Last of the National Service

Scribe: REME Cfn Clive G Harris, 568727 It is over 60 years ago that I was one of the last to be called up for National Service.

Ijoined the REME and did basic training in Blandford and then trade training in Barton Stacey as a Storeman before being posted to Ashchurch near Tewksbury. After a few months in Ashchurch I was told to report to the CO who informed me I was being sent to SHAPE Headquarters in Paris. For someone like me back in 1959 the farthest I had been was Blandford, there was very little overseas travel at that time and most people who lived in the Bristol area like I did, would manage a week’s holiday either at Weston-Super-Mare or Brean Down. For some of the more well off it would be Weymouth and the very well off, Torquay. When I was stationed at Ashchurch, my Mother would tell everyone I had been posted somewhere up North, in fact it was the farthest North I had been, so being posted to Paris was quite something. None of my family, friends or relations had ever been abroad or flown except my girlfriend Janet, who had travelled parts of Germany, Janet is now my Wife. It was really my time I spent in SHAPE I wanted to write about, although it only seems like yesterday it is more than 60 years ago.

My travel arrangements were from Ashchurch by train to Temple Meads Bristol where I was given one weeks leave before catching the train from Temple Meads to London Victoria and then on to the Gare Du Nord in Paris. My instructions were a little vague but I was told to travel in uniform with my loaded kitbag and I would be met in Paris by someone from SHAPE. I asked how I would recognise them and was told they would recognise my uniform. After saying goodbye to my parents and Janet, I left home with my kit bag and a small suit case that held my civilian clothing and set forth to Paris. This was to be a great adventure for me I would be travelling alone and would arrive at the Gare Du Nord on Friday evening at 1800 hours. I was a little concerned who this somebody was who would be meeting me, even the NCO who arranged my travel arrangements did not have a clue who it might be.

When I arrived at Victoria there were a few other army lads going to SHAPE there was six of us altogether, I was the only one from REME. I felt a little better about being met by someone in Paris although the other lads had much more clearer instructions than I did, such as where to go and names of the personal who would be picking them up. I had no name or where to go, just wait on the platform until someone comes along.

On our arrival at the Gare Du Nord, we started to disembark and the moment my foot touched the platform a voice called “Looking for Clive Harris” I looked where the voice came from and saw three lads holding a REME banner. I raised my arm and said “Here” and they immediately came over and introduced themselves and told me they had an Army Land Rover parked outside. One of them picked up my kitbag, another my suitcase and walked out to where the vehicle was parked. It was a beautiful summers evening and one of the lads called Dave, a Lance Corporal, said “Have you ever been to Paris before” I said no and with that he said “Jump in, we will show you around”. They gave me a fabulous tour of Paris I will never forget, we drove around the Arc de Triomphe, down the Champs-Élysées, Place de la Concorde, and around by the Eiffel Tower and many more places including Pigalle and the Sacre-Coeur. It really took my breath away, it was something I only dreamt about and the three lads could not have been more friendly and welcoming

Around 8:00pm it was decided to return to SHAPE and show me my living quarters which was in Camp Voulceau, a part of the SHAPE complex. One of the lads said before taking me to my quarters they would stop off at the Continental Club that was inside the camp, it was explained there was no such thing as a NAAFI because of all the different nationalities that were stationed there and the Continental Club was meant for everyone which included a bar, restaurant, library and a PX. the library was also used for social occasions and a dance on Saturday nights.

Camp Voluceau was just over half an hour from the centre of Paris, we travelled on the autobahn to the outskirts of Paris to a village called Rocquencourt where SHAPE was. We drove through the entrance of Camp Voulceau straight to the Continental Club. It was an eye opener, the bar looked more like a posh cocktail bar with a French Barman and Waiter dressed in white tuxedos and black bow ties; it was something I never expected to see in an Army camp. I was introduced to more personnel including a couple of Americans, a Frenchman and two more from the REME. I then realised I had very little money and hardly any French money, Roy said not to worry, the drinks were on them and suggested I try a bottle of Kronenberg. Keeping in mind this was 1959 and the first time I had heard of this particular drink, there was nothing like it back in the UK, the only foreign beer was Carlsberg which was normally served with a dash of lime. To be honest I felt knackered, I had been travelling for more than 24 hours and just wanted to lay down, Dave, Roy and a couple others insisted I tried a Kronenbourg, about four bottles and one hour later I felt a little wobbly and it was decided to take me to my living quarters. My kitbag and suitcase were left in the locked Land Rover which I was assured would be safe until morning, I was then taken to where my permanent address was going to be during my time at SHAPE.

