23251516 Sapper Swindlehurst D M

One of my very earliest memories is of reading the daily newspaper during WW2 (I was a precocious reader) and asking my father, who had been in France during WW1, what a sapper was. His reply was accurate and interesting, to the point that I decided there and then that I would be a sapper (I must have been 7 or 8!).

I left Preston Grammar School in July 1955, aged 18. I didn’t wish to attend a university ( and wasn’t qualified to anyway) and was required to serve 2 years’ National Service. The only possible choice for me was to be a Sapper, but in the 10-year interval, I had learned more than my father had told me. I also had developed a major interest in maps, and there was a clear connection between them and the RE. So, in preparation for my military service, I very naively went to the local recruiting office and discussed possibilities with the sergeant. He fed me a load of rubbish about how as a National Serviceman I would become cannon-fodder, but as a regular he could guarantee that I would get into RE Survey. I swallowed this and signed on for the 22/3 option.

In the event, I joined on the 20th September 1955 at No 6 TRRE at Norton Barracks. After 3 weeks, I was posted to No 9 TRRE Cove for the standard Field Engineering course. I queried this, but was told that there was no vacancy in Survey for the likes of me and I would be a Field Engineer and like it. As it happened, whilst I was at Cove, the Army decided that there were 3 vacancies at SMS and (being logical) took the next 3 applicants in alphabetical order - Southall, Sutton and me. Qualifications didn’t matter - the alphabet ruled. Tom Southall was a qualified mine surveyor from the Lancashire coal field, Sutton came from East Anglia with a background in (I think) architecture, and I was a schoolboy. Amazing.

I arrived at SMS toward the end of November 1955, to be told that my course (Surveyor Topo A3) would begin about April 1956. I spent most of the interval on the gate, with beautifully-white belt and gaiters. BUT - I had formed an immediate friendship with a lad from Derby, Davey Sandall, whose course was to begin earlier than mine. Over Christmas he broke his arm, making it impossible for him to manhandle his plane table, so on his 3 weeks at Tidworth I was seconded to carry and erect it for him (he was able to do the work with one hand, provided I put all the gear to hand). This was a wonderful opportunity for me, a 3-week holiday in the snow, at HM’s expense. It is the only time in my life that I have drunk rum - I won’t mention the details.

I duly completed my course, during which our Sergeant Instructor (Jones) asked us all for posting preferences. As I had a brother living in Kenya, I asked for 89 Sqn, but Sgt Jones said that there would be no postings to Kenya from that course, so I asked for 84 Sqn instead and was granted it ( 2 men were sent to Kenya!). In July 1956 I was sent to Barton Stacey to await posting and sailed on Dunera on 24th or 25th July, stopping at Malta, Cyprus, Aden, Colombo and Singapore. At least, that was the plan. In fact on the 26th, Col Nasser nationalised the Suez Canal (the Suez Crisis) and the Army hurriedly changed its plan. The ship continued to Malta (where we enjoyed a free day ashore) to offload all personnel bound for Malta and Cyprus, and then set off for Cape Town via Gibraltar. All on board were highly impressed by this plan, but in fact at Gib we turned north and returned to Southampton - the ship being needed for the assault on Suez. So I had another holiday at HM’s expense - a conducted tour of the Mediterranean.

Back at Barton Stacey, we spent a lot of time working in the NAAFI as bar staff, serving all the troops being called in for Suez. The canteen was open 24 hours a day, with not enough NAAFI personnel. I was also back on the gate for a while. Eventually the excitement subsided and in December (!) I was allocated a seat on a trooping flight from Stansted. To prepare for this (we had to travel as civilians for diplomatic reasons) we needed passports so I was photographed in full battledress. Brilliant.

