Marches in and out tales
Many threads these days are sad and gloomy. How about a laugh or two? Thus, what were your experiences of Close Encounters with the Barrack Warden?
For starters, Nicosia c. Jan 1964.
We were in a beautiful bungalow on station in Comet Crescent, I was 4 months fromTourex, the Rocks had a Vickers emplaced in our back garden and two doors down had a Bofors. Turk v Greek was in full swing.
Came a knock on the door, and there was my boss's boss's boss, with sad chops. "I fear" said he "all families where the worker has less than six months to serve must be flown back to UK within a fortnight!.The worker will move into the Mess!"
And that is when daddy's little two year-old daughter learned to oath. Starting with SH1T! and working up.
The quarter had a "Maid's Annexe" with bedroom, wash basin and khazi, and the seat was broken broken. Araldite had been invented, so when packing was packed, curtains etc were washed, inventory was sort of sorted, I mended the seat. Mended it so well that the join escaped the march out, even though the bog rim had the white gloves and dental mirror treatment.
If you took over number 8 and cut your ar%e, or were emasculated, my apologies.