caterham3

Caterham Barracks

1877----1960

My Introduction to Life in the Guards (continued)

As we entered the block, my new Trained Soldier (TS for short) turned
around and said �don�t get too cosy in here, because as soon as the squad is up to full strength next weekend, we will be moving to one of those huts over there� � he pointed through the doorway in the direction of the roadway to where, four barrack huts stood on the edge of a small football pitch.

We climbed a dog-legged stone staircase to the first floor which was also � (unusual for the Depot Barrack Blocks) � the top floor. I noticed that the long barrack room to my right was empty except for about a dozen beds - over which each one had a wall-mounted wooden rack, with about three pegs on the wall underneath.
Our destination was through the closed door at the end of the landing to our left, past an open doorway through which I could see a row of washbasins (only ONE tap over each one � �funny �I thought) and one slate urinal reminiscent of those in my old school playground back home. �Don�t use that urinal during the day lad, it is only for night time use � that�s why we call them �night lines� � you must use the latrines by �K� company office at any other time, got it?� It seemed that as the boys� squads were �Brigade Squads� � that is, each containing Boys from all five regiments of Foot Guards, they were attached to �K� Company Scots Guards for all administration etc.
As the TS opened the door to the remaining room, I noticed to my surprise that most of the beds were empty except for those being used by the few occupants of the room, and there only three of those! �This is Boy Baker lads, that�s why I had you making up that other bed, look after him, I�ll see you tomorrow� and away he went back down the stairs and along the road somewhere..

The three other boys came over to greet me and make themselves known � they were Bob Fish from Lancaster who was in the Scots Guards, George Rogan from Carlisle, and Ray Hooper from Orpington who were both in the Welsh Guards like myself. There were no Welsh Guards Boys in the two squads which had been training for a couple of weeks, so - strange as it seems, the first three Boys to enlist into the regiment after WWII were all English!
Ray Hooper (later to be dubbed �Zulu� by all who knew him) was particularly friendly towards me, and helped me a lot during that first time-wasting weekend, and we remained friends long after I had transferred to the Grenadiers and in later life too - until his untimely passing in 2002 at his home in Torquay.
I was amused at first by his southern accent which took a while to get used to, but he was a great chum and told a lot of schoolboy jokes which had us all giggling. I started to cheer up a lot as the day went on, and after coming back from our dinner, we all sat on the grass to watch a football match being played between two Scots Guards recruit squads, egged on by their Trained Soldiers � life in the Army was not looking too bad after all! I felt a bit out of place during that Saturday and Sunday, as I was still dressed in my sports coat, flannels and my rather grubby striped shirt, which was open at the neck, my three companions were dressed in khaki-greenish canvas battledress blouses and trousers (which I learned were called �denims�) and stiff khaki serge berets with their regimental badges over the left eye.
They wore brown canvas gym shoes instead of boots (apparently this was OK at odd times when not actually marching about) and all three seemed completely at ease in their recently issued working garb. It seemed I would be getting my �stuff� on Monday, and I couldn�t wait to blend in with everyone else.
The Trained Soldier came in to see us on Sunday morning, but I think it was just to see that we were up and about really. After about half an hour of telling us bits of information about our future weeks ahead, he said �there will be quite a lot of new lads coming to join you over the next few days, so enjoy your space while you can!� After a few more �Do�s and Don�ts�, he left us to our own devices for the rest of the day,
On Sunday afternoon, my new buddies took me with them on a tour round the Depot to try and find out more about where everything was.
The Barracks part of the pre-war Guards Depot had not been big enough to accommodate the thousands of recruits signing up to serve in the five regiments on active service in the recent war, and the necessary added living space sprawled towards the village of Coulsdon in a huge encampment of single story Barrack huts, which we came to know as �Tin Town

�The roadway running through part of it was called �The Grove� so all the surrounding area was referred to as �Grove Lines�
There was a large cookhouse and mess room (which we used) a big NAAFI canteen (to cater for the overflow from the Barracks NAAFI), a Gymnasium and, oddly enough a Pub! The camp had spread to such an extent that it was forced to embrace the nearest pub - �The Fox�
As things started to settle down again over the next few years, �Tin Town� and the Grove Lines would disappear as the Guards depot shrank back to its built up pre-war size again and the villagers of Coulsdon could call �The Fox� their own again.
As we were attached to �K� company Scots Guards we were classed as being in the Grove Lines and we were to see very little of the Barracks proper except when on Church parade, or going up to the Barracks Gym and the old fashioned swimming baths. All our foot drill instruction was done on the small parade ground formed by the cleared area left by the demolition of the bomb damaged part of Roberts block.
My head was spinning with all the new information, and I was quite a while drifting off to sleep on Sunday night knowing that a lot more changes were coming my way on Monday morning in the form of kit and uniform issues and another medical examination. It seemed that I had to see the Depot MO soon because of the Depot�s need to satisfy the rigid fitness requirements of The Brigade of Guards, as opposed to the �if they are breathing they are OK� approach at the recruiting offices.- (a slight exaggeration there of course!) it was to be a few days later though before I was to meet the medical officer.

