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.

Last of my memories for those that were there. CYPRUS Char wallah that lived on the landing of the single accommodation in Dhekelia. Both Turkish and Greek staff working together in our offices in Dhekelia and Nicosia. Someone who shall be nameless p**ing on a Pioneer’s beret from the second-floor accommodation (allegedly). Great egg banjos from the tailors behind the accommodation.

Hannover – a Ginger-haired Sgt who lived in the street behind Ostland Str in Hannover who decided he would convert his cellar into a bar. Keeping in mind that these were married quarters, he painted everything in psychedelic colours, including the water tank. Opening night for the bar went into the next day and I can still see him on the floor a massive speaker on each side of his head listening to heavy rock, out of his mind. He was on courier duty the next day so the lads loaded his wagon and it picked him up from his house. It took four of us to get him into the back. Dita’s bar in Hannover, within walking distance of MQs, where posties had the big round table at the back reserved for the whole time I was stationed there. Mill Hill Sgt Barclay decided he was going to see how many he could put on a charge one evening when he was duty officer. The next day there were dozens of us in the offices and down the stairs. I don’t think anyone got anything other than a telling off. Trying to forget that shambles of a march for the Post office Rifles that created major changes in the way Mill Hill was run. Just for information, no one could hear the band so no pace was being set and it turned into an embarrassing ramble.

There is a CD by Chas (of Chas and Dave) and J.I. (of the Crickets) called ” before we grow too old” and it got me thinking that I ought to record my memories of detachments I had back in the sixties, “before I grow too old”. Also, John might want the info for his records.

I was posted to Cyprus (Dhekelia) in August 1965 so acclimatisation was loading surface mail at Famagusta Docks the next day. Courier runs included the 3.30 am trip to Episkopi, sleeping on the beach at Happy Valley before returning in the afternoon.

Detachment to RAF Troodos for a few weeks is a vivid memory. I was by then at the office in Nicosia so travelled up the mountain on Sunday afternoon in my FIAT 500D ( How many people are going to be able to say that the model of their first car was still being produced nearly 60 years later? ) Monday morning the joy of being driven, by a still inebriated RAF driver, down to Akrotiri and back. There were no protective barriers on the side of the open road and a wonderful set of hairpin bends called the seven sisters. Nothing much to do up there as I think I only produced one balance sheet in the month. RAF had a short wave radio station that I used to sit in on ( very Tony Hancock).

The other short term detachments were to the UNFICYP post office in Nicosia when someone got sent home early or leave relief. We also used to do courier runs to Malta and El Adem as well as meeting the long-range couriers when Akrotiri was closed for resurfacing.

Aiya Napa was just a very small beech hut and a trip to Kyrenia involved an armed convoy through the mountains. Not sure of the dates but Turkey threatened to invade and all families were moved from Nicosia into the SBA in Dhekelia. When I first went to Cyprus RAF Nicosia was a big base but was gradually run down until I was the only one left on detachment there. I watched the now derelict International airport being built.

In July 1969 I went to Hannover and lived in the Ostland Str enclave. I went on detachment to the school in Wilhelmshaven, can’t remember why, and this involved collecting/despatching the post each day and then sitting in the club bar all evening. The Royal Engineer diving team were based in Kiel and that was another detachment with a bar. That was the first time I had seen a large sink with a metal bar on each side to hold on to do the Technicolor yawn. Also for some reason, the COs wife used to spend the evening watching the diving team play games in their underwear? My first meeting with Asbach. The Royal Engineer skiing team were based at Oberammergau and that was another detachment. I lived on the American base and that was a real eye-opener, steak for breakfast? I took over from another Cpl and he met me in full American uniform, he had done a uniform swop. He had also taught our American friends his version of the British way of greeting people as holding up two fingers and shouting B***cks. Made walking around camp interesting.

Well that’s done “before I grow too old”