just so stories for sprogs

Royal Marines Swing the Lamp

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“JUST SO STORIES FOR SPROGS”

E.J.Sparrow


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DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the memory of 4 members of 40 Commando RM, who I knew fairly

well during my time with the unit in 1952 and 1953. They are not forgotten.

Corporal Donald BARRETT Service Number PO/X 6473 of 40 Commando RM Date of Birth

22 May 1929 Age 23 Date of Death 14 April 1953. At the time of his death 40 Commando

were on Operation Shore lark 3 in Cyprus. It is believed he was crushed when a DUKW hit a

house & brought a wall down. He was crushed between the falling wall and the metal hoop

that supports the tarpaulin cover.

Lance Corporal Ronald DON of 40 Commando RM aged 23 died 23-May-

53 number RM9835 From Stirling, Scotland. Died of burns from plane crash IMTARFA,

MALTA and is buried there. The plane struggled to get airborne and hit a control vehicle at

the edge of the runway.

Marine D. Edward BURTENSHAW of 40 Commando RM aged 24 died 17-

May-53 number PO 6136 killed in the plane crash IMTARFA, MALTA and is buried next to

L/Cpl Don


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Sargeant Donald Henry Arthur

been the MT Sargeant in 40 Commando RM during my time in 1952

invasion he was with 42 Commando RM Date of Birth 30 April 1927 Age 29 Date of Death

06 November 1956 His body was brought home and buried at the

Clayhall Road Gosport Hants Grave Section NGS Grave Row 13 Grave Number 15

been killed in action by a sniper

Although these stories cover the lighter side of service life the bulk are concerned with the

bloody campaign in the Suez Canal Zone between

British troops early in 1956. From

Commonwealth names are recorded on the Suez Veterans Roll of Honour

one of the costliest campaigns since World War 2.


Sargeant Donald Henry Arthur DENNIS Service Number PLY/X 4537. He had

been the MT Sargeant in 40 Commando RM during my time in 1952-3. During the Suez


His body was brought home and buried at the RN Cemetery Haslar

Clayhall Road Gosport Hants Grave Section NGS Grave Row 13 Grave Number 15

sniper


he Suez Canal Zone between 16th

October 1951 and the with

From this relatively short period over 700 British and

are recorded on the Suez Veterans Roll of Honour

one of the costliest campaigns since World War 2.

They are not forgotten

PLY/X 4537. He had

3. During the Suez


metery Haslar in

Clayhall Road Gosport Hants Grave Section NGS Grave Row 13 Grave Number 15. He had


1951 and the with drawl of

British and

proving it to be


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INDEX

INTRODUCTION PAGE 5

GOURMET FOOD COURTESY OF HM 1951-3 PAGE 6

THE MAN WHO ATE HIS PRISON CELL PAGE 8

THE THING THAT WENT BOOM IN THE NIGHT PAGE 9

THE GENERAL SERVICE MEDALS PAGE 10

THE MAN WITH TARTAN FEET PAGE 11

IMPROPERLY DRESSED ON PARADE PAGE 12

NEWTON’S THIRD LAW OF MOTION PAGE 13

THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES PAGE 15

“THE GREAT SLEEP OVER or 30 TEENAGERS IN ONE BED”

PAGE 16

THE RETURN OF THE RELUCTANT HEROES PAGE 18

EDITORS NOTE PAGE 19


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“JUST SO STORIES FOR SPROGS”

INTRODUCTION

With apologies to Rudyard Kipling.

In this section are stories from long ago told by a grandfather to his grandchildren. Official

versions of events may slightly differ from the stories told below but then the Official

Historians did not have the benefit of a view from the lower deck.

Whenever, the old hands in the Royal Marines used to recount stories from the War to the

raw recruits, we used to start the ceiling lights swinging. The wilder the story, the greater

the swing. Thus if you are ready, let us set the lamp swinging very gently and I will start at

the beginning.

If you enjoy these glimpses from the past you are invited to drop a donation into the next

collection box you see for a service charity. Thank you.


