"That will do me, sir. How much rent do you want?"
He looked offended, "There is a war on and if a fellow can't help a soldier then it is a pretty poor show. I'll give you a hand to sweep it out."
"No that's all right. I am handy with a brush."
He supplied me with a brush and an oil lamp. The shed would be more than adequate. There was a hasp and I would buy a lock in the town. It would be cosy. In no time at all it was swept out. I had my new blanket and greatcoat. I used those as a bed. The milk train woke me at four o'clock as it hissed to a halt and then chugged its way out. I tried to get back to sleep but I could not manage it. Before five I rose and went along to the toilets. Joe, the Station Master, had just opened them. He grinned at me, "Sleep all right then, Private?"
"Like a baby." He looked incredulous and went on unlocking the gates and the doors.
I had just finished when a small engine pulled in with three carriages. Joe said, "Here Tom, come and meet breakfast."
I was bemused. "Breakfast?"
He chuckled, "Aye." I followed him to the engine. He picked up a basket covered with a tea towel. The driver and his assistant were standing there with two shovels in their hands. As we approached they put them in the firebox. Joe handed the basket over, "Harry, Bert, this is my new lodger, Tom. He is staying in my shed yonder."
They nodded, "Won't take long and we'll have breakfast ready." I was curious. They lifted the tea towel off and underneath were sausages, bacon and half a dozen eggs.
Joe said, "I'll go and get the bread."
They put the sausages on one shovel and the bacon on the other. They thrust them back in the firebox where they spat and hissed as they cooked. The fireman brought his bacon out while the driver shook his sausages to move them around. The fireman took a homemade metal spatula out of his back pocket and he moved the bacon to one side. He nodded to me, "Joe normally does this. Could you crack the six eggs on the shovel here, young man?"
I climbed up on the footplate suddenly aware of the heat from the firebox. I cracked the eggs on the shovel which began to cook as they landed. They were in the firebox no more than seconds before they were cooked.
"Come on Joe!"
Joe hurried back out with a tray. "Coming!"
He had made a pot of tea and I saw that there was even a bottle of HP sauce. This was better than a hotel. The four of us sat on the platform bench and ate the best breakfast I had had in a long time. Once you learned to pick out the pieces of charcoal it was like eating in a fine hotel!
Joe explained, "The farmer who brings the milk drops the basket off. I get up early and load the milk for him. It saves him time see. Harry and Bert here are the first train and it works out nicely."
I washed up for Joe while he checked the tickets for the passengers and, as the train pulled out, at six o'clock I headed towards Park Hall with my kitbag over my shoulder. Mindful of the Sergeant at Shoreditch I had shaved off my moustache. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot on my first day. As I marched through the deserted town I wondered which of the pubs the Captain had used. Joe had given me good directions. I had just left the town and was passing a park when I saw khaki uniforms emerge and begin to walk towards the road. I dropped my kitbag and waited. It was the Captain and the other men who had been on the train. They looked unkempt and unshaven.
He looked at me and smiled, "I see you landed on your feet. Found somewhere already?"
"At the station. I have my digs sorted. What about you, sir?"
He shook his head, "The two pubs were already full."
A sergeant said, "I felt like Baby Jesus, no room at the inn!" He sniffed, "I can smell HP sauce and bacon!" He looked around seeking the café.
"That would be me, sergeant. I had breakfast with the engine drivers."
The Captain laughed, "Well gentlemen we have had a fine lesson here on how to be a Commando. Tom Harsker is a natural!"
Chapter 14
Park Hall was a busy place. Now with three units using its facilities I spent most of each day saluting officers. That first morning was spent in getting our new equipment. Some of it was familiar and some was not. The Bergen rucksack was definitely unfamiliar but I soon came to appreciate its clever design. It had a metal frame which enabled us to carry much greater weight. We were given a toggle rope. I had no idea of its purpose. We were also issued with a life belt. The Browning Colt and the Thomson machine gun I knew about, as well as the special pouch for the magazines. I was issued with a new comforter as well as a beret. The rubber soled shoes we were given were another unknown quantity but when I received the Commando knife I knew that I was joining a unique unit. It looked like no knife I had seen before. Everything packed neatly into the Bergen.
