A Second Fracture

I was personally sent for by the Camp Adjutant on two occasions. The first was in connection with the recruitment of suitable candidates to learn Russian during National Service. At that time anyone with a school qualification in a foreign language could be considered. I was sent down to the War Office in London for a special interview. 

The course would involve intensive training, first attending a language school and then being sent to a special unit where you would be only allowed to speak Russian. This sounded too much like hard work to me so I decided to pursue the commission instead. That turned out to be my biggest mistake during National Service; a decision which might have influenced my life in future years.

The second interview was in connection with my application for a commission. It was then that my previous decision proved to be the wrong one. Because of my broken leg in childhood, i could not be considered on medical grounds. I was therefore left with only one alternative - to progress through the ranks. 

The full sixteen weeks training eventually came to an end and I became a Field Engineer Grade B3, with an increase in wages.  I was given my posting to Farnborough, Hampshire on an NCO course to reach the status of Lance Corporal. This posting was not immediate and, as fully trained soldiers, we were available for any duties which were directed by the Commanding Officer. The pass-out parade was rather special with the Regimental Pipe Band in attendance.

Before our postings we were sent on a special task force to the west coast of Scotland to help a fishing fleet based in Ullapool which had been affected by the huge storms of 1953. The fleet were trying to shelter in Loch Broom. When the storm broke, many boats, known as Herring Drifters) were tossed ashore and left high and dry several yards inland from the edge of the loch. The boats required special hauling equipment to refloat them. 

We set off in a full convoy, complete with heavy equipment, to travel across to Ullapool where we were billeted in the local church hall. Kitted out with warm overalls and waders, we were armed with shovels rather than rifles. We marched to the location of each boat before being deployed to prepare the ground for the lifting equipment. We dug out tracks for heavy timber runners to take the keel of the boat before hawsers (special thick rope for towing ships) could be secured and tracked vehicles used to pull the boats back into the water. These operations continued every day for a week in all kinds of weather. 

On one day we were also asked by the local police to comb the beach to look for the body of a man who had been reported missing. There was evidence he had taken his own life after being discharged from hospital the previous day. He had been in an car accident several months before, where all the other occupants had died. After an hour of combing the shore, I came across the body of a man who looked from a distance as though he was just lying down in the sun - except there was no sun and it was very cold. He was fully dressed and still had his shoes on.

During this week I began to experience pain in my leg. Thankfully we were relieved by another squad and I had a weekend leave pass. By the time I returned home to Peterborough I knew something was wrong but still cycled to the family doctor and then, with an X-ray appointment, cycled to the hospital. Unfortunately I had developed a 'fatigue fracture' at the top of the femur, just above the point where I had broken my leg six years earlier. I was devastated by the news, remembering everything I had gone through before. 

The surgeon explained to my parents and me that cracks were appearing in the top of the bone into the ball-joint, requiring surgery to insert a metal joint, known as a Smith-Petersen Pin and Plate. It consisted of a long bolt attached to a plate with four screws: the bolt went into the ball joint and the plate was screwed to the top of the femur. It would have to remain for a full year, beginning with several weeks of being confined to bed.

After the initial shock, I got used to the idea and became the centre of attention as a young soldier (as far as the nurses were concerned!) At the age of 18 I was able to make the most of the fuss while not being too concerned about my army career. 

After surgery I was allowed home, however it wasn't long before the army reclaimed me, sending a basic army ambulance down from Catterick Military Hospital to pick me up. It took a few hours to be driven up to North Yorkshire, hitting every conceivable bump on the A1.