The Combined Cadet Force (CCF)

 

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This is a simulation of a conversation I may have with my grandson when he (and I) are both quite a bit older than today. As I write this I wonder how much of my own childhood experiences may - in a thoroughly modernised guise - become suddenly relevant again in the next 5-10 years.

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Grandson:

 "Grandfather, when you joined the CCF at Bristol Grammar School, what made you choose the army section over the navy or air force cadets?"

Grandfather:

 "I was twelve or thirteen, about your age, and obsessed with science-fiction, spaceflight and aircraft. Naturally I thought I would join the air cadet section. My father said he thought the RAF was sloppy and ill-disciplined - he was very loyal to his old WW2 corps, the REME (the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers).

There was an open day in which all three branches did a kind of 'taster' session. The army did an assault course - so much more interesting than the other two. I joined the army cadets."

Grandson:

 "What was the most memorable experience you had while in the CCF?"

Grandfather:

"We were out at the Army's Yoxter Range, in Somerset, for live fire practice. We would be firing the Lee-Enfield Mk 4 .303 rifle as used by second world war infantry. This would be around 1964. The officers were our teachers, and the most senior was Captain Lewis who was a portly and rather irascible physics teacher. He wanted to demonstrate to us that even blanks were dangerous.

He put an aluminium sheet, a metal square about eight inches by eight inches onto the grass, loaded his rifle with a blank, dropped the muzzle of the rifle to the ground, pointing it at the centre of the plate. Then, in quiet and authoritative tones, he explained that the blank cartridge was tipped with some material which stopped the powder getting out, where the bullet would normally be. He said that although the material was quite soft, nevertheless it came out at supersonic speeds and it was extremely dangerous close-up.

As he was speaking, he was quietly pulling the trigger back and as he finished there was an insanely loud bang. He leant over and picked up the metal plate, which now had a large irregular hole blasted through the centre. We were sufficiently convinced!"

Grandson:

 "What was the biggest mistake you made while in the CCF?"

Grandfather:

 "A short time after I joined up there was the annual parade on the school field, where parents watched from the stands. We were all there, all the cadets, doing drill (which I was less than brilliant at).

At the end we were all in our ranks in the July sunshine, turned to face our parents and the many guests. The cadet sergeant-major shouted what I thought was 'slope arms' which I did, swinging the rifle to my right shoulder; unfortunately, I was the only one who heard that. Everyone else heard 'ground arms' and dropped their weapons so that the butt was next to their right boot.

I stood for a second, ashen-faced, and then miserably slid the rifle down to the ground. My father said afterwards that, in his heart of hearts, as soon as he saw that one lone cadet had got it so very wrong, he knew it would have to be me. My natural clumsiness - coming to the fore again!"

Grandson:

 "Can you tell me about the time you got lost in Snowdonia one arctic Easter?"

Grandfather:

 "Thankfully I was not in command, being an ordinary member of the squad led by a cadet corporal who thought he knew all about traversing snow-covered mountains in bitter weather.

 We were sent out on a three-day exercise to navigate cross-country near the Glyders in North Wales, camping in the snow during the nights. I think they hadn't expected the weather to be quite so bad.

Remember, in those days no GPS, no phones, no breathable gear. We were wearing combat jackets and trousers and carrying our tents and supplies on manpack-carriers on our backs; maps and compasses. We were led up precipitous ascents so icy and difficult that even our intrepid leader turned us back before we fell off. Then the blizzard hit, and we sought lower ground and waited out the storm in a farmer's barn.

Unfortunately, our leader neglected to call it in. The Mountain Rescue was called, it was a national news item, our parents were beside themselves. We meandered down to the nearest village the following day, completely unaware of all the fuss. I, at least, did not get the full force of the wrath which hit our leader!"

Grandson:

 "Was there ever an incident when you really annoyed one of the officers during your time in the CCF?"

Grandfather:

 "I was in the signals section. Bristol Grammar School CCF was part of a nationwide short-wave radio net of army cadet forces (call-sign 18 Bravo), and after school I would fire up our (ex-tank) transceiver and talk to fellow cadets in schools hundreds of miles away.

One such conversation went on too long after school and the teacher ordered me to stop the conversation while the other guy (at Marlborough College near Swindon) was still transmitting. This was quite a breach of radio protocol, so I kind of ignored him.

He got really angry and basically pulled the plug and sent me home. It was the beginning of the end: I left the CCF soon after."