AN ACQUIRED TASTE....

In a few days time it will be 58 years since I kissed goodbye to civilian life and made the long train journey to north Yorkshire to begin my two years of National Service.   And each year when the anniversary comes around, I find myself looking back on those times.  It was, of course, a different time and those, like me, who found themselves conscripted into military service had already lived through the second world war and the austerity that followed. 

It was also a time of a kind of inbred respect - perhaps even fear - for any form of authority and so it was perhaps not surprising that the call-up for national service was more or less accepted as part of how things were.  It was just one of the many things you had to do, so I blindly accepted that it had to be done and just got on with it.

The first few days and weeks at Catterick Camp were filled with running everywhere, being `whipped into shape,` being shouted at, inspected at every turn and deprived of any meaningful privacy.  They were miserable weeks and because of the distances involved in getting home, when at last a 48-hour pass came our way, along with a fellow conscript I hitch-hiked to the Lake District, where I had never been before.  We stayed the night in a homely B & B and went to the cinema in Ambleside, where the only film being shown on that Saturday night was, of course, `Carry on Sergeant.`  It kind of summed up the futility and hopelessness of our situation.

But then, after yet more weeks of being turned into a lethal killing machine who was quite capable of turning left and right on command, I found myself inexplicably posted to a Regiment - this time a real one, stationed in BFPO 16 in West Germany as it was then.  The regiment was the 10th Royal Hussars (Prince of Wales` Own) and, perhaps to my surprise, I began to immerse myself into the routines and rhythms of life in that alien and faraway outpost.   I made friends with some close comrades - most regular volunteer soldiers, a dwindling few national servicemen - and began to settle in as my demob chart dutifully ticked off the days I had to do before the ultimate release.

I can`t claim that the `working life` was particularly taxing - even the manoeuvres on Luneburg Heath were something of an adventure and I spent the night of my 21st birthday there guarding the tank park from possible invasion, armed with only a pick-axe handle and a whistle. Back at the regimental barracks, I played quite a lot of football and got an evening job as projectionist in the garrison cinema - the AKC Globe.  The extra money supplementing my army pittance helped me save up enough to buy a house full of furniture when I returned, a married man, to civilian life.  (The married man`s allowance helped as well.)

A taste of regimentation came in the high summer of 1961 when the Duke of Gloucester arrived to present the regiment with new colours and I found myself on the No. 1 Guard for the regimental choreographed parade, resplendent with my sword drill, white webbing  and growing pride at being part of such an event.

That may have turned the corner in my relationship with army life and with the regiment.  The pride I felt that day perhaps finally brought a sense of belonging to something that was more than `just` a regiment - in some ways it became something of a family; real friendships had been formed which still persist to this day, mutual trust and support became evident and we were prepared for whatever the world might have thrown at us in those tense cold war days.

But, when my time was coming to a close, I resisted the overtures of our impressive commanding officer to sign on the dotted line and headed for the exit door able to make choices for my own life rather than have the army choose for me.   Looking back these 58 years to my 731 days of enforced conscription, I am left with distinctly mixed feelings - some resentment at the conscription but coupled with a real affection for the 10th Hussars and all they stood for.   It may sound odd for a national serviceman to admit to such sentiments but life in the regiment became a lasting and acquired taste - even though I am perfectly certain that the regiment may not have acquired quite the same taste for me.