Tribute to John Gordon (17 Parachute Heavy Drop Platoon RAOC)

JOHN “SCOUSE” GORDON by Stewart Hudson

My first contact with Scouse was in April 1962 when getting kitted up for the final Wales march after two weeks beasting and two weeks Parachute selection tests at P Company in Maida Bks, Aldershot. The “P” Company Sergeant Major then was a fearful character called CSM “Smokey” Furness and one of the APTIs was a super fit Ssgt “Twitch” Twitchen, the OC was an RE major whose name I have lost.

This was Course 556 for which I had volunteered along with another RAOC lance corporal, Pete Crossland. We were billeted in rickety wooden “Spider” huts on Gun Hill (Aldershot- Behind CMH). I reckon Scouse had been on Course 555 but was now working in the CQMS stores until sufficient numbers were ready to go on to parachute training at RAF Abingdon. We had to report to the stores for trench digging tools. As Scouse was also RAOC, when we came to the head of the queue, he thoughtfully advised us to take the shovel as the pick was much heavier.

I completed parachute training and gained the coveted wings and maroon beret by the end of May 1962 but Scouse must have finished his a week or two before before that. I then had to go back to my craphat unit of 3 BAD in Germany until called forward for posting; this came in September 1962 when Pete and I met up again at RAF Lyneham to fly out to join 17 Para Hy Drop Pl RAOC at RAF Muharraq in Bahrain, an island state in the middle of the Persian Gulf.

The first thing that hit us was the heat, then the smells. Mingled with the odours of aviation fuel were rather exotic spice-like smells which were to become part of our lives.

Pete and I were met by blonde Yorkshireman, Cpl Ken Fisher and bespectacled Cpl Dave Nicholson who drove us in a 1/4 Ton Landrover a few hundred yards to a large, canvas hangar which was the workplace of the RAOC team of parachute heavy drop specialists. This hangar was sandwiched between a fire station, manned by Sikh firemen who were fanatical volley-ball players, and a small aviation firm called Gulf Air the total fleet of which comprised an old Douglas Dakota DC3 and a deHavilland Dragon biplane. This firm was later to expand into the massive Emirates Air.

Several guys, dressed only in faded dark blue PT shorts, boots with socks rolled down and a rag of some sort (I later found that this was the Para’s face veil) tied around the neck, were doing things with chains and wooden shapes. NCOs showed their rank on a cloth wrist band. An open mortar tent contained two six-feet, fold flat tables and some camp chairs, a 4-drawer filing cabinet and Scottish, Lt Ian Bruce Hilton RAOC, the platoon commander.
The unit had recently come from Cyprus in support of the original 2 PARA Op VANTAGE in maintaining the independence of Kuwait which was threatened by Iraq. Whilst the Paras flew in, the platoon (then entitled 676 Heavy Drop Platoon) had sailed in a Landing Ship Logistic (LSL) directly on to Muharraq shore and offloaded their vehicles, platforms and boxes of kit near the end of the aircraft runway. Muharraq is off the Northern shore of the main Bahrain island to which it is joined by a causeway. The RAF kindly gave them a frame and canvas kit to construct a hangar. From Cyprus they brought a mortar tent for an office in addition to all their AF G1098 (Table of Entitlement) stores to enable them to set up in the field.

After the OC gave us a welcoming bollocking and warning of being RTUd if we went down with heat stroke, Ken was detailed to get us settled in and drove us down to the domestic area of the RAF Station to the long, brick and plaster shed that was divided into two rooms, each designed to house six men; ours having double bunks and lockers for twelve! Cosy. Pete and I changed into boots and PT shorts then Ken told us we never wear the issued KD shorts and only wear the jacket when not in the unit compound. We had also been issued with brass RAOC shoulder titles that were permanently consigned to the souvenir drawer. Of course our headgear was ever the Cherry Beret.

It was now after 1300hrs which ended the working day, so in trooped most of the platoon: Cpls Mick Falcus, Mick Leadbeater, Terry Willows, Ptes Tommy Acathan, Chris “Lofty” Pickering, REME Cfn Paul Ladley and, would you believe it, the wee storeman from P Coy, John “Scouse” Gordon!