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GOURMET FOOD COURTESY OF HM 1951-3

You have to understand Dearly Beloved that the MOD spares no expense in looking after the welfare

of its troops. Through-out his Military career your Grandfather was fed one gourmet meal after

another. Starting in training at Lympstone 1951

The first memorable meals we had were on overnight exercises at the Infantry Training Centre at

Lympstone. At dusk we queued with our mess tins. In one went a spoonful of tinned Australian

rabbit stew. Carefully placed on top was a doorstep of bread onto which was poured a dessert

spoonful of Tate & Lyles Golden Syrup. The second tin contained our drink of Kye (cocoa). Ideal to

set one up to spend a November night in a slit trench half full of water on Dalditch Common.

On another occasion we were told to be at a certain map reference next morning & given a

handful of raw liver to sustain us. Six of us duly spent the night stretched out on mattresses at an

Agricultural College. The liver was duly cooked on the college’s Aga, supplemented with eggs &

bacon, buttered toast with marmalade from the kitchen duly cooked by the friendly lady students.

So satisfying when we met up with the rest to find some had spent the night in hedgerows & eaten

their liver raw.

Xmas in Malta 1952

We had our Xmas dinner at Saint Patrick’s Barracks in Malta served, as is the tradition, by our

officers. We actually were given china plates for the meal, which resulted in a problem. The first item

on the plate was POM (dehydrated potato) served from a cauldron by an officer wielding a large

metal spoon. The modus operandi was to scoop up a spoonful of POM & crack the spoon down hard

on the cauldron edge & a dollup of POM should fall on the plate. At least that was the theory.

Unfortunately the boys were in the rig of the day – shorts. Hold the plate too low & the POM

splattered on to the bare bellies of the boys, provoking the response “Please be careful Sir, that stuff

is hot” or words to that effect. If you held the plate higher you could get it so that when the officer’s

spoon came down he not only hit the cauldron edge but would cleave the plate in half, depositing

POM & bits of plate on the floor. The Unit Bookie did a roaring trade on the estimate of the number

of broken plates, which went well into double figures.

Breakfast in the Canal Zone 1953

One of the breakfasts favoured by the cooks was kippers & eggs. Now the logistics of boiling eggs for

500 plus men is a challenge. The cooks devised a method based on steaming the eggs on racks in a

large steamer, which avoided trying to lift them out of a boiling pot. However, the memorable part

was cracking open your egg. No longer did you get a white surrounding the yolk but it was black,

rubbery & apart from being oval could have served as a squash ball.

El Adem, LIBYA 1953

At one stage 40 RM Commando was rushed back to the Canal Zone with a stop-over for breakfast at

the RAF Camp El Adem. Full traditional English breakfast with 2 fried eggs & many of the boys went

back for seconds. In this world some people are more equal than others.

Malcolm Club, Ismalia Egypt 1953.


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Your Grandfather had occasion to travel as an escort for 2 officers to Ismalia, which at the time was

quite a nervy place due to the terrorist activity. While the officers carried out their business, the

driver & Grandfather went through the crowds to the Malcolm Club run by expatriate ladies of the

same sort of age as our mothers. I don’t remember what we had except it was home made just like

at home

NAAFI

Needless to say the boys would make their way to the NAAFI where passable food was available.

This comfort was memorable because in Egypt some of the NAAFI staff lost their lives during the

terrorist campaign.

So your Grandfather and his mates give thanks to the Malcolm Club & the Canal Zone NAAFIs for

being there in dangerous times just to support the boys & girls serving away from home.


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THE MAN WHO ATE HIS PRISON CELL

Well just one more story about those most handsomest of men in 40 Commando, Dearly

Beloved.

It concerns a poor hard done to little marine from Yorkshire, we will call “F”. He was very

shy and the CO kept arranging for him to live in a nice little tent of his own, called a “cell”,

while the rest of us had to share. Anyway, Dearly Beloved, this band of happy souls arrived

in Famagusta in Cyprus in the forenoon & moored at the jetty. At noon, only 200 were

allowed ashore, as the thought of all 620 being allowed out was more than the CO felt the

Cypriots deserved. At 4 PM the first was back paralytic strapped in a stretcher and during

the course of the evening, the rest returned, with 57 of them on charges. Sadly poor little F

was amongst their number. He poor soul had queued at a “House of Ill Repute” and just got

in the door when the place was raided by nasty types, called “Red Caps”. As F explained to

the CO, he had only done what was expected of any self respecting marine i.e. flattened the

MPs and then finished his transaction. Now Dearly Beloved, your Granddad was only a

teenager in those days, so he wasn’t allowed in such a place but the old hands said it was to

get a cup of tea.

