First Job in the Army!

It was while stationed in Northumberland that I got my first job in the army. I was in my tent getting prepared to go on guard when my platoon Sgt. came in and told me to report to the Sgts mess. Thinking it was just one of those tiresome fatigues they delight in handing out I was not too happy about it. There was no use protesting because in the army you do as ordered first then complain later. I never saw any sense in this.

So over to the mess I went and found out that I was to be employed as a mess waiter as the man who had the job was on leave. In charge of the mess was a real old soldier with a row of medal ribbons on his chest whose rank was Colour Quarter Master Sergeant. He told me my duties were to set the table and bring in the meals from the cook house then clear away after the meal. He said the dishes would be washed by the defaulters (they are the chaps who have broke some rule,and are confined to barracks for certain spells of time.) A few days later the Quartie came to me and said the job was mine as the lad on leave was not suitable. I gave it a bit of thought, and decided to stay on for a bit and see what happened.

It was certainly a lot better than guards, drills, and route marches. By this time I was beginning to see the Sgts. in a different light. Being new to army life one was inclined to treat them with awe, and put them on a pedestal, but listening to and watching their antics in the mess soon shattered those illusions. What I am going to relate next may sound incredible, but believe me it happened......

A Tough Unruly Mob

The battalion then moved down to Northumberland to guard that coast line from any attempt by the Germans to invade. On reaching our destination we marched through a village named Red Row. I was puzzled by the absence of the villagers as the place seemed deserted, not like the usual scene when soldiers are on the march however I did spot some people peering out from behind their curtains. I heard later that the reason for this was that rumours had been spread around that we were a tough unruly mob but when the locals got to know us they welcomed us into their homes, and treated us with great kindness.

Jock, Sandy and I met a nice family and we were invited to tea quite a few times. Nearly all the men were coal miners, and in one of their clubs (The Buffs I think it was called) the soldiers got cheaper beer than the locals. During the nights drinking if you got up on the stage and give them a song you would get a ticket for a free drink. So you can bet there was quite a few budding Caruso's once that news got around.

Fraserburgh for Four Days!

When our three months basic training was over we were told that we would soon be transferred to one of the Royal Scot battalions. All the squads of new recruits were on parade when suddenly we were split into four groups. This was the start of being sent to one of the battalions either the 1st, 2nd, 8th, or the 12th.

The next day our squad were told that we were bound for the 12th Battalion who were stationed in the north of Scotland split between Peterhead and Fraserburgh. During my time at Glencorse I had become great friends with a couple chaps in particular, Jock Smith who was from St. Boswells, and Sandy Wardie from Edinburgh. We hoped we would still be together when we went up north, but it was a close thing for at the station I was put into the group for Peterhead. Sandy approached the Officer, and asked if it was possible for me to join their group. The Officer must have been a decent sort for he said that if I could get some one who would prefer Peterhead we could change. Lucky for me there was another couple of pals separated so much to our joy the swap was made.

I can not say much about Fraserburgh as our stay there was only four days,but I heard that a few Royal Scots had been killed during a bombing raid on the town.

Never Volunteer....

The army takes a fiendish delight in breaking up pals so we were moved in different groups to the North Camp across the road from the barracks so it was goodbye to Douglas Block. This camp consisted of wooden huts where the beds were three planks on trestles which just kept you off the floor. The really good thing was I could still get into town to see the wife and kid.

The North Camp just before it was demolished in 2004 - Photo (c)Graham White

The North Camp just before it was demolished in 2004 - Photo (c)Graham White

The army at that time was paying me the princely sum of between eight and ten shillings a week, and for that I had to stand on parade for an hour or so as they paid out in alphabetical order, and with my surname starting with 'T' I was well at the back.

The first and last brick I dropped in the army happened like this. We were on parade when the sgt. asked who could cycle. Amongst us, instantly, there was a show of hands including mine. I thought it would be a job of cycling around the barracks and delivering messages to the different offices. Then the sgt. picked me , and three others telling us to report to the stores. When we got there we found that our job was to clean and oil all the cycles. I vowed there and then never to volunteer again!

Sgt. Brown

On getting back to the billets there was a sergeant awaiting for us who introduced himself like so; "I am Sergeant Brown. Youse men are my squad I hope youse do as well as my last lot. I have always had the best squad in the barracks, and l am sure when you leave me I will have had the best squad once again if not it will certainly not be my fault".

It became known later that he had the nick name of Chinky in the peace time army. I never found out why. What we did discover after the horrors of our initial training was that his bark was worse than his bite. He had to endure the moans and groans of every one after coming back from route marches, most with blistered feet the result of the heavily studded boots. His so called cure for this was to sprinkle talcum powder in your socks or wear two pair, but the only real cure was to persevere until the feet hardened up!

It was no easy task for the sergeant to lick us into shape considering the mixed company he had, (and may I say it was not easy for us either), but he did an excellent job for in our lot there were two school teachers, civil servants, assorted tradesmen, and a Shakespearian actor. This poor chap actually wept on his return from the regimental barber for all his long curly hair had been sheared off leaving him almost scalped. He could have cut that barbers throat.

Believe me Sgt. Brown really put us through it, at times we were so glad to get back to our billets to rest our weary bodies. The poor Sgt WAS called every thing under the sun except a human being, yet when we were leaving him we had a whip round, and presented him with a cigarette case. He was delighted and genuinely moved at the gesture. I must say we were a really good squad, and certainly much healthier and fitter than when we were called up.