Pete and I were loaned ‘44 Pattern aluminium mugs and off we all trooped to the dining hall (RAF don’t have “cookhouses”). At the doorway a table had two dessert plates, one filled with pale cream pills (Paludrine - anti-Malaria) and concentrated salt tablets for heat stroke. Most people swallowed one of each washed down by a swig of orange “jungle juice” before each meal; we didn’t. I since found out that overdosing on Paludrine was worse than Malaria and one salt tablet was supposed to be dissolved in two full water bottles and sipped throughout the day. As far as I remember the food was OK except for the eggs. To preserve them, their shells were coated with Waterglass (sodium silicate) which made them taste awful.

Every one of the platoon was unique including the senior ranks and officers. There was Sgt Les Walton, a REME engineering genius and crane operator; there were storemen Sgt Bryan Withnal and Ssgt Jack Smurthwaite. Lt Hilton was replaced in January 1963 (after collapsing from heat stroke!) by ex-SAS Captain David Emlyn John Evans RAOC with whom I got on very well but not so Scouse. This had something to do with the fact that David wanted to form all of us into a Rugby Union squad; Scouse was an exceptional scrum half but was also a brilliant football player and sneaked away to play for 3 Para. Never forgiven!

I was the lone Tech Clerk in the unit, tasked with creating an account for the jumble of technical equipment in the boxes offloaded from the LSL that was required for parachuting vehicles, guns and heavy plant from Blackburn Beverley aircraft. Cpl Terry Willows, from Spennymoor, was the Admin Clerk. Scouse was in a section responsible for maintaining this kit in addition to helping the Paras and SAS to rig their vehicles etc onto the Medium Stressed Platforms using chains, tensioners, shocksruts, wooden forms, nylon cord and black “jungle” tape. Once the loads were rigged and checked, Sgt Les Walton would hoist them onto our flatbed 10 ton truck from which the section would transfer the 4 ton loads into the open belly of the Beverley.

The Beverley had a cargo hold which could take two MSP loads and flew with the two clam-shell doors removed. Above this was a boom compartment from which around 36 paratroopers could drop through a large door in the floor. A lovely exit; you just kept walking until there was no floor and you slid gracefully down the slipstream chute! If you were very quick you could twist before you parachute deployed and, if the DZ was long enough, you could the watch the loads streaming out. The installation team, including Scouse, were usually chosen as the DZ Clearance Team who would jump with the loads and their crews to assist in DZ defence and the eventual recovery of the kit and platforms.

We all managed to get quite a few jumps in to Juweiza or Jebel Ali in the Oman. Great!

Operation SAYQ ROVER.

Out of the blue, early in 1963, Dave Evans told us that we had to take part in an operation in support of the Sultan of Muscat and Oman, Sa'id bin Taymar. The op was classifiedSecret as the British Government could not be seen to be involved.

I think the others were Les Walton, Scouse Gordon, Paddy Byrne and Liam Williams. Les was briefed on the op and would brief us once we were in the air. We packed kit for a week and 24 hour ration packs plus a big, square tin of hard-tack biscuits and a ten man ration pack. Les packed a tool box and smoke grenades and I drew out my 9mm Sterling SMC, bombed up three magazines and strapped my not-so-trusty Commando dagger to my right leg (I really can't imagine what I thought I would do with it!). Paddy Byrne took a more useful machete. We were all issued self administered Morphine ampoules, extra Shell Dressings and our Identity Discs. These were three metal discs showing our number, name and religion. In combat, two discs are suspended on thin cord around the neck and one around the wrist. If the wearer is killed, one disc can be removed from the neck and attached to the outside of the body bag. The one on the wrist is there for the eventuality of the wearer's head getting blown off and the neck pair lost! Getting scary.

Les put us in the picture on the flight to Muscat. Apparently the UK had an agreement to keep the Sultan in power but left wing dissidents were fomenting trouble in Dhofar province and he feared they would try to oust him. He, quite right as it proved, did not trust his Arab countrymen, not even his own relatives! His Sultan's Armed Forces (SAF) were propped up by officers and men seconded from the British Army including one of the SAS "Originals", Lt Col Johnny Cooper, and a sprinkling of his Special Forces pals. These were all "advisers" spread around the mountainous interior to train and guide the Sultan's men. The SAF, at that time in mountain top forts, were poorly armed and equipped Baluchi mercenaries.

