Langeleben 1982-1985 -
John Richardson
I eventually arrived at Langeleben
in April 1982. I was by now a Sergeant in the Int Corps,
with eight years’ service. I had joined the Russian
Interpreter Course at the Army School of Languages at
Beaconsfield in 1980. Towards the end of the course myself
and the other Int Corps Sergeant were informed about our
future postings: “One of you is going to 13 and the other to
14. Let me know which is which.“ said the man from DI 24. I
must admit, the thought of another tour in Berlin was very
tempting. So before we resorted to fisticuffs, we tossed a
coin. As the loser, I would be going to 14 Signal Regiment.
Also attending the course was WO2 Dennis Weir from 14, he
contacted the Regiment to ensure that I would be employed at
1 Squadron, Langeleben, and not at the RHQ in Celle.I was
not too unhappy with my lot, as Electronic Warfare had been
growing in importance in the Army, at least since the major
organisational reforms of 1977. Before that time, Langeleben
had been viewed as somewhere to be avoided, a backwater in
the Sigint Community. But now there was a realisation that
this posting could mark an important stepping-stone in a
soldier’s career.
As we took the final exams, the Argentinians invaded the
Falkland Islands and many people suddenly disappeared from
the other courses to join the task force. Our voice
operators who had done a Spanish course in order to spend a
few months every year in Belize were now all heading south.
So after leave at home, keeping an ear on the radio for news
of the war, I arrived at Langeleben with Dennis.
I joined Support Troop, working in the transcription
section. It was frustrating to find that I had no mobile
role. Sp Tp was made up of the Odds and Sods, Reporters,
Transcribers, Ops Bureau and a section called Squadron Plans
and Operations Team (SPOT), which contained all the Warrant
Officers with no real jobs. Our Troop Commander was Laurie
Storey. „A“ Troop was far and away the biggest troop,
consisting of the two half troops “Whiskey“ and “X-Ray“ the
voice ops (R Signals and Int Corps) who manned the set room
and carried out the mobile operations. “O” Troop was
commanded by the Yeoman and contained all the Radio Ops and
Data Telegraphists. “D“ Troop was manned by the Spec Ops
with their DF vehicles. SHQ Troop contained the Orderly Room
Sergeant and clerk, Pay Clerk, the MT drivers and the REME
LAD. On paper the Squadron was about 140 men strong, but we
always had people on courses and detachments. There were
about 12 Warrant Officers in the Squadron, most of them
looking for a job. The majority of DI 24 personnel were
based with 1 Squadron at Langeleben. 2 Squadron (the old
226) worked at Wesendorf, being bussed daily from the RHQ at
Scheuen, north of Celle. Scheuen was an old RAOC ammunition
dump, and housed RHQ and HQ Squadron. It was a depressing
place, and most of the Langy personnel avoided it like the
plague, only visiting when we had to.
I reported for duty to the SSM to be told that I was on
Summer Camp the week after next. The Regiment sent each
Squadron in turn to Bavaria for ten days’ adventure
training, hill-walking, rock-climbing, canoeing, etc. I was
to go with HQ Squadron, as I would be staying with the Rear
Party in Langeleben when 1 Squadron went down. As it turned
out, I enjoyed the time in Berchtesgaden, HQ Squadron formed
a patrol for Senior NCOs and we had some fun. I could read a
map and speak reasonable German, so we managed to navigate
our way from Gasthaus to Gasthaus through the mountains,
seeing something of the magnificent Alps and the historic
locations. I also made some useful contacts for the future.
We were accommodated in an American transit barracks in
Strub, a couple of kilometres out of the town.
JR finishing the confidence course
The two weeks in
Berchtesgaden were not without hazards. One day’s activity
involved attempting the local “Confidence Course” which was
a course through the woods, over ropes and planks and the
like, about thirty feet up in the trees. This concluded with
a “Death Slide” down a rope by a harness attached to a
pulley wheel. We were told the Yanks got a medal for
completing the thing. One year our OC (known as Frogface)
went first. He got to the end, climbed into the harness, and
launched himself down the slide, but somehow started
bouncing on the rope, which derailed the wheel on the rope
and caused him to come to a sudden stop, and he was jolted
forward so that he was hanging upside down in the harness in
a rather painful position. “Arrggh; my balls”, he screamed,
while his trusty men below rushed off to fetch their cameras
and/or clods of earth and proceeded to pelt him while he
struggled to extricate himself.
JR on the march in
Bavaria
Even less enjoyable was the ordeal
of Chris Jones. One section of the confidence course was a
row of car tyres suspended by ropes, the idea was to swing
from one to another “Tarzan”-style. Trying to get across,
Chris missed his footing and fell backwards, but his foot
was stuck inside a tyre, and he fell with a scream, his
lower leg being turned through 90°. Fortunately he was
wearing a safety harness, so he didn’t fall to the deck, but
he was left hanging about twenty feet up with his leg in the
air making an almighty racket. It tuned out later that he
had dislocated his kneecap. This presented the problem of
how to recover him, as he couldn’t pull himself up, and we
didn’t have any twenty-foot ladders to hand. The nearest
telephone was about five miles away down the bottom of the
mountain. Luckily for Chris, we spotted some German Alpine
Troops out training over the way, so I sauntered over and
explained our predicament. They came straight over, all big
beefy chaps with arms and legs like tree trunks, they
swarmed up the trees and secured Chris with ropes to a
stretcher and lowered him to the ground, then drove him off
in their jeep to the local hospital. Here he was treated by
a German doctor who told Chris to look out of the window, as
Chris did this, the medico whacked the kneecap back into
place. Chris said his scream of pain must have been heard up
at Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. The doctor shrugged and said
“Soldiers don’t need anaesthetic”. Chris’s leg was encased
in plaster from ankle to hip, and he was shipped back to
Langy. His troubles weren’t over, as he found the Langy
toilet cubicles were too small and he couldn’t sit on the
throne with his pot leg extended. In the end he had to sit
on the can with the door open and rest his foot on a chair.
Of course, his comrades rallied round with much sympathy.
A Sgts’ Mess dinner night
The Sergeants’ Mess
was bursting at the seams, the living-in personnel were
divided into single sergeants and married unaccompanied
(i.e. those who were waiting for discharge, who had sent
their wives and families back to UK), known as the “bean
stealers“, as they did not pay messing fees. I moved into a
small single bunk in the overflow accommodation in the
Cinema block, where I stayed for a few months until my turn
came to move into a room in the Mess proper. Evenings in the
Mess were mostly spent in the television lounge, or
sometimes we walked down to Lelm, the first stop was on the
right hand side of the road, 1 1/2 Km from Langeleben on the
tree-line overlooking the Lelm-Helmstedt area, known as the
"Halfway house" although it was really called "Heinrichsruh".
