I am collecting some stories for 28 Field Ambulance, and the best ones will be posted on this website!

E-mail in your stories and reminiscences of times gone by, or fill in the contact form here. My address is grahammottley239@gmail.com

I look forward to hearing from you

Spot

Michael Betts

As an Acting Captain in the RASC, I was posted to become the MTO of 28 Field Ambulance in September 1960, a post I was to hold for a year. The CO was Lt Col Steve Conway, the 2i/c was (I think) a Major Frank Martin, and the Dental Officer, about my then age of 22, was Captain Trevor Baldwin RADC. Frank, Trevor and I lived in Glyn Hughes Barracks, but had to go to the Hohne Garrison Officers’ Mess for our meals. I cannot recall any other officers then.
The few National Service RAMC soldiers were inevitably pretty bored, and the CO encouraged me to take them off on sailing courses at the British Kiel Yacht Club, which inevitably I much enjoyed!
All my drivers, I think some 20+,  were Polish MSO, a wonderful bunch of men. They were all DPs, totally cut off from their own country, but with marvellous spirit. They had their command structure, headed by a Superintendent, whose name was something like Stanislav Projedski, but known as ‘Sech’. I recall three things in particular about them:
1. One day Sech came to me and invited me to join them in their mess to celebrate the battle of Warsaw. I thanked him, but said ‘Sech, we celebrated that 3 months ago.’ ‘Different battle of Warsaw’ he replied,and indeed I discovered that they celebrated 3 different battles of Warsaw. What a history.
2. Whenever we deployed into the woods on exercise, the first drill should have been to camouflage the vehicles – but the Poles would immediately vanish into the woods looking for fungi, which they much enjoyed to eat.
3. One day Sech came to me in great happiness: he had just heard that the Red Cross had traced the wife of our elderly Polish electrician Alex:  they would never be able to join together again, or possibly even to communicate, but he at last knew after the war that she was still alive.

Frank Livesey

Stationed there march 1960 till Nov 1960 helped in the mess with a German girl Irmgart between manouvers good nights in naafi and sat nights in cella.  CO was Col Dwyer great time   F Livesey Pte

 

Gary Hartley

Hi spot great hear back and great 28 Fld Amb was first unit from Keogh. I re member you singing and introduced to the Nomads the Hohne am dram. I did Mikado with Derek Betony our adjutant, and spent many years with 207. Got some acting done few bit done with TV   extra work as say supporting artiste also done Holly Oak and Virgin train ad and Man u, also the word and thumb Anne. Trying to write a play, been in the police and worked Tate Liverpool 20 year, but nice catch up with people, missed going beer Barry Trotter.  Last, nice to be part of something take all best Gary 

Graham Mottley

The Arrival of Satch Owen.

Les Bell
Graham, at last putting pen to paper.
I arrived to Hohne early 1956 REME att to 9 Plassey located just inside the main Bergen-Belsen Road.
I ran the workshop as a Corporal.
The regiment disbanded 6 months after I arrived and I got a new posting to a 28 Field Ambulance unit – didn’t know anything about it or where.
I got into the vehicle with my kit and then off, passed the round house and out of the gate, 5 minutes later I entered Glyn Hughes Site – very impressive.
My new unit for the next 3½ years running the small workshop. I had 1 x craftsman “REME” and 2 x Polish MSO mechanics. The Poles in their 60-70 were brilliant tradesmen and good to work with.
We had very old vehicles. Bedford QLs, Austin K2s, Willys Jeeps etc. I being an ex boy soldier noticed straight away “no parade ground” this was to be one of the best postings I had in all of my service.
The COLN was McKenzie “Col”
MTO forgot name RASC
A lot of our time was spent in “Kiel Yacht Club” sailing on the “Kranic” – Brilliant times.
You would think that nothing else went on but always loved watching the gas evac exercises against other Field Amb in BAOR, very well done by the medics.
My only effort was trading in the “Willys Jeeps” for “Champs”. I still had all the old equipment.
The MSO were a great bunch of men and when you could their lives had been very hard during the war. When invited to parties drink was always taken care of, otherwise you would suffer for days.
I will try to come to Nidd Hall whilst you are there, I just live up the road at Chester le Street.
Regards to all,
Les
P.S. I’ll tell you later about the daft days at 28.

