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I had always looked forward to doing my National Service, ever since I had seen my father in London during the war. He was a sergeant driving instructor at Woolwich Arsenal and I had the opportunity to visit him once and was very impressed. You see, I was only 13 at the time. Anyway, it looked very interesting to me, wrote Allan Huntingdon.
My papers arrived to tell me that, as I was working in the cotton industry, I could claim it as a Reserved Occupation and avoid call up. At that time I was working three shifts in a spinning mill at Turton, Blackburn. Well, that didn't suit me as I was raring to get out of the mill and looking forward to joining the Army. I was 18 and volunteered to join the Royal Artillery and was sent to Rhyl in North Wales.
First there was the medical where you were asked if you suffered from any diseases, then they tested you with the stethoscope, lined you up naked as the doctor went along the row, sticking his hand between the legs of each man, asking you to 'cough'.
Then next came the uniforms. The Quartermaster Sergeant just looked at you and guessed your size and gave you your uniform. We were also issued with two pairs of boots: one for general use and one for parades, etc. Unfortunately. The boots I received were second hand and I eventually developed Athletes Foot.
We were then taken to our barrack room, which was just a shed of about 30 ft., containing 12 steel beds with rolled-up straw mattresses, each with two blankets and one straw filled pillow. A locker stood by the side of each bed.
The floor was wooden and very highly polished and I wondered who could possibly have made such a sparkling good job of it. (I wasn't to wonder very long as the following day some of us were to find out first hand.)
We were next taken to another hut where we were given several injections and inoculations which were very painful and in some cases the recipients keeled over in a dead faint.
The next six weeks were hectic: basic drilling on the barrack square; signals training; learning how to dismantle and re-assemble sten guns, cleaning rifles (.303 were in full use at the time); rifle range drill; and the occasional night out on the town if we had any money after buying our toiletries etc.
Our pay was just 4/- (four shillings) per day out of which I sent one shilling home to my mother, leaving me very short.
On completion of our training, we were offered the choice of postings to either Egypt or Germany. I chose the latter, and after 10 days home leave we embarked at Harwich bound for the Hook of Holland.
This was on an overnight troopship and the sea was very rough. Most of the men were seasick all night long, Those of us who weren't, played Housy-Housy (Bingo to you), or tried to get some sleep, which wasn't easy as the ship was rolling about somewhat and the bunks were hammocks that I had never even seen before, let alone tried out.
The following morning we arrived in Holland and boarded a train that took a full day through to Germany. The devastation there was indescribable. In most of the towns we passed through we hardly saw one building that was complete.
We finally arrived at our destination only to be told that we had been transferred to the Royal Horse Artillery. Well, we were a bit taken aback by this news as the reputation of the RHA was known throughout the military as the smartest regiment in the British Army.
The only way they could keep up that reputation was complete and utter 'Bull'. That meant that most of your waking life was spent polishing, cleaning and folding your kit and equipment to exact measurements and laying it on your bed all day until evening inspection.
Some of the lads were tempted to go on the run but were talked out of it. One morning, on the regimental notice board, there was an appeal for personnel to enrol in a clerk's course, which was in another town. Several of us discussed the idea and decided that, at least it would get us away from the camp for a while.
So we signed up. That turned out to be a very big turning point in my life.
The course was quite difficult as we had to learn touch typing and extra English as we were told we would be supervising German civilian staff, most of whom could speak perfect English and we had to be better than them for the sake of our morale.
Anyway, some of us passed the exam and were posted to Osnabruck to a Displaced Person's Camp. This was a holding centre for all the released prisoners of war. Our job was to contact all our Allies and their countries to arrange for repatriation and immigration to various countries.
There were approximately 3,000 DP's in our camp and they were mainly from Poland, Latvia, Lithuania and the White Russian states. The British contingent consisted of about 30 Officers and men with ranks ranging from mere Gunners to one Major McDonald, who was the perfect gentleman.
I was assigned to an office consisting of a corporal and twenty six female typists, whose ages ranged from 19 to 50. At first I was really teased by some of them for I was only 18 years old with very little experience and they soon picked that up.
The main problem, as far as I was concerned, was that before our final posting we were assembled in the dining hall and were shown films about sexual diseases and in particular venereal diseases . These pictures were enough to put you off sex for life and it certainly scared me so I kept well away from any personal contact with my staff or any females for that matter.
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