On Monday morning I was taken to the Quartermaster�s stores to be issued with my uniform & equipment, and what a bewildering half hour that was! After having a kit bag thrust over the counter at me by the store-man assisted by my TS, I had a huge selection of uniform clothing, underwear (intended for an Eskimo), webbing equipment.,and other smaller items, all virtually thrown at me to be either stuffed in to the big kit bag or piled up for carrying. There was one slightly puzzling piece of small kit passed to me called a �razor-3 piece- GS � soldiers� (everyone talked back to front in that Aladdin�s cave) When the TS explained what it was, I piped up with �but - I don�t shave Trained Soldier� The TS gave me a look of disdain as he replied � �you do now lad, get that flipping bum-fluff off your chin!�
When we got back to the barrack room, I was told to spend the rest of the day stencilling my regimental number (2741341) with white or black paint on all my clothing and equipment or stamp it on hard items such as brushes and button stick with a set of metal punches and a hammer.
My two battledress blouses had been dropped off at the tailors� shop to have the black and white shoulder designations sewn on.
I mentioned the underwear � it was a joke! � we had two pairs of long baggy woollen under drawers with rubber buttons, and a pair of woollen long johns! (I was only 16 for heaven�s sake!) at the waist bands were loops to help the garments to be hoisted up by the huge broad white braces we all wore. The woollen vests were to match and had three rubber buttons at the neck opening.
Two items of my clothing were disappointing � the lovely natural light coloured cap strap was to be worked at with Kiwi dark tan, the TS said, �until it looks like the jacket of a flipping horse chestnut � got it?�
The other disappointment was the huge peak on my khaki service-dress cap � we were told that the large peaks were the hallmark of a recruit Guardsman, and they would not be cut until we left the Depot on the conclusion of our basic training to become members of our respective Training Battalions. Even when they were tailored, the peaks were only shortened and they stuck out slightly � our �short peaked� TS said, with a smirk, �to keep the sun out of your eyes, and make you hold your head erect!� Some Guardsmen, anxious to impress girls and relatives whilst on leave would cut the stitching at the side of the peak and push it up and inwards so that it laid flat against their forehead. This practice was an offence against military discipline, and if charged with �slashing� his peak (�altering the design�), the offender could expect about 7 days CB (confined to barracks). Now, 60 years later on, I look around and it seems that these �illegal� peaks are now the �norm� throughout The Household Division, and are even worn tiny and flat on the forehead by Senior Warrant Officers � the very first ones in my young days to spot a �floating peak� from afar � the unlucky offender then receiving a violent �ear bashing� before being placed in open arrest to face his Company Commander the next day (The Adjutant in the case of Drummers).

The rest of our first week was spent blancoing our web equipment, and polishing all our brasswork and badges with �bluebell� metal polish (after first smoothing all the surfaces with Bath Brick). We were taught how to square off all our small packs etc and display them above our beds for the benefit of uniformity, when they were all lined up on the shelves with brass buckles sparkling, even our very particular TS started to be more affable at times!
Our two pairs of boots complete with heel and toe plates, and the regulation 13 studs on each sole (these plates and studs had to be burnished!)) came straight from the manufacturers with pimply surfaces which then had to be �boned� with a tooth brush handle until all the pimples disappeared leaving a smooth surface, which then had to be �worshipped� for hours with Kiwi Black boot polish and thousands of the proverbial �Spit and Polish� small circles. The Trained Soldier would not be satisfied until they looked like black glass. (many hours of determination and sweat!).
Meanwhile our squad numbers were increasing, with the daily arrivals of other Boys destined for all five regiments � there were ten Welsh Guards Boys in my squad eventually with seven of them coming from South Wales (and what a mixed bunch they were to prove themselves to be later on!)
And so that week dragged on, with the days of our �unsquadded� status coming to an end on the following Sunday, (Gosh! was it only just over a week since I stepped off that bus?) Our Trained Soldier and Sgt Smith of the Welsh Guards, our Squad Instructor (no relation to the TS), informed us that the following day we were to vacate the �comforts� of Roberts Block and move across to one of �K� Company�s barrack huts to become a squad at last. We were now to commence our training!��continue.

Tin Town