Like the others who had just joined we were all curious about each other. This was not like the University; here we knew we might depend on the men we now met for the first time. Suddenly we heard a whistle and a voice shouted. "Find the lecture hall. Last three men are all on jankers!"
None of us knew where the lecture hall was but I took a guess that it would a large building. I saw one just fifty yards away and I ran towards it. Others ran towards the main admin building while others just stood watching. Four or five men ran with me. A corporal threw a door open and we saw rows of seats and upon each seat was a notepad and a pencil.
"I am guessing this is it, boys." The man who had opened the door had a strong Scottish accent. He led us to the front row. I sat next to him. "Private Sean McKinley, formerly of the Gordon Highlanders."
I shook his hand, "Tom Harsker, formerly of the 1st Loyal Lancashire."
The others joined us. "Well," said Sean, "this is a rum do eh?" We both looked around as others came in to the hall. At first a trickle it soon became a flood. "Did you get some digs then?"
"Yes, I am staying in a hut at the station."
"That's clever. I found a farm with a barn. Cheap as chips!"
Captain Foster came to the front with two officers and the Sergeant who had shouted. He gave a smile when he saw me seated at the front. "Right lads, hurry up and settle down. Sergeant Johnson, have you the last three men yet?"
A voice at the back shouted, "Aye sir. They are just coming now."
When we heard the doors slam we knew that the three unfortunates who would be on punishment duty had reached us.
The Captain put his hands behind his back as he began to talk. "Well that is just one of the ways we are different from other units. You have all discovered the joys of finding your own bed for the night. Some of you, like me, enjoyed life in the park last night." There was laughter all round. "Your officers all have the same rigours as you do. Every one of you was chosen by me. Many more than the men in this room wished to join but I was selective. I know that some of you were in the Rifles. Where are you?" Two men stood up. "Sit down, chaps. These two know more than most the value of what I am about to say. The Rifles have always fought in pairs. Each man watched his friend's back. We are going to use that esprit de corps here too. The difference is each ten man squad will look after each other. We do not leave a man down or a man behind. We are brothers and each squad will be closer than family. When I dismiss you then you can go to the Admin Building and find who your new family is."
There was a murmur from some of the men. The loud sergeant snapped, "Silence in the ranks!"
"Just because we are a unique unit does not mean that we forget discipline and standards. If anything they will be higher here than in the units you came from and that includes the Guards! Lieutenant Reed here has transferred from the Coldstreams and he will confirm, if confirmation were needed, of our higher standards. I want men who can be self reliant. I want men who can find a lecture hall instantly. We will be working behind enemy lines and we may not have accurate information about the terrain. You will all have to improvise and use your minds. All of you have shown me that you have that attribute. Each morning, whilst we are training, you will meet here at six thirty. You will be briefed on
the day's activities. You miss the briefing and you will be out of the Commandos. There are no second chances." He turned to the loud sergeant, "Sergeant Dean."
The Captain sat down and the sergeant stepped forward. "We have to cram six week's training into three weeks. We will work twice as hard as you have ever worked in your life." He glanced at the officers. "And that goes for everyone. Next week three PTIs will be coming to teach hand to hand combat and to put you through your paces. This week will be spent in getting used to our new equipment, our new role and our new brothers. I am the senior sergeant but each squad's sergeant will report to me at the end of each day. We will get rid of you before you jeopardise the unit." He allowed that to sink in. "Now you have fifteen minutes to find out who your new family is. It is another initiative test. Then we will go on a little fifteen mile run to assess your fitness. Attention!"
We all stood.
"Dismiss!"
