Danny42C (471) reprising Geriaviator in Aden
“In the beginning the Lord created the Heavens and the Earth…”
Now my father, an unenthusiastic RE conscript at the end of National Service had discovered that, according to Queen’s Regs, Church Parade was voluntary. He was a posting clerk, and there was a copy of the National Service Act in the office that he had digested deeply. It was to help him greatly in a financial sense later, much to the consternation of HMG, when he discovered that married men, and their wives, were not to be out of pocket …
He deeply objected to the military’s version of Church Parade – not least because he was, at the time, a Methodist Sunday school teacher. In his own words, and from his army memoirs ‘Brown Job’ …
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Church parade was held on Sundays. The whole regiment, one thousand or so, was assembled on the square and marched into church. Finally, the Brigadier and his entourage would arrive from Dowton Abbey, and enter. The whole congregation was brought to attention by the RSM in fine booming voice, but without testing his [f-ing] speech impediment, in deference to the stained glass and gothic interior of St George’s.
I was outraged.
I went to the RSM and asked to be relieved from the church parade.
‘Are you a f-f-f****** Roman Catholic?”
“No”
“A Jew?”
“No, Methodist”
“That’s f-f-f****** C of E”
“You’re on my f-f-f****** parade”
So I drew this cartoon…
It depicted groups of soldiers, bent over and carrying large cross, being whipped into the garrison church. I pinned it on the COs notice board. Sod it! Everyone but 2nd Lt. Pratt knew what I had done. They couldn’t believe it. We waited. The phone rang. It was the Adjutant; the second in command. I could see him across the yard through his window. He had his phone in one hand, my drawing in the other. In my ear, he ordered me to come over. Through the window he beckoned me urgently. I put on my belt and beret.
And walked through the Squadron Office. All eyes were on me. Every knew what I had done. The unsaid words were, “Bye-bye!”
“What possessed you to do this?” the Adjutant demanded, as I stood to attention in front of his desk, looking straight ahead, over his head and though the window behind him. I could see my colleagues’ white faces watching the drama unfold from where I had been a moment before.
“I feel strongly Sir, that the Army has no place in the church.”
“It is God’s house. It is nothing to do with the Brigadier, Sir”
“If the CO had seen this you would be on a charge. Do you understand? Don’t be such a damn fool”.
He tore up the cartoon and put the bits in his bin.
“Dismissed!”
But that wasn’t the end of it. The phone rang again. This time it was the RSM. He wanted to f-f-f****** see me - NOW!.
So here I was again.“Regarding my Church Parade. You will be on my f-f-f******parade, but you will stand at the f-f-f****** church door and rejoin my parade when we come out. Is that f-f-f****** understood, Corporal?”
“Yes Sir.”
I would stand outside the church door. I would be there when the Brigadiers party arrived from Downton Abbey. They would ask me why I was there. What would I say?
I decided I would tell them the reason, and to hell with it.
The day arrived. It was sunny. The Regimental band played. I really liked that. They were extremely good. The moment came.
Then the RSM’s voice rang out over the square.
“If any man here, is intending to stand at the church door let him step out of ranks now.”
He didn’t expect me or anyone to respond. I stamped several paces forward and came to a crisp, smart attention… Silence; then…“You… stand still! Regiment. Right turn. Regiment, by the left, quick march.” The band played some fabulous march which eventually was for my benefit alone. A drill sergeant marched over to me from about a mile away, and came to attention directly in front of me, his drill cane pointing at my chest. From under the peak which hid his eyes, he shouted
“The RSM says, that you will no longer attend a church parade. Understand? Dismissed!”
According to the Squadron Office, I was a ‘jammy bugger’