MAYHEM, MUTINY, COOKHOUSE RAIDS & ‘SPECIAL TREATMENT’
(Submitted by Dave PERROTT) AAS
Arborfield
I arrived at Arborfield on I was interested in your (re:
George MILLIE) comments about physical exercise. I had for several years
been used to carrying hundredweight sacks of coal and coke, so a kitbag was
not at all daunting. A bag of coke of that weight was twice the physical size
of a bag of coal, and when it was up on my shoulders I could only just reach
the ears to balance it. By the time I entered AAS I was well used to physical
labour. In regard to the constant search for food, there was the
occasional stampede for a few extra morsels of NAAFI cake, and the practice
of wiping out the cookhouse egg-trays with a slice of bread. On one occasion
I was awarded ‘jankers’ for lying after taking food
from the cookhouse. After a meal in the cookhouse you dumped your plates and washed
your mug and ‘eating irons’ in the huge sinks of steam-heated water. We did a series of special tests for trade selection, some of
which being of the type: “What does this funny ink-blot remind you of?” and
others to test for colour blindness – picking letters and numbers out of
multi-coloured patterns. “You’ve got ten minutes to answer these 100
questions”. I believe that it was the result of these that made me a Telemech, although I had chosen to be a Vehicle Mechanic.
They appealed to my vanity by saying that I was too bright to be a VM – I’m a
sucker for a kind word. McCOLL was offered the same
trade but he knew what he wanted. At that time rationing was still much in evidence in regard to
soap, sweets and clothes. I recall that we were paid at the rate of 2/- (two shillings) per
week over the table. Money-lending and fag rackets were practiced by those few who
were out to make money. Physical stature decided which Squad one was assigned to, one of
which was that under Sergeant Ginger
ROBERTS. It was so-called ‘bad drilling’ that placed TUCKER in ‘A’ Squad and Lofty Punishment Drill was frequently awarded for poor performance,
during which the squad was marched on to the ploughed ground at the top of
the parade square. It was a delight for the Drill Instructors whose favourite
order was “Mark time!” It was not uncommon for several sets of mess tins to come
clattering down from lockers, having been rigged with a length of cotton to
be tugged by the perpetrator after “lights out”. “Wakey wakey,
rise and shine, show me yours and I’ll show you mine!” and “Hands off cocks,
on socks!” were two of the favourite wake-up calls at Reveille. A Workshop Punishment period on Wednesday evenings was awarded
for bad work or behaviour. There were many illegal practices in regard to the wearing of
uniform – one was ‘slashing’ the peak of one’s S.D. cap to rake the peak at a
sharper downward angle to emulate the Guards style, and the wearing of
‘gaiter weights’ to keep the uniform trousers hanging in a manner to
eliminate creases. Personal abuse was common: “You’re a moron, laddie!”
being merely one of a host of insults, followed by: “What are you?” “I’m a
moron, Sergeant!” I recall the old boy who operated the incinerator always asking:
“Any tins today, Joe?” because they blocked the fire-grate. This prompted the
stock reply: “No” and the dustbin was then tipped into the incinerator to the
accompaniment of ‘rattle – rattle – rattle…’ Then run like hell to escape the
old man’s wrath. I also remember the mutiny against Apprentice Lance Corporal
BUST. The dreaded ‘log PT’ - Jack SAVILLE’s fault - we ended up running around the field
behind the gymnasium with the ‘log’ held at arms length above our heads. At one stage we were lying on our backs
with the ‘log’ across our chests, lifting it to arm’s length and lowering it
again. We then held it, still at arm’s length, above our chests and the PTI
shouted: “Legs raise and lower. Legs raise …” and
Jack SAVILLE muttered: “Haircut – haircut – haircut…” and we all collapsed in
a heap. Punishment? Jankers as usual! The night before we left
Arborfield we emptied STOCKER’s kitbag whilst he
was at the NAAFI, nailed it to the floor, put a very large carefully padded
stone in it and filled it up again. The fun came when he tried to pick it up
in the morning. He carried it all the way to The Pirate
[Notes: (i)
in this context a ‘Pirate’ is an unlicensed Ham (amateur radio operator);
(ii) Fred Hall was a civilian mathematics/electronics Instructor at AAS
Arborfield. George MILLIE] Fred HALL was our Electronics Instructor
– it was he who formed the Ham Radio Club. Brian STOCKER, Brian BARBER,
George MILLIE and I were among the handful of founder-members. Paddy VILLIERS, ‘A’ Company,
was involved in incident that culminated in him smashing a pint-pot over STOCKER’s head whilst he sat having his breakfast. He had
several stitches in his head. I believe the incident was about STOCKER trying
to get his pint pot under the tea urn tap before VILLIERS, the next in line. There was
always a ‘Phantom Wanker’. At the cinema ‘Tom & Gerry’ cartoons – the huge roar of:
“good old Fred” when the sub-title came up: “Producer Fred Quimby”. My memories of the masochistic
Matron who pulled out my left eyebrow with tweezers and then so lovingly
proceeded to scrape the scabs off the revealed impetigo with the edge of the
same weapon. The story of CSM ‘Bull’ WESTON’s bull terrier bitch. His comment as he roared
around the corridor in his vest the morning after was: “Don’t let me catch
the little bastard who put my dog up the stick!” Remember ‘Project Wokingham’? I
was on History with Paddy and another; we had to speak to the parents and
visitors on Passing Out Day. My rather nerve-wracking and unsatisfactory
introduction to public speaking. I seem to remember an incident
where I lobbed something, maybe a snowball, through the workshop window. We
were crossing from the trade classrooms to the door in the side of the
building and I hurled this projectile at someone, obviously not very
accurately, and it went through the glass just above the door. Funnily enough
I don’t remember a great fuss about it, which seems unusual. Army Air Corps Centre, Middle Wallop
This may raise a smile! I
remember some of the Fleet Air Arm chaps in the dining room when the very
junior Orderly Officer approached their table with the usual: “Everything
alright chaps?” received the reply: “Just like Mother makes Sir!” and as the
smile started to spread over the young officer’s face added: “Bloody awful!”
or sometimes: “When she’s pissed!”
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