Government training, Hammersmith.
The whole story is based on memories. It starts with the loosing of a bicycle then instead of reporting it to the police went to the nearest recruiting office, the Royal Navy didn’t want me but the army was more than obliging. As I have said the Army life started with the loss of a bicycle then to the memories with the 70th Buffs Regiment and the Welch Regiment, ending with being demobbed in Italy in 1946.
He got his place in a Government scheme and would travel to Hammersmith. There was no reason to change his digs. Travelling both ways by public transport gave him the bright idea of buying a bike. It would save bus fares! His brand new bicycle lasted one week. Some nut stole it.
It was a useless quest to try and recover it. Angry at the world, the recruiting centre was within easy reach. It was then that he took the decision to visit the recruiting office, rather than the police. There seemed to be no reason why it would not be successful. He would change into his best bib and tucker and make the big move
Recruiting office. The Royal Navy recruiting office was the first to visit. Age and wearing of glasses put an end to that. An Army Recruiting Office was in the same building in the room set aside for army recruiting sat the recruiting Sergeant. He looked up and with the crispy words of all N.C.O’s asked the lad what he wanted.
At that time the grandeur of the sergeant’s uniform and his voice prompted him to say, "Please Sir I want to join the army," and gave him his age, the Sergeant was in the right mood for business. When the lad told him is age he looked a little put out and studied the information. Looking down, said, "Son you is not old enough." Perhaps he thought the shortage of men outweighed the rejection of the lad. Anyway business was business! He hadn't got his quota for that day and it looked as if he was giving it a lot of though.
From behind his desk and looking eyeball to eyeball waved his hand in the direction of the exit door and said, "Go outside and think it over." Must have been one of lad’s bright days for he had a cunning plan, he would advance his age! The trip to the outside of the building took minutes, his return time to the desk even less. Standing as straight as he could to give the right impressions and gave the sergeant the information he wanted. ’Sir I am seventeen and a half’. He had thought hard about his new age and would make sure that he was old enough.
The sergeant looked up with that sorry look of a headmaster about to give him six of the best. He then paused, looked up and said, “Son you is now old enough." Paused a little and said, “While you is in the army your birthday, is November 1922! With pen in hand, details and his new birthday were entered into the army record book. More signatures and he were ready to join the group of new recruits to be sworn in. the enrolment was finished of by the sergeant again saying, “Well son you are just old enough." The world now the lad’s oyster he had made it; facts of the future smothered soaked in the cream of his youth. He now had a place in the pack of recruits and was at least equal to them around him. With the formality of the King’s Shilling and swearing in, the sergeant’s roll was over, the look anywhere medical teams' inspection was only a formality. The all important travel warrant to travel to Shorncliff Barracks was issued.
Medical.
His medical should have warned him about the new status as a private in the British Army. Its medical people had the appearance of anthropoid robots in white coats moving about in a place that resembled an assemble line where people were prepared for the deprival of any dignity they had left. Already stripped to the waste they're main requirements now was to drop the trousers to reveal all.
This was a period of humiliation for him as he stood there not knowing where to put his hands as they carried out their many strange medical inspections. Those armed with what looked like a wooden spoon with longish handles and a stethoscope drooping from different parts of their attire were the most grotesque. They looked tired and indifferent to it all. When they said cough was the one solitary thing that connected them to the human race; the medics’ eyes were sagged and were tired of looking at too many balls and bums. All over he looked to the floor as he pulled up his trousers, and then hurried away from the smelly place.
Anyway they had passed him as fit; though at the time the standing requirement for a pass was to stand there and be able to move when required to.