Fifteen minutes was not very long and we ran. Running had always been one of my strengths and I began to outstrip the others. Some of the ones at the back just ran out without thinking where they were running. I headed for the Admin Building. I was the second one there. I saw my name. There were eight privates in the list. It was the second on a list headed Number 2 squad. I went to the side to allow the others to see and then I shouted. Number Two Squad! Here!"
I almost laughed when the Gordon Highlander joined me. It seemed like Fate. We both roared, "Number Two Squad! Here!"
One or two others had decided to copy me but we had four members already. We all shouted a third time but our voices were drowned a little by the others. Even so two more joined us. Finally two men looked at the board and then asked. "Number Two Squad?"
Sean nodded, "And that makes us complete. Right lads let's move over there and get to know each other." The cacophony of noise made conversation impossible. We headed back to the lecture hall. I saw the officers, sergeants and corporals watching us with amusement. We stood in a circle. "I'm Sean McKinley and this is Tom Harsker."
He gestured with his left hand to the man on his left. "Percy Cunningham."
"Martin Murphy."
"Brian Davis."
"Dick Kirton."
"Harry Golightly."
"Dennis Grant."
The last man was the eldest of us. He had grey streaks in his hair. I wondered if he was too old to be in the Commandos. Before we could say anything else a sergeant and a corporal joined us. "Well done lads. That was smartly done. I have high hopes of you if you can keep that up. I am Sergeant Jack Johnson and this is Corporal Wally White. We are the other members of Number Two Squad. Right let's get going."
He turned and began to run. We now knew to expect the unexpected and we all followed him. I found myself behind Sean and ahead of Dennis Grant. The Sergeant kept up a ground eating pace. It was not fast but it was steady. He led us out of the camp and along a lane. We turned and ran along the perimeter of the camp. I saw a second squad running too but others were still milling around.
I noticed that the lane was heading up hill. This was border country. Ahead were hills and mountains. I wished I had studied a map while on the train. It would have been handy to know where we were going. I did keep a close eye on the direction we took. The sergeant kept taking side lanes but always we went up. After two hours we stopped in the middle of a copse. We had left the last road half a mile back and had followed a trail until we came to the wood.
The Corporal and the Sergeant stood together. "Now my lovely lads. Your next task is to get back to camp. All of you! The last squad back is cooking the meal tonight." They sat down and lit up their cigarettes.
Brian Davis said, "Bloody hell anyone any idea of the way back?"
I stepped forward, "I think so. I was watching the turns as we came up."
Sean said, "Well old son, I guess you lead and we will play follow my leader!"
It was pressure but then dad had told me to expect pressure. I had been brought up to make decisions and I took my first one. I began to jog through the woods. Martin Murphy said, "As soon as we see the other squads we will know which way to go."
Sean laughed, "I don't think they will make it that easy. They will all take different routes." He pointed and we could other sections snaking along the lanes.
Private Grant was behind me. "Still they all have to come from the camp don't they? If young Tom here gets lost then we look for the ones climbing the hills."
That reassured me. There was a backup plan. Surprisingly I found the route down the hill easy. The fact that I had watched so closely on the way up meant I had a few way points in my head. As the ground began to flatten I grew hopeful. When we found the lane we had started on then I became excited. As soon as we saw the perimeter wall the whole squad began to cheer. We had made it. We could have slowed but I wanted to make a grand entrance. As we sprinted into the camp I saw Sergeant Johnson and Corporal White. They were leading their bicycles towards us with Lieutenant Reed behind. I heard Dennis say, "Crafty buggers." He clapped me on the back. "Well done, son. You did well then."
"So did you. I was surprised you were able to keep up."
He laughed, "Cheeky so and so. Don't let the grey hairs fool you. I was divisional cross country champion six years ago."
"Sorry. I meant no offence."
"And none taken."
The Lieutenant bounded up to us. "I say chaps, well done! The next squad is nowhere in sight!"
I saw that the two non coms looked equally pleased. "Right lads. Your next lesson is about getting your body back to working order after a run like that. "Corporal White came along and gave each of us a half pound bag of salt. "Go to the canteen and get a pint of water each. Put a tablespoon of salt in it and drink it."