The CO was so impressed with F’s story, he allowed him to have his own little room again

and so miss all the fun of taking part in the Exercises. However, here was a problem,

because for some reason HMS Messina didn’t seem to have a Brig & we had to make F’s

room out of crates of stores for him on the tank deck. Several days later, when we reached

Malta, Lo & Behold! we found someone had eaten all the dried fruit stored in the crates &

poor old F was blamed again.

We had not been in Malta but a few days, when there was a message from General

Robertson in Egypt, that he needed 3 Commando Brigade pronto. So we were all flown

back, while poor little F was left in Malta to come on by sea with the Rear Party. Now Dearly

Beloved, it is the custom in the Royal Navy that when a ship leaves harbour, that the sailors

& marines line the side. Then, as they pass their mates on other vessels, they dip their

ensign and a marine bugler gets to blow his bugle & all those lining the side come to

Attention. Of course, if they are only a little ship, that can’t afford a bugler, then the Bo’sun

gets to blow his pipe.

Now, Dearly Beloved, it transpires that F had the previous night visited a few bars in Malta

and was not feeling too well, as the ship left Grand Harbour. Probably something he ate.

Now whether it was the noisy bugler or just the ship’s motion but as they came to

Attention, poor little F toppled forward & went over the side into Grand Harbour. Now in

the Royal Marines this is a very serious thing. It is not done to let the sailors see that you

can’t stand up on a moving ship. So poor little F was Court Martialled for Desertion and

given 6 months hard labour in the Glass house in the Canal Zone followed by a

Dishonourable Discharge.

So, Dearly Beloved not all stories have a happy ending.


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THE THING THAT WENT BOOM IN THE NIGHT

Well Dearly Beloved I will tell you another story this time about our brave soldiers.

Long, long ago, lost in the mists of time, when the Royal Navy was eco-friendly & relied on

wind power, they used to take the Army to sunnier climes. Unfortunately before the Army

got a chance to get their knees brown, they had to cross the Bay of Biscay where raged the

most ferocious storms. The soldiers & their horses were stowed amidships & were all

violently ill. There arose a terrible stench of vomit mixed with horse manure & so the sailors

gave the soldiers a term of endearment, which persists to this day of “Pongo” because

where ever the Army went so the pong goes.

Anyway, Dearly Beloved in far off Egypt there was a Pongo camp complete with the latest

form of Latrine known to the Army called a “Thunder box”. This was a magnificent 16 holer

shed suspended over a vast pit. As you will know from your science lessons, over the course

of time anaerobic bacteria will start to flourish and convert the excrement into a colourless

highly explosive gas called methane.

This was the case at “Camp Pongo” where private Fred Nerks went to think over his day. As

he sat down so his pay book fell from his back pocket into the vast abyss. Thinking it might

have fallen onto a support beam & that he might be able to reach it, he struck a match.

Whereupon there was a mighty bang & the tents in the camp took on a different shade of

brown. Tragically, several of his mates ended up with burnt bottoms & bad gashes from

flying splinters.

So the moral of this story Dearly Beloved is “to keep your pocket with your pay book

buttoned at all times”


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THE GENERAL SERVICE MEDALS

NGSM 1915-62 GSM 1918-62

Dearly Beloved, I will tell you the story of the General Service Medals we received and why

the Paras and Royal Marines received different medals for Active Service in Egypt due to

events that happened in Cyprus.

The day dawned Dearly Beloved when we would join with our Para mates in a combined

operation called “Shore lark”. The intent was for the Paras to drop onshore having flown up

from Egypt meanwhile we would land by sea to form a bridgehead for the Paras to retreat

to. Sounds simple but from the outset things went pear shaped.