I flew on about the 6th December, the flight plan being Brindisi (refuel), Baghdad (refuel and meal), Karachi (overnight stay), Calcutta (refuel), Bangkok (refuel and meal) and Singapore. BUT (there’s always a BUT!) It all went pear-shaped after we passed the point of no return on our first leg. ATC in Brindisi refused us permission to land, ostensibly because of an outbreak of cholera, but I think that our chosen occupation was more significant. As a result we were diverted to Malta, and stayed overnight, with an evening on the town thrown in. The aircraft (a Hermes) couldn’t make Baghdad in one hop from Malta, and another re-fuelling stop was hastily arranged, being Ankara, in Turkey. We weren’t allowed to use the main airport (again for diplomatic reasons) and put down in an unsuitable rough military airfield, the aircraft suffering significant damage, becoming unflyable. The passengers were transported into Ankara and dumped at a downtown caravanserai, which had beds but nothing else. We had no money, no food, no luggage, no legal status and no idea what to do next. After 2 nights, staff from the American Embassy turned up and took us to the Embassy itself and gave us an American breakfast. They also arranged transport for us to meet a replacement aircraft which had been flown from the UK for the purpose. We saw no UK embassy staff or other UK personnel at all during this whole episode. This was disgraceful.

We eventually took off and completed the flight to Singapore fairly normally. I had one night in Nee Soon and then entrained for KL. I enjoyed Batu and KL itself. I formed a love/hate relationship with Lt Taylor, a seconded Australian member of the Commonwealth Brigade, who was a decent bloke but insisted on smoking everybody else’s cigarettes, particularly mine. There were so many cigarettes around that there was no logistical problem, but the Australians didn’t get the free issue which we had, and they weren’t too well paid either, so I had a lot of fun at his expense (I sometimes wondered why he put up with such insubordination!). Ben Burrows took over as OC whilst I was there, although I cannot remember whom he replaced. Fergus Simpson was the SSM, and Mont Iliffe a SS. Curiously I can’t recall the DO staff. During that period I came close to benefiting from a military funeral, when Jock Alexander (our MT corporal) lost control of the Landrover at speed and passed through a densely-packed coconut grove like a pinball. The gods were smiling on me that day, as they have done every day of my life.

Some time in 1957 I was transferred temporarily to 570 Map Reproduction Troop in Singapore, where I also had a lot of fun. The OC was Capt Martin Henshaw, a nice chap but who regarded me as being only 11d in the shilling. When he discovered I was from Lancashire, he told me that whilst in the area he had gone to visit the Rossendale Forest, but hadn’t been able to find it and where were the trees? When I explained that a forest doesn’t have to have trees (“forest” being a hunting area) he decided to treat me with caution.

Other characters at 570 were RSM Eade, who went bananas when his beloved map store was damaged by some night shift clowns driving a flt, Snoddy McCulloch (unit DR) who was put in the stockade for stealing the stamp money, Joe Dalziel who lugged his golf clubs around with him but never played and the printers, who never managed to get the Heidelberg 4-colour printer to work properly in the months I was there.

I met some good folk. John Mitchell was a draughtsman from Surrey (ex OS), Wilf Marron from Manchester, Bill Munday, whose “trade” I don’t remember but who had the most amazing artistic skill I have ever seen, Jack Batty, Jock Speedie, Cpl Dennis Martin who was a decent bloke but considered himself God’s gift to women, Cpl Bowra, Jim Lake and Rod Brockbank who were printers and gifted musicians. And lots of others. I also remember Stuart Hislop, with whom I became good friends, but sadly I lost touch with him after he emigrated to New Zealand in about 1961. I have lots of other memories - of Singapore, KL and Penang, where I met a most delightful nurse and would have stayed with her had it been possible. But all good things change and eventually I returned to Batu and was RHE’d from there in July 1958, sailing from Singapore on Nevasa.

I imagine that the School barrack accommodation has changed since 1956.
This was the original American hospital - a ward for 12 men, heated only by one small coke-burning stove - an exercise in futility if ever there was one.

Sitting at the corner of our accommodation basha at Batu, some time in 1958, ready to go down town. The "ward" was warmer, if no less draughty than the School.

On the range at Batu, 1957. I wonder whatever happened to that slim, handsome fellow? I don't recognise the bicycle either.

In Singapore with my new Guitar

The programme for the "gang" show. I was moved back to Batu before the event - I don't know now if it actually happened, or why I have this copy.