Lord Taverne,
Liberal Democrat peer
In the summer term one of our worst chores was a compulsory military competition involving house platoons of the Cadet Corps, supervised by cadets at Sandhurst, the Royal Military Academy. (This was just after the end of the war.) For several weeks we had to train for an attack on an enemy post, manned by Sandhurst cadets, in the glorious countryside round Hindhead. The most successful attack won a prize, the Arthur Webster Cup. On the great day we were supposed to march off smartly and, when fired on from an unexpected quarter on top of a hill, storm up in an immaculate straight line (so we could be mowed down systematically by the enemy) and capture the hilltop.
Our house, “Pageites,” was known as a “slack house,” particularly in corps activities, and I was the only one with any rank. I was an acting lance-corporal, the lowest of the low. At the start I told our platoon we were not going to waste our lovely summer afternoon training for this ridiculous exercise. We would find a nice hidden spot, post a sentry in case the officious master in charge of military training, one Major Morris, came to inspect us, and read or do whatever we liked.
When the day came I told one of the more capable members of our platoon to trail the house ahead of us to find out where the enemy was. The Sandhurst cadet then arrived and it was our turn to march into battle. Ignoring his instructions, we ran off in a different direction, in a formation about as orderly as a pack of hounds, to the back of the hill where our scout told us the enemy was and started to rush up. The breathless Sandhurst cadet yelled at us to stop: “They won’t know you are coming. Fire a shot to warn them.”
We duly fired a blank and continued. Before they realised what was happening, the enemy was overwhelmed and we captured the post without a shot fired, except our warning.
We won the prize. Major Morris could not believe his ears. “Pageites?” he kept shouting, “Pageites?” It was as if Lincoln City had won the FA Cup. I was immediately promoted to sergeant and still possess a pewter mug inscribed “Arthur Webster Cup, Sergeant G. Taverne” (sic), which shows how well known I was in military circles.