Our intrepid leader named Sunray led us ashore. However, he was anything but sunny that

day. As he stepped off the ramp of the landing craft he managed to trip over his walking

stick and fall flat on his face in the shallows. The Intelligence Officer was second off and

tripped over Sunray’s prone body. At this point Sunray’s MOA (Marine Officers Attendant)

showed the proper way to get ashore dry shod. He used 2 convenient packs lying in the

wash as stepping stones. At this point the Umpire declared that Sunray was dead; shot by a

sniper and steam issued from Sunray’s ears.

Meanwhile the landing craft bringing the signallers ashore further along the beach managed

to get stuck on a sand bank. The signal’s officer waved his pistol over his head and with the

cry “Follow me men” stepped off the ramp into 8 foot of water. A group of interested

onlookers gathered on the ramp and with a cry of “who is he kidding” retrieved their officer

by his webbing.

They ultimately gave us General Service medals 50 years later for our Active Service in

Egypt. However to commemorate this great day out, the Paras had on the reverse of theirs

an angel with wings depicting the way they had gently floated down. We had the Naval

version showing Neptune struggling in the water.


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THE MAN WITH TARTAN FEET

This is a sad tale Dearly Beloved that concerns your grandfather.

I managed to get a fungal problem with my feet not long after our return to Egypt. This

infection was not uncommon in Egypt. However, it became quite bad. It looked rather like

two large swollen red sponges, where the feet should be. So off I trot to the Sick Bay to be

treated by our RN Sick Bay Attendants. Now the Unit had only one tube of ointment called

"Tineafax" for 600 men to deal with fungal infections. I think it was meant to last a month. It

might have been a week but it was somewhat academic, as it couldn’t cope.

So it was down to the ingenuity of the SBAs (Sick Berth Attendants). They did have:-iodine,

brilliant green and gentian violet, which could all apparently cure something. Therefore

Dearly Beloved, we developed a cunning plan involving all 3 items. We painted strips in all 3

colours along the length of the feet and in case a combination was better than a single one,

we painted stripes across the feet. Result tartan feet in green, yellow, purple and untreated

bits in red.

It had all been done very scientifically. I would wander around with these tartan looking

feet. I just couldn’t bear to wear boots anymore and wore sandals instead. Eventually, the

feet became so bad I was shipped off to the Base Medical Hospital at Fayid for a few days.

At this point I had only a few weeks left to serve and our Doc arranged for me to be sent on

HMS Ranpura to Malta, which had a much more friendly climate. Incidentally your Granny

was serving there and there was just time to nip round to the Wren’s quarters and get

engaged.

My feet were cured back in England with radiation treatment and Granny has had a fully

trained houseboy in the form of your grandfather ever since able to do all the household

chores for 60 years.


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IMPROPERLY DRESSED ON PARADE

Long ago Britain had over 80,000 troops guarding the Suez Canal Zone against possible

invasion by the USSR. The local people were not at all happy at this arrangement and ran a

nasty terrorist campaign killing and maiming any Brit who they came by. One nasty trick was

to cut off the genitals.

Now to the Zone a certain 2nd

Lieutenant Rupert Snodgrass-Ponsonby-Smythe was duly

posted straight from Sandhurst with his pips on his shoulder duly shining brightly.

One morning not long after his arrival he left his tent and walked across the parade ground

to the Officer’s latrine. Unlike the Other Ranks’ multi-seater thunder box, the officers had a

neat row of individual cubicles where the waste was collected in buckets. He was sitting

quietly there contemplating how many men he could put on a charge that day when he

heard a loud bang behind him. Someone had opened the flap at the back. Looking down

between his legs he was horrified to see a pair of brown hands reaching out towards his

manhood.

Being a man of action he immediately shot out of his toilet with his shorts round his ankles

to be greeted by a bellow from the Drill Instructor on the parade ground where his platoon

were staring straight at him. “Mister Snodgrass-Ponsonby-Smythe Sah!. Don’t you come on

my parade ground improperly dressed SAH!!”

Meanwhile Abdul the Sanitary Coolie pulled out the bucket and emptied the contents into a

large tank on a donkey cart; the so called “Honey Cart”. Having dealt with the other buckets

Abdul and his donkey passed out the gates in a vast cloud of blue bottles taking his precious

load to be buried in the desert.