 

 

28 Fd Amb – 1970s Recollections

From

Pte KC Lester RAMC Capt [QM])

I make no apologies for the length of my writing in relation to my reminiscences regarding my posting to 28 Fd Amb. I’m sure that those who served there will also have endless tales to tell of their own, which, whilst having a few beers, could last well into the night, and therefore would appreciate my recollections and grant me permission to have written at length on this subject matter.

These are the most memorable of my recollections, there are others that I could have included (perhaps for another time?). It’s a sad fact of life that as the years have rolled by we have become more aware of the demise of the barracks that we once called home as well as the colleagues who we served with. Hopefully my recollections will ring a nostalgic bell with some of us that are left.

I arrived at Glyn Hughes Barracks in late September 1974 from the RAMC Apprentice College at Keogh. My Christian name is Kevan, but I was referred to (at that time, by those who remember me – as Les.

I was fresh-faced and not quite 18 years old. It’s debatable whether at that stage of my career, I was still a bit of a brat (parlance for a boy soldier). As I was to find out, to both my cost and my pleasure, the members of 28 Fd Amb were to enthusiastically inculcate me into service life in BAOR and the idiosyncrasies of unit life in the mid 1970’s. Thankfully, I was a willing participant, so it can’t have been all that bad.

Having served in the unit for two and a half years, it’s surprising when looking back or my time in the unit, the number of memories that have consciously and readily come to the fore. I left the unit in February 1977 for BMH Dhekelia where I served alongside Bob Jordan (another 28 Fd Amb alumni; our paths would meet again several times later on in our careers.

Given that we were an Armoured Field Ambulance, the Mk1 FV432 was our unit workhorse. There were some elements of working with these vehicles that became self-evident very quickly, such as: the BV was your friend – when it worked, in the depth of winter – you had to avoid touching the outside of the vehicle with an ungloved hand, and you had to take care when dismounting from the top of the vehicle to avoid snagging your clothing or equipment. I managed to rip open a pair of treasured American Jump Boots when dismounting a FV432 in haste, in the dark.

It is said that in terms of learning: what you hear – you forget, what you see – you remember and what you do you understand. That held true for me when working with the FV432. My first proper foray into traveling in a FV432 was on a Brigade Exercise that preceded’Red Rat’. This exercise took place within two weeks of my arrival in the unit. As an absolute novice, I was drawn into the excitement of traveling in the rear of the FV432 with the mortar hatch open, and to be able to stand with the upper half of my torso out of the vehicle. It was something new and exciting to travel through German villages waving at the local population as they returned our greeting.

The journey lasted for about an hour or so; there must have been about four of us traveling in the rear of the FV432. I was unaware that as we progressed on our journey, that I was surreptitiously being moved to the rear of the vehicle. I was so enamored with waving at the local population that I didn’t realise I was being covered in more and more oily and sooty deposits that were being thrown out from the vehicle exhaust. Unknown to me, I had unwittingly cultivated what was declared to be the tide mark of the exercise – and the exercise had only just started. There was a clear line of demarcation in terms of my face, neck and the open collar of my shirt – and the rest of my torso. The other guys in the vehicle knew exactly what they were doing, I was regarded by them as being fair game because I was the new boy in the section as well as the unit. I understood from this incident, the benefits of not standing in close proximity of the vehicle exhaust. From there on in, I never again allowed myself to be placed near the exhaust when traveling with an open mortar hatch. It was a valuable lesson learned – as it took ages for me to remove the grime from my body.

One of the first large exercises that I took part in was ‘Red Rat’. This occurred straight after the aforementioned Brigade Exercise. The most memorable events on this exercise were linked to faeces. It was during this exercise that I was introduced to a 10 man latrine that was totally open to the elements and devoid of any form of hessian screen. It was also placed adjacent to a local trimdick course. It was not unusual to be sat on the trap with five or six soldiers all doing your business as the local population went about their exercises within a few feet of you. Both the civilians and the military regarded this as normal behavior.

When endex was called the unit readied itself for its return to Hohne. Despite Chris Higgins and myself being deployed in the sections we were both (rather unfairly in our opinion; as we had not contributed to the collective waste) detailed with the task of digging a shit-pit and emptying the unit (dressing station) thunder-boxes into it. We were supervised by a RAMC Cpl. Chris being the cheeky git that he was, gave me the nod and shouted out to the Cpl (who had his back to us, in order to prevent seeing the task in hand) “We are pouring now”, as we slowly emptied the thunder-boxes that emitted satisfying plopping sounds as we discharged their contents into the pit. Needless to say, because of the combination of the atrocious smell and the accompanying sounds – the Cpl was doubled over and vomiting due to our efforts. To add insult to injury whilst the Cpl was mid vomit Chris wrapped a large and glistening pine cone in toilet paper and presented it under the Cpl’s nose. This had the effect of amplifying his discomfort as he must have thought that it was a turd. Once sufficiently recovered the Cpl chased us both around the woods without success as we were both younger than him and he did not have the legs to catch us.

