Chris Foster 1971-76

[rockymodo]

I joined as a Junior leader in 1971 and was in B Coy 42nd Intake. Our first platoon Sgt in C Coy was Sgt Plevin who I notice is mentioned in some of the other forums. He was a really great bloke. When I moved up to B Coy our Sgt was a guy called Barry Staley (anybody remember him?)
My first posting was Buller Bks then Group Catering and finaly Depot Para. I left the army in November 76. Those posters showing guys skiing and sunning themselves on foreign beaches were a con, I never got out of Aldershot!  Still, I had some really great times when I look back. If anyone remembers me then please leave a message or get in touch. You can also contact me through 'Friends Reunited'.

[John A Silkstone]

Hi Rockymodo,

Welcome to the site. I’m not ACC but RAMC with lots of ACC mates.

One of the many things that you don’t get told about the army is that if you are in the corps and you want to go overseas, then you have to tell the chief clerk and he will inform records and you name is placed on the list. As for skiing, again you can put your name down to go on a beginner’s course. In my time in the army I did just about everything and that included going to Berlin four times on a long weekend just to play hockey.

Silky

[rockymodo]

Hi Silky, thanks for the reply, I thought that viewers of my post would detect a hint of sarcasm when I mentioned about the lack of skiing.. The only reason that I ended up with a posting in Aldershot after training was because I was involved with a local girl so I therefore requested local postings. As for Group Catering, this seemed to be a compulsory short posting for most cooks based in the Aldershot area. I was due to be posted to Ireland in 75 but they requested a l/cpl and sent someone from Depot Para, I then took his place there. I actualy enjoyed most of my time at Browning Bks. I ended up cooking in the Officers Mess during that long hot summer of 76 when nearly everyone was at the Aldershot Army Show. I had a stack of free time. The only down side for me at that time was that the staff of P.Company latched onto me and I kept on getting sent to Brecon to feed the staff and the recruits who were training to get their red berets. Now that place really was the ar*e of the universe, which I'm sure anyone who has tried to cook in an old concrete hut with no lighting other than a tilly lamp, will attest to. I'm pleased to have had those years in uniform, it has made me what I am today (a sad lonley drunkard with only a cat for company) but seriously, they should bring back National Service. It would put a stop to all the late night drunken brawling on our city streets and confine it to the barrack blocks. Over & out.

[John A Silkstone]

Hi Rockymodo,

Quote ‘but seriously, they should bring back National Service. It would put a stop to all the late night drunken brawling on our city streets and confined to the Barrack blocks.’

I agree whole heartedly with you about that. On a lighter note I’m nearly ready to publish a book I’ve written about my time in the army. Here is a snippet that makes me smile every time I think of the incident, though it wasn’t funny at the time and painful for the cook.

I REALY MISSED THAT APPLE CRUMBLE.

Being on compo rations, a few of us went out one night to scrumpy (illegally take) the neighbouring farmer’s apples and vegetables for our meals.
The following afternoon, the aroma of apple crumble drifted over the camp.
At 16:45 hours, the whole unit lined up for their evening meal, with mouths watering for the apple crumble.
The main meal was laid out on the table, and we all strained forward to watch the cook take the crumble out of the field oven. He opened the oven door and, with an oven cloth held in his left hand, he withdrew the tray and slid his right hand along the cloth beneath the tray.
All this was done in one swift professional movement. Suddenly the silence was shattered by a loud scream, and the cook stood up and tossed the apple crumble high into the air.
As all good things do, it spun over at the top of its arc and plummeted earthwards with its crumble side downwards. The tray hit the ground and spilled its contents into the earthen field.
Not a word was spoken. We just looked at the dirt-encrusted apple crumble strewn on the ground.
The Cook was dancing about like a North American Indian with his right hand stuck under his left arm pit; he ran over to a bucket of cold water and plunged his hand into it.
It turned out that there was a hole in the cloth, and as he slid his hand along the cloth, his middle finger went through the hole so that the burning hot tray was now resting on his naked finger.
Every time I think of this incident I have a re-run of the whole scene in my mind, and I can’t help laughing.

