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Part
2 - Life After Being An AAS Wipe REME Depot The first steps from being an Apprentice Tradesman at AAS to
being a regular soldier within REME were but few, The REME Depot, Poperinghe
Barracks, was only just up the road at Arborfield. We quickly made the short
transition from one camp to the other, postings were rapidly organised and
those amongst us that were for the various overseas stations were duly sent
on embarkation leave. I, along with a dozen or so other bodies from the large
mob of draftees, drew a posting to BAOR in Just prior to going off to our various postings, we all had to
have our jabs and inoculations carried out. This was done in usual Army
style, which is to say en masse and as close to our departure date as
possible, so as to ensure we all had sore arms to help us with the mountains
of kit we had to carry. As this was back in the days before the rampages of
Aids and the various types of Hepatitis so prevalent today, the same needle
was used in the Hypodermic syringe for scores of blokes, when it became too
bent or blunt, they replaced it. Just in front of me in the queue was a big
strapping lad built like a brick outhouse, he fell over in a dead faint as
they withdrew the needle from his arm. He was dragged to one side and the
line kept going, all of us had a sort of light fever and a very large painful
lump in the lymph nodes of the affected arm later that day. On the eve of our departure one of our number was selected at
random to become an unpaid local acting Lance Corporal for the duration of
the trip to our destination – 5th Armoured Workshops, Hamm (BAOR).
This poor patsy was given the travel documents and warrants for the draft and
was responsible for our timely arrival at our destination. On The Move The trip through After a breakfast ashore in British Army Of The Rhine (BAOR) We arrived at That evening we managed to find some blokes to trade us some
Deutschmarks for BAFSVs so that we could check out the local town. Our first
attempt to cross a German road nearly ended in disaster because of the fact
they drive on the right in A quick slither to the nearest Gasthaus soon had us all back
in a good mood, although we found the beer glasses tiny after the pint
pots we were used to in Blighty. Löwenbräu was the ale they had on sale in
the boozer and we all felt it was a halfway reasonable drop, so we got fairly
well oiled to make up for the lack of beer on the way over. The highlight of
our first day in Dodesheide Days
Arriving by truck at my final
destination after being posted to On falling in outside the Office block
again, we were informed that all but one of our number were going to the B
vehicle workshop, one man was to be seconded to the A vehicle workshop. I was
the only ‘shorthouse’ amongst the group, so that was enough to single me out
as the ‘A’ Vehicle bod! I reported to the Staff Sergeant in charge of the
Workshop and after a short chat was seconded to a full Corporal who ambled in
wearing the greasiest overalls I had ever seen. He was a fat, jovial National
Serviceman who insisted that I call him ‘Big Ben’. Ben, as it turned out, was
the Armoured Vehicle inspectorate for the Workshop. Well, the military half
of it anyway. The other half of the team was Werner Tiemeyer, a German
civilian employed by the British Army as a mechanic. Werner, like the dozen
or so of his compatriots employed in the workshop, was a former Wehrmacht
Panzermann and his expertise was legendary. Apparently I was to learn the
ropes and take over the task when Ben was demobbed some four months hence. Ben was not a hard taskmaster, Werner
was a really nice bloke and I settled in to what was a really top time, it
was impressed upon me by both of them that I had to be ruthless when dealing
with any laxity observed from crew or LAD (Light Aid Detachment) when vehicles
were assessed for repairs on entry to the Workshop. Likewise before release
back to the Regiment upon completion of allocated repairs by crew, LAD or
Workshop. We covered the 17th/21st Lancers, the 5th
RHA (Royal Horse Artillery), 14th/20th Hussars
and the POW (Prince of Wales) 3rd Dragoon Guards. The
latter were the bulk of our work and were stationed in the same camp complex
as we were, although a kilometre away from us. The accommodation was the best that I
had been in up to that point, being ‘spiders’ with four and six-men rooms off
of a central corridor, the blokes I shared in with were a top bunch. My first
step towards the dark side of my nature happened about three months into my
time there. I had not so much as had a cross word with anyone thus far, then
