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Home <> Lifestory Library <> Explore By Location <> <> <> Bovington Camp




  Contributor: Ron LevettView/Add comments



Ron Levett's memories of joining up and training in the army during World War II.

The train journey to Dorset was the longest I had ever taken in my life. I had to change at Eastleigh on to the train that had come from London. It arrived at Wool in the early afternoon. I found a large number of other young men had detrained at the same station.

There was a small fleet of lorries waiting for us together with a number of NCO's who soon organised us into parties and onto the vehicles. The journey to Bovington Camp only took about a quarter of an hour and we found ourselves at the 30th Primary Training Wing (PTW).

30thPTW was the only one in the army where all new entrants wore the black armouredforces beret immediately they joined, which we all thought was a great privilege.We also wore the mailed fist cap badge of the Royal Armoured Corps.


 

Our accommodation consisted of a wooden hut; reputedly left over from WW1. We slept 24 men to a hut, on double bunks, with the ablutions in an adjoining hut, which also served three more huts.

There was only cold water for washing and shaving in the morning. Trying to shave with a 'cut-throat' razor, which my grandfather had given me, with a crowd of other lads, at 6 o'clock in the morning, soon gave way to a safety razor, purchased in the NAAFI.

We were all such young soldiers that the Army Council had decided in its wisdom that we needed extra Calcium, so we were issued with a half pint of milk at our mid-morning break.

We had to parade for breakfast at 0700 hrs with knife, fork, spoon and mug carried in the left hand in order to be able swing the right arm. Since it was now October, it was still quite dark at this time of the morning.

Breakfast consisted of porridge plus bacon, sausage and sometimes an egg. Unfortunately the latter was usually fried too long and had a bottom surface like leather. Sometimes there was scrambled egg made with re-constituted dried egg. A large mug of tea completed the meal.

The morning after our arrival we were paraded at the Quartermaster's stores to draw our kit. This comprised two battledress uniforms and beret, cap badge, two shirts, which in those days were collar-less, vest, underpants, four pairs of woollen socks, two pairs of boots, one for working and the other for parades, which had to be polished to a high gloss, two sets of denim overalls, which were worn for most working parades and two complete sets of PT clothing.

We were issued with a complete set of webbing equipment. This consisted of a waist belt, three sets of straps, two ammunition pouches, a bayonet frog, a water bottle sling, one haversack, one large pack and a pair of anklets (also known as gaiters). All of this equipment had to be 'blancoed' (cleaned) at least twice a week and all the brasses polished.

We also drew a respirator (gas mask), a greatcoat, a pullover, a housewife (sewing kit), a holdall and a set of mess tins and a tin mug.

Every morning our beds had to be made up with three blankets folded, with the fourth blanket around the others. Below the blankets were laid out the best boots, mess tins, webbing equipment, which had to be freshly blancoed and brasses polished plus knife, fork and spoon.

After breakfast we usually had about one hour foot or arms drill on the parade ground that lay between our huts and the main road through Bovington. After about two weeks training our troop was deemed good enough to join the previous intakes and assembled with the remainder of the Squadron, presided over by the Squadron Sgt. Major (SSM).

He was a very tall Irishman from one of the Irish cavalry regiments. He had a very commanding voice and always wore an early type of long bayonet in a highly polished scabbard. The metal bayonet hilt was polished until it shone like silver.

It was a great honour for a hut to be given the responsibility of cleaning the SSM's bayonet. The first time we were marching along as a whole squadron, the SSM ordered, 'You don't know how to halt, so when I give the command 'Halt', you just stop marching.'

Ron Levett, 2001

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