The barracks were called blocks with very long shiny corridors, there were twelve separate rooms on the left-hand side with eight bed spaces in each room, on the right-hand side there were six large ablutions. The block was divided between Americans, British, Germans and French, the British had 3 rooms which consisted of 16 REME, 4 RAOC, 2 RASC, 1 Pioneer, 1 Royal Engineer. The Americans had six rooms, the French two and the Germans one.

It was well past midnight when I was taken to my living quarters, I noticed my bed had already been made. I was to share the room with Dave, Roy & Guy the three lads who met me at the station, there were three others in the room already in bed, one was missing who had gone into Paris for someone’s demob. I laid down on my bed fully dressed and fell fast asleep. When I woke in the morning around 10 O’clock my kitbag and suitcase was at the side of my bed, this was my introduction to SHAPE Headquarters.

This was to be my first full day in Camp Voulceau and being a weekend, it was normally your free time, it was something like civvy street, you worked 5 days a week and had the weekend off. I had missed breakfast and would have to wait for lunch. I was introduced to the rest of the lads except the one who had gone to the demob party and was probably still celebrating.

After sorting myself out I was taken on tour of the camp, I was to see the cinema, the restaurant, library and the American PX, I was already familiar with the bar. In the evening it was suggested we visit what was known as the English bar in Rocquencourt and meet Madam the proprietor and her Daughter Sophie, we could then cross the road and have a drink in the American Corner bar. I explained I did not have any money but they insisted they would pay and when my pay day came I could treat them. We were allowed with our ration card including payment of 1,000 fr and 200 cigarettes per week. In 1959 1,000 fr was worth 10 Shillings which is equivalent to 50p. Payday was on Thursday and I was paid the fantastic sum of 5,000 fr which did increase slightly over the year, somehow, I managed with a little help from home to repay some of the generosity I had received.

There was one dark shadow hanging during my first weekend in SHAPE, everyone I had met so far were really nice lads and I knew I

would be making many friends, we would all be working together in the Motor Pool that was made of a team of 30 which included the Commanding Officer, two Staff Sergeant’s, one workshop Sergeant, one Store Sergeant and the rest of us lessor ranks. I was told it was a nice happy family except for one who was a miserable sod and this was the Store Sergeant who I was to work with. The Storeman I was replacing had a nervous breakdown due to how he had been treated by the Sergeant; it would probably make bullying headlines today. The thing that worried me most he expected only the best and would not tolerate any lack of knowledge regarding speciality tools you would be issuing. For someone like me who had very little knowledge of anything technical this could be a disaster, I knew what a hammer, a saw and a screwdriver looked like, I also had an idea what a BA screw was but very little else. Although I passed my trade test in Barton Stacey, I was a sign writer in civvy street, more artistic than technical and I was going to meet a man on Monday morning who was going to give my life hell.

Monday arrived, we lined up and marched to the motor pool, I felt quite nervous, a few of the lads said they would help me identify some of the tools, Dave did drawings of some he would likely order. When we were dismissed at the Motor Pool, Dave took me to the store room and introduced me to the Store Sergeant. I must say he looked miserable and seemed to have a harsh looking face, after looking me up and down and not looking too impressed said “I hope you turn out better than the last one”. The store was quite small, there was a serving hatch and counter, a wall covered with small drawer units containing bolts, screws and other strange things, on the two other walls it was crammed with shelving bins where the tools were kept, I recognised a few of the tools but never had a clue what some of them were? There was a filing cabinet and two desks, the Sergeant pointed at one and said “That’s yours, if you have any questions, ask”.

