Prince Philip and a spot of ‘shoemanship’

BACK in the Sixties, while visiting REME units in Germany, Prince Philip was due to inspect the workshop attached to 20 Heavy Regiment of the Royal Artillery at Fallingbostel. As part of his visit, a demonstration was to be laid on, showing how the regiment’s extra-long gun barrels were changed in the field. This was to be followed by lunch in the mess. On the day before his arrival, I accompanied the workshop OC Frank Ward to the forest location to see his gun fitters in rehearsal and found the ground to be a sea of mud. Slipping and sliding as we arrived, I said: ‘The brass won’t like this, Frank.’ He replied ‘Look over there’, and I saw a small canvas shelter in which six pairs of new Wellingtons ranging in size from 7 to 12 were lined up. Frank explained that, at such short notice, he had been unable to find out the size of HRH’s feet and this was the only solution he could come up with. As we stood in the mess awaiting the arrival of our VIP, Frank arrived hotfoot from the field location to tell us the demo had gone well and that our guest was on his way. ‘Well, what size of Wellingtons did he choose?’ I asked Frank. ‘None,’ he replied. ‘He just walked around in his shiny brown shoes!’ At that moment a cheer went up from the pavement outside where many of the wives had formed a honour guard. Stepping from his car, HRH’s shoes were immaculate. Either he must have had a spare pair in the car or in that ten-minute journey from the field his valet had worked some sort of magic. ‘What about that for a crafty bit of oneupmanship, then?’ I whispered to Frank. ‘More like a bit of royal shoemanship, I’d say,’ he replied sardonically.

A. D. W. Chisnall, Crossford, Dunfermline.