Surrounding the camp were quite high, craggy rocks above the sea. An earlier Band Boy (Danny Daniels) had fallen to his death whilst seagull egg nesting and thereafter that pastime was strictly verboten.
Needless to say, with the insouciance of youth, many of us totally ignored the prohibition and quickly learned of the best nesting areas. Possibly the best of the lot was across the other side of Groudle Glen, just beyond the sea-lion pens and completely in view of the camp although it was a fair distance away. The trick was to wear the khaki bits of our uniform as camouflage and to remain in view for as short a time as possible - which didn't exactly make for safe climbing habits! We wore our issue jumpers tucked into our trousers and the eggs we collected were carefully placed inside. Woe betide if you slipped when carrying a full load - instant omelettes and quite disgusting if you had inadvertently collected a bad egg amongst the others! The accompanying picture shows Ron DeLorey (now also gone from us) and myself, providing photographic evidence of our crime - had we been caught. After climbing back to the cliff-tops and out of sight of the barracks we would unload our haul, light a fire and cook some of the eggs in our mess tins, together with bread fried in butter saved from meals. Delicious, and made all the more so by the danger of being caught!
It was the practice of some officers to scan those cliffs from time to time with binoculars and should one or more khaki-clad figures be spotted they could be reasonably certain that it was Band Boys and not local lads. At that distance it was impossible to make a positive identification, but their remedy was to call a 'General Assembly'. As soon as that bugle call was heard wafting across the water, we had about ten minutes to get all the way back to camp to be mustered. Not a problem you might think - and I would agree had the terrain been flat. It wasn't! First there was a winding cliff-top path to negotiate, then downhill to the bottom of the Glen, across the stream, a scramble over the large, slippery stones and then up a very steep, usually slippery, path until nearing the camp (where the duty NCO's would by now be on the look-out), we finally had to side-track through an abundance of prickly gorse bushes, traverse a 20ft cleared area and leap over a barbed-wire fence (admittedly only about 3 feet 6 inches tall) before reaching safety! THEN we would have to change our appearances sufficiently to make it look as though we had been engaged in some quite innocent pursuit, before tagging onto the rear line of the parade. My God, even thinking about those times now tires me!
Peter also mentions Colour Sergeant Pook, our drill instructor and general mentor. Ancient (by our standards) and grizzled he might have been, but he certainly knew the drill that he so assiduously dinned into our thick heads. Unfortunately, although it was by now late 1944, the pre- war four/two ranks drill and cane drill was long out-of-date and of not much use to us. Shortly after 90 Squad Passed out he vanished, to be replaced by a young RM Drill Corporal who then rapidly taught us to drill in columns of three - the modern way, as then used by just about every branch of the services.
theory about 'Pookie' is that he had been happily pensioned and
in the 'reserve' when, because of the extra manpower required for
the recent invasion of Europe, he had been plucked from his pensioner
fireplace and back into uniform. With their usual flair for organisation
the 'powers that be' had despatched him to Howstrake to teach drill
to youngsters the age of his own grandchildren. Not surprisingly
he resented this and therefore taught us the only drill he (allegedly)
knew - with the above results. I suspect that when this was discovered,
he was quickly discharged back to the family fireside - exactly
where he'd always wanted to be! I have never believed that an 'old
soldier' of his rank and length of service didn't know exactly what
he was doing and that what subsequently transpired was exactly as
he had planned it!