Between 1945 and 1960 over 2.2 million young men were "called-up" to do their period of National Service. Here Dale Johnson, one of the very last National Service recruits, presents a personal account of his time in the Royal Artillery - including the day when, for just fifteen minutes, it appeared that World War 3 had started!
On 15 September 1960, my short period of deferment over, I stepped off a train at Oswestry Railway Station, to report as ordered to the 17th Training Regiment Royal Artillery. Despite the fact that National Service was drawing to a close, I became part of Section 4 of Royal Artillery Intake 6018. Shortly after, on 18 November, we heard that the very last National Serviceman had been called up and that the final Royal Artillery intake, 6020, had been the previous day!
Like so many before, we were issued with our uniforms, given numerous examinations, inoculations and injections, and, of course, our Army number - which was stamped on everything. I shall remember 23811086 for the rest of my life! We were shown how to assemble our kit, sew on buttons, taught to conform to Army rules and regulations, and how to drill on the 'Magic Carpet' - or drill square.
Like most other National Servicemen, we wore green denims for everyday wear. These were very ill fitting but, regardless, we had to turn out smartly each morning and were expected to have the required creases present. We soon found out that with an ordinary iron, brown paper, and a wet shaving brush, we could improvise a 'steam iron' in an attempt to produce the best creases on these denims. One very cold morning, I thought I had managed a reasonable turn-out, only to be told in no uncertain manner by the Troop Sergeant that "Johnson, you look like a ****** Sharpeville rioter!"
On 5 December 1960, as most of my compatriots were sent to Welshpool to crew Army DUKWs helping in the rescue of hundreds of people stranded by a heavily flooded River Severn, three of us found ourselves on the way to Barton Stacey near Andover. Here awaited the War Office Selection Board, which consisted of four days of careful screening, interviews and tests - all intended to assess if we would make suitable Officer Cadets. Though exhausted, I was extremely pleased to learn that I had passed. My next posting, therefore, was, on 6 January 1961 to Mons Officer Cadet School at Aldershot.
As Gunner Officer Cadets, we visited Larkhill, before moving on to Manorbier, in Pembrokeshire, for a ten day initiation into the delights of anti-aircraft artillery and guided weapons. On the firing point, in just two days, we saw off 864 rounds of ammunition on the Bofors L40/70 gun. Was this responsible for the onset of my tinnitus?
On 4th May, all those who had 'passed-out' were duly commissioned as officers and posted to a variety of places around the globe. My posting was to 22 L.A.A. (Light Anti-Aircraft) Regiment Royal Artillery. Then stationed at Pembroke Docks in South Wales, they were a part of 7 Army Group Royal Artillery (AGRA). This was also the first regiment to be equipped with the 'Yellow Fever' FCE7 Fire Control Equipment, with one radar set for each of our Bofors L40/70 low-level anti-aircraft guns. The latter was an improved version of the L40/60, with almost twice the rate of fire and an improved accuracy at a greater range.
The Regiment had two gun batteries: 42 (later Alem Hamza) Battery, and 53 (Louisburg) Battery, each with two gun troops of four guns. Each gun, as already mentioned, had its own FCE7 mobile radar and a Meadows generator mounted on a four wheel Sentinal trailer. Every gun required three Second World War vintage AEC Matador gun tractors - one to tow the gun; a second to haul the radar, and the last bringing up the rear with the generator. In addition, each Battery had a Scammell towing a No.4 Mk.7 Radar. Needless to say, the whole Regiment in convoy together made a splendid sight.
Looking back now, it still amuses me to think how much of our equipment, some eighteen years after the end of the war, was from that era. As well as the Matadors, we were using Austin Champs (soon replaced by Land Rovers) and wartime-dated, Canadian-built, No.19 wireless sets - all of which had bilingual instructions in English and Russian!
The 'Mats' were, usually, extremely reliable but, alas, very slow. On an exercise or in convoy the Regiment was governed by their speed - which meant we could only travel at twenty miles-each-hour on the road. For this reason, and whenever possible, we moved only at night to avoid blocking the A40 for hours on end!
