There I was on Dartmoor, December 1973 (twas farking Taters!), the last few weeks of training. We had been out in the field for four or five days and as per normal had been run ragged from pillar to post by our Instructors. One Certain L/Cpl (no names) however really, really pissed us all off bigtime. He was working with the training team to prepare himself for his Junior Command Course (CPL's Course).
Whenever our "real" Training Cpls were not about he thought it great fun to basically fark up our lifes for no good reason whatsoever (he was a right little Twat!
). Our Training team didn't like him much either so we later found out. Anyway the Training team had set up a nice camp with 12 by 12 tents, A galley and a chef to cook their steaks and suchlike. and about twentyfive yards from there an Elsan with Hessian walls to give them privacy when taking a dump. L/Cpl ****** was seen by me and me Oppo to approach the Elsan. On seeing that he was sitting down we sprang into action! Note: It was heaving it down with Snow at the time. And the wind must have been gusting at 70 MPH.My Oppo lifted up the hessian behind the Elsan and I lit a thunderflash. Came up behind the Cpl and via the hole in the back of the Elsan dropped the Thunderflash in. And then we both crept away out of sight. L/Cpl ****** must have been straining really hard as we could hear him grunting away like anything. Them the Words "Arr Farking Hel.....Boom! were heard. From where we were we could see that his Face was covered in shit! He must have been looking between his legs when the thunderflash went off.
Me and me Oppo were dead chuffed that no body had sussed us out. Later that day our Troop Sgt who was called Jerry Lee bimbled up to us and asked us if we would like to clean the Elsan. He'd seen us doing our thing so it turned out! As it was he had said nought because he didnt have a lot of time for L/Cpl ******. My Sect Cpl, Cyril Goodhand had also been wise to what we had done and on the night before our Kings Squad Pass out had come up and lashed me and me Oppo up royally.
Oddly the L/Cpl who we had all destested was one of the last people I ever saw whilst still in the Corp. He was by that time a Cpl Clerk at Eastney Barracks. I was a C/Sgt. And it was his job to give me all the bits of paper they give you when you leave the Corp. By that time he was a right FLUB (fat lazy useless bastard). On seeing me he started to give me grief until I "tactfully" pointed out my Rank to him (I was in Civvies). My word he was rather stunned when I threatened to have him charged for not showing me the respect my rank deserved. Snee, Snee, Snee.
Revenge is Soooo Sweet! Anyway after I passed out of training and had done my Sigs course. I sort of got a reputation with people who knew me as a bit of a WAG when it came to doing daft things in order to cheer up people when we were none to Happy Bunnies. Be it on Exercise or on Active duty. Once got into deep Do Do's when I organised a TOGA run on Union Street Plymouth. Nearly the entire Sigs Troops inliers (guys who live in barracks) plus a few outliers (poor sods who were married) got as handcarts in the London Inns Beer Keller dancing on the tables. Parade Boots and Varnished Table tops don't go together to well. And a bunch of Stroppy Jock Pongos took umbridge at our behaviour which resulted in one Mega Punch up which closed the Beer Keller for nearly two weeks (we won hands down!
).Our unit (40 CDORM) was informed by the Cops that nearly the entire Signals Troop Inliers were in cells in the local Nick. The unit 2i/c, the Provo staff plus the RSM came and bailed us out as we were due to go to NI the following Monday (it was by that time early Sunday Morning) for a four month tour. The CSO (Commando Signals Officer) without hesistation blamed me for all the trouble that happened that night!
But apart from having to pay out for the damage we got away with it. On our return from NI we made a Beeline for the Keller Bar only to find that it was closed and was in the process of being converted into yet another Disco. So another Loon called "Sweepy" King organised a 24 hour drinking session. It was planned to the highest order with timings, TAXIS booked, the lot. At 9 in the morning the Pubs around Millbay docks would open for the fishermen returning from there overnight fishing sessions. So the first group started quaffing in these pubs. We did a four on four off ROTA thoughout the 24 hours. All the pubs back then closed at 2.30 pm. So the next group would meet up with the previous group and Head for the Fleet Club which opened at 2.30 pm. Four on Four off. Until 11 pm. Then the next group would meet up with the previous groups and take over the watch. At a place called the "Metric" on Union Street. Chucking out time from the Metric was round about 3 in the morning. Once more the watch would change and the next lot made for the "Safari Club" on the Barbican which closed at 7 in the morning. Once more the watches would change and onwards to this club on the Hoe (The Name excapes me, but it was a Whoofters Club) which would stay open until the last person had left. From there we all returned to the same Pub from which the 24 hour session had started. By this time as you can well imagine quite a few of us were "Under the Weather" But being true blue Royal Marines duty came first and we all made it bang on 9 in the morning. One erstwhile Three Badger was reckoned to have supped at least 30 pints and a ruck of Shorts as he had insisted on going for the whole 24 hours. Are you still out there Tex? As it was we all got as Handcarts as you can get and most of us Zonked out on the Benches strewn around the Hoe
When the Troop turned to at 0825hrs Monday Morning the CSO took one look at us all, went totally farking apeshit and ordered us to get into PT kit ASAP and made us do the Cross Country course that was set up around Seaton Barracks. Kinnel! That was a dreadfull error on his part. What normally took 25 to 30 minutes to run was done in about two hours on average! The entire course was strewn with Sigs ratings heaving their guts up every 20 odd yards. Farking Great Times so they were!!!!
Artist
SPEEDY sends his 
