National Service in Box John Brooke Flashman December 2021
The entrance to Burlington Bunker in the early 2000s (courtesy Carol Payne)
Although much resented at the time, National Service was a great experience for all of us young men and many friendships were forged. It bred in us a strong sense of comradeship and support; as the saying goes, we were all in it together.
Reading about the Hungarian refugees at Corsham has brought back a host of memories of my call up for national service in 1956. After training at Aldershot, I was posted to 15 Company Royal Army Ordnance Company at Basil Hill Barracks, Pockeridge, Hawthorn (now Global Operations Security Control Centre, Westwells Road, Neston). My company was part of the forces comprising Central Ammunition Depot Corsham. The depot had a wide area of underground tunnels which contained enough explosive to destroy half of Wiltshire, or so I was told. There was also an RAF station at Rudloe Manor, and the navy were present at HMS Royal Arthur. I can tell you that the local pubs did very well out of all us young men.
There was a cinema in the area known as Mack's (or maybe Max). When off duty I visited it on many occasions, and there was always a large contingent of Hungarians there (all male I think). They were refugees who sought asylum here after the 1956 uprising. We used to laugh because they all wore berets, with a protruding stalk on the top. On one occasion the cinema showed a newsreel which included the Hungarian uprising and, when the pictures started, I recall a number of people shouting excitedly "Budapest, Budapest" (they pronounced it Budd-a-pest). As far as I recall they never gave us any trouble.
Life in Corsham Barracks
When I arrived in Corsham in November 1956, I was told by the commanding officer, Major Gunton, that the company was unusual in that it consisted of over 300 men, almost the size of a battalion. Major Gunton wasn't always popular with the troops although I don't know how he was regarded by his fellow officers. I recall that through the efforts of platoon commander 2nd Lieutenant Cadwallader (a national service man who was a lawyer in civvy street) Major Gunton was removed from command as a result of losing a third application for a court martial. He was replaced by Major Moreton, a more formal man, perhaps a little stuffy, slightly resembling Captain Mainwaring in Dad's Army. I have often wondered what happened to him as I later discovered that he left Corsham unexpectedly in early 1959, leaving the second in command (Captain Jack Buckley MC) in charge. As Major Moreton does not appear in the Army List for 1960 he presumably left the service, possibly on medical grounds.
The barrack square at Corsham, where all our parades were held, was reputedly located above a massive store of ammunition which, if detonated, would have removed the entire company from the land of the living. Every year there was a competition for a trophy known as the Burns Cup. It was named after the wife of a former Colonel who thought that the troops must get bored with having nothing to do in the evenings and that they should have a competiton to see which platoon could come forward with the smartest kit layout. The idea was that all kit would be cleaned and polished, and also the floors of the barracks rooms, for a morning inspection by the Officer Commanding who would determine the winning platoon. The officers set much store by this but to us it was a nightmare. You had to lay out your kit on your bed, in perfect order measured to the last inch in terms of its placement and then stand by your bed when the inspection took place. Naturally, you were also expected to be immaculately attired, uniform perfectly pressed, boots shone until you could see your face in them, brasses polished and webbing blanco-ed to perfection. Rifles also had to be in perfect order. Failure to meet the highest standard meant that you would be placed on a charge. As reveille was at 6am naturally you had to get everything laid out in perfect order before breakfast at 6.30am. This was by no means easy and many of the lads got everything prepared the night before and then slept on the floor, with no covering.
Leaving Corsham
After a spell at Corsham I was posted to the Far East (Singapore, then Taiping, Malaya). It was a long time (just under two years) to be away from home. One great bonus was that in those days troop movements were made by sea, not air, and the voyage out from Southampton took four weeks. It was a wonderful experience. The Suez Crisis (during which the Suez Canal was closed by Egypt) was only recently concluded and ours was the very first vessel to be allowed through the re-opened canal. Whilst we were awaiting our turn to pass through the canal (a one-way system operates due to the canal's narrowness) a motor launch came along side, and there stood President Nasser. He was a huge man, really big, but after a short while the launch turned about and went back to Port Suez.
My closest friendship was as it happens forged at Corsham. It was on arrival there that I met up with a fellow recruit, Peter Carr. We had been on the same clerks' training course at Blackdown near Aldershot but it was only by working together in the Orderly Room at Corsham that we became close friends. The friendship lasted 64 years, terminating only with Peter's death last year. I was Peter's best man at his wedding, and I am godfather to one of his daughters. One of my fellow servicemen in Singapore was a chap called Dick Millis who, on receiving his call-up papers, had brought forward his wedding. He was just in time as he and his bride had only the one night together. He like me was sent to Singapore but some weeks after arrival he received a letter from his wife telling him she was pregnant. Nine months later her babies (she had twins) were born. By the time he came back home the twins were well over a year old. Of course, Dick had missed not one but two family Christmases. That was the way it was, and we all accepted it.
I wonder if there is still ammunition stored in the tunnels around Corsham. It was a huge network and we even had an underground barracks complete with all facilities from which we had to obtain equipment from time to time. To access these barracks, you had to climb down (and up) a very long and steep stone staircase. It was a miracle that no-one was ever injured as there was no banister rail to hold on to, and metal studded army boots tend to have little grip on hard surfaces. Whether these underground barracks had been used during the war I do not know, but their construction must have been very costly.