Somehow or another I managed to get through the first day except on a few occasions the Sergeant would bark “Harris do it this way!” or “Harris do not do it that way!”. He seemed to like the sound of “Harris” and gave me the impression he was a bit of a sadist. The following day which was a Tuesday his barking became more aggressive, more emphasis on “Harris” and on one occasion (Just as a sample) someone came and asked to hire a Heavy Duty Dent Puller and when I handed over a Hydraulic Puller Thin Jaw the Sergeant exploded, his face went red, his eyes bulged and screamed “Harris!” at the top of his voice accusing me of not knowing the difference between a Dent Puller and a Thin Jaw, and even said I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, I began to think my days in SHAPE would not be happy.

The first week in the store was not very pleasant, I did however get some help from the lads, when someone asked for a Donkey Dick Hammer he would draw what it looked like on a piece of paper which gave me a clue what to look for. The barking never stopped but by Friday he seemed to be losing his voice, the barking became fainter and by the evening his voice become a whisper, thank goodness it was the weekend and I looked forward to a couple of days rest. What surprised me, some of the lads were saying how much the Sergeant had changed, they thought his attitude was improving and believed I was a good influence. I must admit I did scratch my head over this and wondered what he was like with the other Storeman, It may be his bark is worse than his bite, I thought best play it by ear and try and get to know him.

What I forgot to mention, I had my first pay day and was issued with cigarette coupons, the first thing I did was go to the PX and buy a carton of 200 Senior Service, the rest of the money went over the weekend relaxing in the Continental Club and by Monday I was practically skint along with most of the others. There were ten National Servicemen in our unit, 7 REME, 1 RASC, 2 RAOC, they all had nick names, it was decided because I was getting a taste for Kronenbourg to call me Baron Von Kronenbourg or just Kronenbourg for short.

Monday arrived, it would be my second week in SHAPE, we lined up and marched to the Motor Pool, after being dismissed I made my way to the store and found the Sergeant already at his desk, I’m not sure if it was because of losing his voice that made his barking a little fainter but when he called Harris it sounded more human. I started to know the tools a little better, I even knew what a Hot Cut Hardie was and where it was kept and when someone asked for a bastard file I knew they were not being rude. The Sergeant always sat at his desk but I could feel his eyes boring into me watching every little detail while I served a customer, there were glares and shouts but not so often. One morning he came in with a small piece of varnished wood with the bark left on, I asked what it was for, he said he was taking it across to the American Motor Pool where he thought there was a sign writer who may be able to put a house name on it for his married quarters in Versailles. Until now I never knew he was married or where he lived and he knew nothing about my civilian life and when I told him I was a sign writer and could do it for him, if he provided the paint. I already had my own signwriting brushes which I kept in my small suitcase, he looked surprised but agreed to let me do it and said he would bring the paint in the morning after I told him what I wanted. The next morning, he brought the paint and suggested I could letter it on his desk which was hidden from view and he would issue the tools himself. I wrote the name within 20 minutes and when he saw it, thought it fantastic, he made me feel like Picasso.

The main work carried out in the Motor Pool was servicing and repairing staff cars, it was all light stuff nothing heavy, the actual workshop was divided up in sections, servicing, panel beating, repairs, paint spraying, upholstery, Blacksmith not forgetting the stores, CO office and a small typing office, you hardly ever saw the CO he was always out somewhere playing golf.

On my third Saturday at SHAPE I decided to give myself a treat, instead of going to the Army canteen I went to the Continental Club restaurant for lunch and ordered a real luxury mushroom omelette with chips and a cheap 50 fr (5p) glass of French white wine. This was the first wine I had tasted, I thought I was a millionaire. After finishing my meal I decided to go in the bar and have a Kronenbourg and when I walked through the door to my surprise I saw the Store Sergeant sat there. I went over and said “hello Sergeant can I buy you a drink?” He smiled which slightly startled me and said “no thank you, I came in here to buy you one, I thought the job you did for me was worth a drink, sit down and I’ll bring one over” and with that he got up and came back with a glass of Kronenbourg. I said “thank you Sergeant” and he looked at me and said “enough of this Sergeant business my name is Pete but in the store room always Sergeant”. Pete then went on to say “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow how about coming to my house for Sunday lunch and to meet my wife Mary”, I accepted his invitation and that was the start of another great friendship.

