Read Online Life on the Run by Stan Eldon - Free Book Online

semaphore flags on my sleeve and an extra couple of bob added to my twenty-five shillings (£1.25) per week pay. Later in my service this ‘qualification’ was to get me a couple of interesting days at the Military Staff College at Camberley, where I was one of two or three selected to act as the communication’s control, on a major military exercise.
    After the course, it was back to Bulford and life on Salisbury Plain. I think I enjoyed Bulford better than Woking, as it was a small unit and life was pretty laid-back. There was a very good corporal cook there, and the food was always good; especially on a Sunday, when we would have tinned salmon for tea, followed by tinned fruit. This was not part of the normal catering budget but he used to find a way of fiddling the system.
    Wherever I was stationed, I did manage to get home pretty frequently, although the trip to Bulford was always a bit of a bind. I used to leave the Windsor Riverside Station as late as I could on a Sunday night, normally about 10.30 p.m., after a quick kiss and cuddle on the platform, and travel to Waterloo, where I would get a train to Salisbury which used to arrive at about 1 a.m.; fortunately a truck used to meet the train to take us back to Bulford, but it did not give much time for sleep that night. The journey to and from Woking was a lot easier, and I used to be back in my room in time to listen to Radio Luxembourg and the popular hit of the day, Eddie Calvert and “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White”.
    On another occasion, when I was going home on leave from Bulford, I went to Tisbury, my mother’s village in Wiltshire, to collect a new bicycle from her brother’s shop in the village; a present for my sister which I had to get back to Windsor. I cycled the eighty-four miles on a girl’s cycle and it was not the most comfortable ride, but I did get it home to the Royal Borough in a still new condition.
    Although I used to escape a lot of duties, I did get pulled in on a Saturday night to patrol Salisbury and keep order. A truck full of ‘Redcaps’ would descend on the city at about 7 p.m., and we would patrol in twos around the city, especially the NAAFI and bus station areas. Sometimes it was quiet but not very often.
    One of the largest units in the area was the 3 rd Battalion of the Highland Light Infantry, a great bunch until drink took over and then no one or anything was safe. This also applied to their NCOs, particularly one of them, a corporal. He was a man who was as broad as he was tall, about five feet five inches, and a fearsome sight in his kilt. When he had a couple of drinks he was all for discipline and order, and if any of his ‘mob’ got out of hand, he was the first to pick them up and throw them into the back of the truck; something he could do without help. BUT if he had more than a few drinks he became very protective of his lads, and would fight with them against us ‘Redcaps’. Then it would take almost our entire squad on duty to restrain and deal with him. Fortunately more times than not he was on the side of law and order.
    One Saturday night there was a lot of fighting in the bus station, and I saw one of the Jocks kick someone in the face while he was on the ground. It made a great indentation and I rather unwisely saw red in more ways than one, and although alone I waded in to try and stop the violence. I tackled one of the offenders and threw a punch at him; I did not hit him that hard but I was wearing leather gloves and I slightly cut his face. Once his mates saw blood they were after me, about a dozen or more of them, and they surrounded me and got me up against a wall in the bus station. I thought that was it until a local civilian policeman with his Alsatian dog came to my rescue, and with some other help they got me into the police station opposite, and I stayed there for my own protection until all the HLI had left town.
    I enjoyed my time at Bulford,