a new bloke was posted in and came with a hard man’s reputation. The Clerk
warned us all to be wary of tangling with him. He was a right pain in the
‘harris’ this bloke, noisy and very aggressive, especially when drunk. One
exceptionally noisy night I could stand it no longer and went along to ask
him to pipe down, as is often the case, the one bad apple had soured the rest
in his billet and they all encouraged him to sort me out. Two blows
later and he was being woken up. The rest of his billet were working up to
have a go at me when my room mates turned up and that quietened them down. A camp that size has no secrets and it
was common knowledge that the hard man had been KO'd by the little bloke from
AFV Inspectorate. This had the unfortunate result of tainting me wherever I
went from then on, as a man of violence. The fact of the matter was that I
only ever used my fists on a fellow squaddy once more in my time there - that
was when the Workshop was getting ready for the transition from Armoured to
Infantry. The Carabiniers of the 3rd Dragoon Guards were
going and the advance party of an Infantry mob had arrived in the
unoccupied section of the Kaserne (Barracks). One of their lads was a
bit of a nutter and laid out two of our blokes on the way up from the bus
stop one night, he then turned his attention to me. His mates carried him
into camp, where his condition raised some initial concern. I was dragged
before the ASM and the CSM for that and informed that I would give the REME a
bad name. I refuted this and responded that to the contrary, I would
encourage people not to pick on REME blokes in the expectation of getting a
pushover. The CSM was amused; the ASM appeared not to be. The die was cast
however and my bad name for being too quick with my fists pursued me to the
end of my career. Once Big Ben was demobbed, I took
over the reins of the Inspectorate; with Werner alongside it was no real
burden at all. However, I soon fell foul of the Officers and Gentlemen of the
3rd Dragoon Guards once ensconced as the Inspector. Their tanks
were always low on oil when admitted to Workshops and the oil filters were
past their used by dates as well, all this went in my reports and CREME BAOR
apparently sent the regiment a strongly worded reprimand. A much be-medalled
Major and a Captain came trotting into the workshop and demanded to see me;
as it happened the Staff Sergeant was over at HQ Office so I was on my own
and of course still a mere Craftsman. They were all over me like a rash and
after about three minutes of non-stop bullying from them I decided it
was my turn. I informed them that everything I had done was in exact
pursuance of my duties, to the letter. I explained to them that the need for
all AFVs (Armoured Fighting Vehicles) to be ready to take battle
stations as directed, 24 hours a day, was at the core of the orders under
which I operated. I said that with all due deference to their rank, my
function was to operate without fear or favour to effect the best practices
for BAOR's requirements. Staffy had meanwhile returned and had apparently
been eavesdropping; he swept into the Workshop Office and said that nothing
further need be added to what I had said. He then asked them if they had been
courteous enough to ask permission of the CO before trying to take one of his
men to task, knowing full well they had not because he had just returned from
a meeting with him. His final words were to the effect that if CREME were
informed of what had transpired they would be right out on a limb. Not another
word was spoken but I thought to myself that if a capricious fate ever cast
me into the orbit of those two, I was a gone goose! 6th Armoured was a good
posting, one that I thoroughly enjoyed, we were a small but tight knit group
and even my original victim quietened down and became one of the lads. One of
the highlights of my time there was the last Christmas I had at the workshop.
I had drawn duty RP over the weekend of the canteen piss-up for the lads,
that was an onerous duty that we all took turns at. Captain Jacks, our
pompous and rather unpopular adjutant, was really miffed that nobody would
accept a beer from him, he came whingeing to me about it in the foyer where I
was on duty. He said, in a moment of whisky fed ingenuity, "You'll bloody
well have a drink with me young Peck, I'll go and get you one"! Off he
trots and comes lurching back in a couple of minutes with a pint of the worst
beer in history – Watneys Red Barrel. "There you go young Peck,
cheers"! Then he paused and in a slightly more sober moment said
"Hang on, you're on duty, I'd better hide it behind the curtain."