One fort, Sayq, could only be resupplied from a light deHavilland Canada Beaver aeroplane which could land on the small plateau on which the Beau Geste type fort was built and the Baluchi troops had to manhandle supplies from the Beaver to the fort thus exposing them to sniper fire. A few years ago the ingenious SAS had brought an old, short wheelbase Land Rover overland to the base of the mountain, dismantled it, (including cutting the chassis in half!) mule-packed the bits up to the fort then welded and mantled it back together again. This vehicle was used to ferry stores from the landing strip to the fort but it had reached the end if its useful life.

We were to go in by land as pathfinders, ground defence and DZ clearance. Miffed at not jumping in but Oooh! Excitement! Back in Bahrain the Platoon was given a new, long wheelbase Land Rover, filled with spare parts, which our guys had to rig, instal and drop in to the fort which was manned by the Baluchi SAF soldiers.

In Muscat we landed on a desert strip and were transported in a SAF 3 tonner to a shack in the bondoo outside their barracks at Bait al Falaj. This shack was occupied by four guys in skimpy sort of Arab dress. Long shemag (head cloth) worn as a skirt, loose khaki shirt and flip-flops. They were just lounging around beside their varied weapons swatting flies with deadly accuracy.
They were from 21/22/23 SAS.

We shared a brew with these guys then piled on board an SAF driven 3 tonner for the 185 kms drive over a hard packed sand road skirting the North/South range of mountains before stopping on the outskirts of a small town, which may have been Nizwa, to spend the heat of the day under the shade of date palms. Not knowing the loyalties of the inhabitants we made a tactical position in a ditch and shared tea made on a Hexamine burning stove; great bit of kit. When we realised that the locals were paying us no attention we explored the garden and found a very interesting well which was operated by a donkey walking down a sloping tunnel and hauling up a goat skin (well I think that's what it was) filled with beautifully clean fresh water which spilled into shallow canals irrigating the garden. At the bottom it turned around and walked back up the slope thus lowering the goat skin back down the shaft. It just kept doing this until the minder was happy that the oasis was well watered.

Off again, this time towards the mountains and over an increasingly rocky road and eventually up a steep dry stream bed. The Arab driver was not happy with this so Les Walton took over and got us up as far as we could drive, about 800 metres from the fort where we debussed, offloaded and sent the driver and truck away. The population of a small nearby village came and helped us, with donkey power, up the last steep pitch.

I really can't remember how we got word of our arrival back to Muharraq. We surely had radio comms with the expected Beverley as Les told us that the load would be coming in 24 hours after we gave the RAF notice that the DZ was suitable. We made contact with the command structure in the fort then set up camp just outside the walls and recce'd the DZ. It was small but reasonably flat and no large rock outcrops.

P Hour was actually to be early morning two days later so we lounged about getting burnt to a frazzle. On the morning designated Les showed us where to locate the luminous "A " (Approach) panel then the "T" (Target) panel and we patiently waited. On time we heard the groan of the approaching Beverley which lumbered overheard on a dummy run then, on the second run, out streamed the small extractor 'chute.

"Hmmm, that's a bit early!"

Out slid the load, swung steeply under the two, white 66 feet 'chutes which deployed perfectly then the whole shebang gracefully descended and disappeared down the mountain side!

The Beverley droned on and headed shamefacedly (if a 'plane can do that) off back to Muharraq.

The sting in the tale was that a visiting RAF Air Vice Marshall had asked to navigate the 'plane and pressed the tit to drop the load . . . a few seconds early.

When we got to the edge of the plateau we saw that everything had functioned perfectly but the load was lying at a steep angle about 50 metres from the top. A bunch of locals from the village arrived to watch us derig and, after Paddy Byrne had manfully driven the Land Rover over the rocks and up on to the plateau, even helped us to haul the platform and the airbags which we had filled with the chains and the other recoverable parts, up to our camp on the plateau.