For many years it was run by the Ehlers family, (btw, the
daughter of the house, Sigrid, married Tony Buttery). In
1982 the landlord set up a big screen TV for the World Cup
finals, so lots of us went down there. The other port of
call was "Elly's" on the Königslutter road out of Lelm. A
good little pub, Elly used to "mother" the lads. She retired
in about 1984, we drank the boozer dry on the last night;
the pub is now a very good restaurant "Kastanienkrug". Heini
Feddeck still drinks in there, so they can't be too fussy
about their guests.
The only problem was getting back to Langeleben, it was a
long haul up the hill. I remember one night the Yeoman
walked the whole 3 Km backwards, as he was convinced
footpads were lurking in the woods to rob us (must have been
something he ate). On Saturday evenings the younger element
usually drove into Königslutter and played dice at the “Kaiserschenke“.
Sartorially elegant: JR and Arthur Verit
One Saturday morning
we were all sitting around in the TV lounge, drinking coffee
and watching the box. Arthur Verity had borrowed Chris
Jones’ chess computer and was deep in thought on about level
one. He sat there with coffee cup on one side and a fly
swatter on the other, occasionally despatching a kamikaze
fly. He raised an eye from his game and realised that
crawling down the wall opposite was one of eleben’s
resident cockroaches. Suddenly he acted, and launched
himself over the coffee table in the direction of the roach.
Now Arthur was not one of the most graceful movers at the
best of times, he sort of lumbered about. Now he charged
over the table and the chair behind it like a bull at a gate
to take a mighty swipe at the roach. Unfortunately the mains
lead from the chess computer had wrapped round his ankle so
as he lunged, the computer followed him, and ripped the
cable from the wall socket with an almighty flash-bang. His
fist grasping the fly swatter knocked a huge hole in the
chipboard wall. The rest of us sat there stunned in
astonishment, (even the sloth Chris Jones woke up). Sad to
relate, Arthur missed the roach, which scuttled back into
the skirting.
By the end of May the Squadron had
returned from Summer Camp and I returned to work in the
transcription section. The daily bread and butter work was
artillery, the ranges in the Letzlinger Heide and
Altengrabow training areas were easily audible. Now the
infantry and tank troops were starting with their initial
training after the May troop rotation, which would steadily
build up to full Regimental and Divisional exercises in
September-October. The transcription section was also
responsible for language training, which was held in the
training room in the ops block.
A typical day for us started at 0830, the first reels had
come through and we worked until 10, when we walked over to
the Sgts’ Mess for tea and toast. The telephone was
continually ringing, and the Sqn Orderly Officer (a Sergeant
or WO) had to answer it. We got a duty about once a month,
and every couple of months a weekend duty. At 1030 we
returned to work until 1230, when we broke for lunch. A full
sit-down meal was provided for those who wanted, but most
people had put their names down for a bread roll with meat
or cheese. I usually ate two of these, while serving behind
the Mess Bar, which was normally full, with dart games and
dominoes being played. At 1330 I closed the bar and returned
to work. I was appointed to the bar by the SSM because 1. I
lived in the Mess and 2. I could phone Wolters’ Brewery in
German with the order. In return I was excused serving on
the Entertainments Committee, as I was now permanently Wines
and Property Member. When I arrived the bar was a small
affair in the corner, but not long after I arrived, Ray
Jones (a trained carpenter) and Tony Buttery built a big new
one, which was far more comfortable to work behind. We also
got a beer pump from the brewery for draught Wolters’ beer.
Work at Langeleben officially finished at 1600, as opposed
to 1700 at Scheuen, the reason being that the married men
had a long journey to their quarters in
Braunschweig/Wolfenbüttel. I usually carried on working
until tea time, as it was possible to work at this time of
day without interruption. The evening meal was served at
1800 in the Mess, and was usually of a good standard. Every
few weeks we would hold a living-in dinner, usually to say
farewell to a living-in member, for which a jacket and tie
were worn, and we would be served wine with the meal. After
dinner we retired to the TV lounge for coffee and flopped
around or got changed to go into town.
Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, we paraded at 0700
for a 5 Km run through the woods. The racing snakes would
complete the course in record time, but for the mass of us
it was a necessary evil plodding through the woods. After
the run, we showered and had breakfast, before starting
work. Fortunately, the runs were discontinued after the
arrival of a new (rotund) OC.
The work behind the bar brought me into regular contact with
my Mess colleagues. Many I, of course, knew well already,
from previous units and/or courses attended. Those from
outside the Y Services, though, were largely unknowns. The
Yeoman of Signals became a good pal of mine, he was very
correct and proper to his radio ops, though, they were very
wary of getting on the wrong side of him. One day at the
bays in Wolfenbüttel he had done himself a mischief of some
sort, pulled a muscle in his back or something. He drove
back to Langy, extricated himself from his car with
difficulty and limped gingerly across to the Mess, past his
men engaged in polishing a land rover, who diplomatically
refrained from commenting on his obvious discomfort. He had
almost reached the Mess door and safety, when SQMS Brummie
Andrews stuck his head round the Stores door and shouted for
all to hear: “What’s up Yeoman, strained yer bollox ‘ave yer?”
The Mess Staff: Ingrid, Sabrina,
Blondie, Frau Brauer, Ilona, Cooks Keith Mooney and Jock Mutch
I also came into daily contact with the Mess
civilian staff, run with an iron hand by Frau Ilona Hawxwell,
the Mess Manageress. Her waitresses were Frau Wirtsch, an
albino, half-blind, known as “Blondie”, and Frau Ingrid
Schmidtke, blonde hair, blue eyes with an hourglass figure,
known as “Schmitty”. In the kitchen worked Renate Ellis and
her son, Trevor, as well as the redoubtable Frau Graf. The
chambermaid was dear old Emmy Sturm, who worked in all about
40 years at Langeleben.
As senior NCOs we collected
subsidiary tasks. John Neal returned from a Unit Fire NCO’s
course and we were paraded on the tennis court for a
demonstration of fire-fighting. John had obtained an old
sofa from the quarters and had put it in the middle of the
tennis court. Unfortunately, the night before it had rained
and the sofa was soaking wet. John nevertheless proceeded to
tell us about fighting fires, and as a pièce de resistance
he wanted to demonstrate how to extinguish a burning sofa.
His attempt to ignite the sofa failed miserably, the seat
cushions just smouldered and went out. Undaunted, he dipped
a torch in petrol, lit it, and thrust it deeply into the
seat, “Just wait till it gets going”. The torch went out, so
to the accompaniment of titters from the assembled soldiery,
he poured a jerry-can of benzin over the sofa and threw in a
lighted taper, the fire flared up -and went out. So he cut
his losses and quickly summed up, “So, anyway, you now know
what action to take in the event of a fire in your quarter”,
and some wag in the rear rank (Pete Manger, I think) chipped
in “Yeah, stick it in the sofa.” (Oh how we laughed!). (We
found out later that the sofa was made of a safety
non-inflammable foam, which wouldn’t have burned even
without the soaking).
