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In August 1951 a body of untrained, untidy, scruffy, ignorant, useless, hopeless non beings, arrived at Deal Royal Marine Barracks and were soon told so. My new identification number I was told was RM 11000 of 585 Squad. Various uniforms and equipment were issued and our god in the guise of a 303 rifle!
On the final Passing Out Parade I was honoured with the Silver Whistle for achieving the title of best all round recruit. Deal brought us together as a unit and comrades. Tommy Dodds and I became inseparable and he turned out to be the closest friend in my life, without this freindship I probably would not have been successful as a Royal Marine Commando, as for the next few years we were there for each other. So the bonds of trust and reliance were born in the true manner and spirit of Esprit de Corps
On 26th October we moved to the Royal Marine barracks at Eatney, Portsmouth. This was greeted with potential enjoyment because we had heard that the old spit and polish bull eased off a bit. Everything here seemed to be bigger even the ships, we were now taught seamanship. It was damned hard work as anybody who has humped 4 inch shells around and worked on 6 inch guns on Cruiser turrets and ammo bays will know. The favourite punishment for misdemeanours in lectures and other classes was to stand in the corridors with the breech of a 4 inch gun in your arms which tend to get longer and longer. We spent many an hour rowing a naval whaler around Portsmouth docks, I didnīt know boats that size were ever built without an engine ! There seemed to be a lack of cleaners and painters in Portsmith as we were asked to carry out these skills on a navel training ship HMS Dido, it must be the most cleaned and polished training Cruiser in the Navy. I would go as far as to say that most of us enjoyed our time at Eastney as we all did well in the passing out parade and exams. Our next port of call in December was the Infantry Training Centre where we begun our initiation into training our minds and bodies in the ways of field activities. It was the start of light weapons training and the introduction to assault courses, also to the dreaded Dartmoor which scuttlebuck (rumour) was always rife about.
ITC was just a taster for what was to come next at the Commando School at Bickleigh. This was to be the culmination of all the training that had gone before, and the most serious of all our undertakings. Our super fit training officers and NCOs were looked on as gods and were totally responsible for the weeks of horror, heartbreak, stress, pain, mental and physical abuse which we suffered during this final period of being pushed to the limit. Later I realised that without the Hard to be Kind instructors, many of us would not have survived to completion. The training just got harder and we got faster and fitter. We started doing 3mile speed marches which soon developed into 6 miles and then 9 miles. These marches were carried out in full kit with weapons, the final 9 miler had to be completed in 90 minutes. At the end of the 9 miler, we had to shoot down 10 ten inch tiles out of 12 from 100 yards, when completely exhausted after 9 miles and the rifle sight is waving up and down as you gasp for breath, it is not easiest thing to do. There was the charmer which was hated by all, we were dropped in pairs in various areas of Dartmoor, then armed with a verys pistol, compass and a couple of cheese sandwiches told to find our way back The treachery of the moors with its bogs and sudden fog banks did not make it any simpler, no problem though it was never more than 30 miles! I did'nt know there were so many ways of crossing a river without using the simplest of structures a bridge. The catwalk was where you laid on a single rope tied to both sides of the river, and hauled yourself across hand over hand all in full kit with weapons. Then there was the one where you walked sideways on one rope whilst holding on to another 4ft above it, this was easy enough as long as you were not the one who lost the toss, if you did you had to initially secure the ropes on both sides. The other rope trick was the Death Slide! This took the form of an exceedingly powerful rope, one end of which was usually secured in a large tree growing at the top edge of a deep quarry and the other a hundred or so feet below into the quarry itself. The routine was to climb the tree to the 'take off platform' pass a looped toggle over the angled rope, naturally it is secured over both wrists, then step out into space! You immediately found yourself hurtling down through space at a great turn of knots! We had one guy (he just happened to be Irish) who demonstrated how to do a flying angel, instead of using the toggle over the angled rope, he climbed on to it, laid flat with right leg angled behind him, with the rope running on the ankle, and with arms outstretched for balance hurtled down head first! After his abrupt stop at the bottom, and hospitalisation we did not see him any more. We carried out many raids across Plymouth Sound in high speed Dorys, carrying out ambushes to kidnap various personnel and capture items of warfare from 'the enemy'. Owing to inclement weather at times we had the inevitable capsize! I remember in particular one night I was withdrawing down a cliff face by rope, looking down I presumed I was near the bottom - wrong decision! what I thought was the bottom was in fact the moon shining in a puddle of water, a 10ft. drop verified this. I must say that those of us who were fortunate enough to pass this course were delighted and honoured to achieve our main objective and win the coveted Green Beret, those who did not had to go right back and start again! I really don't think I could have faced that.
We arrived back at Plymouth Barracks for 6 days, during which time we were to prepare for our final Passing out Parade. This was to the last element of training. We drilled continuously for days, our uniforms were creased like new, and spit and polish was the order of the day. This all culminated in 585 marching past as King's Squad, with the Major General Royal Marines taking the salute. It was a very proud moment for all of us, and a great honour to be part of this tradition, it made the completion of the last years training worth it, knowing we did not have to go back over any of it again. Those of the squad who elected to go for Commando Brigade as opposed to Big Ships, were sent back to Bickleigh for further extended training. I had chosen to go on to train up as a member of Support Troop, which necessitated intensive work on learning the ins and outs of 3 inch mortars and Vickers Medium Machine guns. It was here that I first met Sgt Don Dennis, who was not only our weapons instructor, but a man who came to be a good friend. This entailed considerable activity on the moors again, not only getting involved with logistics of straight attack, but also the art of 'support' and internal security duties. All of the physical activities we indulged in before like treks across the moors, assault courses, attacks and defence scenarios, were repeated again, but this time it was with the added 120lbs weight of the Vickers which suddenly became part of our beings! It was during this stage of my training that another oppo came into my life, his name was Johnny Higgs, who joined us on this course and made up our trio who stood together for the next few years. I must say that we were all very proud and honoured to now be qualified to wear the treasured Green Beret, I guess we did this with a little justified cockiness. On 30th August 1952 we went back Royal Marine Barracks, Plymouth, this time we knew we were at our last establishment in England, for the next couple of years. We spent time equipping ourselves for more tropical climates with clothes, equipment and JABS, I think the latter were worse than the diseases they protected us against! Anyway it was with great expectancy and excitement we awaited news of our first overseas commission.Within 6 weeks, after a short embarkation leave, we were headed up to Liverpool. At Liverpool we embarked on HT Lancashire, probably among one of the last troop ships afloat!
This was it, training over, what could be better then a Med cruise, it seemed to us to be the icing on the cake. |