The exhaust on the Mk1 FV432 featured in another incident that occurred on exercise. The section that I was deployed with were co-located with another section from our unit for the purpose of refuelling. We were situated at the bottom of a small hill and a Stalwart drove into our location and was positioned at the top of the hill. It was providing refuelling via jerry cans. I think that it had been Choc-Ice who had been to the Stalwart and was running (or was he perhaps doing a fast walk) down the hill. A late (unit) arrival pulled into our location. As the FV432 was shut down, the troops noticed by that the rolled up scrim on the top of the vehicle had become adrift and had caught light because it had come into contact with the hot exhaust. (This had not become immediately noticed by the vehicle occupants as the FV432 was an ambulance and it was being driven with the mortar hatch in a closed position) and the vehicle commanders’ attention was directed elsewhere. Meanwhile, Choc-Ice was progressing closer and closer to the fire and still in possession of his jerry cans of fuel. The levels of panic and excitement of those of us that were there, went through the roof. There were personnel who chose to (literally)tackle Choc-Ice to avoid him getting closer to the burning scrim whilst in possession of an accelerant – others (of which I was one) chose to very quickly put as much distance between themselves and the potential disaster waiting to happen. Thankfully a disaster was averted. Once the fire had been fully extinguished and things had calmed down – the refuelling went ahead as planned. Later, all of us involved in the incident had a good laugh about it.

Life in the sections was very simplistic – but we still felt ourselves to be the most glamorous of the units’ departments. Someone who used to regularly take the micky out of the Sections and the DS staff for not really having a proper job was Oggie Ogglesby who was a Cpl RAMC clerk. He would often engage in banter with other medics and reinforce to us, that as a clerk, he was one of the few medics engaged in a real job on a day to day basis.

On one particular exercise Oggie once again engaged in banter, whereupon he reinforced his position of authority over the other medics because he was engaged in real work as a watch keeper in the Command Post. Whereas (we), the rest of the medics just played games in terms of our deployment on exercise. He detailed one of the section staff to get him a brew. A brew was begrudgingly provided for him, and some time later (having drunk the brew) he dropped off to sleep whilst on watch. Unknown to Oggie, his brew had been laced with Benylin from the section’s lacon boxes. For those in the know, a common side effect of Benylin is that it can promote drowsiness. Thankfully for Oggie, nothing came of this incident.

Following an exercise we would occasionally go to a railway siding and load the FV432’s onto flatbeds. We would then be transported back to the unit on the back of a very droughty 4-tonner. These journeys could last for several hours. In the winter months it would be freezing cold journey. In those days the combat clothing was heavy and bulkier than today’s uniform yet did little to keep you warm. Whilst we were in transit, In an effort to mitigate the cold conditions, it was not unusual for some unit members to engage in a play-fight on the back of the vehicle, as it was in transit. This was done as a means to keep warm. People would rarely get hurt, but it would inevitably conclude when someone would fall onto Mick Bustin and he would loose his rag with everyone.

When in camp, unit muster parades were a baptism of fire, which involved a certain amount of jostling when falling-in,. This necessitated personnel avoiding being within reach of Johnny Arthurs and his ferocious ‘rat-bite’. This was targeted at the back of the selected victim’s arm or thigh. Johnny was particularly adept at delivering a ‘rat bite’ without being detected doing so by the RSM. If anyone receiving a ‘rat-bite’ dared to flinch they incurred the wrath of the RSM – to which the rest of the parade gained a certain amount of amusement.

Even the most routine unit activities provided unforgettable experiences. Unit runs were conducted in the local woods. It was not unusual to be chased by the local wild boars that resided in those woods. It’s surprising how quickly unit members could run in an effort to outpace the local wildlife – even if they had been flagging some moments earlier.

The unit were enthusiastic when it came to the major team sports, although we were not always the gentleman we should have been when it came to rugby. It has been known for members of our team to fight with the opposition following one of their dirty tackles – even though the play had moved on to the other end of the pitch. Regardless of such tarnished behaviour by the unit rugby team, some of us were regarded as a being quite good players. Cliff Forshaw (REME) and myself were regularly selected to play for the garrison team which was generally made up of schoolteachers and other UKBCs who worked for the British Army.