Nick Turner and JR meet the Bundeswehr
The summer was
rounded-off with me going off for a week on Exercise
Beachcomber. This was run by Dennis Weir, and the idea was
to get soldiers out of barracks during the summer break. In
summer 50% of the unit were allowed out of theatre on leave,
those left in camp manned the set room or just lounged
around the bays. So the then OC asked Dennis to think of
something to do with the bored soldiery. Dennis came up with
a scheme to take a party off to the seaside resort of
Cuxhaven to carry out environmental conservation tasks. Two
parties travelled up to the coast for a week at a time, at
first living in a German Naval Barracks, then in later years
on a public campsite. In the mornings the party would do
some task under the direction of a local German forester,
building paths through the woods or reinforcing a
badly-eroded lakeside. The afternoons were generally free,
but included a visit to a local military unit, and one day
for a hike over the mud flats out to Neuwerk Island – about
8 miles (returning by the ferry). In the evenings the
“Strand Club” disco was favourite, but I found a quiet
little welcoming bar, round the corner, where I could while
away the hours. The week ended with a barbecue on the beach,
to which the forester and the representatives of the town
council plus the Bundeswehr were invited. When Dennis later
moved on I took over the administration and running of the
Exercise.
After the summer leave period, it was back to work with a
vengeance, with the start of the NATO Exercise period, and
the culmination of the Soviet Training Cycle. The set room
was busy, and we generally had one or all troops out. I was
still a member of the rear party, it was becoming quite
frustrating without an exercise role, watching the troops
continually coming and going. One evening in November, the
shift supervisor called me in to transcribe a reel, it was
the announcement to the Soviet Forces of the death of Leonid
Brezhnev, the then General Secretary of the Soviet Union.
I did get sent to Corps HQ on an
exercise, as a watchkeeper in the Corps Electronic Warfare
Control Cell (EWCC), where it soon became apparent that I
was the only one there who knew the foggiest about EW, the
others were main-line Signallers, I Corps from the Security
Section, and RAOC clerks. Still it was an interesting week
seeing the Corps Commander and his Staff at close quarters,
and we even carried out a river crossing over the Weser.
December arrived, and finally I took part in a Squadron
exercise, albeit as an umpire, issuing tapes for the ops to
listen to. This was Exercise “White Lightning” and had been
written and recorded by us (the transcribers) as a training
exercise for the voice ops. The scenario was of a Soviet
attack on West Germany, instead of scanning the air waves,
the ops were issued with a tape representing 20 minutes of
activity. This lasted for a week, and we accompanied the
intercept troops as they moved locations.
After we returned to Langy, then the Christmas period
started. In the mess we held a decoration evening, and
shortly before the festival we had a Christmas Draw, for
which we wrote begging letters to every firm we could think
of to collect prizes for the raffle. The Draw was held in
the gymnasium that year. Over Christmas half the unit went
on leave, when they returned, the other half went on leave
for New Year. Priority was given to those with small
children, so it meant that I was duty transcriber on
Christmas Day. The day started early with the SSM and myself
with the bucket of tea and rum (“Gunfire”) doing the rounds
of the single accommodation, On shift there was not much
work done, basically we sat round in the set room drinking
beer. At midday, Pete Manger arrived to drive me down to his
quarter, where I had been invited for Christmas Dinner.
After a good dinner, washed down with wine we continued on
drinking a bottle of port, and then I slept on his sofa.
Next day we came into work (with thick heads) as the soviets
(who of course did not celebrate Christmas) were out on
exercise. After the changeover I went off on leave, I drove
up to Berlin to visit some German friends and spent New Year
there.
1983
The year started with the new OC announcing his plans for
the reorganisation of the Squadron. The Squadron would be
organised the same in camp as in the field. To this end A
Troop disappeared and two intercept troops, Whisky and X-Ray
were formed. D Troop’s two DF baselines were now permanently
subordinated to each of the intercept troops. O Troop’s
radio ops were also assigned to the intercept troops.
Support troop vanished, and the reporters were assigned to
an intercept troop. The transcription section was reduced
and earmarked for the Squadron Probe, joining the now
enlarged SHQ troop. The OC announced that new vehicles would
be soon arriving, and about time, too, as the number of land
rovers sitting waiting for spare parts outside the LAD was
becoming embarrassing. The new vehicles would be one-tonne
hard top land rovers. A third intercept troop would be
formed, Yankee Troop, and would be part of the new 2
Squadron, but in barracks based at Langeleben. The intercept
troops’ vehicles were all garaged at Wolfenbüttel. The first
hard-top one-tonne rover to arrive was the new Squadron
Command Post (SCP).
FC101 Land Rover (Radio) like the
SCP wagon
It contained two radio watchkeeper positions,
and a space for the OC, which he furnished with an armchair
from the mess. The two watchkeepers normally listened on the
two radio nets, the Regimental Command Net and the Squadron
Command Net, but could, if required, be operated by one man,
with a net in each earphone. As I had no exercise role, I
was detailed as one of the four watchkeepers, (2 men as day
+ night teams). This became “my” vehicle, that is, I was
responsible for washing and scraping mud off the thing, and
usually drove it when moving location, while my fellow
watchkeeper slept. During the day, the OC sat in his
armchair like a Buddha and commanded the movements of the
squadron. At night he slept in his tent not far from the
SCP, while the night watchkeepers updated the maps and
carried out resupply and admin tasks, told jokes and read
books, my collection of P.G. Wodehouse grew considerably.
The SCP normally deployed with the forward intercept
complex, which comprised the four intercept positions, the
troop OC, analysts, DF controller and radio op/data
telegraphist. The four DF vehicles were deployed out in the
field, up to 100 Km away. For first-line repairs a radio
technician had a small workshop parked nearby, and the cook
wagon in a four-tonne Bedford truck was co-located with us.
The OC’s comfy armchair was the downfall of one Royal
Signals WO1 who occupied the chair on a night shift; when he
woke up and gathered his kit together he discovered that his
pistol was missing. A hurried search of the wagon was
fruitless, so he rushed over to the complex, commandeered a
party of bods, and proceeded to search the surrounding woods
in the cold light of dawn. He returned to the SCP in a
somewhat agitated manner, and held his head in his hands,
seeing his hopes of commissioning retreating fast. He sat in
the armchair pondering his fate, when he suddenly reached
down into the upholstery and with obvious relief, pulled out
his pistol, which had slipped down behind the cushion. We
had at the time a young coloured voice op in the Squadron,
he had taken part in the fruitless search party before
finishing his mid shift, after which he settled down to
sleep in the back of a four-tonne truck, hanging his SMG on
the side of the lorry. A while later, the SSM was wandering
around, and saw this, and removed the SMG from its hook,
then woke the sleeping Corporal and informed him that he was
on a charge for mislaying his personal weapon (he didn’t
like the bloke). When we got back to camp, he marched in to
the OC who asked him what he had to say for himself. Young
Cpl. C. announced that there were obviously different rules
for different ranks in the Squadron, as a Warrant Officer
had raised the hue and cry when he had lost his pistol, but
he, a Corporal, was simply stuck on a charge. The OC, being
a fair man, told him to be more careful in future and gave
him a reprimand. The WO1 was invited to make a sizeable
donation to the Royal Signals Benevolent Fund.
