MEMORIES OF INKERMAN BARRACKS, WOKING, SURREY.
By John Redman
Ah, Inkerman Barracks! What memories that name will invoke personnel who joined RMP prior to 1964.
The place was opened as a Prison in 1860, and housed 300 male convicts. By 1870, using male prisoners as a labour force, the place had doubled in size, and contained 1,700 convicts, half of them being female. In 1889, the Home Office handed the site over to the War Office, and it was named Inkerman barracks. It remained a military establishment until 1965, but more importantly for us, it was the home of the Corps of Royal Military Police from 1947 until 1964.
I first saw the place in January 1958 when I arrived as a Voluntary Transfer from the Infantry. I had arrived at Woking Railway Station from Exeter, and a kindly Southern Railways employee told me that the next bus would take me to the main gate of the Barracks. I struggled on to the bus with great difficulty, carrying, as I was, all my military equipment, and I mean ALL, as I was wearing Field Service Marching Order [FSMO]. This comprised of Large Pack, Small Pack, Kitbag, which contained every item of military and civvy equipment I owned. Cross Straps, Basic Pouches, Waist Belt, all in 1937 pattern, and blancoed with Proberts Number 93, with brasses gleaming; a steel helmet and a big greatcoat made up the rest. Suitcases, soldiers for the use of, were unheard of then. What I didn't know, was that the bus I was on stopped in the village of St. John's, and didn't go anywhere near the Barracks. So, I had to walk [struggle] up that long, steep hill to the village of Knaphill, and the main entrance to Inkerman. I walked past the Officer's Mess and single Officers accommodation on my left, with that superb sports field on my right. From the outset I could see that grim forbidding Main Block, and Clock Tower, ahead of me, standing high above all else. It certainly didn't get any prettier as I got closer either. Arriving at the Main Gate, I was unlucky enough to be met by the Provost Sgt, who decided to "crawl" all over me in some a form of ritualistic welcome.
After handing in my Travel Documents, I was taken by a young soldier of the RAOC, who was awaiting RTU back to Blackdown, to the Main Block, and shown into an enormous empty barrack room on the second floor. The block was alive with blokes in various stages of training, and the noise of their studded boots echoed all around the stone walls and floors. I drew bedding, made my bed up and went back to the Guardroom for further instructions. I was sent to A Company offices [immediately on the right, opposite the Guardroom and inside the Main gate. B Company was on the other side, behind the Guardroom.] A Sgt told me to piss off and get tea, and to report to the Company offices at 0730 the following morning. Thus started my 16 weeks of training at Inkerman.
I didn't stay in that huge, empty cavern of a room in the Main Block for too long, before being sent to a squad forming up in the wooden Spiders at the rear of the camp. Now these Spiders I was used to from previous postings, and they were pure luxury compared to the Main Block. Even so, the Spiders would be considered to be positively antique and unhygienic to modern soldiers. We had to scrub the bare wooden floorboards every morning, and then had to leave the windows open all day long. – Remember it was winter too --. The pot bellied metal stove [polished to a brilliant, gleaming black monument every morning] soon consumed the coal ration, and we froze unless we could "find" extra coal or coke. I seem to remember that the single officers’ blocks were always good for a few lumps. Bed blocks had to be made every day, the blankets and sheets immaculately squared off and symmetrical, the bottom blanket pulled tight over the mattress and bed frame so that a penny coin could be bounced on it. Top Kit, comprising of both large, and small packs, together with all assorted straps, all polished brasses facing forward, was lined up all squared off and symmetrical on the tops of personal steel lockers. We slept on the floor before a big kit inspection so that we could lay out our gear the night before. There was always a mad rush to get to the washbasins, toilets and baths, as there weren't enough of them for the number of men in situ.
The cookhouse served terrible grub, and we marched there from the Billets carrying our china mugs and “eating irons” clasped behind our backs in the left hand. The cooks who always gave you the hardest time were the RMP LCpls who had been trained as Regimental Cooks. After the “Meal” it was "scrape, wash and then rinse" your eating irons in the cold, stinking, greasy, fat covered water in the containers by the exit. Remember how your knife, fork and spoon finished up covered in white, oily fat? Do you guys remember the NAAFI where you could buy meat pies and chips, or sausage and chips, and have a decent cup of tea? We listened to Perry Como singing “Magic Moments” over and over again on the jukebox. Then there was the NAAFI shop in the little square between the Guardroom and the flagpole where we bought new leather bootlaces, blanco, Brasso, whitening, black Kiwi polish for bulling boots, and dark brown Kiwi polish for bulling chinstraps. The NAAFI assistant was called Lionel, who we referred to as a "Nancy Boy" as Gay meant something totally different then. If you annoyed Lionel, he would grab a bunch of leather bootlaces and give you a smack across the arm with them. Ammo boots were sent away to a Prison somewhere for repair, and if the Lags knew they were from the RMP, they would come back with the toes and heels slashed with a knife.
