A BRIEF HISTORY OF LIFE IN REME

A Craftsman’s Story 1948 to I953

Contributed by: Phil KEMPSTER

Chapter Two

Arborfield and Trade Training at last. June 1948

I was soon on my way home for a spot of leave all dressed up in my uniform, the only part of my dress I didn’t like was the head dress. Some of us had been issued with GS hats instead of berets, this was because the Corps was going to change over to the dark blue berets in the very near future. On my way from Euston to Hemel Hempstead the train stopped at Wembley and quite a lot of passengers got off. I thought, I wonder what’s going on here? It looked very busy and then I realised of course, it was the 1948 Olympic Games being held at the Wembley stadium. I soon arrived home to my Grandparents house in a small village called Apsley, just a couple of miles from Hemel. Unfortunately both my grandparents had passed away, my Gran in ‘45 and Granddad in ‘46. I had lived with them from being ten years old, I loved them dearly and I am sure they would have been proud of me being in the Forces. My Granddad served in the First World War in the Beds & Herts. Regiment, he was a grand old chap. My Aunt Wynn and Uncle George Kempster were living in the house now. My uncle served in REME from 1942 to 46, mostly in North Africa with the 8^th Army, he was a S/Sgt Armourer. He was a nice quiet guy and didn’t say much but that was not surprising being married to my Aunt Wynn. I didn’t get on very well with my Aunt and sadly this was to be my last stay there. I loved that house and had lots of happy memories of my childhood and early teens there, but that’s all part of another story I hope to write as a prelude to this story at a future date.

On 25^th of May 1948, after my spell of seven days leave, I had to make my way to report to the REME HQ in Arborfield, near Reading in Berks. I set off from Apsley to make my way by bus to Watford Junction Station to catch an Underground train to Waterloo Station, London, and then catch another train to Wokingham, Berks. Then a short truck journey to Arborfield Camp. All this with a kit bag on top of your large pack, filled with your kit and worldly possessions. I was knackered when I reached the Guardroom, not a lot of sympathy from the Duty Sergeant though. He said “Wait outside with the others.” There were quite a few of us new recruits from all over the country joining this Training Camp and what a large camp. It went on forever. We were soon taken to our rooms, these were in large barrack blocks, two or three storeys high and very modern. I think these were called Hazebrouk Barracks, a lot better than Blandford.

Hazebrouk Barracks.

We were given clip boards with a Booking In form, to be filled in and signed at various departments around the camp. On completing this, we had to make sure where all the camp facilities were, for example, the Mess Hall, Medical Room, Admin Offices, and the Parade Square. You couldn’t miss that, it was huge and, as we were to find out later, the RSM’s sacred ground. The NAAFI, of course, was always a popular place to go in the evenings for a drink or snack and games of snooker etc. The girls behind the counter were nice to look at as well.

Our rooms were connected by a long corridor with toilets and showers at one end on each floor, and steps down to the ground floor and entrances in and out of the block. Our room was quite large with asphalt floor highly polished, and each bed space was quite roomy, with a locker to keep your kit and clothing in. A home from home for most of us (In my case better than), brings tears to your eyes doesn’t it? There were about 18 to 20 of us in our room, all strangers to each other, and from all over the U.K including a lad from St. Helier, Jersey. His surname was Daw so we all called him Jackdaw, he was to become a good mate of mine during our stay here. A few others I can remember that became friends were Cfn Fred Moles from London, Joe Patrick from Corby, Kettering, Northants, Ginger Turton from Heston, Hounslow West, Taff Gummer from Ebbw Vale, Monmouthshire South Wales, Paddy Meehan from Heal-Y-Castell, Cardiff, Jock Watt from Blair Tyner, Clachan Auchenhalng, Morayshire, Scotland, to name but a few. My memory for names is going worse each year, fortunately I kept a small diary but that is getting a bit tatty after 52 years.