Cpl. C., a clever bloke, got his own back on the SSM later.
One spring day, he turned up at SHQ asking for a personal
interview with the SSM. The SSM invited him in and asked him
what was the matter. “I’ve decided to have a sex change, I
want to become a lady” replied the lad with a straight face.
The SSM gasped, and stammered “Have you talked to the MO, …,
the chaplain, perhaps….”
The Cpl. said, “No, I wanted you to be the first to know, to
save any embarrassment.”
“Well, thank you Cpl. C.,” said the SSM, perspiring, “I’ll
have to discuss this with the OC, er, MO, er, maybe the WRVS
sister”.
The Cpl. thanked him and left the office. The SSM staggered
out into the Orderly Room, mopping his fevered brow.
“Anything the matter, Sir,” asked the Orderly Room Sergeant,
with a grin.
“I’ve never had to deal with anything like this in my life
before,” groaned the SSM, and explained his predicament to
the ORS, who pointed to the calendar… yes, dear reader, it
was the 1st of April.
One exercise, I was standing on top of the SCP wagon,
watching the intercept troop just over the way setting-up. A
couple of bods were erecting the intercept mast, which was
carried horizontal on a trailer, first had the antenna
attached and then was wound up to the vertical, and then a
hosepipe from a generator was attached to erect the mast
pneumatically. As each section of about 5 metres went up,
there was a locking ring, which the bod up the ladder
twisted to unlock, to allow the next section to rise up. All
went well until the last ring stuck, the bloke tried to
unjam it, but the pressure built up and he couldn’t budge
it. He shouted to the man on the genny to knock off the air,
but it was too late, there was an almighty bang and the mast
was launched up into the air, the blokes setting up the
complex scattered as the 40-foot mast returned to Earth, and
stuck into the ground at an oblique angle. The ancient mast,
which had probably seen action at Waterloo, was declared
beyond economic repair, and I believe it ended up in the
Museum at Blandford.
The second intercept complex was maybe 50 Km to our rear,
and co-located with it were the LAD and the SQMS. Resupply
was carried out every couple of nights, we would receive our
supplies of petrol in jerrycans, fresh rations, and anything
else we had indented for.
I enjoyed the exercises in SCP, there was usually a good
laugh somewhere during the exercises. Often, we deployed
early on an exercise, to try and catch the opposing forces
moving out of garrison. We were usually on radio silence for
days, which meant that it could get boring at times. One
night I was listening on the (silent) Regimental Command
Net, when suddenly a voice broke the silence: “I’m fooking
p*ssed off” it said. Immediately another angry voice came on
the net: “Hello unidentified station, this is Sunray, I say
again, this is Sunray, identify yourself, unidentified
station.” After a pause, the first voice transmitted again:
“I’m not that fooking p*ssed off!” (Oh how we laughed!)
At least now I felt that my military education was
advancing, and that I was at last doing something useful in
the Squadron.
I eventually got a summons to the SSM, who informed me that
I had been selected to attend a Nuclear, Chemical and
Biological (NBC) Defence Instructors’ course. This meant
three weeks in the UK, just up the road from Porton Down. I
found it an interesting course, I had to do a lot of
swotting, as I had previously had little to do with NBC.
Most of the others on the course were from the teeth arms,
they were surprised that the Int Corps was represented. The
theoretical side presented no great problems, but I had
lacked practical experience in decontamination drills and
radiac reconnaissance and the like, but my comrades rallied
round to help me when they saw me floundering. In the end I
got a good pass grade, and I returned to Langy to assume the
duties of Squadron NBC Instructor. This entailed advising
the OC on NBC matters, now and again he would call for a
“chemical strike” on exercise, I would let off a few squibs
and the lads would have to don their “Noddy” suits and carry
on working in an NBC environment. I also carried out the
annual checks on respirators, and prepared soldiers for the
NBC parts of military training courses, (Det Commander, or
SSgts courses for the R Signals, or Drill & Duties for the I
Corps).
As a German speaker, I got roped in to assist in the
Anglo-German Club, which drew it’s members from interested
parties from the unit and citizens of Königslutter, mainly
the English teachers from the school, but also others, town
treasurer, bank manager, clockmaker etc. We organised
various events, folk music concert, games evening, sports
evening, car treasure hunt, pensioners’ Christmas dinner,
kids’ party etc. The attendance swung between sell-out to a
washout. The bulk of the organisation was borne by the hon.
sec. (me).
For the single Sergeants there was a lack of female company.
In those days WRAC personnel were not sent to front-line
units, so we were left with the Germans. Opportunities for
meeting suitable candidates were few and far between in ‘Slutter.
The “Lord” pub in town where the young lads drank always
seemed to be full of young girls, but we (almost 30) were
classed as geriatrics. We drank in the “Kaiserschenke” which
was more in the spit and sawdust class, and few women went
in there. I was never interested in visiting discotheques,
and the matrons who attended the Anglo-German Club meetings
were more interested in improving their English irregular
verbs. I was friendly with the young NAAFI manageress,
Eileen, but her work prevented her from having much free
time for other pursuits in the evenings. I was still writing
to a WRAC friend at Beaconsfield, but now she had been
posted to Northern Ireland, so I couldn’t call in to see her
on leave any more. One Friday I was closing the bar, when
Ingrid the waitress brought the washed glasses from the
kitchen, we chatted as usual, and I mentioned that on
Saturday I had to drive up to Celle, I had left my scarf in
the Sgts Mess after a meeting. “Oh, Celle is a lovely town,
and I like the Lüneburg Heath”, she said.
“You can come with me, if you like,” I said. So she
accepted, and I picked her up next day. She was a bit wary,
in case anybody in Königslutter saw her, but we had a
pleasant drive round and towards evening I suggested
something to eat. Königslutter was out of the question, so
we went to the Chinese restaurant in Helmstedt. She was
pleasant company, good-looking, blonde, blue-eyed, with a
cracking figure. She was not long divorced from her
alcoholic husband, and her friend Renate Ellis had told her
that there was a job going in Langeleben. Although she
couldn’t speak English, she had taken the job. Her good
looks meant that she soon got plenty of offers from married
men, but she wasn’t interested. I took her home and we said
we would do it again sometime. I also promised not to say
anything to the others (they had such warped ideas on sex,
anyway).
The Squadron football team vs. Lelm
In June the village of
Lelm celebrated it’s 1000-year anniversary. I was invited to
have a chat with the chairman of the parish council, and he
outlined the plans for the festivities. I reported back to
the OC, who gave his assent to us taking part. On the
Saturday the sqn football team played against a Lelm eleven
(as the village did not have a football team, the
handballers turned out). Before the game the teams were
presented to the local dignitaries and the village band
played the national anthems.