Kit inspections usually meant that if you were in the Main Block your kit was thrown out of the windows to come hurtling down on to the edge of the Square, or if you were in the Spiders, it was chucked into the smelly, green scummed water that filled the air raid shelters that were located between each building. [These were only blocked up in 1961 when I was at Inkerman as an Instructor] How many times did you have to buy a new china mug-- which you'd probably only bought the day before-- because it was deemed to be "Minging", or “Crawling with germs.” Do you recall the RSM’s Drill Parades, when even the Instructors got inspected by the “TARA” before you did? The wearing of full Green Duty Order from the 12th [the week I changed cap badges] to the 14th week of training and then full White Duty Order from then until pass out. Do you also recall the AKC cinema, called the Globe, which was surrounded by pathways made of black clinker and cinders? We were once inspected by our Squad Officer, a Lt Peter Mason who found a microscopic piece of Proberts Whitening on one of the inside brasses of my pistol holster. Sgt Fred Fletcher made me, and all the other “naughty" boys lay our white kit on the wet black clinker and then made the whole squad carry out a drill sequence over the top of our gear. The final punishment was to parade with all kit re-whitened and immaculate, at the Guardroom at 1300 hours. No NAAFI break and lunch that day! You couldn't borrow other blokes’ kit, because all items were stamped with your Army Number. Harry Burden was the RSM when I was a Probationer, yes, we were that and not Recruits, and Harry was God! He once put a Post Office Telegraph Boy in the “Nick” because he cycled onto Harry's Square when he was taking a pass out parade rehearsal. I was once put in the cells because I stepped on to the Square when he was taking a Junior Officers drill parade. I’d been told to report to A Company office and had raced through the Main Block ground floor corridor and onto the square without looking first. I was going to pick up a 36-hour leave pass, but that went “for a Burton” as two Regimental Police LCpls double marched me off to the cells. The Depot was alive with Probationers as in those days of National Service, drafts of 200 - 400 men a fortnight were sent to the Depot and Training Establishment RMP [many against their will] to train as Military Policemen. Most had only served 2-4 weeks in their initial units, and the majority went on to happily do their two years as RMP NCOs, God bless them. Many Probationers never made it to pass out and could get to the last week of training before being RTU’d. Added to this throng of young men were guys coming back to the Depot for further postings or to finish their National Service, and you can imagine how full the place got. Females of the WRAC Provost were not trained at Inkerman; they had their own training facility at Guildford. I remember hearing that that men and women later trained together at Chichester, and even drilled together!!!!! I still can’t get my head around that.
670 Squad passed out; we got our postings, and went off on embarkation leave. I arrived in Berlin in June1958, with a fellow squad, and hometown member, Tony Griffin, and another squad mate, Mick Hearn, and had a great 3 years there. I did have the opportunity to stay at the Depot as a weapon-training instructor, as two other transferees from my Regiment had done, (Cpls Doug Mott, and Dumpy Tremain) but I was happy to go to a Provost Company
In May 1961, I returned to Inkerman as a Squad Instructor, and things had changed! National Service was ending, and the last RMP NS squad passed out shortly after I got there. There was now only a single Training Company, the main Block was only partly in use and Squads were now numbered with R, to show all Regular intakes, and Probationers had become Recruits. Discipline was the same as before, and although there was no longer a constant stream of NS Men, recruiting, initially, was not a problem. We all still wore battle dress, Number 2 dress was yet to be introduced, and webbing was still in 1937 pattern where everything needed to be blancoed, and the dozens of brasses had still to be highly polished. The Royal Army Education Corps unit at Inkerman was down to a Major and a Captain, all the Sergeant Instructor ranks had been abolished as NS ‘call up’ finished. The Clock Tower was still rumoured to be haunted, and the Main gate Sentries were still reporting flashing lights and moaning coming from the room behind the clock face. In my Instructing days there, it was probably Cpls Terry Rice and Bill Baker arseing about. The MSQs were still Victorian with 2 rooms up and 2 rooms down, many with outside toilets, and no internal baths. Lionel was still in the NAAFI shop and was still a "Nancy Boy". RMP Regimental Cooks were a thing of the past, and all cooks were of the ACC variety. The quality of food had improved too. Most intakes were large enough to be divided into A and B squads and on average, in each, 20 new Lcpls passed out at the end of 16 weeks. The Corps Museum had improved in class and quality, and a marvellous old Gentleman called George was the Curator. The Barrack barber, Bert, was the same one who had been there for years, and Recruits still had weekly, if not daily, haircuts.