To get back to my story of Arborfield. That’s a place that most REME recruits will never forget, past and present. I know I never will, especially the R.S.M, I think his name was MacNally. The first time I came in contact with him I remember, I was marching smartly towards the Guardroom and coming towards me was this tall very smart looking chap dressed in a Sam Brown uniform complete with peak cap and a stick under his arm I thought Christ! An Officer. I better give him a smart salute so eyes left and up my arm went. Well his face went red and I thought he was about to explode. He shouted ’’Stand where you are Private.” I came to a halt with knees beginning to shake. He came up very close to me, stuck his face about six inches from mine and shouted “How long have you been in the army Lad?” I said “About 8 weeks Sir.” He said “Were you never taught not to salute non commissioned officers?” I said “Yes sir. I thought you was an officer sir.” He replied “I am the R.S.M. you stupid man, what’s your name?” I said “Kempster Sir.” He replied “I am watching you Kempster now get out of my sight.” I quickly marched off thinking bloody hell I am a marked man now. I better steer clear of him. We all got settled in and in due course started training again, lots more drilling, route marching, arms drill and weapon training, map reading, physical instruction, out in the wilds on exercises with our rifles shooting at one another (with blank cartridges of course) what a mess that made of your rifle barrels. It took ages to get them clean. All this, plus the usual cleaning of kit and rooms etc. We seemed to be spending most of our time marching all over the parade square. I remember one mate of mine, Jock Watt, complaining to our drill Sgt that he was getting sharp pains in his back. The Sgt told him to report sick the following morning, when I saw him at break time the next day I said how did you go on at the sick room Jock. He said it was great the M.O said I had been wearing my braces with one of the straps twisted and the buckle was sticking into my back making it sore. He put some dressing on it and gave me an excused duties chit for three days, well I could not stop laughing at him it really tickled me, I said “Didn’t you know your braces were twisted when you first put them on?” He said “Och no, I never wore the bloody things until I joined up I always wore belts at home. I have had this pain for weeks it’s just got worse now with all this drill.” I said “You jammy bugger, 3 days doing nothing, I think I will have a try at that.” A couple of days later I deliberately scraped my knuckles of my hand on some webbing when I was cleaning my kit, it hurt a bit and started bleeding so I wrapped a handkerchief around my hand and went off to the sick room. The M/O looked at it then put a dressing on and told me to go back to my duties, no mention of an excused duty chit. So I went back to join my squad, by this time on the square doing some more drill. I made my excuses to the Sgt and joined them to the surprise of my mate Jock. At break time he said “How is it you have not got a chit?” I said “I don’t know. I think I will report sick again in the morning and say my hand is very sore and hope for the best.” What a mistake that was, the MO took one look at my hand and said “There is nothing wrong with your hand, you are wasting my time and I am putting you on a charge for malingering.” I thought Christ!! Am I in trouble now. I had to report to the C.S.M the next morning, smartly dressed with brasses brightly polished and knees shaking, he said “Right Kempster remove your headdress and belt.” He then shouted “Attention, left turn, quick march.” I was marched into the C/Os office, the C.S.M then shouted “Halt!” and before me sat at his desk was a stern looking Major. He said “You have been charged with malingering by the M/O. Have you any thing to say?” I said I was sorry. I dare not say any more or I may have dug myself a deeper hole. He then said “I am sentencing you to 7 days C.B and don’t let me see you up before me again.” The C.S.M then shouted About Turn. Quick march”, out of the C/Os room into the main office where he shouted “Halt!” He said “Think yourself lucky Kempster, you have got off lightly, now get back to your duties and make sure you read the defaulters notice on the notice board near your quarters.” He gave me back my beret and belt and I marched quickly back to my Squad who were training on the parade square, At break time Jock asked “How did you go on Blondie?” When I told him he said I would think twice before I report sick again. When we got back to our room I went to have a look at the notice board, my name was there with the other defaulters. I had to report to the Guard room after the evening meal and report to the Duty Sergeant. He would then tell you your duty. It could be any thing from cleaning up round the perimeters of the Square and Barrack Blocks, or to report to the Catering Sgt for washing up pots and pans etc. You then were told the time to report again to the Guardroom and what dress to be in, this could be anything from F.S.M.O. that was full service marching order dressed in best uniform, greatcoat, with all your kit on. large pack, small pack, pouches, scabbard and bayonet, mess tins, boots and gaiters, all this had to be done in about 15 minutes and get back to the guardroom for another inspection, sometimes by the Duty Officer, and woe betide you if something was not right you could be on another charge. And whilst you were being put through all this your mates were out enjoying themselves either in the N.A.A.F.I or in a pub in town, or better still out with a girl at the pictures or a dance in Reading. I remember one evening on defaulters, I was sent to the Sergeants Mess to do the washing up that was great. I had the best meal from the left overs in the baking tins and pans that I had ever had during my time at Arborfield, those Senior N.C.O.s were certainly well fed. It was hard work but well worth it and it was too late for me to do any parades that night. Anyway I completed my sentence and was soon back to normal.

Our squad had now started more advanced weapon training with Lee Enfield Bren Guns and a submachine gun called a Sten Gun, the Bren was a nice gun to fire, very accurate and not as noisy as a rifle. The Sten was not a good weapon to fire, only accurate from about 25 yards and prone to jamming, it was used for close quarters fighting by our troops during W/W2.

Lee Enfield Bren Gun .303

Sten Gun.

I also remember our squad having to do Butts Duties on the Firing Ranges, this was quite an unnerving experience to say the least. You were put into trenches behind the Targets, two men to each of the Targets, these Targets were set on frames that were swivelled round by hand, and after the firing session began it was our job to point to where each bullet had hit the target, this was done with a long wooden stick with a pointer at the top. If there were no hits at all you waved the marker across from left to right. When the firing session finished and the targets had been checked the command was given to “Change Targets.” You then swivelled the target round to put the next target in position ready for the next session to start, you then had to stick patches over the holes on the bottom target before firing began, this was repeated until the end of the exercise.