Bill Nelson leading us through Lelm
On the Sunday a contingent in No. 2 dress led
by the 2IC, Capt. Bill Nelson, Int Corps, marched in the
procession through the village. In the evening we came down
in force to the celebration dance in the tent, for an
evening of oompah music and much alcohol. Langeleben was
well represented, not only the soldiers, but a lot of the
civilian staff were present, including Ilona Hawxwell and
Ingrid, so we had a couple of dances.
In Summer I again took part in “Beachcomber” in Cuxhaven,
this time we were accommodated in tents on a campsite, which
definitely furthered Anglo-German relations.
When I got back off summer leave, the Sqn was preparing to
go on Exercise Silver Shield, which was a military training
exercise for the entire Corps Signal Brigade, consisting of
7, 16 and 14 Signal Regiments. It meant an early start, so
our SSM decided that everybody would come in to camp the
night before. In the Sgts Mess he had planned a curry
supper, and then a good night’s sleep before rising early to
get on the bus…..As I got up early the next morning (I had
gone to bed at midnight) the last drunks were just coming
out of the bar to go to breakfast. We drew arms and got on
board the Sqn bus (the “White elephant”). Army busses are
not built for comfort, so we threw all the kit at the back
with the beer and got our sleeping bags out, so very soon
the bus resembled a low-class doss house. The bus had a top
speed of about 20 mph, going downhill with the wind behind
it, and there are a lot of hills between Langeleben and the
Rhine Mountains, so going uphill we just about made a brisk
walking pace. This wasn’t too bad, as it meant people could
stand in relative safety at the open side door to take a
leak, or in one case, throw up. After a sumptuous meal of
stale haversack rations (“death packs”) we eventually rolled
into Vogelsang Camp, some twelve hours later. As we drove
in, the other Regiments were forming up on the square, for
allocation of accommodation, and all eyes turned as the
Langeleben bus rattled round the corner, spilling empty
Wolters’ beer bottles out of the loose emergency exit door
at the back (I kid you not!!).
Aerial photo of Vogelsang Camp with
Urft reservoir
The location of the
exercise was at Vogelsang Camp, in the Eifel mountains. The
camp had been built by Adolf as a Nazi Party leadership
school, on top of a mountain, overlooking the Urft
Reservoir. We took our year’s allocation of pyrotechnics and
for a week the troops were chased up hill and down dale. The
rifle ranges fired across the lake, from morning till night
they were banging away with everything, rifles, machine
guns, anti-tank rockets, grenade launchers. The lake was
crossed by paddling like mad in little assault boats, and
for fun you could run up the couple of hundred steps from
the lake up to the camp (and back again). I struck lucky, as
I was an NBC instructor, and was sent to join the training
staff. It was quite good fun, letting off lots of squibs,
firing airburst simulations at the advancing troops,
covering them with foul-smelling gubbins. And on the same
theme, in the evenings, when we weren’t carrying out night
shoots, we drank copious amounts of a Belgian lager, which
produced the most foul-smelling farts I have ever been
unlucky enough to experience. (A pity we didn’t have
respirators in the bar). And it was an incentive to be at
the front in the early morning runs, as the poor blokes at
the back got the benefit of the noxious mixture of sulphur
and after shave.
We did get one day off, on the Sunday. The SSM informed us
that there would be a bus departing for Cochem, on the Mosel
River. If anybody was interested, there would also be a
demonstration of tank-hunting out on the training area.
Well, I thought I would give my liver a rest, and put my
name down for the tank-hunting, as did one or two others. We
marched down to the training area, where a Belgian Major was
waiting for us. First he showed us how to make Molotov
cocktails (you never know when these skills come in useful)
and then we proceeded to throw them at an old burnt out
tank, while the Major pointed out where to aim for. “Jolly
good fun”, we thought. Then he led us to the track round the
back. At his signal, a tank sped down the track towards him,
he stood out in the middle and allowed the tank to run over
him, then, as it passed, he jumped up and mounted the beast
from behind. As the tank came to rest we applauded,
impressed by this feat of arms.
“Bon,” he said, “now eet ees your turn.”
“Eh, what??!!”
I don’t know if you have ever wished that you would vanish
down a crack in the ground, but that day I certainly did. To
lie on mother earth while a 50-ton tank rumbles forwards and
backwards over you is an extremely unpleasant sensation. The
more rotund members of our little group were wishing they
hadn’t over-indulged at lunch. As we finally were allowed to
get up and jump on the back of the tank, I was mopping the
sweat from my furrowed brow. But we weren’t finished. “Now
we do it in pairs”, said the swine. So, after looking
quickly round for a thin partner, we had to undergo it all
again, lying stuck together like two logs of wood, trying
not to look at the caterpillar tracks rattling past your
nose. Strong men had to rally round with brandy afterwards.
But what really hurt was seeing the party coming back from
Cochem, later that evening.
The next week was spent playing cowboys and indians in the
hills. The Squadron moved out and dug defensive positions on
the training area. I was detailed off to be one of the
“Enemy”, we were divided into sections under the command of
officers and attacked the defenders. My section commander
was our Commanding Officer, who I got to know quite well
during that week, he had a good sense of humour and we had
some fun, roving about shooting at the entrenched troops. At
the end of the week I volunteered to drive one of the Land
Rovers back to Langeleben, it was preferable to twelve hours
in the “White Elephant”.
The 1983 Exercise season continued apace, the Squadron
deployed on the usual Divisional Exercises. I continued to
drive the SCP wagon around until at last the time came for
Yankee Troop to pick up the “new” 1-tonne Land Rovers from
UK. Included in the delivery was the new Squadron Probe
vehicle, for which I had been warned off earlier in the
year. The Probe vehicle was a miniature intercept complex,
with two intercept positions and a radio set. The wagon
towed a 20-metre mast, and we received a short-wheelbase
Land Rover as support vehicle to carry our tentage and kit.
The Probe was crewed by four men, three of us from the
transcription section plus one radio operator. Yankee Troop
brought the vehicles over from UK and started training with
the new vehicles. The Probe crew joined in the work-up
exercises, practicing setting-up and tearing-down ad
infinitum, first by day, then by night. We were finally
pronounced ready for action. We garaged the vehicles in our
bays at Wolfenbüttel. The time spent with the Probe would
prove to be the most enjoyable part of my tour at
Langeleben.
I was still working at my German, the nearest Army Education
Centre was at Hildesheim, so once a week I had to drive 70
miles for a tutorial, and before the examinations spent a
week there swotting up for the Civil Service Linguist
examination, which I passed, and received the language award
(about ₤60, if I remember rightly). This did not go
unnoticed as shortly afterwards I was called to RHQ to act
as one of the guides for the visit of the Staff College to
14th Signal Regiment from UK. Part of their tour was a visit
to the Memorial at Belsen, just outside Celle, for which
interpreters were needed, and the Regiment had several good
German speakers.
