Army Days

Our gym teacher at my prep school was a very nice man called Sergeant Hirons. He never talked much about the First World War, but judging by his age and the tunes he sang softly to us - Pick up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Come Along - he almost certainly saw action in, and no doubt still bore the scars of, that terrible war. It's strange think that we were in those days far nearer to World War I than we are to the Second World War now. I think it was Sergeant Hirons, too, who introduced us to the delights of "O'Grady Says".

***

At Beaumont, military matters were in the capable hands of Major Roddy and Captain Kelly, again both very pleasant people in their different ways. Although military life has always had a certain attraction to me, I always used to dread Thursday afternoon drill days in the ambulacrum as, amongst other things, uniform of any sort sits uneasily, or rather hangs limply on me. I also found it difficult to bring my badge and parade boots up to the requisite degree of shine. Worst of all was the end-of-term inspection of our kit in the armoury. Permission to leave for the holidays was conditional on passing this inspection. I sometimes wonder how I ever managed to see my parents... From time to time our word power was increased courtesy of a visit from a sergeant of the Irish Guards from the neighbouring Windsor Barracks.

***

From 1956 to 1960 we spent our holidays abroad, first in Libya and then with the BAOR in Germany. I have the fondest memories of both these postings. Looking back to our time in pre-Gadaffi Tripoli, it seems extraordinary now that there should have been shops reserved for Officers and others for Other Ranks (ORs).