Cardigan To Skegness

It was in the year of 1942, I was lucky I had a job to do.
Taxi driver was my occupation, Thought it would be for the duration.
There were not many cars on the road, Rugby was the place of my abode.
One day a letter was delivered to me, It was an invitation from the Air Ministry.
I had to report to Coventry, Sibree Hall, For the purpose of having my medical.
Everything went according to plan, Evidently I was a fit enough man.
I had reached the great age of nineteen, A lot of the world I had not seen.
I was passed fit, with the grade of 'A', Which really did make my day.
Some weeks later my papers came, I was to be of Royal Air Force fame.
The papers told me exactly what to do, What to take, and where to go.
Cardigan was to be my destination, So I had to pack in my occupation.
On Mon Sept 10th, with my case all packed, Down to Rugby Station I tracked.
With ticket in hand I boarded the train, At Northampton I had to get off again.
A train for Bedford was my next aim, More chaps with suitcases just the same.
In came the train and we all piled in, Everybody as clean as new pins.
At Bedford station, the train came to a halt, Just then I suppose we all felt like doing a bolt.
We stepped off the train and out into the road, There were troop-carrying QLs there waiting to load.
We were herded aboard like cattle on a ship, The only thing missing was the man with the whip.
Up the road out of Bedford we went, Curious to see where we were being sent.
In through some big gates the lorries steered, I wondered why nobody cheered?.
"Come on you lot, line up over here." I think we did it more out of fear.
All these young men all spick & span, Being controlled by just one man.
He was a corporal with a fierce glower, Wondering what to do with this new shower.



"Any questions?" He roared as he paced up and down, His face grimaced with a very fiery frown.
One brave lad with a tongue in his head, "When do we get some leave," he said.
The corporal didn't seem at all put out, He'd heard it all before no doubt.
We all thought it was one huge joke, And tried to congratulate the bloke.
The laughing soon stopped when the corporal gave a shout, We soon found out what the RAF was all about.
Our huts were allocated and to them we were sent, On some faces were looks of discontent.
It didn't take long to get things sorted out, The main thing was the cookhouse without a doubt.
It seemed rather strange the first night away from home, All shut up in a camp and not allowed to roam.
The next day dawned all bright and fair, There were crowds of men everywhere.
We all got measured up for our clothes and shoes, They were given to us, we could not choose.
A hut full of men, we didn't know who was who, Now we were all dressed in Air Force blue.
Of course in a crowd it is a well known fact, There is a mixture of comedy and fact.
There are some who think they know it all, And there are some who know nothing at all.
I suppose the latter is the best one to be, Because it seemed to make life easy.
It was best to let the RAF tell you what to do, Instead of doing what you wanted to do.
We were given a number which you didn't forget, Because if you did, no money would you get.
Mine was 1641403, And it has been forever in my memory.
We were shown how it was best to pack our kit bags, But of course, there were always some snags.
Your wellies, of course they went in first, But if you wanted them first, that was the worst.
To arrange your blankets was a technical job, 'O yes' and we all had to get the king's bob.
It all was very interesting and it kept us amused, At least none of us was being abused.
One day some of us, to the MT section were directed, I was one of the few that were selected.
It seemed strange to be back on the road once more, Although I had never driven a lorry before.
We were taken around the streets of Bedford town, No wonder the inhabitants were wearing a frown.
All these young lads chasing round and round, It would make them feel like going to ground.
There were no mishaps as far as I could say, But all of us were eager to be on our way.
I have been through Bedford many times over the years, It brings back memories but not many tears.
There doesn't seem room now for the learner DMT's, I bet population will be very pleased.
Things seemed OK and everything went well. At least as far as I could tell.
One day we were honoured with the spud-bashing job, Never thought it would take so many to feed the mob.
There was talk of us leaving, but we knew not where, There were always rumours around in the air.
At last the morning came and we packed our kit, Down to the station to carry it.
Once aboard the train it was better, I must confess, The Gen men said we were going to Skegness,
Away we went like kids on a treat, We all thought - this couldn't be beat.
As those great hangars faded away out of sight, We all wondered what would be our plight.
The Gen men were right, it was Skegness town, We couldn't see many holiday-makers around.
We got off the train and lined up in the park, We certainly were not for a lark.
Another corporal there was pacing up and down, He certainly did look nice and brown.
His uniform was faded but it was a nice fit, He looked as if he had been poured into it.
He paced up and down and looked at the front line, He said "The first thing you'll do is get a hair-cut like mine."
He whipped off his cap and to our horror did see, his hair had been cut very, very closely.