Just before Christmas the Squadron hosted a party for Old
Age Pensioners from Königslutter and Lelm. The OC asked me
to write a speech for him and I ran the bar, assisted by
other members of staff. The Civil Labour also held a party,
for which I also ran the bar, which gave me an opportunity
to chat to Ingrid. Unfortunately I was also called upon to
break open a toilet door, as one of the cleaners had passed
out after locking herself in. I was invited to spend
Christmas Eve at Ingrid’s, we had the traditional German
Christmas dinner and I had brought presents for her and her
two children. I worked over the Christmas period and then
drove up to Berlin to visit friends over New Year.
1984
The OC’s address to us at the start of the New Year outlined
what lay in store for us. The high point of the year would
be Exercise “Crusader”, a 1 (BR) Corps Field Training
Exercise, the biggest deployment of British Forces since
1945. The Regiment would be deploying as enemy, and our
training this year would be carried out with this as the
main aim.
The fact that we now possessed a self-contained Probe was
not lost on the powers, and we quickly became involved in
operations. The Squadron had a deployment plan to react to
Soviet activity over the border, called Operation
“Flagpole”. If a Soviet Division moved, say from garrison to
the Letzlinger Heide, then a “Flagpole” could be declared by
the CO, on advice from the regimental Int Staff. The
deployment could take various forms, for example, a DF
baseline could be sent out along the border, while the troop
remained at Langeleben. Or the Probe could be sent to a
location on the border, to see if anything was going on that
was not being heard at Langy. If it was considered worth it,
then the duty troop in full could deploy to the Probe’s
location. This did indeed happen on several occasions, As
the Probe Commander I had to see that our vehicles were
ready to deploy at all times. Usually I would get a call
from the Int Cell, receive a quick briefing and then call
together the crew to tell them the good news, that we were
off up the border again that evening. But I must say that it
was a good feeling, that we were actually doing something
worthwhile as part of the great picture. And of course a bit
of pride in that we knew we were the best voice operators in
the Squadron, as we rolled yet again out of the camp gates
towards the border. In the field we usually deployed well
away from the other elements, usually only returning to SCP
at the end of an exercise. Sometimes it had it’s drawbacks,
once bowling down the autobahn I caught sight of a big black
SOXMIS car in my rear-view mirror. The Regiment’s 1-tonne
vehicles were pretty well unique in BAOR, especially ones
towing a mast on a trailer. The sod kept hiding a couple of
cars behind me, but as we were coming up to our exit I
signalled left, as if moving to overtake and at the last
moment suddenly turned right onto the slip road, much to the
annoyance of the Germans following us (much flashing of
lights and honking horns), but at least the Sov had to carry
straight on, so we lost him. One moonless night we arrived
at the foot of a hill to take up a position somewhere up
above. We were not sure which forest ride to take, so I got
out to walk ahead to try and guide the wagon in. I set off
in the dark with Tim Wood driving the 1-tonne wagon with
trailer behind me. The next thing I was up to my knees in
mud, I jumped to the side to let the wagon through, he
ploughed in and got stuck, tried reversing etc. so we tried
to shove it, all I got was a facefull of mud as the wheels
spun. Eventually Tim managed to back the truck out and I
tried to scrape some mud off me. Not a pleasant taste, raw
mud. We found out we were on the wrong track, anyway, the
correct track was a proper road leading up to the boozer on
top.
Another trip we deployed up to the tip of the Dannenberg
salient, only to find our planned location had been nicked
by our Bundeswehr colleagues. So off we drove to try and
find an alternative location (not easy, as there aren’t many
hills up there). I pulled over in a village for a
much-needed pee, as I was watering an oak tree on the
village green I heard a rumbling behind me and my spray was
illuminated. Well I’d been waiting a long time for this pee
and it seemed to go on for ages. Eventually I stopped and
did up my flies and turned to face a patrol of the German
Federal Border Guard Service. Their boss asked me if I knew
that I was within 5 Km of the border, that NATO forces
needed special permission to approach the border. I told him
that Fernmelde-Regiment 14 had permanent permission to be in
the area, and he could ring the British Liaison Officer in
Hannover for confirmation, This seemed to satisfy him, but
they still followed us along the way as I decided to call it
a night, and we headed for nearby Gross Gusborn (H Troop, 13
Sigs) where we dosed down.
At about this time I finally took delivery of my new car,
which I had ordered a year previously. I had now sold my old
VW Golf and was without a car for about a week. I was now
seeing Ingrid on a regular basis, mainly going out in the
evenings to Braunschweig. One day she approached me and told
me that she had been invited to a wedding in Wolfsburg, and
would I go with her. Now I had the problem that I had no
means of transport, so I decided to tackle the Yeoman. He
was the proud possessor of a shiny black BMW 320, he sucked
his cheeks in when I asked him for the loan of it, but
eventually said OK. “But if you damage it, you’ll ruddy well
pay for it” was his parting shot. “Charming”, I thought,
“I’m supposed to be his friend.” So off we went to the
wedding, I stuck to drinking coke, and it was late evening
as we set off back, it was cold and after a couple of miles,
a blizzard hit us, it was a complete white-out, I could
hardly see the road, I drove back at about five mph, and
dropped Ingrid off in ‘Slutter. By the time I arrived at
Langy, the snow was ankle deep, and I stopped off at the
guardroom to book in. The guard was old Willy Baum, so I
thought, here’s a chance to get my own back with the YoS. I
told Willy to give me five minutes, then to ring up the Sgts’
Mess and tell them that the police had reported the Yeoman’s
car abandoned in a ditch near Wolfsburg. I parked the car in
it’s place opposite the Mess and went in, ordered a large
Scotch and retired to the lounge where I proceeded to read
the Daily Telegraph. A short time later I heard the
telephone bell, and the duty officer answered it, then asked
where to find the Yeoman. The YoS rushed red-faced into the
lounge and screamed “What have you done with my car, you
swine?” I lowered the Telegraph and asked sweetly, “Is
something the matter, Stevie?” “You know full well what the
matter is”, he raged, waving his fist in my face “you’ll pay
for this, by God”. I turned round and drew back the curtain
to reveal his car standing in his parking spot, and with a
grin handed him his keys. (Oh how we all laughed). He didn’t
speak to me for a week after that.
The Panther Kallista
I returned to the UK one weekend to pick up my
new car, a two-seater Panther Kallista, in British Racing
Green, a beautiful traditional sports car. The drawback was
that everybody knew where I was when I was out and about in
Königslutter, it was difficult to remain anonymous in such a
unique motor car. Still, it was fun driving up the airy
mountains and down the rushy glens in the Harz, making
Ingrid shriek as I rattled round the numerous hairpin bends.
In April we deployed as a regiment to test the
communications for the forthcoming “Crusader”, the other
Corps Signal Regiments were all out in the field, we were
able to identify several major headquarters and indulge in a
bit of jamming. As most of the radios were encrypted, there
wasn’t a lot for the Probe to do.
