, locked in a cell with a bed for the night then given some breakfast in the morning. Stayed put until the truck came, it went round in the mornings collecting all the waifs and stays like us. Obviously this was not part of K.RR鈥橲 but seemed to be another recognised procedure.

During the Cold War, many of us were recalled for a fortnight to a Welsh firing camp to take part in a refresher course on the Bofor Guns and after the troops train dropped off the motley crew, we were given a meal, kitted out at the QM Store where we were also issued with American GI Helmets, and assigned to our gun teams.

After tea, a mate called Andy and I wondered along to the large marquee canteen tent and stepped back in time. Pushing back the canvas door flaps to a wartime flashback scene of boisterous soldiers with their caps stuffed under their shoulder straps and their glasses of beer handy immediately silenced when the numbers caller shouted, 鈥淪ilence lads! Eyes down for the next game! All the fours, forty four鈥�. When consecutive numbers came up, there were shouts of 鈥淐ome on shake them up pronto!鈥� And if someone was only waiting for one number there was an excited whisper of 鈥淐ome on, pull it! Damn you pull it!鈥�

Old habits die hard, and after someone gave the triumphant shout of HOUSE Andy and I exchanged nods and squeezed into an end table and felt the buzz after stuffing the caps into our shoulder straps, of being back in business with the 鈥淓yes down鈥� call having us hoping to be the next ones to call 鈥榟ouse鈥�.

Many canteens had familiar 鈥榗anteen cowboys鈥� who hovered at the counter to chat-up the young servers, while others seemed happy enough just to enjoy a wee blether with the ladies.

So looking back, I guess that the canteens were one of our secret weapons.

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