Being a young-adult in JLRRA

Andy Lamb
Andy Lamb
Sep 9, 2018 · 6 min read

Part 11. Being a space-cadet.

“Gunner Lamb!”

“Yes Corporal?”

“Why haven’t you opened a German bank account?”

“What?”

“You need a German bank account if you want to get paid.”

“No-one told me that. How do I open a German bank account?”

“Holy Jesus!”

Previously in this blog: I have mustered from the Junior Leaders’ Regiment, Royal Artillery, Gamecock Barracks, Nuneaton, and been posted to a grown-ups regiment in Germany. Once again, I am finding it all hard-going. There is so much to learn and so much to discover. Sometimes I think I will never manage to sort myself out. It would be pretty harsh if I didn’t. But I am trying my best. Honest.

Now read on …

I’d never had very much to do with the Pay Corps before. But suddenly I am immersed in army pay stuff. The pay bloke was this tall Corporal by the name of Kenny, which sounded familiar, although I couldn’t place him immediately.

In any event, he took me gently by the hand and led me through the process of how I might get a German bank account. I had an English bank account but I couldn’t work out how to cash UK cheques in Germany. It was a complete mystery to me. I ended up snivelling in the Pay Office until Corporal Kenny told me to shut-up.

I went down to the Commerzbank on the Bahnhofstrasse (possibly) and asked the bloke if I could open an account. He was the first German I had ever spoken to. He was very friendly and chatted to me in that German/American accent they all used. He congratulated me on being a member of the “Royal Army” and told me I was under age and would need an adult sponsor. He gave me some forms to get countersigned, which I took away with me. That definitely wasn’t a recipe for disaster.

I went back to see Corporal Kenny. He looked very grumpy, but signed me out 100 Marks. That would tide me over until something could be arranged.

In other news, I was no longer on permanent camp guard. I now had a job in the Tech Quartermaster’s department. I was helping the Sergeant do an audit of all the regimental technical equipment, of which there seemed to be many thousands of items. Luckily for me, all I had to do was follow him around and tick things off on a big list. I am sure I would never have managed to do it all on my own. For a start, I still didn't know where anything was. Or, what anything was for that matter. What the hell was a “Brunsviga?” It sounded like a type of sausage.

This is not an adding machine
Not suitable for human consumption

Those couple of months after I arrived in Germany were a real learning experience for me. I twigged quite quickly that going down the NAAFI every night was probably not a good thing for me. Even though the motherly woman behind the bar was always willing to serve me a beer.

There was a sort-of cafe around the side by the shop which was much more my pace. I also discovered that most people had brew-kit facilities in their rooms. One lad even had a television. It only recieved German programmes, but it was something. I must have watched “Pippi Longstocking” about a thousand times and never understood a word of it.

I was overjoyed to find the Garrison Education Centre close to the barracks. They had evening classes and helped me do some correspondence courses. But the best thing was they had a proper library so I could sit and read to my heart’s content. All sorts of books. There was even one titled “Gunner Lamb,” which was a very interesting thing. I should point out it wasn’t about me, it was a sci-fi story about a space-cadet, which I wasn’t.

There was a big swimming pool just down the road, which cheered me up no end. Lots of lads went there and so did I. I spent hours, ploughing up-and-down. It had a coffee bar, a sauna and an outdoor pool for when the weather got fine. I loved it.

There was a Regimental running club, which I joined. Actually, there were loads of sporting opportunities. Everything you could imagine. There was even a ski team. The members were never to be seen in the regiment as they always seemed to be on training down in Bavaria. But they were army champions and even had some members in the Team GB olympic squad.

Wow!

Someone mentioned that hockey was the sport sergeants played and that I should learn so as to be able to fit-in when I got ‘made-up.’ I guess it was a nice idea but promotion for me seemed uncertain and a very long way away. In any event, I was terrible at it so I dropped out of the team. There was also the matter of the bruised knackers.

Of the various problems about RHQ Troop, one was that we didn’t have a bar. The other sub-units and batteries each had a bar. So, when they’d finished sport’s-afternoon they all went to the Battery Bar to celebrate or drown their sorrows. We didn’t have that. When we had finished the officers went to the Officer’s Mess, the sergeants went to the Sergeant’s Mess, the bombardiers went to the NCO’s Mess, and us lowly grunts were allowed to suck a lemon.

Instead of being a sports superstar I got asked to write some articles for the regimental magazine. That was something I was quite good at. I did a feature about the regimental soccer squad and their success in the local German Sunday league, which was well received. I scored a few brownie-points for doing that.

I also managed to remember about Corporal Kenny (RAPC). It turns out his dad, Captain Terry Kenny, was the musical director of the Royal Artillery Band. He was the one who dragged me up on stage at Bramcote to play the Fehrbelliner Reitermarsch. One of the events when I nearly crapped myself.

At the end of November I turned 18. I finally remembered to get the forms signed (after nearly six weeks), opened a German bank account and started receiving man’s-pay. A number of other things had also happened. I had breezed through my basic fitness test. I had taken my Class 2 trade-test and got upgraded. Also, I had been nominated to go on a Cadre Course the following February. This would be my first step on the promotional ladder.

It was all very different from junior leaders. At Bramcote, things like promotion and trade training seemed to be rationed-out in the most meagre way. Only those boys who were deemed to be of whatever particular quality were considered. There was nothing in it for the rest of us. We were allowed to suck a lemon. By contrast, in 94 Regiment, they were very keen to get as many of us upgraded and promoted as could be managed.

Someone had seen some qualities in me and I was finally on my way.

Post Script.

In the couple of months since mustering from JLRRA, until I turned 18 years old, I seemed to have been through a lot of personal growth and development. I had lost a certain amount of my natural ‘diffidence’, as the Goschen-Day brochure so patronisingly put it. I made a few friends, I learned to keep boozing down to a manageable level and I now knew I could make-it in the army.

Yet, I still had a lot of growing-up to do. It would be years before I managed to lose my spots and pimples. It would take that amount of time before I might manage to grow a moustache. It would be a few more years before I finally lost my virginity. And as for character growth, well, what can I say?

Gunner Lamb. Definitely NOT a Space Cadet.

More thrilling adventures to come …

Andy Lamb

Written by

Andy Lamb

As a youth Andy Lamb Served in the British Army. He is now a museum curator and studies musical instruments.

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