Aargh…. the log race
Once a year we had to turn out for the
Regimental Military Skills Competition. Each troop furnished
a team of twenty men who were put through their paces. As
SHQ troop we were obliged to field just about everybody. The
Yeoman was appointed our team captain, and we embarked on a
rigorous training programme, fitness, weapon training, NBC,
first aid, vehicle recognition, Geneva Convention, vehicle
fault finding, driving, etc. This year the competition was
to be held over two days. The first part was a basic fitness
test, a five kilometre run in boots in a set time, which
counted for so many points. The second we spent going round
the various stands, notching up points along the way. At
certain stands we scored well, because in our troop we had a
wealth of knowledge and/or experience. The MT Ssgt
negotiated the driving obstacle course with no minus points,
the REME fitters discovered all the faults on a prepared
Land Rover, I scored maximum points on the NBC stand. We
made a good time over the assault course, and as we returned
to Langy that evening, we were among the leaders. The last
day started at Langeleben, and comprised a “march and shoot”
competition, a best effort run in full combat kit with
weapons and 20 Kilos weight over the Elm to Obersickte
Ranges (about 15 Km), then a 1 Km run with a log in NBC
suits wearing respirators to the range, where we fired our
personal weapons. Despite an unfavourable start time at
midday in a hot sun, we made a good time over the
Drachenberg and down the Reitling Valley road. The run in
NBC suit was sweltering and I thought Nick Turner was
mucking about as his legs seemed to turn to jelly, but he
collapsed just before the finish, and we had to drag him
over the line. The regimental medics revived him with a
bucket of water and we proceeded to the shoot. When the
results were announced, to our amazement, and the disbelief
from the “real” soldiers of the Royal Corps, we had won, and
the stunned Yeoman received the prize from the CO. That
evening there was a Schützenfest in Lindenberg, just outside
the married quarters in Braunschweig, so we all headed over
there to celebrate in style. The “Wire” reported it thus:
This year’s Colonel’s Cup was
split into two phases and held during the period 3 to 4 May.
3 May saw the 12 teams lined up at 0730 hours to be
dispatched to the first of their eight tasks. It turned out
to be an arduous day with everything from mental (the Geneva
Convention) to physical (the log race) and in between (NBC)
tasks thrown in. All credit going to 1 Sqn SHQ who led the
field at this stage with Ohms and Amps hot on their heels.
The second phase of the contest was held at Langeleben on
the 4th and consisted of a 10 mile best effort run in CEFO.
All teams completed the run with D Tp producing a stalwart
effort to emerge as victors of this phase. 1 Sqn SHQ
however, despite being pushed all the way by Jammer Troop,
kept their lead and emerged as the overall winners at the
end of the day (not bad for the old bunch).
The “Beachcomber” Team 2004
That year I ran the “Beachcomber” in Cuxhaven,
by now we had got the two weeks down to a fine art, the work
went very well, the old conservationist who directed out
efforts was extremely happy with what we achieved. I had
managed to fiddle staying in Cuxhaven for both weeks. The
change-over at the middle weekend was not so happy, the
first group were driving back down the Autobahn past Bremen
when the lads in the back suddenly started shouting. John
Sands, the vehicle commander stopped the Land Rover on the
hard shoulder and the boys jumped out, as the vehicle had
burst into flames, and was a write-off. I had to attend a
Board of Enquiry later to decide who was to blame for the
accident. The lack of a Land Rover presented me with a
problem, as later in the week the Regimental 2IC and
Squadron 2IC, Bill Nelson, were coming up to visit us. I had
my car, but it was only a two-seater, so I went cap in hand
to the Bundeswehr, explained my problem, and they very
kindly lent us a jeep for the week. The “Beachcomber”
project was a great success, I wrote a report for the
newspapers and the Regiment entered it in the Corps
environmental conservation competition. A few months later I
received the news that we had won first prize from among the
military units, and I accompanied a young subaltern (who
knew nothing about “Beachcomber”, but the CO had said that
an Officer must accept the prize on behalf of the Regiment)
to Corps HQ at Bielefeld, where we had a slap-up lunch and
were interviewed by a ponce from BFBS radio. I think we won
500 marks, which went into the Sqn PRI coffers (and never
saw again).
Exercise “Lionheart” that September, saw the biggest
deployment of British troops since Adolf got stuck in a
bunker. The exercise was well-publicised in the media, and
covered the reinforcement of BAOR from the UK with 57,000
Territorials and Reservists before 1st British Corps then
moved out for a full-scale field training exercise,
codenamed Exercise “Spearpoint”. The opposition was played
by Brigades from the Netherlands, Germany and the USA. The
Yanks had been flown in from Stateside and set up a huge
tented camp on the training area near Cremlingen. We were
also part of the “Enemy” (or “Red” forces). The Exercise
control itself was a huge organisation, with umpires
attached to all units. The area covered by the exercise was
also huge, including areas which were normally “out of
bounds” for exercise traffic, such as the Harz Mountains
(more of that later).
On the 12th September we closed down the set room at
Langeleben (no rear party this time) and deployed for the
long-awaited “Spearpoint”. The Probe deployed independently
to our start position on the Hainberg, between Salzgitter
and Bockenem. The “Border” between “Blueland” and “Redland”
was the A7 Autobahn which ran just to the west of us. We set
up our mast looking west over the crest with our wagon
hiding behind the hill. We sat there watching the Blue
forces deploy on radio silence, some thought they would be
clever and use German telephone boxes, but of course we
could hear them as well, we just had to listen for English
voices. Otherwise there wasn’t much happening, so I had a
mooch around our location. Surrounding us on all sides in
the woods were Dutch tanks. Eventually early one morning
they received the order to move west, and the silence was
broken by a mighty roar of tank engines starting up and they
streamed out of the woods, bypassing our little det, heading
west. Awesome. From then on we were hard at work, as the
Blue recce screen reported the Red advance, and then the
battle started in the direction of the Weser. Soon we
received orders to move and in the night we changed location
north-west up to the Vorholz between the Autobahns A7 and A
39. It was a good high feature, but we found that the woods
on the western side were conifers and planted too densely
for us to get in among it. The woods on the eastern side
were too sparse and gave scarce cover, so we had to try and
hide the wagon down a little gully, which was full of mud.
Fortunately we did not stay there long, as the Blue forces
began to push the Red forces back East.
We were ordered up into the Harz mountains, our German
colleagues were having problems evaluating their intercept,
so our OC sent the Probe to give them assistance. We arrived
in the Germans’ location high above the town of Seesen.