[rockymodo]

Very funny. I had something similiar happen to me just after I came out of training. One of the cook Sgt's had spent ages poaching a whole salmon for a buffet, he had carefully stripped away the top section of skin to reveal the pink flesh below when he made the big mistake of asking me to assist him in transfering the fish onto a mirror so that he could decorate it. I took hold of one corner of the tray holding the salmon whilst he let go of the other. This resulted in the salmon sliding off its tray and depositing itself on the shelf below the table we were working on. The fish now only fit for fish cakes!  Of course, me being a private, it was all my fault. He proceeded to berate me with every known swear word in the English language plus a few that I am sure he was making up on the spot.
Ahhh, happy days......

[John A Silkstone]

Life of full of laughter isn’t it? Come on chaps, you must all have had this little mishaps at one time or another, so tell us about them.  

Silky

 :lol:  :lol:  :lol:

[rockymodo]

When I was attached to the RCT at Buller Bks 73/74 We had a cook sgt called Tom Hoare 'does anyone remember him?'  He was a big bloke and a bit of a heavy weight (I mean that he liked his cake) anyway, he used to wait until one of us was laid on the floor trying to light the pilot lights on the servery hot plates. He would creep up and drop a baking tray on the floor behind you at the point that the gas light ignited. I nearly soiled my pants on several occassions. Prompted by the other privates, I dropped a tray behind him whilst he was lighting the gas. He started gasping for breath and then feigned a heart attack. I knelt down to see if he was ok and as iI got close to his face he opened one eye and glared at me. I ran like the clappers. He chased me round the kitchen and threw whatever he could lay his hands on. He of course got his own back by getting the other cooks to catch me and put me in one of the large lift-lid veg boilers partly filled with water and then he proceeded to light it whilst I was in it. You couldn't get away with that sort of larking around nowadays, the young soldiers would be straight off to 'Claims 'R' Us'.  I used to love old Tom, I wonder if he is still with us?

[John A Silkstone]

You’re right, today it would be classed as bullying as opposed to light hearted larking about.

Here’s another one of mine from my BMH Tidworth days.

ANOTHER SEVEN DAYS RPs

For some misdemeanour that I can’t remember, I was once again placed on seven days restricted privileges. One evening I was painting the white lines around the hospital parking spaces when the Catering Officer approached and told me to follow him. He took me to the rear of the kitchen and pointed to a spot on the ground. My eyes followed his pointing finger as he said, “I want my own parking space painted in that spot, and I want my abbreviations within the said space, so no one else will park in it, okay?”
I answered in the affirmative and proceeded to paint as instructed. The following morning I was once more dusting the CO's mat.
“Left, right, left, right, mark time, halt. Left turn.” called out Reg Carnell the RSM.
“Are you 23494015 private Silkstone?” asked the Commanding Officer
“Yes sir.”
“You are hereby charged under section 69 of the Army Act 1955, in that you did on such and such a date paint a car parking space for the Catering Officer and placed inside the said space in three foot high letters, the Catering Officer’s abbreviations. How do you plead?”
“Guilty Sir.”
I was then informed that the abbreviation for Catering Officer was ‘Cat Off’ and not ‘F. Off’, for Food Officer. I received a further seven days.
After I was marched out of the office, the RSM informed me that I was to report to him for my extra duties. The duties I performed where of a light nature, for the RSM saw the funny side of the incident.

[magpie24]

I was at camp in Plymouth I was attached to the TA at the time (Great job) and we had all been on the booze the night before, as it happened I was on early shift the next day. I managed to stagger into the Kitchen with another cook turned on the gas to light the hotplates and got a real bad stomach cramp, the toilet was only at the end of the hotplate so a made a dash and sat there feeling sorry for my self. After about 10 mins along comes one of the other cooks and strikes a match to light the hotplate. All I remember was there was a crack of thunder a great big flash the smell of burning and the best Sh*t I ever had.

 PDT_Armataz_38  PDT_Armataz_38  PDT_Armataz_38  PDT_Armataz_11

[John A Silkstone]

The big bang theory is the best laxative in the word.

Silky