A MAP, A COMPASS AND A MISSED OPPORTUNITY

As this is the 50th anniversary of my entry into National Service, I`m sure you will forgive me for digging up some of the `events` of those lost 731 days from my fading memory. After all, who knows, but one day these ramblings might fall into the annals of military history...possibly. Well, maybe not, but here goes anyway.

Fifty years ago today, I along with the others in B Troop, 60/02 intake had been `basically trained` by the 4/7th Royal Dragoon Guards at Catterick Camp for exactly three weeks. (I had got into a bit of trouble thanks to the soon to be Mrs. Snopper posting letters to the `Dragon Guards!`) On yet another cold, snowy, wintry day in North Yorkshire we were herded into the ubiquitous Bedford 3-ton truck (pictured,) and driven off for half an hour or so until it stopped and four of us were invited to step outside into the sharp air of that Yorkshire morning.

I don`t know why, but of the four of us, I was handed a map and a compass and told to escort the other three back to our barracks at Catterick in time for tea. With that, the truck sped off, presumably to deposit other groups of four at various locations. I didn`t have a clue where we were, so the first thing to do was find a road, hopefully a crossroads with a signpost and then check the map and find the route back to camp.

But hang on a minute. Here we were, by ourselves, dumped in the middle of nowhere and we could have taken the option to just look at the compass and head south. But 50 years ago, after three weeks of military training, the thought never crossed our minds and after a few travails, we just about made it back in time for tea. Those Dragon Guards had done a job on us, so much so that we considered our return to Catterick as something of a triumph rather than a missed opportunity.