When he saw our faces it really made him smile, I suppose the funniest thing he had seen for a while.
There were lads with blond, ginger, brown and black. A lot of it all hanging down our back.
The barber did not have to ask what to do, He cut all the same, for me and for you.
We were allocated our digs, which were facing the sea, The landlady's name was Mrs Ashley.
No 7, Grand Parade was the proper address, A very nice lodgings, I must impress.
Unfortunately now it doesn't exist, Two or three places there have been demolished.
My room mate came from Rusthall, Tunbridge Wells, His name was Bill Plass and we were quite good pals.
Inoculation was one thing that was on the list, One of the things we would like to have missed.
We all lined up with our sleeves rolled up high, Hoping that they would pass us by.
'Don't look at the man in the front,` we were told, But as you may guess we thought we were bold.
I and some others took no notice of that, The next thing we knew we were flat on the mat.
These were the men who were supposed to be brave and true, Who were going to win the war for you.
We were told we would have an FFI, We soon found out that it was nothing to do with your eye.
'Right you lot, line up over there, 'Drop your trousers and leave yourself bare'.
It must have been a hilarious sight, Enough to give everyone a horrible fright.
When we first arrived we saw squads of men, Marching up and down again.
We never thought we would be down the same, Square-bashing they called it, that was it's name.
I often wondered where the transport would be, But as it happened, unfortunately.
There was six weeks of marching and various things, That we would suffer, us humble beings.



There was a sergeant in charge of our gang, And when he shouted, the echoes rang.
With his pace stick and polished boots, We were marched round various routes.
Left-right, Left-right was all we used to hear, At least to us that`s what it did appear.
`Heep hipe, heep hipe,` is what he used to shout, But at least we deciphered what it was all about.
For one poor lad in our squad, it really was a shame, He couldn`t help it, he really wasn`t to blame.
When the order was given `By the left, quick march,` He moved as if he was stiffened by starch.
As his left foot went forward, so did his left arm, Which in the middle of a squad, caused quite a bit of harm.
To us it was quite funny, but not to the serge, We though he was going to put the poor lad on a charge.
The thought the found the answer, or so it did appear, The gave him the order to march in the rear.
That went quite well, until the order `About turn,` Of course there was chaos, like a filed of waving corn.
I don`t know what happened to him, but on him we could depend, For when the going got quite nasty, he was a good secret weapon.
The corporal that I mentioned was quite a nice fellow, He wasn`t the sort of chap to shout, bawl or bellow.
It there was a chance to help you, he would if he could, It wasn`t very often that you saw him in a bad mood.
It was said that in civvy street he was a London bus conductor, But in the RAF he was a PT instructor.
I often wondered if he, by chance, is still anywhere around, It would be nice to see if he could be found.
Whilst out on a march one day, miles out of town, The weather was very nice, the sun was shining down. Everybody seemed to be in a very good mood, Everything was going well I suppose it should.
It so happened in the distance a café we could see, We all hoped that Cpl Morrison would let us have a cup of tea.
Our hopes were granted, he said, `OK chaps, have a break,` So we all piled in the café for a cup of tea and some cake.
Then we all came outside to enjoy the fresh air, Which was all very welcome to everybody there.
One of the lads, I know not his name, Or of the district whence he came.
Sat himself upon a low wall, And proceeded to serenade to one and all.
The actual song he sang was Blues In The Night, To everyone there it caused great delight.
It seemed like a scene from one of the shows, Wherever he went to Skeggy, goodness knows.
One day in the ranks news got around, The next day we were Ingoldmels bound.
There was only one snag attached to this rumour, And it didn`t cause a great deal of humour.
That a forced march was the order for the very next day, Just was it entailed they didn`t care to say.
We got up next morning full of the joys of spring, Out on parade ready for anything.
After dinner we marched to the northside of town, When the told us the order we all had a frown.
Instead of the usual casual marching pace, This was to be a double-time race.
Evidently everybody had to do it whilst they were there, It might have been because of the fresh air.
Off we went on our merry way, Everybody soon got in the sway.
The first two three miles, they weren`t too bad, When we got to Ingolmels we were very glad.
We thought we were going to have a rest, But no, the NCO`s thought it would be best,
For us to about turn and retrace our steps, They said it would do the world of good for our biceps,
`Left right, left right, `we could hear them shout, It was lucky non of us dropped out.
My God, how it made us perspire, It also felt as though our feet were on fire.
At last we could see the end was in sight, We would have been in no condition to fight.
At the north end of Skeggy there was a big patch of grass, Where we all lay like a writhing mass.
It must have been quite funny for anyone to see, All the fit young men groaning in agony.
At last the day came for us to depart, The day that we longed for right from the start.
The previous night we all went for a drink, A good time was had by all, I think?.
Cpl Morrison was present and we said our goodbye`s, As he shook hands there were tears in our eyes.
Weather he was sad to see us all go, Or weather he was glad we will never know



By Jim Law
Submitted by Steve Hyde