Squaddies given the runaround

DOing national Service in the summer of 1958 at Hadrian’s camp, carlisle, we were being subjected to the usual daily beasting of squarebashing, assault course, weapon training and physical training, as many thousands who have gone before us had done.

One Friday morning, we were told we were going on a ten-mile cross- country run in the afternoon with the best runners being selected to represent the regiment against the RaF at an inter- services competition the following week.

about 45 of us set off from the back of the camp with four PT instructors to lead the way.

i jogged along at the back with my pal John, who was suffering from ‘stamper’s heel’ due to excessive effort on the parade ground.

We kept getting further and further back. The little corporal who was running at the rear and snapping at our heels finally got fed up and said that he couldn’t wait around for us any more.

He promptly ran on with instructions for us to catch up.

With the others out of sight, we stopped jogging and started to stroll along. Some time later, we came across a group of women picking peas in a field. Having nothing better to do, we went into the field and sat with them as they had an afternoon break, sharing their lemonade.

after a while we thought we had better get going, so we tried a little jog down the lane, but hadn’t been going long before we came across a commotion in the lane with a farmer trying to round up some bullocks that had escaped from the field.

They were coming in our direction, so the farmer called to us to try to stop them, which we managed to do by waving our arms and shooing them back down the road and into the field where they belonged.

The farmer’s wife came across and asked if we would like to have a cup of tea before we set off again.

This was turning out to be a great afternoon, but after our cup of tea and wedge of fruit cake we decided that we ought to make a serious effort to get back to camp before we were missed.

We jogged across the fields towards the camp, but just before we got near to the rear entrance we sprinted up and down a bit to work up a sweat so we could roll up breathless and look as though we had been running the full ten miles.

We ran in through the gateway and could see the corporal standing at the door of the gym with a clipboard in hand, waving furiously at us to get a move on and sprint to the finish.

We got there at the same time, tongues hanging out and barely able to speak. ‘names!’ he shouted at us. ‘Evans 679’ and ‘guest 684’ we replied. now we are in for it, we thought, exchanging apprehensive glances, waiting for what was to come next.

‘Well done!’ he exclaimed. ‘you two are first and second, so you will be running for the regiment next week!’

We did run for the regiment, but needless to say we did not feature in the results!

Gordon Evans, Stourbridge, Worcs.