An unusual facet of life at Glyn Hughes Barracks, was that contractors did not visit the unit to empty the bins, presumably because the camp was not within the garrison location and was out of scope of any existing contract. Our camp bins were emptied onto the back of a unit 4-tonner, the vehicle was then taken to the local tip. The units’ detritus was then brushed off the back of the vehicle; whereupon it was washed down following its return to camp. This task was conducted several days a week by two of the most junior RAMC members of the unit. This was done under the supervision of the driver of the vehicle. I can never remember the driver of the vehicle ever getting his hands dirty. As, on my arrival I was the most junior member of the unit – I was immediately directed to the bin detail. Troops were only released from this task when more junior unit members were posted in – or if personnel were found guilty of misconduct that did not warrant them being formally charged with an offence. The RSM would then place the miscreant on the bins rather than him being given ‘extras’.

Thankfully I was only ever placed on the bin detail once, others were less fortunate. My enforced familiarity with filth and the local tip paid dividends some months into my posting when Johnny Arthurs, Chris Higgins, myself and perhaps one or two others would go to the tip and scavenge for returnable bottles. This was done to make up the substantial financial deficit in the JRC bar’s container account. It was surprising how proficient we became at sifting through tonnes of rubbish to find the bottles that we needed. It also provided a source of amusement for other people who witnessed our endeavours at the tip.

Being on bin duty was the smelliest of routine tasks that the medics had to complete. However, the number of tedious and mundane tasks did not end there. The camp had a central road that was about the size of an athletics track. If you were unfortunate, you were detailed to get a bass broom and shovel – and sweep the road clean. It was said by some, that “you joined the Navy to see the world, and you joined 28 Fd Amb to sweep the world”. This job was like painting the Forth Road Bridge because it was a never ending task. If nothing else, it kept the RSM happy to see a clean road.

As section staff we would spend most of our time in camp painting lacon boxes, tommy bins, and lighting boxes as well as auditing their contents. Laundry lists would be produced for the QMs Department – so that any deficiencies could be made up. By the way, how futile was it to have to follow a Corps Directive to have to paint the corners of the boxes/bins different colours according to their contents when each container was already stenciled lacon box 1 etc. or tommy bin 1 and so on? We learnt the content of the boxes due to their title rather than their coloured flash. During my time in the unit this was always the case. I’m sure that over time we painted over the coloured flashes with a nice green paint to match the rest of the box.

The use of medicinal items from the section lacon boxes once again came to the fore during an in-camp incident that was at the expense of the singlies. Johnny Arthurs was on duty one day (and as a pad he was entitled to use the dining room on that day for his meals). Whilst working in the section that morning, he had pocketed some cough and throat lozenges (which were sold commercially in the UK at that time as Victory Vs). Always the prankster, at lunchtime, Johnny got into the dining room ahead of the rest of the troops – and he threw a quantity of the lozenges into the tea and the coffee urns. To Johnny’s great amusement, not only did we have to endure the initial shock of the foul brews – but this would endure for months to come because the lozenges had coated the inside of the urns. Despite various complaints being made at the time, the unit chefs did not regard this as an issue that they were interested in resolving, and therefore, the urns were not exchanged as tarnished goods and replaced with new urns.

Unit cohesion was excellent, however, rivalry between the medics and the collective MT and REME could be fierce regarding territorial lines. In the Winter of 1974 I innocently wandered off in the direction of the MT and the REME workshops. I was captured and ceremonially stripped from the waist down and tied to a tree located behind the kitchen. I had been forced to my knees and my genitals were placed on a mound of snow. I was left there for some time until a female German cleaner who worked in the kitchen took pity on me, and released my bonds. About a week later retribution was melted out by the medics. If my memory serves me well the victim was Jock Stenhouse (a 6 foot tall member of the REME) who had visited the HQ building. On his way back to his workshop he was pounced upon by the medics and he was restrained inside a 12 x 12 valise with his head left poking out of the end of it. The handle of the valise was tied to the halliard on the flagpole and he was hoisted several meters into the air and had to await his MT/REME colleagues to release him. Such behavior may have been seen as character building – this was done at the expense of health and safety that did not come to the fore until some years later. Needless to say the miscreants on both sides found these events to be hilarious.

