There were some very interesting members of the band. One musician in particular was Len Pankhurst. He was a pianist who used to go ashore and have his quota of 'Scrumpy' and then return to the camp and spend quite sometime in the cinema,[he had his own key] playing various piano concertos. Although these performances usually took place late at night, he never seemed to upset anyone and it would appear that it was the accepted thing. Another member of the band who was quite a character was a musician called Wyatt. I can't remember his first name, but he had a flower and vegetable garden just outside our hut. He was known as 'Dopey' Wyatt as he would take his trumpet and stand outside the hut and play to his flowers and vegetables everyday. He swore that his playing encouraged everything in his garden to grow. [who knows? He might have been right.] I have heard of a certain prince who is known have talked to flowers and the like. Another thing I remember is that in that band we had five musicians with the name of Smith. Of course in order not to cause confusion, they were always referred to by their initials. Once I left Lympstone, I only ever came across one of the 'Smiths' again. Strange, as it was usual to at least meet up with people you had served with previously at some time. The final character I will mention who also served at the ITC is a Band Cpl. by the name of Peake. He was about five foot two and was very clever arranging music. For a concert that was to be given within the camp he arranged the overture to William Tell, in 'Spike Jones' fashion. If you are too young to know who 'Spike Jones' was, you should 'look him up'. One of my everlasting memories of the ITCRM was one weekend when I was not required for duty until the Sunday morning for a Church parade with the band. I decided to 'hitch hike' to see my parents. Early on the Friday afternoon I left camp and being lucky getting lifts, it was not long before I was in Plymouth enjoying the comfort of home and a little pocket money from my mum. This certainly helped to supplement my meager pay of 28 shillings a fortnight [which is one pound forty pence]. Come Saturday, armed with my train fare, extra pocket money and 'goodies' to eat on the way, I started my return journey to camp. This meant a train to Exeter, then changing to another station before catching another train as far as Exton Station, then a walk to camp. Anyway, having settled into a corner seat and heading for Exeter I soon dozed off. The next thing I remember was the train grinding to a halt and someone on the platform shouting "Taunton, Taunton". Knowing that Taunton was further on from Exeter I made a quick exit from the train. Having explained my predicament to the ticket collector on the platform he suggested that I caught the 'milk train' back to Exeter. The time was then about 10.45pm and the milk train was not due in until after midnight. By this time it had started raining so I just sat in a cold waiting room until the train arrived. Eventually I arrived in Exeter to find that there were no more trains to Exmouth until the morning. I then counted my cash to find I only had a pound. So I spoke to a taxi driver and asked how far he could take me for a pound. He said he would take me as far as Topsham, which was about two miles from camp. So off we started. By this time the rain was really heavy and we duly arrived at Topsham and the driver continued towards the camp. I reminded him that I only had a pound and he said something to the effect that he would take me to the camp as it was raining so hard and he doubted if he would get another 'fare' by the time he got back to Exeter. Having returned to camp I managed a few hours sleep before getting up and going for a wash.[the washhouse and toilets were in a separate building] I then went to breakfast. On my return to the hut I saw that no one else had moved so I asked what time we had to be ready for the church parade. Oh! That was cancelled yesterday, came the reply. I know what I am about to write will not mean much to anyone in particular but it was while I was at Lympstone that I received some advice on 'ironing'. I was attempting to iron a shirt, and not making a very good job of it when one of the Band Corporals took over and suggested I worked to a system. He showed me exactly what he meant, and I have used that system ever since. In early June 1948, still a Boy Bugler, I was selected to join an augmented Band and Buglers from the three Groups to work-up for a Royal Tour on the battleship HMS Vanguard. |