Paddy went back down to where he had left his kit but found that his Kodak Brownie camera was missing. The headman of the village was asked if someone had maybe picked it up. He found that a 10 years old boy had taken it and was to be tied down over an old iron cannon and lashed by his father! Paddy had pleaded that it was only a cheap camera which the boy could keep but the headman told him that this was a light punishment; an adult would have had his hand cut off.

The Land Rover was handed over to the SAF soldier in charge of transport. With two vehicles he could call himself the MTO!

Now Les revealed his plan for recovery of the platform, parachutes and kit. We were to dismantle everything down to individual parts and fly them out in the Beaver! We worked all day through the blistering heat reducing the platform to individual channels and plates but the wooden doors were too badly damaged so Paddy chopped them up with his machete. That night we had a bonfire with all the combustible bits and cooked a great curry from the ten man pack. The biscuit tin was a great pot in which we cooked the rice.
I broke out my hip flask of malt whisky. This was needed because Paddy Byrne had a massive boil on his neck and I volunteered to lance it. Sterilise the commando dagger with the whisky then quick stab and out gushed the pus to be mopped up with one of our Shell Dressings then another wrapped, not too tight, around Paddy's neck. The patient survived. We finished off the whisky.

Next day the Beaver arrived and was stuffed full of aluminium channels and parachutes. Liam was sent off with it and when it returned in the afternoon the rest of us followed. At Muscat we loaded everything into the waiting Beverley and returned to Bahrain.

Watchfield.

In April 1963 the platoon was relieved and left for the UK and a wild six weeks of leave! We all eventually arrived at 16 Para Hy Drop Coy RAOC in Watchfield Camp near Shrivenham, Wiltshire. The Coy was commanded by gentle Maj Chris (Dad) Kieran RAOC and the CSM was WO2 Les Butcher.

The names I remember from then are: Capt René Maby, Ssgt George (Trunky) McGrellis, Sgt Robbo Robinson REME, Sgts Tom Curry, Vic Keymer and Fred Hinckley, Ptes George Seagraves, Jock Sloan, Bill Skinner and Ray Seath. There was also married pad Cpl Tony Halls and his Great Dane dogs on return from a tour with 22 SAS. We were pleased to see Fijian Pte Saki Vocetaki although he had not passed P Coy yet; he was a powerful asset to our rugby team. Pte Timoci Toupou had passed and was destined to be decorated as a tracker for the SAS in the Brunei campaign.

Maj Chris Kiernan decided he wanted to be more of a father to his troops so he studied all our personal documents and learnt the forenames of all the junior ranks. It caused stifled hilarity when he was heard to address Lofty as “Cristopher”, me as “William” (I was Jock or Hud) and Scouse as “John”. An interesting one was “Taff” Wardle as it transpired that his Welsh sounding accent came from the Punjab not Cardiff!

Our mounting airfields were RAF Abingdon for Beverleys and RAF Benson for the new Armstrong Whitworth Argosy. This had a twin boom tail and rear heavy drop doors which could be opened and closed in flight! It was very comfortable for up to 69 paratroopers and had a civilised toilet! We carried out many drops in UK and Germany using these aircraft racking up our jumps too.

Back to Bahrain.

At the end of January 1964, Dave Evans was told to rename his platoon "19 Para Hy Drop Pl" and return with it to Bahrain, this time in support of 2 Para. I don't know why the number change. It could be that the platoon then in Bahrain was to keep "17", the one back at Watchfield "18" therefore we became "19". A new requirement for travel meant that we all had to be issued with "Government Official" passports. These made us feel very important.

On the 4th of February we left but I have absolutely no memory of how we travelled. Must have been a great farewell party! Vocetaki came with us.

At the compound we found a purpose built tin office with an air-conditioner! Same old living accommodation with just the overhead fans. Dave Evans and Paddy Williams were in married quarters with their families in Juffair about 9 miles away. The senior ranks, this time including Glaswegian Sgt Jock Maxwell were in the RAF Sergeants' Mess.

No sooner had we arrived than a party of us and some air-dispatchers of 63 Coy RASC, including Cpl Sammy Mallett, were told off for an operation on Zanzibar to be mounted from RAF Khormaksar in Aden. Special Forces were to drop in with one of their "pinkies" (a Landrover painted pink which, strangely, is good camouflage in deserts) and lots of machine guns to support the Sultan against a rebellion. They were to be supported by a company of 2 Para under command of a Maj John Allard Rymer-Jones PARA.