When reflecting back on these mischievous behaviours it feels as if they unwittingly promoted a degree of unit cohesion via shared experiences and, what, at that time, was regarded as acceptable humour. There were times when unacceptable behaviour was regarded as having (figuratively) crossed a line in the sand. Such an incident involved a member of the MT.

Dave Donkin was a driver, who was about 19 years old. He was naive enough to regard himself as a bit of a ‘young buck’ who could impose himself at will upon his elders or those he thought were weaker than him. How wrong he was!

On one particular day the troops had assembled for the afternoon muster parade, and a memorable event occurred involving Dave and Reggie Gazzard. Dave Donkin had positioned himself close and to the rear of Reggie Gazzard. Reggie was an RAMC Cpl (who it is fair to say) was someone who was somewhat older than most of the other junior ranks in the unit. The parade was dismissed to go to their duties. For whatever reason Dave Donkin must have thought that Reggie was an opportune and easy target. As Reggie turned to his right and stepped off Dave Donkin launched himself at Reggie. Reggie must have noticed Dave in his peripheral vision – because, before Dave Donkin could lay a finger on Reggie, (although the intent was there for all to see) Reggie swung around and in a single motion he punched Dave straight in the face. Dave Donkin hit the floor like a sack of spuds. Reggie had trained as a boxer in his youth , and later became a boxing referee – the skills that he had learned in the ring had clearly not left him. For his trouble Dave Donkin sustained a sizable cut to the corner of his mouth. Reggie was never charged with an offence as it was felt that Dave Donkin had got what he deserved. He never sought to attack Reggie again.

The writing had already been written on the wall in terms of Dave Donkin shortly before the incident with Reggie. Dave’s hyper-inflated opinion of himself came to the fore when he visited the disco in Bergen with some of the unit members. It was 1974 and Carl Douglas was riding high in the charts with ‘Kung Fu Fighting’. On the back of this, Dave Donkin self-appointed himself as a Kung Fu specialist or master; he did this despite never having been known to have trained in martial arts. Evidently, Dave had previously tried to impress his fellow members of the MT with his Kung Fu skills only to be laughingly sent on his way. Undeterred, he confronted the bouncers at the disco using what he regarded as his Kung Fu prowess. Unit members witnessed him being easily dispatched by the bouncers and he was flung through the swing doors at the entrance to the disco.

These incidents illustrate Dave Donkin’s failure to exert any prowess in terms of his fighting skills. He eventually got the painful message, and in the end he kept a low profile thereafter.

Time spent in camp was rather mundane and at times (if we were honest) was boring to say the least as we were in somewhat of a Mexican Standoff with the Soviet Union. The unit culture, certainly at junior rank level (and probably throughout the chain of command) was heavily influenced by the frequent and heavy use of alcohol. This was not unusual throughout BAOR at that time. As well as our ‘home location’ it was also extended into our alcohol consumption during our frequent deployments into the field. On such occasions, our Mk1 FV432’s cages would be packed with what seemed as much Carlsberg stumpies as unit equipment.

Members of the unit would invariably spend their time of an evening drinking in the unit bar/messes and would also go to the Panzer Pioneer/Grotty Lotties or the disco in Bergen. On an occasional basis, a trip would be organized to Hamburg to visit the Reeperbahn (an infamous red light district). It was generally thought that such coach trips were organised by the unit wives. On one foray, some of the unit wives accompanied the lads on the trip. Boys being boys, both the singlies and the pads who were not accompanied by their wives on the trip went into the underground car park in the Eros Centre (a vast brothel some 6 stories high) and started to fondle the prostitutes in order to get a free thrill. The bouncers cottoned on to what we were doing and ejected us. Meanwhile, to the amusement of the lads, we were later told by the wives that they had also ventured into the Eros Centre, only to be bundled out by the bouncers who feared that they were encroaching on the prostitutes livelihood.

As a unit we would work hard, play hard and drink hard. This was epitomised during a unit deployment to Denmark. We were sponsored by a Danish infantry regiment based just outside of Copenhagen. We engaged in all of the niceties such as inter-unit training and competitions. However, most of the unit regarded the Tuborg brewery tour as the most momentous event during our time spent in Denmark.

The Tuborg tour guide was a Brit working in Denmark, and we were the first of his countrymen to visit the brewery for several months. He was so pleased to see us that he conducted a whistle-stop tour of the brewing process. The original plan was to let us have a couple of beers before sending us on our way. The guide had presumably enjoyed our company so much that after a couple of beers he opened up a VIP area which was decked out with wall to wall beer – this resulted in the unit getting well and truly wasted before making our way into Copenhagen.