The moral of this story Dearly Beloved is always double check your uniform before treading

on the hallowed soil of the parade ground.


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NEWTON’S THIRD LAW OF MOTION

You will know Dearly Beloved from your physics lessons that Sir Isaac Newton came

up with a fundamental law which states

" For every action,

Your Grandfather was provided with a practical demonstration

still learning the ropes.

At the time we were loading up in the Bitter Lakes in Egypt prior to leaving for

Cyprus. The trucks were ferried out on small landing craft called LCMs. The big ships were

Landing Ships Tanks, LSTs moored at anchor in the middle of the lake and the LCMs came

bow-to-bow. The LCM’s ramp was then dropped on to the ramp of the LST’s. The two

vessels were tied together and the trucks then drove from the LCM on to the LST.

The little LCMs were commanded by Royal Marine officers. During World War 2

there had been a number of major seaborne landings in Europe & the Pacific requiring a

vast number & variety of specialist landing craft. The manpower to handle these craft had in

a significant part been drawn from the Royal Marines; a role t

war. Anyway, this young Second Lieutenant in charge of the LCM had the bright idea, that

he could save time, if he didn’t tie the two vessels together but kept the LCMs engine

revved up.

It came as quite a surprise to him, to be greeted with loud shouts from the bow of

the LST; as a three tonner rolled forward on the LCM. The shouts signified that t

engines had cut and as the truck advanced, the LCM went backwards. A gap opened

between the two vessels and the truck went to the bottom of the lake. The driver and the

people in the back just managed to get out in time. The walking wounded, inclu

one with a leg in plaster, were riding in the back, sat on camouflage netting. They were very

lucky not to get tangled in it and dragged down with the truck.


NEWTON’S THIRD LAW OF MOTION


up with a fundamental law which states

" For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction".

Your Grandfather was provided with a practical demonstration courtesy of a young Officer


cks were ferried out on small landing craft called LCMs. The big ships were


bow. The LCM’s ramp was then dropped on to the ramp of the LST’s. The two

tied together and the trucks then drove from the LCM on to the LST.



of specialist landing craft. The manpower to handle these craft had in

a significant part been drawn from the Royal Marines; a role they continued to play post

Anyway, this young Second Lieutenant in charge of the LCM had the bright idea, that

d save time, if he didn’t tie the two vessels together but kept the LCMs engine


the LST; as a three tonner rolled forward on the LCM. The shouts signified that t



people in the back just managed to get out in time. The walking wounded, inclu


lucky not to get tangled in it and dragged down with the truck.


there is an equal but opposite reaction".

courtesy of a young Officer


cks were ferried out on small landing craft called LCMs. The big ships were


bow. The LCM’s ramp was then dropped on to the ramp of the LST’s. The two

tied together and the trucks then drove from the LCM on to the LST.



of specialist landing craft. The manpower to handle these craft had in

hey continued to play post

Anyway, this young Second Lieutenant in charge of the LCM had the bright idea, that

d save time, if he didn’t tie the two vessels together but kept the LCMs engine


the LST; as a three tonner rolled forward on the LCM. The shouts signified that the LCM’s



people in the back just managed to get out in time. The walking wounded, including at least



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The Royal Navy does not mess around. Within a few hours, they had recovered the

truck. They unshackled an anchor from its cable and then lowered the cable to the bed of

the lake. Frogman went down and shackled the cable, to the front axle and hauled her up.

They didn’t however recover the trucks contents. The truck contained the MTO's G1098

spares. A lot of replacement stores had to be requisitioned, and there were a lot of other

'missing' stores in that truck, including the camouflage net. The driver's kit also went down

to the bottom

The only problem your grandfather had, was that we slept on the tank deck on camp

beds. His bed was close to this truck, which not only stank of diesel but of the lake bottom.

There was probably fifty years collection of raw sewage dumped there by passing ships.