We had prepositioned two platforms and some crates of kit at Ord Depot Aden so we only had to take down the special kit for that load. The Land Rover and trailer were rigged under cover in a shed at the Ord Depot where a worried Les Walton kept checking its weight on crane slung scales but the SAS troop commander kept adding "essential" things to the load until the crane itself started to tip to one side. Luckily, the diplomats chickened out and the op was cancelled.

It was there that Sammy Mallett met other RASC guys who had succeeded in SAS Selection and probably influenced his future successful attempt in 1967. He had a full career with the Regiment, eventually being commissioned in 1977 and retiring in the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in 1996. He died on 31st January 2018.

While at RAF Khormaksar, we lived under open sided tents on concrete bases at RAF Khormaksar along with the 2 Para lads. The SAS were, of course, in the Sgts' Mess. During the day it was scorching and all we could do was lie, bollock naked, on our camp beds. One day we were visited by Rymer-Jones who blew his top at his lads: "THAT IS AN ABSOLUTE DISGRACE! Have you no pyjamas? Why, I bet none of you even have dressing gowns!" We all quietly curled up, giggling!

We were to backload the platforms and kit by sea on Landing Crafts Troops (LCTs) so while this was being arranged we had some free time which most of us spent oggling the expats' daughters in the Families' Club. Ssgt Jack "Smudge" Smurthwaite and Sgt Jock Maxwell went, in civvies, on the randan in the out-of-bounds area of Crater where, inevitably they were stopped by RAF Police. Jack tried to pretend he was a German tourist and couldn't understand the Snowdrops who smelled a rat and took them back to the police lodge in Khormaksar where a fluent German speaking police sergeant soon had them saying "Fair cop, guv!" I think they each got a reprimand.
On this tour the preferred DZ in Oman was Jebel Ali where we did one jump with 2 Para before they handed over to 3 Para. The CO of 3 Para was Lt Col Anthony Heritage Farrar-Hockley DSO, MC. Yes, " Farrar the Para " had arrived.

Stories about Farrar abounded. He had gained the Military Cross fighting the Germans in Greece, then the DSO as a captain with the Glorious Glosters on the Imjin River in Korea. We knew this regiment as the "Front and Backers" as, in addition to a cap badge depicting a Sphinx at the front, they wore a smaller one at the rear. This commemorated a battle against Napoleon's forces at Alexandria when the Glosters fought off the enemy by standing back to back. Farrar continued this reputation by commanding a company with all-round defence of Hill 235 against massed Chinese forces. Out of ammunition and no chance of reinforcement, Farrar conducted a fighting withdrawal of his troops but, as last man out, was captured. He did escape four times but was captured each time! He was exchanged after the cease-fire.

There was a Rest and Recuperation (R & R) scheme in place for all of the Group which meant that you could forego two weeks of your home leave and either spend this time in Aden or in the Silversands leave centre in Mombasa, Kenya. Very few applied (Scouse didn’t want to lose home leave) and even fewer asked for Aden. Pete Crossland and I both applied, and were accepted for Mombasa. We had a great time.

Pete had to return two days before me. After he had gone I heard the news that there was trouble in Aden. The only major British force in the area was in Bahrain. I was in Kenya. I had to get back. I was near skint so I hitched lifts all the way back to Nairobi over red, dusty roads, stopping for plantains and Cokes at wriggly-tin shacks along the way. In Nairobi I got a 'bus out to RAF Embakasi where, surprisingly, they knew about me; Pete must have briefed them. I was put on a flight to Aden then on to Bahrain.

In the South of the Arabian Peninsula the trouble was fomenting. 3 Para Group was ordered in.

A concerted operation involving 3 PARA, 45 Commando and Aden Federal troops to capture the Dhanaba Basin, a Radfan tribal stronghold, began at the end of April 1964 so the Battalion went off to assemble at RAF Khormaksar while the CO followed with all the odds and sods he could gather to beef their strength. The Heavy Drop Pl was to go in the infantry role. Dave also arranged for his buddy, Capt Ian McArthur, OC of the REME Workshops to go with them.