The Americans kept the floor of the corridor in our block polished, every morning they would start polishing from 7:00am to 9:00am, you could see your face in the floor, it was so highly polished it was like a mirror. We had three rooms in the middle of the block and at 7:30 am we would walk down the corridor to the canteen for breakfast and back again at 8:10 am, when 8:20 am came we walked once again down the corridor and assembled outside for the Motor Pool. One morning there was a message on the notice board from the CO asking everyone to assemble in the main work area at 11:30 am. When the time came the CO said he had been contacted by an American officer complaining we were destroying their polished corridor. It was our boot studs causing the problem plus the three times we used the corridor while it was being polished. It was suggested we either took our boots off to walk down the corridor between 7:00 am and 8:20 am or exited through the window, we agreed the window.

Every morning between the hours of 7:00am to 8:30am we would climb through the window for breakfast and to assemble for the Motor Pool and once the corridor had been inspected at 10am by either an American Sergeant or sometimes an Officer, it was okay to use the corridor as normal again. Except for keeping our rooms clean and tidy we did very little else in the block and even the ablutions were looked after by a private French company which was made up of all female staff which could be a little embarrassing because there was no partitioning in there, completely open plan.

On 17th May 1960 there was a Summit Meeting in Paris between Eisenhower, Khrushchev, Macmillan and de Gaulle. The meeting was best remembered by Khrushchev getting very angry and taking his shoe off and banging it several times on the table.

We were informed one morning during the Summit Meeting in

Paris that a high-ranking American Officer requested twenty British soldiers to be part of a guard of honour for President Eisenhower who would be arriving at SHAPE Headquarters by helicopter at 1400 hours and it was decided by our CO that REME would undertake this request. We were dismissed from the workshop at 1000 hours and told to get ourselves cleaned up and be smartly dressed by 1300 hours and a bus would come and take us to the helicopter pad. When we arrived at the pad we were asked to form a large circle with other nationalities which were mostly Americans, there must have been about a hundred of us altogether. 1400 hours came and there was no sign of the President or helicopter when a voice boomed out over the loud speaker “President Eisenhower will not be coming by helicopter he will be arriving by car at 1500 hours and for everyone to move away from the helicopter pad and line up at the entrance to the main building” this was about half a mile away, we doubled marched to make sure we were in place for his arrival. When he did arrive just after 1500 hours I was standing no more than 20 ft away when he got out the car, he was wearing what looked like a ten gallon hat and holding a cigar in his hand, he then climbed the steps to the entrance to the main building and gave a speech mainly about when he was the Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR) back in 1950, he also made a joke about Khrushchev taking his shoe off.

There was more to come, in fact the very next day we were informed Prime Minister Macmillan would be visiting SHAPE at 1100 hours then afterwards pay a visit to Camp Voluceau to meet British servicemen which would include the Motor Pool. We were ordered not to wear overalls but to come to work fully dressed in our best uniform and line up outside and stand to attention when he arrived. It was not going to be anything like President Eisenhower’s visit but we were to give him the very best show possible. We did not know what time he would arrive at the Motor Pool but the CO would be informed when he left the main camp. When the time came that he was not far away we all lined up outside the workshop and awaited his arrival. It was just past 1400 hours when his car came in sight and stopped just a few yards from where we were standing to attention. When I saw him I was quite surprised, he was wearing what looked like an old creased blue stripe suit and I could not help but notice dandruff on his shoulders, back in 1960 there was no such thing as Head & Shoulders. He walked down the line, missed me but stopped now and again and talked to some of the lads, got back in his Chauffeur driven car and left. To be some sort of Guard of Honour to the President of the United States and the British Prime Minister within a two-day period I thought was quite something special for a National Serviceman.

It gradually became known around the camp I was a sign writer and there were further requests for more signwriting jobs including a name plate for the CO’s office. One time I was loaned out to the American Motor Pool to sign write some notice boards which led to more signs around the camp. I could see Pete Sergeant becoming a little aggravated and I think a little jealous about me being in demand for being a sign writer that he eventually said enough is enough you are more important in the stores and from now on during working hours you are a Storeman and nothing else, I think even the CO was a little disappointed with his attitude but it did not affect our friendship.