In May a few weeks later, 40 RM Commando returned to Egypt because of the

deteriorating security situation. A mobile road block was set up on the Canal Road. When

the contents of the boot of an Egyptian car was inspected by the patrol they found the kit

bag of the driver of the G10 truck - filled with fishing nets! (Looking remarkably like the

missing camouflage nets). The local fishermen, ever opportunists had moved in to conduct a

salvage operation almost as soon as the SBS surfaced.


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THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES

Dearly Beloved, if you join the Services you will find you are much sort after by the fair sex,

as where else are they going to get a partner fully trained in house work. Even so, as

National Servicemen it wasn’t that easy even then.

Generally, we were totally absorbed, both mentally and physically in surviving the course.

However, being young men in their prime, there was a certain interest in the opposite sex.

Saturday night was our run ashore. Even though the camp was on land, in marine parlance,

leaving camp is still referred to as a "run ashore". We had to be meticulously turned out.

Many an aspiring Lothario was turned back at the Main Gate by the Guard Corporal, for

some minute speck of dirt.

Our haunts were Exeter or Exmouth. In the time allowed, there was little we could do.

Usually we queued for an hour to see some ‘B’ grade film. This was generally followed by

standing at the back of the cinema, until the film changed and then a dive for any vacant

seats. Afterwards, we would stand in little groups on street corners; watching the girls walk

in pairs round the block, until it was time for our bus back to Camp. At this stage, the NS

men only had khaki battledress, whereas the CS (regular recruits) had already got their

"blues". The girls seemed to prefer the blues. Also we were on lower pay than the CS boys.

We received four shillings a day (£73 a year) less tax.

It is interesting to note how inflation has hit military pay over the years. At Agincourt, the

archers were on six pence a day. At Trafalgar, an Able Bodied Seaman had ten pence and

our fathers in the First World War were up to a shilling a day.

However, we consoled ourselves that when we passed out of Lympstone we would get our

"blues" and have a level playing field at Bickleigh with the Plymouth girls. Needless to say,

we were disappointed. The Plymouth Ladies preferred those, who already had a green

beret. Before being posted to Plymouth two of us were sent on a course to Portsmouth My

first weekend at Portsmouth, we were off to the NAAFI Club for the dance. Unfortunately,

Portsmouth was a bastion of the Sea Service Marines, the so called "Big Ships Marines".

They did not take kindly to these upstarts in green berets. So we were not allowed to go out

in khaki and green beret. It was blues or civvies. Obviously we chose civvies as the girls

wouldn’t know we impecunious NS men.

Then back to Plymouth to await embarkation. By this time, even though we were fully

fledged commandos, they moved us overseas. Thus the title "Virgin Soldiers" was a very apt

title for most NS men.


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“THE GREAT SLEEP OVER or 30 TEENAGERS IN ONE BED”

Long ago Dearly Beloved, back in 1952, we had nasty men, who groomed young

teenagers; told lies to them, took them to horrible places and did nasty things with them. It

was called National Service. Our group of 30 young men was being “groomed” to go and

fight in the jungles of Malaya.

Now there is not much jungle in Devon where we went to train, in fact the place they

chose called Merrivale hardly had a tree. To make it realistic they picked February when

there was 4 foot of snow on the ground. Fortunately, in the end we were sent to the desert

in the Sinai, where the training proved equally useful. However, I am convinced that in four

foot of snow in the Malaysian jungle; we would have been invincible.

In order to reach our abode for the night, we marched there past HM Prison at

Princeton where the Queen kept her guests in nice warm cells,. We had the pleasure of

sleeping in an old Nissan hut with the ends missing. There was an old stove in the middle of

the hut. Unfortunately, the chimney had long gone and smoke poured out into the hut.

Fortunately with a strong wind blowing through, we managed to avoid getting asphyxiated.

These days people believe that the MOD looks after all servicemen’s every little

need; so it was in olden times but then it was called the War Department. It was the War

Department, Dearly Beloved, who provided for us in our time of desperation. Now just

outside the hut they had a sign that read "War Department, Live Ammunition. Danger

Keep Out”. This was nice of them, as the sign burnt beautifully in the stove when it was

liberally coated in rifle oil to get it alight. We reasoned it couldn’t really be that dangerous,

as they had made us go there.