Tony liked to personally brief his soldiers and came down to our compound and outlined the growing situation in the Aden Protectorate where Egypt inspired "Red Wolves" were trying to take over. Dave Evans considered his options and agreed to take everyone, including Scouse, except the few very young junior ranks plus Les Walton and me. His reasoning was that he needed reliable people to stay at Muharraq to look after the rump. I was of course raging.

The lads were excited at this chance of combat as they packed up and flew off. When they returned a few weeks later they related their war stories, mostly about being Darius's Mules in lumbering up and down the terraces in the Radfan's deep wadis carrying all their kit plus jerricans of water or mortar bombs. Their “macho” ‘photo from Wadi Thaim, which was later published in the encyclopaedic “History of the RAOC”, had Lofty Pickering, Scouse Gordon, Andy Cornes, Pete Crossland and Sammy Mallett suitably draped in machine-gun ammo belts. They joined in a successful action to clear a cave of insurgents achieved by hitting it with a 3.5 inch HEAT rocket. 3 PARA lost two killed and several wounded clearing a fort and village buildings at El Naquil in concert with 45 Commando.

I'm sorry I can't relate much about the Radfan action as I did not go but after the event Farrar attempted to have the Platoon integrated in the Parachute regiment establishment as opposed to RAOC. He also presented us all, me too even 'though I didn't go, with Airborne Pegasus ties. At this, Dave changed our number back to the original "17"

Christmas in the Army is always a time for role swaps and riotous fun. Reveille is played out in the billet with the CO and the RSM serving "Gunfire", ladled from a 12 pint aluminium kettle full of tea laced with a bottle of dark Pusser's rum, to the Other Ranks in their beds. After a good breakfast the officers and SNCOs play the ORs at rugby where a lot of old scores are settled. THEY always win but we all share several 24 packs of beer.

A traditional Christmas lunch is prepared in the cookhouse which is decorated with camouflage nets and balloons (well, actually blown up condoms!). Crackers provide the paper headgear and the meal is served by the officers and SNCOs to much cat-calling and the occasional flying bread roll. This Christmas Farrar got up on the table and gave us a heart-felt thank you speech then the much taller RSM got up to put his pennyworth in and was promptly smacked on the forehead by the whirling electric fan! Guess which got the bigger cheer?

After the officers left we got down to some serious drinking and singing. The Platoon was definitely the best at ribald songs however one Regiment guy by the nickname of Canada, (because of his native country) got on the table and gave a terrific strip-tease. The Big Secret that we kept in those days was that Canada was gay. No stereotype him, he was one of the fittest, hardest man in the Regiment. Back in UK he moonlighted stripping in London clubs. I admired him.

Ken Fisher had to try and top this dance with another Airborne tradition: the Dance of the Flaming Arsehole! This involved us singing "Hi zigga zumba zumba zumba . . " while Ken rolled up a copy of Part 1 Orders, dropped his kecks, inserted it in an orifice at which time it was lit. Ken had to keep jiggling until we finished a whole verse! " . . .Hi zigga zumba zumba zay, Hold him down while I get at him, hold him down you Zulu chief, chief, chief!" The flames were doused by liberal applications of beer.

With the 3 Para Group we only got three jumps in: an Argosy onto Jebel Ali on the 28th May when it was scorching hot, a Beverley again to Jebel Ali on the 17th December when it was pouring rain then another Beverley but this time onto Zubeida on the 11th February 1965.

The platoon was due to be relieved in January 1965 but Watchfield was having trouble making up the numbers of parachute trained soldiers so a few of us volunteered to stay behind. The rest, Scouse included, left for freezing Wiltshire. I eventually followed in March. 
Watchfield (1965-66)

Back in the UK we found that, as part of the McLeod reorganisation, many functions of the now defunct Royal Army Service Corps (RASC) had come over to the RAOC including the trade of Staff Clerk who, as the title suggests, worked for the Staff Officers of HQs while Clerks RAOC usually worked in stores and ammunition depots. A new corps, the Royal Corps of Transport (RCT), was formed and they retained the air despatch of one ton containers.