Before I could stop him, he had swept the curtain back to reveal the half
dozen or so pints of ‘Amstel’ in various stages of demolition that the lads
had been shouting me all evening! He muttered: "It's bloody true, you
are an animal", then wandered back inside shaking his head. Some ten minutes later one of our cooks
wandered out of the canteen and went out into the snowstorm that was doing it's
thing outside. He was clad in typical lightweight cooks gear, no topcoat at
all. After a few minutes I thought there was something a bit ‘sus’ as I had
not seen him pass the windows that led towards the billets. I went outside
and peered through the snow, spotting something black in a drift I checked it
out - it was Cookie’s boots - he had flaked out in the snowdrift and in grave
danger of freezing to death. I shot him smartly back inside and got his
mates to warm him up and keep an eye on him. On another occasion some of us were out
on the town when we spotted one of our lads out with his German girlfriend;
wee Jock told us that as he was leaving the camp at around 1800 hrs some
bloke had lurched out of the woods along the Tankstrasse and had shouted at
him in some weird language and then tried to grab on to him. He said:
"Ah stuck the heed on him and legged it doon tae the Dodesheide bus
stop!” Shortly after Exercise ‘Spearpoint’ Exercise ‘Spearpoint’ was a very complex series of manoeuvres and
exercises carried out in conjunction with all the other NATO Land Forces with
the exception of the French, who were being very coy about their continued
participation. Even the brand new Bundeswehr was permitted to take its place
in the line of battle. We were moved from location to location at short
intervals, a lot of the time up on the Lüneburg Heath. At one point, we of 6th
Armoured Workshop were camped near a permanent ablutions block, which made
life just a tad easier for us, this was a primitive concrete structure with
cold water hand basins, a couple of cold water shower cubicles and about a
dozen crap traps. These were unusual in that they were built over a wide
trough along which water flowed permanently, the flow direction being away
from the entry and towards the end wall of the block. As this was well before
the concepts of conservation and pollution, it was probably a diverted
stream. One day, as I was struggling to scrape my face with a blunt razor and
cold water, my masochism was interrupted by the appearance in the doorway of
a 14th/20th Hussars trooper who was clutching a bundle
of screwed-up newspapers. He quickly slipped into trap No1 and, whipping out
his lighter, set fire to the bundle of papers, this he dropped into the
toilet, then with a quick thumbs up to me, he legged it. Five of the
traps were in use and as the first yells of outrage began to ululate from
them, I grabbed my gear and also legged it. I figured that anyone coming out
with a medium rare bum was not going to appreciate me having tears running
down my legs at their expense. My nineteenth birthday at 6th
Armoured was one to remember. We had been out on the Lüneburg Heath (Lüneburger
Heide) on ‘Exercise Spearpoint’ for some four weeks and while there had
lost six of our Nashos (National Servicemen) to demob. I was one of
six bodies put on to a ‘crash’ driving course to enable the Unit to front
enough drivers to get all the vehicles back to camp. I should point out that
the normal practice of qualifying as a driver at AAS had been suspended
because of the During my time at Osnabrück I met and
fell very hard for a young German lass named Ilse Schutz, her aunt was
married to a former squaddy who worked as a civilian ‘B’ Vehicle Mechanic in
the other workshop. When she had a choice to make between continuing with me,
or a better career prospect, I dipped out. As the Foreign Legion was not an
option I answered the call for volunteers to upgrade to Air Techs with the
Army Air Corps - I figured that two could play at bettering their prospects.
She later had a change of heart but I didn't; I was never one to allow anyone
more than one good hard lick! A few incidents stick in my mind from my days with 6th
Armoured. Such as the first time we took the recovery section’s Centurion out
to do some driver training; the locale was a former German Army training area
consisting of heath-land, a few scrubby trees and a veritable maze of dirt
tracks. There were four of us stood on the decking as we barrelled down one
such track; there came a slight bend, which we swept around in cavalier
fashion, only to see a stream dead ahead that the track forded. The track
dipped down a short steep drop into the water, about three to four feet as a
change of elevation I would estimate. With brakes hard on we shot right over
this and landed with a humungous splash right in the water, which turned out
to be about three feet deep. As we landed, the bottom plates effected the
biggest belly-flop in history and several thousand litres of water shot
skyward, I and two of the other deckhands passed through this as we were
tossed off of the tank to land in the stream! Fortunately nobody sustained
any injuries, other than slight buzzing in the ears from the clap of noise as
we hit the water, plates first, but the speed was somewhat reduced for the
rest of our sojourn that day! We figured that the cushioning effect of the
water had saved the suspension from damage too, as everything functioned
perfectly in the Centurion. While at Osnabrück, one
Exercise we took part in saw us end up very close to Bergen-Belsen (site of the infamous Belsen Concentration
Camp), so a party of us decided, after a few ales in the