And so, through the summer of 1961, life in the Regiment carried on, though frequently interspersed by lighter moments. Such as the time when the president of the Mess decreed that tomato ketchup was banned from the Mess as it was, in his opinion, an "un-officer-like food". Or the occasion when a rather elderly Captain from 42 Battery went out on Troop parade one morning to be quietly admonished by his Troop Sergeant Major: "Excuse me Sir, but you have got your boots on the wrong feet". The Captain, glancing down, replied "Well, the damned batman must have left them out the wrong way round".
But that same summer also saw a number of changes as the Cold War intensified following the construction of the Berlin Wall.1 The one that most affected us was the reformation of 7 AGRA into 7 Artillery Brigade - of which we were still a part - and the attendant move to the British Army Of the Rhine (BAOR). The Brigade now consisted of 94 Location Regiment in Northern Germany; 12 L.A.A. Regiment at Celle; 36 Guided Weapon Regiment, with Thunderbird missiles, at Dortmund; and the re-designated 22 Regiment stationed, with Brigade Headquarters, at Gutersloh, Westphalia.
Our journey to Germany took place in October 1961, and no sooner had we moved into the Sundern Barracks at Gutersloh, than life again settled into a routine. Our barracks had been a part of Goering's Luftwaffe Headquarters, and there was full central heating for all the buildings - even the garages and workshops! Rumour had it that the COs office had once been Goering's, and the Adjutant's had been his wine cellar! In fact the latter was a room that I would soon occupy for, at the end of February 1962, I was appointed Assistant Adjutant - a role which I found very challenging and rewarding.
The role of the Regiment in Germany, should the Russians have chosen to invade, was to defend one of the bridges across the River Weser near Hamelin. It must be remembered that, at the time, this was a very real and ever-present threat.
Each battery had pre-selected positions for every gun, and these changed on a regular basis. Having been 'positively vetted', one of my more unusual tasks, as Assistant Adjutant, was to take several sheets of blank paper and write, boldly and in block capitals using red ink, TOP SECRET across the top and bottom of each sheet. On these I then listed the grid reference for each gun for the following period.
The next job was to recall all the previous sheets in exchange for the next issue, signing old copies in, and new copies out. The final part was the destruction of the old sheets using a metal paper bin, a box of matches and a long stick! All the old papers were very carefully burnt, and then the remains were stirred around until there was only fine ash left. This was then flushed down the CO's toilet. The 'destruction certificate' was signed and all the signatures were checked in the 'Top Secret Ledger', which in turn was once more locked in the safe.
We were at a constant state of readiness, and at any time we could be ordered to "QUICKTRAIN". When this was called by Brigade Headquarters - or higher - then every man and road-worthy vehicle had to be out of the barracks and driven to nearby locations within thirty minutes. This was to ensure that, should there have been a real state of emergency, then the Russians could not fire a series of missiles and destroy the entire BAOR as it sat in its barracks.
There were also the SOXMIS reports to complete2. This was very much a case of us watching them watching us, watching them and so on. The Russian intelligence services operated a number of green painted Volkswagen Beetle cars, each with its own unique SOXMIS tac sign and number. These vehicles contained Intelligence Officers who were watching everything that was going on in the West. If anybody in the Regiment saw one of these vehicles, we had to send in a form stating the date, SOXMIS number, location, direction of travel, number of occupants and so on. I imagine that somebody put these together, like a jigsaw, to try and make out just what they were watching.
Regimental exercises were taken very seriously and included one carried out in cooperation with the Canadians, and in which the SAS suddenly joined in firing live rounds to make things even more realistic. On another exercise I was able to 'hitch' an hour-long ride in an Army Air Corps Skeeter helicopter, the pilot of which, on air-cooperation duties, was observing our Regiment.
