So back in 1960 some 150 CCF cadets plus assorted schoolmasters masquerading as hofficers arrived for Army Section summer camp at Lydd. Although of the RAF persuasion in the Corps, I was there because e I was an (indifferent) tenor drummer in the pipe band. On arrival a bit of a hiatus as the meal due, (high tea) was nowhere to be seen, nor indeed were any catering staff. I get hauled in to see the CO, who gruffly informs me in his Scots accent that (at 16 and a bit) I had become OC Catering, and they would like some supper in an hour and then I was "it" for the week, on account that I wanted to go Cranwell and be an officer and leader of men.
So no more drumming for me, a team of catering hands posted in every day and the biggest pile of compo boxes I have seen in my life. It all went well, pat on the head at the end of the week, and a £5 (lot of money in those days) book token. Never did hear what had happened to the caterers that were supposed to be ther, and when I got home my Mother particularly would not believe I had catered for 150 odd people for a week.
Nicest thing a caterer did for me - Binbrook, 2100 hrs and just finished Pt 1 Taceval (the one in Jun 81 for those that were there). Just about to go in the bar for a pint or 3 when I heard the OM reception phone ringing. Answered it and it was my brother who had been trying to get me since lunchtime to tell me Mum had had a stroke from which she was unlikely to recover. Go back in the bar and tell my boss I am off to the hospital in NW London and I will ring in in the morning. As I walk out of the bar the Cpl Steward stops me, says "You might need these sir", and handed me a packet of sandwiches. How he knew I do not know, but one of the kindest things anyone ever did for me. And I got to Mount Vernon Hospital 10 minutes before she died.