The Uniform

I remember looking at my watch to find that only two hours had passed since I had came through those gates, already it seemed a lifetime. We were soon on the move again down to the clothing stores but this time we were marched down. We were put into a single line then a soldier would look you up and down, and then murmur “Oh yes we will fit you all right”.
As I am only 5'1” in height I had my doubts ,although the old soldier never batted an eye. As he tossed me my uniforms he told me to move on to where I would get my underwear, boots, socks, etc. By the time we were finished we were really loaded and had to make two journey's to our billets where we just heaped the lot on our beds.

There was two pairs of everything including under pants of the long John type. They must have been made for the Scots Guards and not the Royal Scots. I will not repeat the comments about all the clothing, but once again white tapes appeared this time to tell us that there would be a parade with our uniforms on so the badly fitting could be rectified by the Regimental tailors. By God they were going to be busy!

After all this activity we were ready for tea. At dinner I had been in too much of a daze to eat much, I had always reckoned I was blessed with quite an appetite until I had a look at some of my new found mates especially one of the lads not much taller than me, like Oliver Twist he kept asking for more!

The strange feeling of that entirely new way of life was still with me. One felt like one of a flock and moved when everybody moved.

A New Bed

The soldier that had told me my number turned round to another soldier with two tapes on his arms (two tapes so white he could have been a walking advert for a soap powder) and barks at him, “Corporal take this man and show him his billet”.
So off I went with the Corporal wondering what was going to happen next. On the way there, white tapes tried to cheer me up by telling me how lucky I was getting put into Sgt. Browns squad. Maybe I should have thanked that other fellow after all, but the only news that could have cheered me up was to be told that I was not in the army at all and that the whole thing was just a horrible nightmare, but no such luck. I was really and truly on my way to be coming an Infantry Soldier.

The Billets consisted of a long room with iron beds running down each side. When I arrived there there was already about fourteen chaps waiting, but all still in civilian clothes. The corporal left me at the door telling me to pick myself a bed. So I wandered down the room very concious of the stares from the other men and I stopped at a bed that did not seem to be claimed thankful for the chance to sit down and gather my wits. There was a curious silence with everyone just waiting and wondering what was going to happen next.
Suddenly the door flew open, and lo and behold there was the Corporal once more.
“Get your cutlery out” he shouts, “and follow me, dinner is ready.”

It was like he had pressed a button which released us into action all at the same time. There was a scamper to open our cases and get the eating irons out. The dinner was really good. One of those specials the army delight putting on for newcomers, maybe with the thought that first impressions last longer. We were then told that after the meal we would be fitted out with our army clothing.

On the Road to Glencorse...and the Army!

SO on October 17th 1940 after a tearful farewell with the wife (my little girl was too young to realise what was happening) I set out for the bus that would take me to Glencorse. I remember it was raining quite heavily that morning as I boarded the bus, and took a seat upstairs. When the conductor came for the fare I asked for a single and he replied “HA another one way man, here's wishing you luck.” He said it so sadly that he sent my already sinking spirits even lower.

The only occupant on the top were a couple of chaps in separate seats, and on looking at their faces I reckoned they also had a one way ticket. I doubt that Bob Hope even at his funniest could have raised even a sickly grin from them, but I was certainly no laughing boy myself. Half an hour later the conducter shouted all out for Glencorse. So here I was having passed this way many times before but never dreaming I would be inside those big iron gates as a soldier.

The Gates at Glencorse Baracks

I was in front of the other two chaps when we went through and down the drive to a circular building which I was to learn later was the guard room. On the porch sat two soldiers seated behind a long table who asked me to hand over my papers to one of them. After looking, through them he then asked me my name, maybe he could not read for my name was certainly on those papers. Anyway I told him my name just to keep things right. As soon as I had answered him he barked out from now on you will be known as 3064566 Traynor J. always remember that number. I hardly knew what he was talking about I was in such a daze. He then informed me I would be in Number One Squad, and the sergeant in charge would be Sgt. Brown. Having not the faintest idea who this was, I wondered if I should say thank you but I thought it better not to.

Called Up - June 21st, 1940

I was not yet two years married when War broke out on September 3rd 1939 but then on June 21st 1940 I received my calling up papers for the armed forces. I was told to report for a medical examination at the Music Hall in George Street Edinburgh. I arrived in the early afternoon, but it was evening before my turn came and I was ushered into a room with five doctors. My check up did not last ten minutes and I was passed Grade I, the top mark. I got the feeling that I was on my way into the armed forces.

The next phase was being interviewed by an army officer, who asked me what branch of the services I would prefer to serve in. I promptly told him the Navy but he replied I had no chance as the navy was full up at present so it now looked that it was the Army for me. I told him that I did not want the infantry, and was it possible to get into the Service Corp. or the Ordnance Corp. He then asked me what I worked at and I told him I was a French Polisher. I think that shook him a bit so I told him I was quite handy with tools having done a bit of cabinet making and repair work.

As I was talking he was taking notes but I suspect he must have just been doodling for when my calling up papers arrived they told me to report to Glencorse Barracks at Milton, Penicuik the depot of the Royal Scots which was certainly the Infantry AND HOW!