Heres a story of me as a young squaddy in Germany back in the late 70's
I had broken my humorus within 2 days of arriving in germany and the military hospital had no idea what to do with it they just left it broken for a year or so, the squadron just kept sending me home on leave to get rid of the problem.
On one of these back home jaunts I was returning from leave on the ferry from Hull to Zeebruge when I met a couple of lads in the ferry bar and they told me not to worry they would give me a lift home as they were going to Dortmund and I could get the bus from there - result! Now cheers lads lets get em in again then eh? By the time we arrived in Belgium I was steaming and they told me they would meet me at the bottom of the ramp when they got their car off, they wouldnt miss me I was the only divvy with his arm in a sling.
So I waited patiently at the bottom of the slipway until all the cars left the ferry and realised that they had p1ssed off and left me there - wasters!
So I made my way into the city and as it was late decided to get my head down in the train station, just as I got comfy a polish couple turns up with a toddler and a very young baby, it was march and it was bloody freezing and the baby was crying, they said they had missed their train and the next one was the next morning and they didnt have enough money for a hotel.....
dumb squaddy to the rescue !
I went to the telephone and called the police and asked if there were any hotels that we could go to with the meagre amount of belgian currency I had on me............. after explaining about the kids they kindly came and picked us up and dropped us all off at a B&B and left us.
An old crone opened the door speaking no english she took our money off us and accompanied the family up to their room and set them up snugly, I was prompted to follow her up the stairs to the next landing where she quietly went into the dark bedroom and blasted the searchlight on and kicked her mentally disabled grandson out of the bed, threw him out the door in his stained undies and pointed to his pit and said sleep and left the room, sod that for a game of soldiers thought I and followed her down the stairs to the ground floor and said to her that I was not happy with getting into that fleepit of a bed and also felt that it was unfair of her to kick her grandson out of his bed.
She smiled and said come mit and we went into the kitchen where she said she would make me a cup of tea, feeling that I had finally hit her heartstrings in the right place and with a smile on my face I was happy when she offered me the door first....
BANG the bloody door was slammed and I was locked in the freezing kitchen "GOODNIGHT INGLISH SOLDER TYPE CACKLE CACKLE" the old witch screamed at me as she clipped her granson round the back of the head for good measure then got her head down.
Hmmm do I sit in a cold kitchen with a broken arm still half drunk and miserable? Or maybe I could......
Phone on the wall................ lock on phone............... toffee hammer in kitchen draw................... Thwack phone open.................belgian phone book opens uncannily at british ambassadors number.................ring ring
"Hullo British Ambassador speaking"
Hello mate listen got myself in a bit of a pickle with these belgies and wondered if you could send your driver over to pick me up...............quite reasonable request I thought............
Seemingly not............
"Do you realise its half past three in the morning young man? Now GO AWAY!
Hmmmm what next its getting bloody cold will have to let the old witch know that I mean business so lit all the cooker hobs - six of them and the oven and sat in front of it keeping warm........... in fact it was lovely and I nodded off sublimely.
"NEE NAW NEE NAW" What the hells that?
Sprinkler system has kicked in along with the fire alarm and the whole place is like stalag XV after a POW has escaped.
Earth calling planet Billy YOU ARE IN DEEP SH1T NOW SONNY JIM
Next thing the back door is kicked in and two big belgian coppers rush in and put the cuffs on me and rip my arms to the back (oww thats broken mate) and off to the cop shop we go.
After I had made my satement to the cops they both just looked at each other and laughed their heads off - whats so funny I am not laughing you cheeky buggers - but after a while I saw the funny side of it too and joined in with the incredulous situation I had got myself in.
They gave me some food a brew and a some fags and then said that they had nowhere else to put me til the morning but in a cell and asked if that was alright?
Yes no problems I thought I could do with getting my head down anyway which I duly did.
A few hours later I woke up surprised to see that it was still dark, I fumbled my way over to the door and tried to knock for some attention - mistake in brugges for some reason all the doors on the granite cells are made from granite and its like banging on a headstone - no noise at all, oh well will just have to wait for someone to open the door they seemed like decent blokes those coppers.
A couple of hours later and I was dying for a poo and still couldnt get any attention and had to drop one in the corner of the cell on the floor and believe me after 10 pints on the ship followed by belgian mussels in the train station - well you guessed it - not nice.
Back to sleep then for what seemed like bloody ages I was left alone in this strange tomb.
Clatter tinkle I hear keychains thank god for that.... the same two cops throw a tramp into the cell and on sight of me they ask me what I am still doing here - it seems that they went off duty 12 hours ago and forgot to let me out or tell their mates about me!!
Another laugh at my expense as the tramp is complaining about the reek in the cell.
They take me upstairs and tell all their mates about my story and give a call to Shape HQ and they send an MP to pick me up, end up back there and a kindly sergeant gives me a travel warrant and a few odd DMs he has and sends me on my way.
Phew what a bloody nightmare back on the train and germany bound.
Arrive back at camp to a long weekend and report to the officers mess to see the Squadron OC who tells me to come into the office in the morning as he wants to see me.
I am right in it now thinks me and spend a sleepless night alone in the block.
Next morning Major Useless tells me to bugger off home for another months sick leave - why couldnt he have told me that when I phoned from blighty a few days back?
Just another day in the complicated life of a British squaddy :-)
Sorry it was so long but its all true - hope you enjoyed it, if so let me know and I will put some more on - if not let me know also and I wont bother. Uncle Peter (skipper) is a hard act to follow but I will try.