"Roundhouse" canteen at Hughes Barracks, Hohne Garrison (not to
be confused with Hohne township, 20 km
south-east of Celle), to pay a visit. We walked the kilometre or so down
from the main gates and entered, past a Star of David emblazoned monument by
the entry. On the way we had enjoyed the beautiful summer weather but as we
went past the long grassy mounds amongst the pine trees, with their plaques
indicating how many bodies each contained, we felt chilled. The air was quite
still and there was not a sound of bird nor beast. We all felt it to be an
eerie experience, accentuated by the walk back past cottages and gardens
where the normal activities of a summer’s day were taking place and the
noises of nature were clearly in evidence. A very moving experience, I am
glad that I took the time and trouble to go. The fledgling Bundeswehr were in
evidence at the Kaserne and their habit of saluting NCOs was extended to such
as me with ‘G Flogs’ (Good Conduct stripes) on his lower sleeve. I
gritted my teeth every time I had to return these, as per standing orders. On one trip into Osnabrück I did something very rare for me, I
lost my temper, something that anyone who has boxed very rarely does. We were
waiting at the Returning from an evening with my then girlfriend’s family,
I was walking along the unlit Tankstrasse towards the main gates when I
noticed a large animal lurking amongst the pine trees to my right. It was
approaching The Osnabrück Garrison spread
themselves out throughout the town and each mob had their own favoured
watering holes. These were jealously guarded and woe-betide anyone from the
wrong mob who entered someone else’s boozer, almost all of the occasional
fights that erupted were created thus. The Gaf (Garrison Cinema) was
situated in the town and not in any of the camps, this, along with the Red
Shield Club, run by the Salvation Army, had a neutrality that I never saw
broken in my time there. We of 6th Armoured were, on sufferance,
permitted to drink in the pubs of the other regiments, it was always tense
though so we rarely bothered. The Garrison consisted at the time of the King’s
Own Liverpool Regiment, the East Yorks Regiment and 11th Field
Group Royal Engineers, with ourselves and the Carabiniers of 3rd
Dragoon Guards at Dodesheide. Anyone could immediately spot a squaddy in civvies,
the German attire was very different to ours, so a stranger in a
"claimed" pub was challenged immediately. I was coming out of the Gaf with my girlfriend Ilse on one
occasion and there was a large crowd of us starting to wander away from the
cinema when we heard a siren start up, next moment a slack handful of
mufti-clad squaddies came tearing around the corner. In hot pursuit was a
Polizei Volkswagen, the running group hit the crowd of squaddies exiting the
cinema area and one of them yelled out in pure scouse: "Splirrup lads,
dey won't find us in this lot". At this, they all went in different
directions and the crowd, to a man, began frenziedly walking in all
directions and milling about in a confused mass of rapidly moving bodies. The
cops had pulled up and were attempting to identify the culprits, every time
they laid hold of anyone they were immediately severely jostled and told that
this bloke had been in the cinema for the last couple of hours. After fifteen
minutes or so of this, they gave it away as a bad job. One of the Scousers (King’s
Own The I attended TTS (Technical Training
Station) The bogs were also involved in the
standout incident on my second visit - I had not long arrived and decided to
go for a shower. As I made my way along the corridor towards the
ablutions a bloke appeared in a doorway and said to me: "Get the hell
out of the corridor!" I was just about to get right up him when a bloke
appeared out of a doorway to a billet just up the hall. He was dressed up in
his best gear, very regimental. As he started in my direction a couple of
blokes suddenly shot out of another billet door and ran up behind this bloke
in stockinged feet, two quick blows to his head and they took off, as he lay
there dazed another couple of blokes came out from a door behind me and ran
up to the bloke on the floor, giving him several solid kicks with their
boot-clad feet. At this point the Squaddie who had told me to get out of the
corridor pulled me into his room and said: "You never saw a thing,
right"? With the diplomacy and tact that has always been my special
forté, I said: “Listen Plick, what was that all about, and it had better be
good!” He explained that the bloke on the receiving end had been arrested for
the molestation of a popular senior NCO's two-year-old daughter while
babysitting in the married pads. He had been released from close to
open-arrest and this would have been his first occasion to report in to the
Guardroom. I took that on board and then made my way back to my own billet;
the bloke lay there in a pool of blood and snot until the Provost came to see
why he had failed to show at the appointed time. He was quite badly hurt and
as far as the lads were concerned, it wasn't enough for the filthy devil. He
was hospitalised and never came back to TTS as far as I am aware, his
eventual Court Martial took place elsewhere. Before I could take advantage of my new
enhanced status my posting to the Army Air Corps came through and I was off
like the proverbial shot to Middle Wallop (Hampshire). I felt that a
promotion was on the cards had I stayed at 6th Armoured, because I
had good vibes from the nebbies there and there was an establishment for a
full screw (Corporal) on Inspection. |