The RSM and a number of SNCOs were said to be in a bar that had a live feed from the brothel located upstairs that was able to be watched by customers in the downstairs bar. There was no sound to the acts being played out on screen, so the RSM played a piano as if a silent movie pianist; this was much to the delight of the crowd in the bar. Meanwhile the CO, as did most of the unit – found himself in Tivoli Gardens. He flaked out on a bench and was taken into custody by the local police on suspicion of him being a vagrant. The Adjutant had to then go and secure his release from custody. What a well rounded group of individuals we were. Unsurprisingly the Danish unit never did take up the offer to visit us in Hohne.

It’s said that every unit will be made up of ‘key players’ made up of certain appointments in terms of matters military. In terms of matters social these would comprise of likable characters. One of the medics called Johnny Wolfe chose to be a bit of a ‘grey man’ and tended to exist at the fringe of the units’ societal norms. This would suit his perilous activities. He was not a key player; but he was memorable to me for all of the wrong reasons. The most minor of these being his occasional theft of unit vehicles. Due to his antecedent behaviour he would spend periods in custody in the Garrison Jail that was administered by the QDGs. His behaviour at best could be described as unconventional, I always though that in his future civilian life, he was destined to make a fortune or spend a very long time in prison.

Johnny had a fanatical obsession with weapons and ammunition. He was not a hardened drinker, so rather than be in the JRC of a night he would sit in his room and repack rounds to make them more powerful. One evening he came to my room and demonstrated his craft to me by firing a .22 round from a pistol. The round went through the front of my metal locker and out of its roof where it ended up imbedded in my suitcase. About a year after this incident an arms and ammunition cache attributed to Johnny was discovered under a German Generals’ grave on the tank road. The weapons were all in-service as used by British forces. All of the serial numbers on the weapons had been erased.

Such was Johnny’s notoriety that when the Intelligence Corps were doing a tour to the Horne Garrison area some time following the discovery of the cache – he was placed in protective custody for three days. He was imprisoned from the day prior to the tour until the day after it ended. This was because the tour allowed troops to handle Russian weapons. The protection was not for Johnny but for the weapons; the Intelligence Corps did not want to accrue any losses and be left with egg on their faces. It was thought to be amusing that Johnny had been placed in custody not for what he had done, but because of what he might do.

There was an occasion when Johnny Wolfe confided in me that, when flying home on leave he presented himself to the Captain’s cabin in the aircraft and handed over a pair of loaded Magnum 45s for safekeeping during the flight. It’s incredulous that this sort of thing could happen, however airport security was fairly lax in the 1970’s. In hindsight most of the unit were exuberant with a little bit of recklessness thrown in for good measure. Johnny was different – he may have been regarded by some as being dangerous to himself and others.

 

As a unit we would fight fire with fire when our unit members were subjected to external sources of violence, (such as in a sporting context) but we did not condone use of inappropriate violence or unnecessary mental anguish forced upon our unit members. Another example of this unfortunately occurred at Christmas. Peace, harmony and goodwill to all men went out of the window on this occasion.

 

It was customary for the pads to invite the singlies into their homes for Christmas Day. There was one of the singlies whose name I can’t remember – although there must be some of those of you (as this event unfolds) who do remember his name. Nowadays he could have been regarded at living at the edge of society – because of his lack of confidence. He was a bit of a loner, but was still ‘a good-un’. I don’t know why but the nickname of ‘mouse’ has come to mind – but I may be wrong. That said, nicknames can be quite cruel and be formed with rapier-like accuracy. On that basis, because of his demeanour he could have been called ‘mouse’. He was invited to Barney Alderson’s quarter for Christmas. Barney was a RAMC Cpl with a wife and two young kids.

The young singlie was appreciative of Barney’s invitation and he went to Barney’s house on Christmas Day with an armful of gifts for Barney, his wife and their children. For whatever reason the singlie arrived at Barney’s quarter later than the agreed time. Barney gave no thought that the guy did no drive, and he would have had to have walked a considerable distance to Barney’s pad. Barney was so incensed at the late arrival, that he grabbed the presents and sent the lad packing, the siglie was then obliged to return to an empty camp – save those who were on guard.

