St Omer Catering Annex.

[Ian E Scott]

In 62-63 Jim we didn't have the luxury of a cleaner.  One of the squad had to don denims for the day and do all the washing up and cleaning......and woe betide any plonker who made a mess or burnt anything!

[rubberguts]

 The good old fatigue detail. One time us civvy cooks were put on spud peeling  in St Omer for the bulk kitchen prep. We got through the spuds pretty smartly and were all cleaned up. The civvy head wallah at St. Omer A real slight little joker with windows who used to drive an antique 1947 Austin Seven. Pleasant type, think his name might have been Owens, came along and was so impressed at how efficiently we worked rewarded us with another load to do.
One of the chefs I worked under in civvy street used to tell how when he was in the RAF in the desert during the war it was his turn on Kitchen fatigue. He had the mutton cloths used for cleaning  boiling in a pot on the stove when a group of visiting officers came to inspect the kitchen. "This looks interesting"  said one bloke "What kind of soup is it?"  and grabbed a ladle and drank a mouthful.  Charlie piped up "That's not soup sir, that's my cleaning cloths being washed.

[james ongley]

I may have misled you Ian, we still had to do pots and pans but there was a cleaner there, who took on most of the work. As for the stove cleaning on a friday with a mop and caustic soda you can ask Andy Senneck what can happen when lads start messing around when the instructors back is turned. It wasn´t his fault but he was on the receiving end.   Say hallo to him and Chippy Woods when you next see them. Saw Chippy´s photo in the last edition of the Assoc.Info.Link. He hasn´t changed since I last saw him in 1972 before he left the 1st. L I .    There again it might be better for others to recognise us if we all wore berets when we send in photos.
Jim

[james ongley]

There was over a decade between your meetings with Paddy Dowd and ours, although he frightened us to death at the time, I can still see the twinkle of humor in his eyes when he was dressing us down.  They do say that Grandparents are more caring and understanding then the parents and maybe that was the case with Paddy Dowd.  He was now dealing with boy regulars and not with grown up National sevicemen.
By the way, he didn´t have an o´ in his surname.  He left us at the end of 1964 and was replaced by RSM Reg.Farmer. He returned to the regiment in 1965 after a short period at the Depot & Training Battalion as Lieutenant Dowd ACC. 
Bedbox building was still a big thing in our day, and it was all part and parcel of the discipline to ransack a couple of them during the Thursday OC.s inspection by Captain Frost.  Fortunateley we hat a good J/NCO App.L/Cpl. Wally Torrington. Who eventually got our room working so well that we managed to stay out of trouble for most of the 4 month sprog training. 
PS: Maybe you could give us a first name to correspond with? Rubberguts is quite impersonal, even Kiwi would sound better.
Jim
 

[Ian E Scott]

Will do Jim, but currently this year I've no plans to go to any ACC events, possibly will make this years Cenotaph parade though and see them both there.

[rubberguts]

Always thought the name was O'Dowd, Never actually saw it in writing, only heard of it by word of mouth. Could there have been two?  Good to learn he a showed a little compassion later in life.
 "Mr Paddy" left a bitter taste in my mouth and also a lot of fellow recruits. 
It is important to realize the National Serviceman was not there by choice. However we knuckled down and accepted the situation. We were raw recruits, not much older than  boy soldiers.
Naturally mistakes were made during the learning process. it is not as if it was intentional and a pat on the head now and again would have not have been remiss. There were Instructors who realized this and without exception were held in high regard. Whichever approach Instructors took to get us there, constructive or waving a rod of iron, little by little we were changed into soldiers. All credit to each and every one of them. We gained a fierce Esprit de Corps from the experience.
My name is John Everitt. The Rubber guts thing was the name I used to register on the site believing it would be a password. It was humorously bestowed upon me by my son at an early age.
Would I like to be known as "Kiwi?" Thank you but no! I have resided here for almost forty five years now, I don't think I will ever be accepted here as any other than a "Pommie Bastard."
The boss takes great delight in informing people of that when they inquire of her where I came from.
  Probably already has a headstone inscribed with it. 
Whatever the military situation. Ranks will always swell or decline. The Catering Corps by any other name will always be a mainstay. What other calling is known by whether it's product is conceived to be good or revolting based solely on how mum used to make it?