Service in Cyprus
By
Bob Copeland
"There are two things about my National Service which will forever remain in my memory, despite the fact that many other facts and memories may fade.
Firstly ten days initial training and secondly my Regimental number.
The first was my introduction to Army life at No. 1 Training Regiment, The Royal Engineers, Merebrooke Camp, Great Malvern. What I had expected bore no resemblance to the shock of being confronted by a Sergeant at Great Malvern railway station, who seemed incapable of speaking in a conversational tone, but was determined to ensure that even those who may suffer from impaired hearing, would not be left in any doubt about what he had to say, by his bawling of orders.
As a Scot, who had little experience of the English dialects, and had led a fairly sheltered life, it was the first hurdle to be overcome, that of understanding exactly what my new acquaintance was actually saying.
The subject of the ensuing conversation, or rather confrontation, is the subject of a short series of my memoirs which would fill the entire web site. However, suffice it to say that we who had disgorged the train from Crewe, among whom were four Scots, were 'politely' requested to board a truck and if my interpretation is correct, we had to carry out this excercise without a waste of time.
I need not elaborate on the next forty five minutes travel, since most people reading this will have undergone the same experience.
Arriving at what proved to be a test of mental and physical stamina in the form of an Army camp, we were shouted at, driven, herded and tortured to get "Kited Out!" as it was described.
Omitting the familiar details of collection of kit etc. my next surprise was at 6.30 am next morning, when at what I considered to be the middle of the night, and must surely be part of a nightmare, I became aware of what sounded like a bicycle bell. This ringing I imagined was accompanied by some insane individual shouting what was unmistakably, even to my untrained ears; " Right you lot! Hands of cocks, hands on socks get out of these F'ng pits!" " You have fifteen minutes to get showered, S--- and shaved and ready for breakfast!"
Curious and in disbelief at what I was certain was my wild imagination, I rose to satisfy my curiosity to witness Corporal Howarth on a bicycle, running round the hut ringing the bell and constantly uttering the same profanities. No dream but a reality. Perhaps some other time I will add some more of my Malvern experiences for the amusement of fellow sufferers.
If I thought we had it bad, we were to be told on our third day that a member of the training party two ahead of ours had committed suicide, causing all of his fellow hut companions to be discharged, with the promise that they would never be called upon again to complete National Service.
The second indellible thing from my memory is my Regimental Number, which to this day still jumps to the front of my long term memory. As every one is told I am certain, this was to be imprinted in my mind and that it would be more than my life was worth to forget it. This has been the case, and to conclude this little snippet, four years later on my wedding day, having mislaid my normal means of support I was married wearing my Army issue braces, with the same number stamped indelibly on both sides.
From Malvern I was transferred to Number 4 Training Regiment, Royal Engineers at Gibraltar Barracks, Aldershot. Thence to Cyprus, Aden, Bahrain, Oman and Kenya all of which can, if of any interest to anyone, be recounted at some future date.
Bob Copeland
If you have a anecdote, funny
story, limerick or song that you remember from your service, we would like
to publish it.
Please send your stories or songs to James Paul
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