One of the other guys returned to camp later in the day to collect something, whereupon he found the other singlie who was all forlorn. The days events involving Barney were retold and the other soldier took him under his wing – and they went to Mick Bustin’s. Once the story of Barney’s inappropriate behavior unfolded, somewhere between 10-20 unit members were assembled (from various pad’s houses) by Mick Bustin – and Barney’s quarter was gatecrashed. The troops (of which I was one) literally drank and ate Barney out of house and home. He and his wife were also given a considerable amount of grief about their less than Christian attitude towards the young single soldier. The point made, we all then left Barney’s to spend the rest of Christmas Day (with the young soldier in tow) in a more convivial manner.

 

When reflecting on our behavior towards Barney and his family, as a retired Probation Officer – a case could be offered that our actions was an abstract form of Informal justice. Inadvertently we may have been asserting the power model in terms of justice, whereby we were reinforcing class values and acceptable societal norms of behavior upon Barney. Although at the time, Barney and his family may have regarded us as being a group of intoxicated git’s that were intent on proving a point.

On reflecting back at my time spent at Hohne, it’s the unorthodox events that are the most memorable, which is, as I feel, it should be. There were times when non-conformist behavior (compared to traditional military standards) came to the fore. I suppose that at times we adopted somewhat St. Trinians type behaviors due to the eccentricity that abounded when I served in the unit. This may have been reinforced because we were so remote from the rest of the Garrison due to our location. I felt that it was difficult at time not to feel ostracised from the rest of the Garrison units. Were we at times unconventional? YES. Were we loyal to each other against all other comers? UNDOUBTEDLY.

As a postnote, on the St. Trinians thing. When off duty most of us would wear conventional civies of the day (i.e. wide collared shirts, flared trousers and platform shoes). The exception to this was a medic called Mick Warner who occasionally would cavort in women’s clothing and underwear purporting to be an amateur drag act. Talk about giving the medics a bad name.

I can only reflect upon my own experiences, but whether we realise it or not and whatever decade we served at Glyn Hughes Barracks, some of us hold the unit and the people that we served with – with a degree of enduring affection.

This is illustrated by Bob Jordan’s visits to the unit (following his posting to BMH Hannover) to reengage with his old mates as well as serving members of the unit. Me serving some years later in 19 Fd Amb with Don Park, who held no malice towards me despite his wife trying to get me into bed whilst we were both at Hohne. He told me that he knew that I had given Rose ‘the knock-back’ – and he had remarried by the time we were both at Colchester. Myself and Johnny Littler were on the same RQMS Course in 1991. We were almost inseparable during our time on the course and it was as if the years had rolled back to the mid 1970’s. After our evening meal, we would religiously spend an hour or so playing tennis before retiring to the Mess bar. It was interesting that during my time, the tennis court was very rarely used at 28 Fd Amb other than by Jake Baker. I even had Mick Warner (who was serving with the UN at the time) unexpectedly race across the bondu to greet me when I was serving at BMH Dhekelia. I am (by my own admission) a fairly closed person – as Pat and Johnny Arthurs know all too well (as it has been my wife who has taken up the mantle to correspond with them). It’s the affection that I hold for 28 Fd Amb and the personnel that I served with that prompted me to share my reminiscences on this site. All that said, I believe that the greatest degree of affection is illustrated by the production of this site by Spot and the work that he continues to do to promote unit cohesion and memories linked to that. Spot may not remember me, but I remember him well as being a RAMC Cpl. Spot was a well liked member of the unit although he did not conform to the idiosyncratic, reckless and roguish behavior that a significant number of the unit personalities engaged in when I served in the unit. To me, he was one of the sensible ones.

As a footnote, not that I am expecting either mine or anyone else’s imminent demise – I would encourage ex-unit personnel to share their reminiscences on here by writing their stories and have them posted on this site however long or small (in written length) they may be. I don’t think that any memory is insignificant as it forms part of 28 Fd Amb’s rich, yet informal history, that should be savored by all. It is such stories that will record the social history of the unit and keep the memories of 28 Fd Amb alive long after we have all gone.That in itself, has got to be a good thing, and will be an enduring legacy for years to come.

 

Pat Arthurs

Reading Young Lester’s excellent account of his memories of 28 has prompted me to add a few of ours. Maybe I could offer a slightly different view as a wife, rather than as a serving member of the unit. In my mind we were all one big family anyway, and Les touched on that point in his writing.

John arrived at the garrison in January 1973 on his trusty Suzuki GT380. ( He later wrote it off in the early hours of one morning riding home after a busy night in the clubhouse – but that’s another story) Some months later we were offered a brand new upstairs quarter on Danzigerstrasse in the village, and I joined him with our then two kids, Julie and Stuart. Spot and Pat, the Nobles and the Bustins were nearby if I remember rightly.