It was only the American servicemen who owned private cars, you would see them driving around in their Lincolns, Chevrolets, Pontiacs and the occasional Cadillac. All cars when not in use were kept in the Motor Stockade and when a serviceman was either reposted or sent back to the States they would leave the car behind. Most tried to sell their car before they left which was mainly to French car dealers who bought them for far less than their true value or otherwise they were given away or sent for scrap; there must have been many making an awful lot of money. One American serviceman we knew liked British cars and owned an Armstrong Siddeley and when he told us he was being posted back to the States he offered to sell the car for 75 dollars. There were five of us who were interested although three of us never had a driving licence but 75 dollars was still a little high. After a few exchanges he said “Okay, give me 10 dollars and the car is yours” and this we did. Although it was a partnership it was my first car and being a posh Armstrong Siddeley convertible made it even more exciting, I never knew anything like this back in civvy street, I was beginning to like this millionaire life style.

Although there were many high-ranking officers from different nationalities and SHAPE was the headquarters of NATO, there were few military activities regarding the Motor Pool, we were left entirely on our own and had very little interference from an one else, we did however have one week away on what was an exercise and I only ever did one guard duty.

During my time at SHAPE I got married to Janet and I was given two weeks leave which became my first flying experience, I flew from Paris Orly to Bristol which at that time in 1959 was only a very small airport and the main aircraft that flew from Bristol was the Dakota. When I returned to Paris I had arranged for Janet to come over and we would be staying at a mate’s three bed apartment just off the Champs-Élysées. There were no married quarters only rented apartments that were rented from approved private Landlords and paid for with the marriage and overseas allowance. When Janet came over we had a great time, she was introduced to the Continental Club, went to Pete and Mary’s for Sunday lunch and took in all the sights of Paris.

A SHAPE bus ran every two hours from Camp Voluceau to the Arc de Triomphe in the centre of Paris, it would stop first in the main building to pick up passengers and then proceed on into Paris which normally took about half an hour. It was the only time I went inside the main gate and only twice into the main building, the first time on my arrival in SHAPE to be vetted for a security pass and the second time to collect my “Certificate of Appreciation” signed by William A Dodds, Colonel US Army. I was also congratulated by him for having a good report from my CO and he wished me good luck in civvy street.

The time came when I was to leave SHAPE for good, I had a tremendous demob party on the Saturday night in the Continental club with most of the Motor Pool in attendance. There were many others from different nationalities who came to shake hands and buy a drink, to be honest with all the drinks being bought it would have been impossible to drink them all so I arranged with a mate to smuggle them out of the bar when no one was looking, I did not like to insult anyone by refusing them a drink. When Monday came and it was time for my journey from Paris Gare du Nord to London Victoria, I felt quite emotional that I was going to leave behind so many friends but at the same time I was looking forward to be on my way home.

Having only two weeks left before my National Service ended, I was posted to Arborfield where my demobilization from the armed services would take place. When I arrived at the camp it was like being back in basic training, there were eight of us who were being demobbed, the first couple of days were the worst, we were screamed at by a Sergeant who made us drill and march up and down the parade ground, it was nothing like what I had been used too. I soon realised I was back in the Army and the only thing that made things bearable was there was only a couple of weeks to go. On the Wednesday without warning the Sergeant said all Army kit including uniform was to be handed in to the stores, it would make no difference regarding the parade ground, we would still be doing drill in our civvies. Thursday arrived we lined up and marched to the parade ground in our civvies, we halted and stood to attention and then at ease, we were then informed on something we never expected “You will go to the administration office and collect your travel rail tickets, you will then march in an orderly manner out of the barracks and down the road but remember this, you are still in the Army and anyone looking back or give a rude gesture will be brought back to finish their service in Arborfield plus an extra couple of months in Shepton Mallet”. This was a shock, but a nice shock, we collected our suit cases and travel documents and stood waiting for the order to march, when the order came, we marched smartly down to the front gates and then turned around to see the Sergeant watching us, we raised our arms in mock salute, gave a bow and a cheer plus some rude gestures and ran as fast as we could down the road, my National Service days were over.

As a footnote I began to wonder what happened to all the wonderful friends I had made and where they are today, we did keep in touch for a couple of years but like so many other things as time goes by you gradually lose touch, Tempus fugit, how time flies.