Some newcomers were evident at Watchfield: Sgt Dave Nice and Cpl Bob Copeland, then two transfers-in from 2 Para: Sgt Dave Rowe and Cpl Sandy Bennet. As OC, Chris Kiernan was replaced in March 1965 by Maj Alan Stanley Barr RAOC, an extremely fit, confident and arrogant man. However, he did volunteer all of the parachute trained (by now we had had to accept craphats into the unit!) personnel for 14 days of parachute trials in Libya.

The X Type parachute was notorious for oscillation, meaning swinging from side to side as it spilled air out of one side then the other. It was also not good in wind. We were required to carry out trials of the PX Type parachute which, instead of being a flat disc, was sort of mushroom shaped and could be steered - a bit.

We flew in a Hastings via Nice to a small RAF unit at Idris airfield near Tripoli and, from 23 March to 5 April we got in 15 jumps with various configurations of canopy and all, bar one, with CSPEP. The odd one out was a canopy modified to be fully steerable; only skydivers jumped this 'chute, CF. We wore numbered tabards for all jumps and on every jump our Hastings was accompanied on either side by two smaller 'planes which had cameramen filming. The trials were successful as the PX became the standard 'chute for NATO parachutists.

At the end of the trials we had one day off for a cultural trip to Leptis Magna, a very important ancient Roman site. It was a pain of an 81 miles 'bus trip but, to me, well worth it. Perfectly preserved streets, shops and mosaics and some inscriptions. Too soon we had to head back, then the long flight back to Abingdon.

The Great Escape, Watchfield.

Back at Watchfield I settled into routine stores accounting then out on the bevvy with the lads in Farringdon, Swindon, Devizes, anywhere with a reputation for accepting rowdy paratroopers. A popular venue was the Moonraker's in Swindon. We usually wore our Middle East uniforms (Waffle-Tackle) to help pull the girls. That was bleached khaki shirt, cavalry twill khaki trousers held up by the Pegasus stable belt, desert boots and Cherry Beret to top it off. We were frequently barred.

Occasionally we went to RAF Wroughton, an hospital, filled with WRAF nurses and (I later found out) a typist/poetess called Pam Ayres!

Sunday morning was always spent in the Eagle, a pub just outside the Camp gates hosted by the worthy Jack. Pints of local brew and dominos before a good lunch in the cookhouse.
I was doing Chief Clerk in the Orderly Room one cold day when Scouse came in and told me that an NCO had gone into our billet and stolen money from my locker. I had been saving up to go home for New Year. Scouse had been getting warm in the block when he saw this corporal approaching. Not wanting to get caught, Scouse crouched down behind a locker and watched while this guy came in, opened my locker (which I never locked), pulled open the drawer and took out two ten pound notes. He then left.

I immediately told the CSM who sent a sergeant to get the guy. Meanwhile Scouse was taken in to Alan Stanley who asked him what he had been doing in the billet. Scouse had to confess "Skiving, Sir". The CSM searched the corporal who had just two ten pound notes in his possession. With Scouse's evidence this brought in the RMP and eventually a Courts Martial in Aldershot.

We all gave evidence and the corporal was busted to private plus 30 days detention. He later appealed the sentence on the grounds that he had little children and they would miss him at Christmas. He had taken the money to buy presents. The detention was suspended. We never saw him again.

We only got three jumps in before Christmas: a Beverley on 11th June, a follow-up PX trial jump from an Argosy and another Beverley on 1st October, all of these onto Watchfield DZ. On one of the jumps we witnessed one of the atmospheric oddities when we all crumpled onto the grass but, on looking up, found that Scouse had been caught in a hot air thermal and was just hanging in mid air! No amount of our shouted advice made any difference but after a good few minutes he pulled down hard on one lift web and gracefully slid out of the sky!

To celebrate this, Scouse, Dave Rice and Andy Cornes went in Dave's car for a few (still several days to payday) drinks in the Swan in Farringdon. When they had spent up they left by the back door and, on walking along the passageway, kicked the empty metal beer barrels but "CLONK", that one sounded full! Dave ran and brought his car 'round, Scouse positioned himself on the other side of the high wooden fence and big, strong, Scots, Andy Cornes heaved the barrel over the fence. Back to the billet where we all considered: "How do we get in to it?" One of the trio went over to the Eagle and an obliging Jack gave them a suitable screw-on tap, so out came the mugs and mess tins although Andy just used a tin waste paper bin!