Across the road was the Einkaufcentrum – the delicious aromas of coffee and fresh bread rolls will live with me forever- a

nd there was a Frit-o-matic on the corner, a marvellous vending machine that served hot chips in a cone. I’ve never seen another.

The village centre was within walking distance, and we were surrounded by farmland and pleasant countryside. An idyllic location,  we settled there happily for a few months.

However, a quarter on the garrison became available, and we both wanted to be nearer the unit for both travel and social reasons, so we accepted the downstairs quarter. I mention the stair situation in both quarters because lugging pushchairs and two kids up and down stairs, along with shopping and all the paraphernalia kids need is not easy! It mattered.

On the garrison the kids had a big garden, we had the roundhouse for shopping, the thrift shop and The Unit all close by. John built a play house on stilts in the garden for the kids – great, till a hornet decided it would make a good home- Julie still remembers it well. The tank road ran along the back of the garden and the kids would watch all the activity clinging eagerly to the fence. With hindsight I shudder to think what it must have done to their ears!

I palled up with Linda Johnson. She and Clive were also on the garrison, so every week we trotted off to the thrift shop to see what bargains we could find in second hand clothes for the kids! We knew how to live!

Other unit members were close by. When Marianne Gazzard arrived to join Reg she and the kids, Kim and Glen, stayed with us till their quarter was ready. Also Jock Robertson and his wife ? Kerry.

Weekends were always spent in the clubhouse! We pads looked forward to meeting up with each other and the single lads in the bar. I recognised in some of the lads the brothers I had left behind in England, and I suspect we might have given the single lads a taste of family they had also left behind. I remember the lads used to take great delight in feeding our kids chocolate when we weren’t looking, and encouraging them to get as messy as possible! Playing cards and dancing to the juke box, and maybe the odd little drink…. were the usual pastimes.

On hot summer days we would all go to Huttensee or Sudsee park for the day. The families would provide the food and the single lads brought crates of beer for a picnic. Inflated inner tubes provided the water entertainment. The lads had a great time with all the kids, and we pads were happy to hand them over for a while!

Corps sports days were another highlight for us. I have wonderful memories of a well-oiled Bob Jordan hurdling and Tex Simmonds sprinting. Chris Higgins, Billy Noble, Spot, Les Day and John trying desperately to make the weight for the tug of war. Bob Shepherd was our coach.Simple fun, but great, nonetheless.(Sorry to those I’ve missed!)

Parties at the pad’s quarters were also legendary, as Lester touched on. Most ended in oblivion for all, but I do remember them being happy affairs. My brother Jim, then aged 13, came for a visit and enthusiastically joined in one we had, and clearly remembers young Lester vomiting out of the window! Maybe the less said about that, the better. Another we were invited to at Spot and Pat’s we had trouble getting a baby sitter, so Kim Gazzard covered for a couple of hours. Being only about 12 at the time we were conscious that we must not keep her too long. We decided to leave just as the guitar came out and Spot started singing. I think the Mottleys were a bit annoyed, thinking they were the reason for our quick departure! Sorry, you two!

Exercises also provided we pads with many memories. Les Day had just returned to the unit with his new wife, Jackie. They had a quarter in the village, and we were on the garrison. It was freezing cold out – deep snow and icy as only Soltau ranges can be. Poor Jackie was very young, had never been out of England, and didn’t know anyone. We had only met briefly. One particularly cold day there was a knock at my door, and there was Jackie, cold, wet and tottering on outrageously high shoes she’d  staggered up from the village wearing. “He’s gone on exercise and left me” she wailed, frozen tears stuck to her chin. I took her into our living room , where Helen Higgins was already in situ, having done the same thing! They stayed till the exercise was over.

Another time the exercise coincided with an important football match,(FA cup?) and John wanted to take a radio. The only portable we had was one my dad had made for me from scratch. It had a beautiful leather case, and I didn’t really want him to take it, but reluctantly agreed. Unfortunately the lads could not get a signal at the vital moment.” I’ll sort it!” Said one of the RCT lads, and wired it to the 432. Needless to say, when they turned it on my prescious radio went up in smoke. Naturally, the lads were more concerned about missing the match than the fate of my poor radio! Burnt to a frazzle.

 

We all have such happy memories of 28. For me it was our best posting. So many great memories and a wonderful mix of characters, many of whom remain friends more than 50 years on.

Thank you, everyone.

Pat