Fernmeldekompanie 11 had set up a big intercept complex with
their antennas, which looked like the Langeleben towers and
we parked the Probe wagons next to them. Just over the way
there was an American EW unit, so it was pretty crowded. Our
own Whiskey Troop were a few kilometres away on the next
hill. The good news was that our SQMS found his way up to us
and delivered our fresh rations and supplies during the
night. I was off shift, so I had to get out of my sleeping
bag and accept the stuff, jerrycans, compo rations, sacks of
spuds, etc. across to our wagons. It was raining hard, so
the nice SQMS decided to stay in his truck and watch me tote
it all. After eating the fresh food, we could use the luxury
portable toilets which the environmentally-conscious Germans
had brought with them. No digging was allowed in the Harz,
and the woods seemed to crawl with German foresters watching
our every movement. Of course the British Army did not
provide Portaloos, which our Whiskey Troop solved in their
own fashion. Every member of the troop was provided with a
blue plastic bag, which he carried about with him. At the
end of the exercise they drove down the hill and deposited
the mound of redolent blue bags in a supermarket car park
skip, before heading back to Langeleben.
We stayed here for the rest of the Exercise, the Germans had
everything well-organised, including shower runs down to a
sports centre in Seesen. When the exercise came to an end,
they organised a barbecue for us and the Yanks, which was
quite pleasant, as we and the Germans had been to the
supermarket in Seesen and stocked up with beer. It had not
occurred to the Yanks, who were totally dry during the
exercise, to buy some beer. (Serves ‘em right). The next day
we drove over to join Whiskey Troop and drive back to Langy,
along roads chock-a-block with tanks, APCs and lorries of
all descriptions.
Back at Langeleben we stowed the kit away to get ready for
the next event. 14th Signal Regiment had the Freedom of the
City of Gloucester, and a party from the City Council was
due to visit in October, and in their honour a Parade would
be held for them. So, we began holding Squadron drill
parades, progressing to Regimental drill parades at Scheuen.
It was a real bind, travelling up on the bus in the early
morning for a couple of hours plodding round the square and
then back on the bus to Langy where the morning’s tapes were
waiting to be transcribed. When I complained to the Int
Corps WO1 about this, the miserable old jock barsteward told
me to stop belly-aching and get on with it. We did have some
laughs, I remember on the Dress Rehearsal, the RSM got one
of the drivers – a weedy specimen with pebble glasses- to
stand on the saluting dais with a coal scuttle on his head
holding a toilet brush as a sword for us to march past and
give a snappy eyes right to. Then somebody spread a rumour
that the Lord Mayor of Gloucester was in fact a coloured
woman, and the RSM –not noted for his liberal views- would
have to salute her. The RSM had also heard the rumour, and
was visibly relieved when a large white Anglo-Saxon male
emerged from the staff car. In the event the parade went off
well. As one of the smaller men in the Squadron (only 5’ 7”)
I was the centre man in the front rank, (this was reinforced
by the fact that I was wearing a green beret, while the
Signals wore a forage cap), entrusted with keeping our new
OC in front of me, not easy as he tended to wander all over
the place. As No. 1 Squadron, we had the pride of place on
the right of the line, and my old pal Pete Manger was the
Regimental Right Marker. We marched past at the head of the
Regiment, past the assembled wives and families. As the
others headed for the beer tent, we got back on the bus to
Langy, (and to the tapes waiting for us). No rest for the
wicked!
Because we had used up all the money for “Lionheart”, that
Autumn there were no other major exercises for us to deploy
on, so we had to be content with Squadron exercises, the OC
asked for NBC content on one, so I obliged by letting off
various fireworks. The Soviets were also active and we
deployed several times up the border. Once I arrived at our
proposed location to find that our old friends from
Fernmeldekompanie 11 had beaten us to it.
A new CO took command of the Regiment, he made a very
arrogant impression on his first visit to Langeleben, and
made it plain that he didn’t like us being detached from the
rest of the Regiment. He questioned me closely about
language training and I gave him my opinions. The next thing
we heard was that he wasn’t satisfied with the level of
fitness, and he reduced the standard time for a Basic
Fitness Test, letting it be known that he would take a dim
view of any Senior NCO who didn’t pass. The Squadron paraded
one afternoon and took the BFT on the road to Räbke, with
the new CO leading the way, and he stood at the finish to
see who didn’t make it in time. Fortunately I managed it as
I had had a birthday which gave me an extra half minute
time, but I could see that things were going to be
interesting.
At the beginning of December, we deployed for the annual
“White Lightning”, and when we returned to barracks the
traditional run-up to Christmas period lay before us, Mess
Decoration Night, Living-in Christmas Party, Sgts’ Mess
Christmas Draw before the Christmas leave grant period
started. One day after work I drove into Königslutter to
pick up my Mess Kit and a couple of suits from the cleaners.
When I returned I parked up my car and walked across to the
Mess, where I met the Yeoman.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, “the OC wants to see you”,
then added, “I think your promotion’s in”. As he ran the
commcen, he was always well-informed on personnel matters.
So I dumped my clothes and walked round to the Squadron HQ,
where the OC was sitting at his desk. I knocked and went in.
Ingrid on a trip in the Harz
“Ah, Sergeant R.” he said, offering me a
chair. “You’ll be pleased to hear, your promotion to Staff
Sergeant has come through, congratulations.” I thanked him,
then he went on, “And your posting to Communications &
Security Group at Loughborough is also there, effective from
the 1st of March.” This took me by surprise, as I had
applied for, and been granted an extension of tour at
Langeleben, so I mentioned this, and he explained that the
extension had been granted as a Sergeant, now I was being
posted to fill a Staff Sergeant’s vacancy. I made my way
back to the Mess and told the Yeoman the news, then quickly
collected my uniforms and drove over to the tailor’s in
Helmstedt, to have the crowns stitched on to my Mess Dress.
I rang up Ingrid to tell her the news, before she heard it
from other sources.
The time sped past, in the New Year I drew MFO boxes from
the Stores and started packing. I had booked leave from the
middle of February, so I organised my farewell party, to
which the living-in and some friends were invited. We had a
Russian menu, borscht soup, chicken kiev, rum babas, much
vodka, etc. the SSM and some of the officers were there, we
had a pretty boozy evening, I suspected the Yeoman was
spiking my drinks, but it didn’t really matter as we all
ended up stinking drunk. The next day I had a head like a
pea in a drum. I went out with Ingrid for a meal, and we
arranged that she should come over to UK for a holiday in
Summer. And so the day came when I loaded up the car and
said my farewells, and drove out of the gates heading for
Rotterdam.
What had the three years at Langy brought me? On the
positive side, I had moved another rung up the ladder, and I
had certainly learned a lot about the mobile side of
Electronic Warfare. I had met some great people from outside
the DI 24 sphere, and, though I didn’t know it at the time,
my future wife. Negative points? None that I can think of. I
also didn’t know it, but as I left, we were coming to the
end of an era at Langeleben, as the creep CO carried out his
mission to unite the Regiment under one roof, and in March
moved the Squadron from its Langeleben home to Taunton
Barracks in Celle. From this time, the rot had set in; the
Squadron was never the same again, and with hindsight it was
good that I left when I did with a head full of happy
memories.
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