It was getting well into the month of June now and I was beginning to think we were never going to start our trade training. But after a few more days Square Bashing and a bloody long Route March that made my feet sore as hell with blisters that I treated myself with ointment and plasters (no way was I going to report sick again).

I remember we had to go on a Map Reading exercise. We were taken by truck out into the countryside and dropped off in groups, we had maps and a grid reference and had to find our way back to camp. I quite liked map reading and enjoyed this exercise, I did some when I was in the Cadet Force during 1944. After a few more days drilling we had our passing out parade on the Square, all in our best uniforms with the R.S.M. In charge and the C.O taking the Salute as we marched past with the REME Band leading us playing our march. We marched out of the camp and through the town with people lining the road watching us it was a great feeling this Parade was more special as it was coming up to July and the 6^th anniversary of our Corps being formed in 1942, a very special occasion indeed.

Passing Out Parade at Hazebrouk Barracks.

At last we were to start our trade courses. I was to join No 1 Training Bn Arborfield to train as a Driver Mechanic Class 2, this involved learning to ride motorcycles, then on to drive 15cwt. Bedford Trucks, and finally on to drive Austin K7 3Ton 4x4 trucks.

The start of Driver Training in this Bedford 15cwt. Truck.

When you passed all that, you would go on to Mechanical Training at REME Workshops, Bordon, Hants. Due to the Corps birthday celebrations most of the Motorcycle Instructors were busy practising for a motorcycle show that was being held at the camp. I remember one instructor riding around the arena with a motorcycle and sidecar, he would lie hidden from view in the sidecar and control it with levers and cables, very entertaining and the crowd loved it. After that, all the other instructors in the display team did synchronized movements, criss-crossing each other at speed, all very exciting. After the birthday celebrations were finished we got down to our driver training at last, but instead of going for motorcycle training our course went on to 15 cwt. truck driving this was great and just what I had been waiting for. Learning to drive. The Bedford 15cwt. was a nice truck to drive and, after a few lessons, I soon got the hang of it. I found the most difficult thing for me was keeping the distance from the curb side correctly, my instructor said “I will give you a good tip.” That was to “Focus your eyes on the water filler cap and line it up on the kerb as you are driving every now and again when it was clear ahead, this will keep your wheels at a safe distance from the nearside kerb or roadside, this was a good tip and I have remembered it throughout my long driving career both in the army and civilian life as an H.G.V. and Coach Driver. After passing out on the 15cwts I went on to the Austin 3 tonner, this truck seemed huge compared to the 15cwt. I think it was called the Austin 7K. It was very high off the ground, you climbed up into the cab by putting your foot on the wheel hub and hauling yourself up with the aid of a handle at the side of the door. This truck had 4 wheel drive and used to whine like the devil, when you got going you could hear them for miles away. I bet the local residents in the area cursed us at times, especially when there was a convoy of them passing. I liked this truck it was great to drive and the vision from the cab was superb, I passed my driving test in this truck and what a great feeling that was. The next training we were to have was night driving in convoy, this was a bit scary to say the least. Only the leading truck was allowed to use headlights, we had to follow close to the truck in front that had a small light under the back of the tailboard and this shone on to a patch of white painted on the middle of the rear axle differential casing. If you lost sight of that you were in trouble. This was all done on country lanes in pitch black conditions, the reason for this was that, if in a war situation, a convoy of vehicles could not be seen from the air by enemy aircraft or observation posts up on high ground. After this we went on to map reading and route mapping, most of this was done in the class room. It was very interesting, especially the route mapping. I used this method most of my working life in road transport, of course nowadays it can all be done on computers. How times have changed. During this training period we had more free time in the evenings and weekends, some of us used to travel by bus to Reading for a night out going to the cinemas and dance halls and having a few beers. It was on one of these excursions that I met my first steady girlfriend, her name was Kathleen, a lovely girl and she took me to meet her parents, they were nice and they invited me to stay with them if I could get a week end leave. I did this a couple of times on a 48hr pass, and once on a 72hr pass I took her home and we stayed at my Step Fathers house. He lived with his partner and her son John and my brother Bill, they lived at Boxmoor on the outskirts of Hemel Hempstead. I took her to meet my Aunt Maude, Uncle Fred and my other younger brother Ron. I had not seen them for a long time, it was really nice, they invited us to stay for tea and made Kath very welcome.

To get back to my story, my course was now almost completed but no mention of Motorcycle Training. We did not question this, we thought perhaps we would go on to motorbikes at a later date.

Anyway nothing transpired and the next thing we knew was that we were going to the REME Workshops at Bordon to start our mechanical training. My girl friend Kath was upset when I told her I was being posted, I said to her “Its not that far from Reading, I will be able to see you at week ends and I will write to you regularly. I was to promise those words a few times during my army career I can tell you.

Published: 1^st August 2007

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Chapter Three.