Reading about the Hungarian refugees at Corsham has brought back a host of memories of my call up for national service in 1956. After training at Aldershot, I was posted to 15 Company Royal Army Ordnance Company at Basil Hill Barracks, Pockeridge, Hawthorn (now Global Operations Security Control Centre, Westwells Road, Neston). My company was part of the forces comprising Central Ammunition Depot Corsham. The depot had a wide area of underground tunnels which contained enough explosive to destroy half of Wiltshire, or so I was told. There was also an RAF station at Rudloe Manor, and the navy were present at HMS Royal Arthur. I can tell you that the local pubs did very well out of all us young men.
There was a cinema in the area known as Mack's (or maybe Max). When off duty I visited it on many occasions, and there was always a large contingent of Hungarians there (all male I think). They were refugees who sought asylum here after the 1956 uprising. We used to laugh because they all wore berets, with a protruding stalk on the top. On one occasion the cinema showed a newsreel which included the Hungarian uprising and, when the pictures started, I recall a number of people shouting excitedly "Budapest, Budapest" (they pronounced it Budd-a-pest). As far as I recall they never gave us any trouble.
Life in Corsham Barracks
When I arrived in Corsham in November 1956, I was told by the commanding officer, Major Gunton, that the company was unusual in that it consisted of over 300 men, almost the size of a battalion. Major Gunton wasn't always popular with the troops although I don't know how he was regarded by his fellow officers. I recall that through the efforts of platoon commander 2nd Lieutenant Cadwallader (a national service man who was a lawyer in civvy street) Major Gunton was removed from command as a result of losing a third application for a court martial. He was replaced by Major Moreton, a more formal man, perhaps a little stuffy, slightly resembling Captain Mainwaring in Dad's Army. I have often wondered what happened to him as I later discovered that he left Corsham unexpectedly in early 1959, leaving the second in command (Captain Jack Buckley MC) in charge. As Major Moreton does not appear in the Army List for 1960 he presumably left the service, possibly on medical grounds.
The barrack square at Corsham, where all our parades were held, was reputedly located above a massive store of ammunition which, if detonated, would have removed the entire company from the land of the living. Every year there was a competition for a trophy known as the Burns Cup. It was named after the wife of a former Colonel who thought that the troops must get bored with having nothing to do in the evenings and that they should have a competiton to see which platoon could come forward with the smartest kit layout. The idea was that all kit would be cleaned and polished, and also the floors of the barracks rooms, for a morning inspection by the Officer Commanding who would determine the winning platoon. The officers set much store by this but to us it was a nightmare. You had to lay out your kit on your bed, in perfect order measured to the last inch in terms of its placement and then stand by your bed when the inspection took place. Naturally, you were also expected to be immaculately attired, uniform perfectly pressed, boots shone until you could see your face in them, brasses polished and webbing blanco-ed to perfection. Rifles also had to be in perfect order. Failure to meet the highest standard meant that you would be placed on a charge. As reveille was at 6am naturally you had to get everything laid out in perfect order before breakfast at 6.30am. This was by no means easy and many of the lads got everything prepared the night before and then slept on the floor, with no covering.
Leaving Corsham
After a spell at Corsham I was posted to the Far East (Singapore, then Taiping, Malaya). It was a long time (just under two years) to be away from home. One great bonus was that in those days troop movements were made by sea, not air, and the voyage out from Southampton took four weeks. It was a wonderful experience. The Suez Crisis (during which the Suez Canal was closed by Egypt) was only recently concluded and ours was the very first vessel to be allowed through the re-opened canal. Whilst we were awaiting our turn to pass through the canal (a one-way system operates due to the canal's narrowness) a motor launch came along side, and there stood President Nasser. He was a huge man, really big, but after a short while the launch turned about and went back to Port Suez.
My closest friendship was as it happens forged at Corsham. It was on arrival there that I met up with a fellow recruit, Peter Carr. We had been on the same clerks' training course at Blackdown near Aldershot but it was only by working together in the Orderly Room at Corsham that we became close friends. The friendship lasted 64 years, terminating only with Peter's death last year. I was Peter's best man at his wedding, and I am godfather to one of his daughters. One of my fellow servicemen in Singapore was a chap called Dick Millis who, on receiving his call-up papers, had brought forward his wedding. He was just in time as he and his bride had only the one night together. He like me was sent to Singapore but some weeks after arrival he received a letter from his wife telling him she was pregnant. Nine months later her babies (she had twins) were born. By the time he came back home the twins were well over a year old. Of course, Dick had missed not one but two family Christmases. That was the way it was, and we all accepted it.
I wonder if there is still ammunition stored in the tunnels around Corsham. It was a huge network and we even had an underground barracks complete with all facilities from which we had to obtain equipment from time to time. To access these barracks, you had to climb down (and up) a very long and steep stone staircase. It was a miracle that no-one was ever injured as there was no banister rail to hold on to, and metal studded army boots tend to have little grip on hard surfaces. Whether these underground barracks had been used during the war I do not know, but their construction must have been very costly.