Summer Times is the Journal of the Old Scarborians Association

The morning after we arrived we were all on
parade in ill‐fitting uniforms and new and
very stiff boots. “Step forward TARA’s,”
shouted the Sergeant on our first parade.
Around 20 of us shuffled forward. He only
wanted 5 Technical Assistants and he started
at the other end of the line ‐ so it was then a
matter of, “What did you do in civvy street,
lad?” When it got to my turn I said I’d
worked in a bank. “Just the thing,” he said,
“we want someone to write up the books in
the Officers’ Mess.”
That proved a good move for me. Excused
all parades, I could wear shoes, had my own
room, was dangled the possibility of a stripe
to Lance Bombardier after 6 months, and
received more pay than the £12 a month the
bank had been giving me.
But it got better. As a result of my rudimen‐
tary bookkeeping skills I discovered the
Sergeant in charge of Officers’ Mess hospital‐
ity was on the fiddle. Crates of beer, spirits,
cigarettes, and so on were being delivered to
his married quarters ‐ but the bills were be‐
ing paid by the Officers’ Mess.
I pondered how to deal with it. I was 90%
certain it was a fiddle, but my bookkeeping
skills in those days were at the lower end of
the scale of competence, so I remained a little
worried. I decided to have a word, off the
record, with the PMC – the President of the
Mess Committee, a white‐haired, whiskery
old Major whose name I now forget. One
thing led to another, a Board of Enquiry was
held and the Mess Sergeant was demoted
and shipped back to Blighty. He had been up
to his games – and had until then got away
with it – for at least 5 years.
The 1st RHA was a senior regiment and did
a lot of entertaining. With cigarettes costing
under 10s/0d for 200, and spirits at less than
10s/0d a litre, plus everyone receiving over‐
seas pay, it was not hard to see why.
The Sergeant’s departure left a vacancy and I
12
was told it would take at least 6 months to
get a suitably experienced replacement Ser‐
geant. In the meantime I would be expected
to do the job ‐ and still keep the Mess books
in order!
They kitted me out with Uniform “Blues”
with gold braid dripping from shoulders and
chest, and I started a very steep learning
curve; effectively the job of an Hotel Man‐
ager running a Mess for 50 officers and
guests, including senior forces officers and,
occasionally, royalty.
After a month they gave me my first stripe,
which I thought was pretty good going, and
the second followed after three months. They
apologised that there was no chance of pro‐
motion to Sergeant. There was some prece‐
dent that National Service men could get no
further than the rank of Bombardier. How‐
ever, I did get more money for the stripes
and they did pay me ’extra duty pay’ for all
hours worked after 5.00 pm. There were also
freebies, such as having better food than the
normal Army rations, skiing in the Harz
Mountains and visiting Amsterdam and
Hamburg.
The duties involved organising the Mess,
making sure the Officers and their guests
were comfortable, buying food in the Ger‐
man shops to supplement Army rations,
arranging functions, dinner nights and
Menus, being responsible for the display and
security of silver (very large elaborate pieces
and normally held in a vault), accommodat‐
ing the Judge Advocate when an occasional
court martial was pending, and Royalty
when the late Princess Margaret visited,
learning about wines and alcoholic drinks
(Roses Bitter, and the occasional sherry were
the extent of my knowledge until then), and
turning a blind eye when Officers
‘entertained’ their girl friends in their rooms.
Remember, it was the ‘50’s.
The replacement Sergeant did not arrive for
well over a year by which time I had started