I looked at Sean who shrugged. Dennis said, "It makes sense. When you run you sweat out salts and this replaces them. Come on son."
Sean laughed, "Right you are, dad." We all laughed and in that instant Dennis became Daddy Grant.
That was the moment when we became a team. A tiny thing in the scheme of things but it worked. It helped that we had arrived back more than fifteen minutes ahead of anyone else. In that short time we became the ones everyone wanted to beat. While the team who came in last hurried to cook our meal the rest of us were allowed to go to the NAAFI where we could buy a beer or two. I was able to look on this in a detached manner. Dad would have done something similar to this to encourage the esprit de corps that Captain Foster wanted. Not surprisingly we sat in our squads. The officers of all ranks observed our privacy and let us get on with it. We found out what we had all done before joining the Commandos. We discovered that Daddy Grant was decorated. He had been awarded the Military Medal for gallantry in Norway. Although we had been driven from Norway Daddy Grant had fought with great courage.
I was the only veteran of the BEF retreat; even though I had not been to Dunkirk. It meant that the two of us were the only ones who had seen serious action.
"I think this is great," Percy had had more beers than the rest of us and was the most garrulous, "but how in the hell can we get to know each other if we all go our separate ways to our own digs. In a barracks we would all be mucking in together."
Sean said, "You could be right but I dinna think we will be in our own little billets for too long. I have a feeling that we will have to be billeted together before we go into action. This is just for the training,"
Despite his brash manner, Sean was a thinker. He reminded me of a mature Willy. After we had eaten, and it was not the best food I had eaten, we all headed back to our own billets. We left together but, gradually the others all peeled off to go to pubs, farms and private houses. I reached the station and met Joe as he was heading back to his house. He smiled when he saw me. "How was your first day then?"
"It was good. I will buy a lock for the shed tomorrow." I held up my Bergen. "They keep giving us more and more gear."
He suddenly ran off and returned a moment or two later with the biggest padlock I ha
d ever seen. "Here, you are, Tom. I've had this for some time. You might as well use it."
I spent the next hour examining my new weapons and tidying my new home. There was no lock on the inside and so I rigged my helmet on a cord. If anyone tried to come in the helmet would fall and clatter against the floor. As I snuggled down into my blanket I contemplated getting a camp bed but then decided against it. This would inure me against the privations to come.
The next week flew by. We learned how to rock climb. The rubber soled shoes helped and my knowledge of knots was invaluable. My bowline was admired, even by Sergeant Dean who was the knot expert. I thoroughly enjoyed learning how to use the machine gun and the automatic. After the Lee Enfield and the Webley they were a joy. When it came to booby traps the skills Nev had imparted proved to be superior even to some of those training us. I explained how to use a German hand grenade to make a booby trap and it made all of the officers sit up and take interest. As we walked to the mess that evening Sergeant Dean said, "If we can get hold of a couple of potato mashers it would be good to try some of these booby traps out."
"No problem, Sergeant."
He nodded and then asked, "Was your father a British Ace in the Great War?"
My heart sank, I did not want to have to live up to his reputation. Equally, I could not lie to my new comrades, "Yes Sergeant."
He smiled, "My brother was a mechanic in his squadron. He spoke highly of your dad. Said he was a good bloke. I can see you are a chip off the old block. Well done, son."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was not being compared. It was the skills Nev had given me that made me stand out. My father was incidental.
We had lectures on blowing bridges. I could see that some of the lads struggled with that. My engineering background and knowledge of physics made it seem simple. We were told that we would, eventually, be able to practise blowing up bridges at Park Hall. The Royal Engineers based there would build them and we would destroy them. That sounded like fun.
At the end of the first week, on the Sunday night, we were gathered in the lecture hall. There were three soldiers I did not recognise. Captain Foster stood. He had been ever present during that first week as he had been observing and making notes on our performances. I knew from Sergeant Johnson that he was impressed with our squad.
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