Many of us have memories of Halton, fond or otherwise, as we knew it almost 60 years ago.    I'll start this page off with some of mine . . . later, let's see if you can come up with a few of your own.

Random Recollections

Crawling through the underground steam-heating ducts that led from each barrack block cellar to the furnace house and beyond . . . benefit of being only 5ft tall and 90 lbs.    Goal ?   Was it possible to get from A Sqdn to Halton House unseen ?      . . . I never made it but did cover most of 1 and 2 Wing buildings . . .

Singing outside the Cinema on flick nights, waiting for the "cheap" side doors to open . . . did Jock Dibden really have the finest repertoire of bawdy ditties known to man ?     I still find myself muttering "Heigh Ho for Benskins . . .",  "There was a Lassie . . .", or "Cats on the Rooftops . . . " at odd moments, when hearing the original tunes on the radio . . .

Scarpering through the woods over the Pimple on the "secret" route to the "Robin Hood" in Tring on Saturday nights for a brew . . . the attendant shinning of drainpipes to accomplish this, or to cover for others at bedcheck when it was their turn to go . . . I remember soldering wires across light bulb bases and reinserting them in their sockets to help the covering process . . .

Sunday afternoons singing in the drying room with Jim Kearney playing the harmonica;    his favourites, "The Red River Valley" and "Put on your Old Grey Bonnet" from his Canadian evacuee days . . .

Joe Larkworthy and his pet squirrel that went to Shops each day and thrived on NAAFI rockbuns . . .

The pet grass snake that crawled up the CO's arm when he checked why there was a wisp of hay sticking out of my wall-locker drawer during kit inspection . . .

Old Chiefy Saunders, of the snow-white hair, rapping fingers with a 12" steel rule when he found them "on top" of a file handle in Basic . . .

Cutting church parades to walk or hitch-hike the 20-odd miles home on Sundays, for one occasional, but good home-cooked meal, or to go sailplaning at the LGC in Dunstable . . . Chiefy Saunders was often the fellow who gave me a lift as he lived about a mile from my home.    One never to be forgotten time, I got a lift from the C.of E. Padre, who was on a similar mission after completing church parade . . .

Evenings spent at the Smallbore Rifle Range in the Old Camp . . . for a few pennies, one could buy a 50-round box of Eley miltary practice ammo, and shoot on the indoor 25-yard range.     Still have a hankering for those old BSA Martinis.    If you showed any promise, the Sergeant armourer would let you have a box of the "good" lend-lease Winchester Leader ammo, and you'd get to shoot on the Halton team in the various national postal matches . . . the start of my ongoing love for competitive rifle target shooting . . .

"Shag" Perry, who was reputed to have slept through most of the three years.   It was firmly believed that he learned to play the haggis only so the sound would keep him awake on the way to Shops and Schools.    In 1949 I travelled with 73 Sqdn from Ta'Qali to Nicosia, via Benina, in a Dak piloted by Shag;   prayed all the way that he had overcome this earlier shortcoming . . .

The first arrival of W.O Jenkins on the square with his pace-stick and stentorian bellow when summoned, . . .  
. . . "Saaahhhhhhh !"

Wednesday night dances at the Henderson Gym . . . practicing for same with a broom or bumper under the tutelage of Les Yaw . . . the proposed establishment of the "D**-d**" fund by Gub M. for Dickie S, who was smitten . . .

The tiny top-heavy Polish WAAF Corporal, who I understand was later to be embalmed and used as a pattern for the creation of Dolly Parton, the country singer . . .

The new WAAF quack who put a certain well-known brat on a charge for "Dumb Insolence" at her first sick parade . . .

"Black Boris" Retallack and his abominable Rolls Razor clatter at Reveille . . .

The late "Friz" Fry and "Stocker" Stokes with the dismantled 1929 BSA Sloper in their foot lockers . . . had a gouge like the Grand Canyon in the cylinder wall.

Sunday afternoon "Brag" games at a ha'penny a crack . . .

"Losing" a pair of socks and fatigue trousers while trying to dry them over a desert sand-box cooker following one of our annual "let's play at soldiers crossing streams" camps with the RAF Regiment . . .

The tiny radios, using "dinghy radio tubes" that Cocky Amos and myself almost mass-produced so that everybody could hear "Midnight in Munich" on AFN . . .

My "identical twin", Titch Taylor, who got put on charges after Boggy Webb spotted me at the Camp Cinema on a forbidden night . . .

The brutal night raid on the "Juff" camp following the incident of a brick being thrown through the bass drum as we marched to Shops one morning . . .

The plaintiff skirl of haggis echoing through the woods above 1 Wing in the evenings, and the rattle of drumsticks beating out drags, triplets and rhumbas on inumerable window sills . . .

Being "drummed out" of the Drums by Corporal Flem Carlton, ostensibly for playing a flute when I should have been practicing with my "drang".   In reality, I've always suspected it was because I was too much of a scrubby-looking "skate" at a time when Flem was trying to change the image of the Drums as a haven for such prior "big skates" as "Big Chaz" Bowyer and "Drag S*&^%^&" of Lewis-painting fame;   a time . . . before which . . . half the members of the Drums marched to work each day, proudly sporting a "Jankers" armband.

. . . the list goes on !