A quick prelude to a 23 years 168 days career

24200553 Spr Andrews Sir! I signed up at the Army Careers Office, Mayflower Street Plymouth 15th April 1970, skint homeless (that’s another story) and very scared. What had I just done? I was sent un-capbadged to a Personnel Selection Centre in Corsham, Wiltshire, where I remained for about a week. Where, we unsuspecting boys, were taught the rudimentaries of drill and military life. My main memories of this short pit stop on the way to my military career, was our likeable Staff Sergeant who’s left hand was missing (from a grenade incident allegedly). He was a bit of a father figure which, I had not had for 10 years. There were about 40 of us as I recall, first stop was the barbers shop, where we were shorn and ridiculed before our newfound comrades. During our first 2 days, it became obvious that one of our party was quite effeminate, I think it was either the 2nd or 3rd night that some of the members of the party of recruits , beat the poor lad senseless. He was hospitalised and was not heard of again. I felt very badly for the victim and very wary of the bullies that carried out the attack, though I only had suspicions of who they were.
All too soon I arrived at 1 Training Regiment, Southwood Camp Cove, Hampshire. First memories were of trying to carry my entire issue of kit, mattress and china mug, around the drill square (I saw what happened to recruits that tried to walk across it!) to my new home, a 6 feet by 8 feet area in a room where there were about 20 other bed spaces. Each recruit claimed A metal locker, a small metal bedside locker and a bed which had removable heavy metal feet at each corner, a very effective weapon I discovered. I will not dwell on too much the finer detail of my stay at Southwood Camp, as all, that read this compelling tale, will have probably experienced the same or similar. My basic training included all the normal rigours of being transformed from quivering nervous boyhood into the fine specimen of a fighting man that I failed to become. Though I was 2 inches taller and 3 stone heavier when I left 12 weeks later. Most of the first 6 weeks were spent, being beasted for 18 hours a day, cleaning and polishing everything that didn’t breath and kissing the arse of everything that did. after the pass out parade we were granted the freedom to leave camp. This was when I was introduced to alcohol a friend that would remain with me for the rest of my military career, though as we all discover at some point, not a friend at all. The following 6 weeks were spent relatively enjoyably, learning the craft of being a Royal Engineer. Special memories were building improvised bridges, and blowing up tree stumps with tnt and plastic explosives, creating booby traps and learning to Drive at Church Crookham. Unfortunately I got kicked off my driving course, because I couldn’t see over the (bonnet mounted) spare wheel of the Land rover. This meant that I could no longer pursue my 6 week dream of becoming a driver radio operator. This shattered dream was soon to be re-shaped in my interview with the PSO (Personnel Selection Officer). This pleasant Retired Officer relaxed me and introduced me to my natural calling. He asked what I would like to do following my failure to get my drivers licence. I dunno Sir! ” Well lad, there is a shortage of Postal and Courier Operators, could that interest you?” I had never heard of such an organisation, but I wasn’t very worldly wise, and told him of my ignorance. He then went on to tell me that the HPCCD RE Depot was located in the very affluent and residential area of North of London at a place called Mill Hill, The (Inglis) Barracks were quite modern, and the Depot close by was a 24 hour 365 day a year, forces mail processing centre. I have to say, he wasn’t selling it to me. He then went on, to tell me that, Any part of the World where there was a British military presence, there would also be a Postal and Courier presence, Well, this was getting a bit more interesting. Then he let out the best kept secret, which guaranteed a sale, and is possibly the reason that 90% of my colleagues joined Postal. He said Inglis Barracks is home to approximately 300 members of the WRAC and around 40 Royal Engineer males!
Sign here!!!
I met my first proper girlfriend (Susan Taylor) at Cove, the daughter of a Police Inspector employed at the Farnborough Airport, he got us tickets to go to the 1970 Airshow, where I saw the first flight of Concord. She was a stunning girl and broke my heart when she ditched me after training ended. This was an emotion that I was to experience about 300 more times in the next 3 years. Thank you Inglis Barracks, and Mill Hill, though all is now history, you created memories that still make me blush.