We didn’t have beds or bedding. This was at a time before sleeping bags were

invented or at least issued to NS men, so we used our sea bags. These are excellent at

keeping your legs warm but the upper bits freeze.


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In the Antarctic the Emperor penguins stand in a group taking turns to stand on the

outside to keep the wind off the others. . So Dearly Beloved we copied the penguins and

had a great sleep over, all piled into a heap of over thirty bodies.

However, this was not very satisfactory, as the ones at the bottom of the pile were

crushed, while the ones on top froze. The cold weather also played havoc with bladder

control. All night long, there was a steady procession of bodies squirming out like maggots

from a rotten compost heap.

So Dearly Beloved, that is why now in more enlightened times people, who do nasty

things to teenagers are sent to jail.


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THE RETURN OF THE RELUCTANT HEROES

Well Dearly Beloved your Grandfather had just got married to your Granny when the MOD

decided that a spot of training with the Reserves was required under the terms of the

National Service Act.

The Royal Marine Reserve training was a bit of a fiasco. None of the ex National Service men

were at all keen to attend. One of the officers was an MP and this provoked a long queue of

people wishing to see him, on some pretext or other, in his role of MP. Mainly the problem

was pay as a high percentage now had families to support.

In most cases, our uniforms no longer fitted. Buttons would just not meet the button holes.

Furthermore, many uniforms had gone mouldy and had generally suffered from being

squashed in kitbags for two years. One man had been demobbed, when they left Malaya.

When he tipped his kit out, he found a dead krait that had crawled in three years before.

Our peaked hats looked like pancakes. In the end, we just paraded in denim overalls,

webbing and berets. Some people had even out grown their boots. They were not going to

be issued with new boots, so they took their bayonets to them and cut the welts between

the toe-caps and soles. They marched about with toecaps flapping, like a lot of Charlie

Chaplins.

For the last two weeks of camp, we were joined by 47 Commando, which was the RMFVR,

the Volunteer Reserve, as opposed to ourselves. We were classed as 48 (City Of London)

Commando RNSR. The RMFVR were extremely keen and we did settle down to some serious

training with them. However, just after this, National Service ended and along with it any

recall for us.

At one stage we were involved in fundamental research into helicopter airborne assault. .

The intent was not to abseil down a rope, as currently practised, but jump from a few feet

from a hovering machine. Needless to say, they did not have any helicopters for us to

practise with. Somebody thought jumping to the ground, might be like hitting the road

leaping off the back of a three ton truck, while cruising at twenty mile an hour. You guessed

it! That is how we spent a few happy hours. One or two people did damage the odd ankle

but most of us made it safely into the grass banks. I guess, the real object was to overcome

any fear of jumping from something moving. Obviously the research was a success as the

next year 45 Commando RM carried out the first airborne assault by helicopter at Suez

This was just as well the task went to 45 Commando, as I am sure they could have been

tempted to send us to Suez had we been available. In any case your Grandfather couldn’t

have gone as he was outside 10 Downing Street prompting Sir Anthony Eden to quit.

The final day provoked a near riot amongst the NS men. We were treated to a display with

flamethrowers used on a block house. No problem until the heavens opened and we were

soaked. Out came the groundsheets to ward off the rain. Half hadn’t brought theirs with

them so we were ordered to put ours away so that we all looked alike i.e. soaked, miserable

and rebellious. Then the final straw, the 3 ton trucks were sent on ahead back to camp to


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get hot water ready for our showers. We meanwhile could speed march about 20 miles

back.

The camp we stayed at had a small detachment of army people for general maintenance.

Possibly, they were Royal Artillery. They were apprehensive that someone would steal their

Regimental Flag. As though Royal Marines behaved like that! They nailed their colours to the

flagpole. Not that this helped, as the flagpole was burnt as fuel to keep the huts warm and

after all we were cold from the exercise.

So ended your Grandfather’s military career

EDITORS NOTE

The bulk of this material was originally published on a now

defunct website entitled:- ”Royal Marines on Line” by the

same author under the alias Al Dunnock. The book is now

published free in the hope people will respond by helping

their local service charities.

Author at Saint Patrick’s Barracks in Malta 1952

just so stories for sprogs

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