The party was in full swing when Ron Calleja, a Maltese lad who was on guard duty, came running in shouting that the police were at the gate! Luckily, the Guard Commander refused them entry until an RMP officer accompanied them. This gave us time to get the barrel into a Land Rover, over to the far end of the DZ and sunk into a swampy patch. It's probably there still.

In the run-up to Christmas, work and training qround to a halt. An informal junior ranks' afternoon party took place in the nissen hut NAAFI where we all got quite merry, some more so than others. The OC, Major Barr, even graced us with his presence and shared a few beers. One corporal, Andy Mathers, a Scotsman, did get obnoxious to the extent that Major Barr eventually ordered him out and after some more threats and swearing, Andy staggered out of the door. We continued with a more subdued function and the OC went home. What we didn't know was that Andy got into his car, drove down the Watchfield Road, sped out onto the main Swindon Road and crashed under a large articulated truck and trailer. He was killed instantly.

A simmering resentment of Major Barr festered among the junior ranks; somehow apportioning blame on him for Andy's death.

More Christmas festivities took place in camp with the difference that the SNCOs invited the officers and the Junior NCOs to the Sergeants' Mess for evening drinks and bar games. By this time Lofty had been made up to lance-corporal so, after pre-loading in the NAAFI, about six of us JNCOs arrived at the Mess and were right Royally entertained, too right it transpired. My life and that of my family-to-be was about be crucially changed.

Maj Barr was great at all the bar games and got on our proverbials by beating us at everything. Now, Lofty was well away with it, blaming the OC for Andy Mather's death. As his best friend, I tried to pacify him but he eventually tried to punch the OC so the Orderly Sgt, Tom Curry, was ordered to lock him up for his own good. The festivities continued, but a bit more subdued until Tom returned to say that Lofty was threatening to commit suicide. Although I had had a skinful myself, I heroically, volunteered to stagger off through the snow to the guardroom and try to calm the savage beast.

I was locked in with Lofty but could not pacify him. I thought to take his mind off suicide by diverting his energy to something else.

"Let's get out of here, Lofty".

My time in the building trade in Glasgow had shown me something about construction so I recognised that the door, walls and floor were solid but the ceiling was plasterboard, a material which was actually invented by my employer, John Lawrence. The roof above the ceiling of a single storey building was unlikely to be impregnable so I told Lofty to stand on the small, corner table and see if he could punch a hole in the plasterboard. He did. Next, I got up and found that there was a lining of XPM (Expanding Pierced Metal). I found the join and simply prised it open the pushed aside a few large tiles. An Exit!

First Lofty then I climbed out onto the snow-covered roof. Slid silently down to the back then a PLF onto the ground.

"What do we do now?"

An old aspiration of mine returned.

"Off to France and the Foreign Legion!"

Passports?

I left Lofty hiding behind the Guardroom and returned to my billet, put on my Smock and beret then, in the Orderly Room, exerted my authority as a full corporal, to order the Duty Clerk to give me the passports as we had to go off on an urgent job in Pau, Southern France. He did.

Collected Lofty and set off up the side Highworth road away from camp but, on hearing the hue and cry behind us, leapt into the ditch and covered ourselves in snow. We were easily spotted by Tom Curry and Vic Keymer, taken back to the the Guardroom where we were handcuffed and then despatched to the Guards' nick at Pirbright. They handcuffed us to the beds in the cells. No messing. Next morning we were dragged back in front of Alan Stanley; Lofty was busted to private for escaping from custody but I was a dilemma as I had not actually been placed in custody; I was to be given a punishment posting and never to return to the Parachute Brigade!

The posting was to Cyprus, where I was promoted to sergeant and met and married Valerie.I did return to the Brigade and, despite my record, had a very successful career retiring as a Regular Major in 1994 then serving a further 10 years as a Retired Officer.

I did not see Scouse again until 47 years later when we met again at a reunion in Colchester in June 2013. I still consider him a very special mate.

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