This very keen pilot threw the tiny helicopter around the sky, flying close to the ground, round trees, and up and over power lines whilst attempting to spot our locations whilst avoiding radar detection. Needless to say, after this trip I felt really quite ill, and staggered back to my Champ where, on looking in the wing mirror, I found my face was nearly the same bronze green as the paintwork! Back at the Command Post, the CO suggested that I laid down for a couple of hours to recover.
But perhaps the most nerve-wracking moment of my time on exercise in Germany came on Thursday 24 May 1962. The Regiment, together with 12 Regiment RA, was on Exercise Backlash 2 to the north east of RAF Geilenkirchen, near Aachen and the Dutch border. Our sixteen guns, along with a similar number from 12 Regiment, were all tactically deployed to test the capabilities of our equipment, with full air-cooperation, whilst enacting our role as realistically as possible.
At 02.15 that morning, both Regiments were on 'Stand To' - watching, listening, with all lines of communication open. I was Duty Officer in the Regimental Command Post and, from memory, myself and the Duty Clerk were in a Bedford QL office truck. Suddenly the phone, linked to Brigade Headquarters, rang, breaking the night time quiet. I acknowledged the single code word and hung up. Reaching for the specific code book for Exercise Backlash 2, I looked through trying to decipher the message. But the code word was nowhere on the list.
Undaunted, my next action was to open the Regimental safe and take out the 'Top Secret' code book. And there it was, first on the list:
"TAKE IMMEDIATE ACTION. SOVIET FORCES INVADING. PROCEED TO PREPARED POSITIONS. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS".
Having composed myself, calming my racing pulse, my next course of action should have been to immediately relay this to the individual Battery Command Posts. This would have sparked a period of utter mayhem (remembering that, at the time, the threat of a Soviet attack was quite possible and equally real) resulting in the immediate withdrawal of all personnel and equipment. A quick dash, at twenty m.p.h.!, 200 miles up the Autobahn, would finally see us occupying our prepared positions at "our" bridge on the Weser.
Whilst we were racing to meet the Soviet threat, we would hope that all our ammunition was also being rushed up in a fast convoy from Rheindalen. We would eventually rendezvous on site, allowing the Regiment to come into action, maintaining a twenty-four hour, low-level, anti-aircraft cover.
On this occasion, caution became the best part of valour. I decided to check first with the CO, who was sound asleep in a tent nearby. He, very wisely, also decided to double-check with Brigade Headquarters before getting, as he put it, 22 Regiment "on the road and off to war".
Panic over. It transpired that the Brigade Major, or his clerk, had used the wrong code book in error. Exercise Backlash 2 continued, all of us very grateful that World War Three had not broken out. The fright may have only lasted fifteen minutes - but they were the longest fifteen minutes of my life!
Against this backdrop, my remaining months in Germany adopted a more mundane routine - a mixture of hard work and numerous recreational activities, the latter including trips to Belsen and the East German border. One of the other memorable periods was in January 1963, when the temperature in our part of Germany dropped to a staggering -26°C. Any vehicle left out at night had to have its battery removed and stored indoors. All oils on the vehicles became like toffee. Even our Meadows generators failed to start - despite the use of Arctic starting cartridges!
National Service had originally been planned to be for twelve months, followed by three and a half years with the Reserve Forces. However, it started as eighteen months with a shorter three years afterwards. In August 1961 when the Berlin Wall went up, and with the winding down of National Service, it was found that there were not enough regulars. So, in The Queen's Speech on 28 November 1961, it was stated that those National Servicemen serving in the BAOR would be required to serve an additional six months (at regular rates of pay and time served promotion). It was also stated that plans had been put in place that, should the situation require it, a further pool of 140,000 recently released National Servicemen could also be called up to swell the ranks of the British Army. As for me, I was one of the 9,000 who served the additional six months!
My time in the army ended on 14 March 1963. I had thoroughly enjoyed my two and a half years in the Royal Artillery. Yes, they tried very hard to encourage me to sign on as a 'Regular', and yes, I was very much tempted, but eventually decided against such a move. Even now, I sometimes wish that I had taken this option, but, as they say, we cannot turn back the clock!
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