In 1964, the Corps Depot moved to the old Royal Sussex Regiment Depot in Chichester, and as was the norm in those days, the Main Body marched from the old Inkerman Barracks to the new Roussillon Barracks under the gentle command of the then Training Company CSM, Paddy O'Brien. The RMP association with Inkerman had ended.
In 1977, I re-visited Inkerman, drove up the hill from St. Johns this time, entered the Camp passing the boarded up Officers Mess, and MSQs and parked in the old MT area where my old pal Don Woodiwiss had been the MT Cpl during my last posting there. The Main Block and Clock Tower had already been demolished, although the Main Gate and Guardroom, Training Companies Offices, and the Armoury were still intact. Even the base of the flagpole was still there. The area in which the Spiders, Cinema, Assault Course and Gym had been was already a housing estate, although residents from the new houses were still using the old Barrack Path. Someone recently told me that it is now a wide, two-lane highway. Does anyone remember when RQMS "Rock" Bottom lived in a house at the lower end of the Barrack Path and on Sundays would "lurk" to catch unsuspecting Probationers coming up the Path from “walking out” in Woking, with their caps SD on the back of their heads or with their hands in their pockets? The Q stores, MI room, Chapel, and the Pioneer shop were still intact although boarded up, and the Jungle Training area was definitely a Jungle. I was able to walk down the slope a little until I could see the Robin Hood pub, scene of many a good pass out piss-up. One thing stuck out in my mind that day and that was seeing grass growing out of the Drill Square that Holiest of Holiest places. It reality, it wasn't square in shape, it was rectangular, and had been the exercise yard for the original convicts. Its acoustics were terrible, words of command echoed around and off the Main Block walls and at times could appear to come from 4 different directions! I left the ghosts behind – the laughs, the frustrations, and the ups and downs – saddened, but at the same time content, with the times I had spent in Inkerman Barracks.
Many of you reading this story won't have much idea of what it was like at the old Depot. Having been in the newness and comfort of Roussillon Barracks in the New Age Army, your surroundings and amenities were vastly more comfortable, and I say that with due respect to all those of you who passed through Chichester. I often think what those Recruits thought back in 1964, when they arrived at Chichester to a new, airy, comfortable billet, after serving at Inkerman in its Victorian “splendour”. They probably thought that Christmas had arrived early that year! I, like most of you, will have absolutely no idea what things are like at Southwick Park, where all Service Police are now trained together. Has anyone any news?
I won't apologise for the length of this article, once I'd started I just kept going as memory after memory kept flooding back.
INKERMAN BARRACKS
SIGNALS WING.
By Ron Warden
The very many interesting articles written about time at Inkerman Barracks have so far omitted any reference to Signals Wing.
Situated opposite The Spiders and close to the firing Range where we had earlier been instructed in the use of the .38 Pistol and the infamous Sterling Sub Machine Gun were the wooden huts comprising the Offices, classroom and facilities of what we all knew as Signals Wing. Prior to the establishment of Signals Wing at the Depot, there had been a TA (1 Corps Provost Signal Company) based in what is now known as The West Midlands.
For whatever reason NCO’s applied for the coveted places on the courses which each lasted 3 months, those who had endured their original training at Inkerman, may wonder why any sane minded person would want to Volunteer ever to go back there, but they did and there was a long waiting list to get into the wing and only Regulars (Not National Service men) were selected.
We were instructed in Morse Code, an experience which continued in your brain dad it dad a dit even when asleep. Field Telephones became the next skill, this required the running out of miles of telephone cable from a winch on the back of a land rover, over every piece of MOD land in the south of England, around, over or under each and every obstacle known to man and even more known to our instructors, who would delight in some way to break the lines and test our skills in getting the phones ever to work again. Next came the WS19 (Wireless Set) so heavy it took 2 men to carry it, and another to bring along the Battery, with both HF and VHF frequencies and a 12 foot aerial, mounted on top of our Landrovers, it was considered to be the latest and best equipment the British Army could provide.
Some 50 years later we can only marvel at the advances that have been made in Wireless communications: Mobiles Phones that send pictures in seconds. Lap Tops, Tablets, I pads, Optical Fibre cables, flat screen plasma TV,s. Who needs a signal course, when all we now have to do is press the button. We old ones just have to learn: Which B……..y button.