h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Um! ah naw wot yer meen lass wen yer say "Ah is new ti this game cos it hez taken ME aw this time ti get this message ti this stage"

I count my blessing since I have managed so far without disaster and wait ti see if I get an answer to this one. Ta ta fer now and please forgive the long wait for an answer.
Tom. P.s. Nice name (Daffodil) :0)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOM - HAVE A GOOD ONE!

Thanks Daffodil, Ye Gods! it is nice to get something to work here at long last.
Being self taught has it's moments but it is a long slow job when there is no one to help.
However it looks like the Gods have smiled on me at long last.
Cheers for now and I hope this works. :0) T

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/alabaster/U235897

Thanks Tom - What a fascinating life you've lived!

My pleasure :0)

BARN YARD HASTLE

or

BARNARD CASTLE

I joined the Army in Sept 1938 and served seven years with the colors, albeit four of those years were in various German POW camps, where I continued to harass the enemy by sabotaging their railway wagons.
But then WW2 came to an end and after being de-mobbed I spent some time in a resettlement unit near Peterborough.
Then I got married and settled down and was working at a Chemical factory in my home town.
One morning I got a letter and a Rail Warrant instructing me to report to Barnard Castle to spend a fortnight going on maneuvers with some Territorial blokes since I was still on the Army Reserve list and would be for another five years.
Because I could drive a vehicle and had a license I was told to report to the M.T. Section
There I was presented with a 30 cwt truck with a four wheel drive and told to look after it while it was in my keeping because they wanted it back in good condition when I had finished with it in six weeks time.

One day I was told to report to C Coy square with my truck and wait for some blokes to fall in and wait and the usual inspection.

The blokes drifted out of the barracks and in full combat gear and formed up.
Then a Sergeant who looked like Smoky the Bear waddled onto the scene and began an inspection and walked up and down the ranks muttering, “ Ger a new blade in yer razor!”
and, “Get yer ‘air cut, gorrit?” then standing in front of another bloke he looked him up and down and then slowly shook his head and the bloke he was looking at began to slowly shake his head as well in unison while staring glassy eyed at the Sergeant.
A voice from the rear rank muttered, “ ‘ere! ah bet ‘e thinks ‘e’s lookin’ in a bleed’n’ mirrer!

As I sat there in my nice warm truck watching this comedy unfold it began to rain and I thought, “Oh Gawd! a fortnight of this is going to drive me and the truck up the wall’

My reverie was shattered by a voice screaming , ‘Right you’se blokes ---on truck’

The uniformed ranks suddenly broke and scattered then made a beeline for the line of waiting trucks.

There was an almighty bang as some one let the tail door of my truck drop, and it suddenly stopped swinging as someone prized the metal step down that was attached to the door.
Hob nailed boots suddenly began clattering in the back of the truck then the side door to the cab opened and a Second Lieutenant got in and said, ‘Right driver when you are ready, go to the main road and get into the convoy and just follow the truck in front of you’
I had not heard the back door being fastened so I thought I ought to check it since the safety of the occupants was now my concern.
‘ What are you doing’ snarled the Officer as I opened my side door.
I said, ‘I cannot set off with the back door down Sir’
“I told you to go, now go’ almost screamed the Officer.
“ Sorry sir ‘ said I, and I jumped out and sure enough the tail gate was still down.
The blokes sitting inside grinned and one said, ‘Och we wus juist noo tossin’ wha wus gan ti shut the back gate fer ye’.
I paid no heed but slammed the tailgate up and put the securing pins in then went back to the cab and got in.
The fuming Officer had a little notebook out and asked me for my name and number.
Having written it down and white with rage he very quietly asked, ‘Do you think we might join the rest now’
I made no comment but set off for the main road and made a mental note of the types of Officers I had met during my service and thought that if I ever got round to writing a book I would call it, “The Good, the Bad and the friggin’ Rich”
But some back stud beat me to it.
Well they changed the, “Rich” to “Ugly” but the meaning is near enough the same.

However this dummy who was the offspring of some twit who was either too broke to purchase a rubber over coat for his pet rabbit or too slow to obey the frantic signals of nature, fitted none of the afore said descriptions, so I just put him in a category all on his own, “Le Back Stud Miserable” or perhaps just plain, “Dumbkopf”

I waited for a gap in the line of other trucks that were already on the road and having finally gotten into the queue we moved more or less at walking speed until about quarter of a mile had been covered then the speed picked up.
We arrived at a wooded area near a Farm and we were told to park near the haystack.

The young Officer snarled to me, ‘Right you can join the rest in digging a trench over there’ and he pointed indicating the haystack.
He added with a tight smile, ‘If you think you are going to sit in that truck and watch us dig you are mistaken’
“Us dig Sir?” I enquired, “You mean you are really going to show me how to do it Sir?”

It did not bother me one bit, I had seen this type so many times before and they were boring.
One bloke standing near me grinned, “ Oi don’ thin’ ‘e’ loiks yew’ owd mate?”

Then the Officer drew a line in the dirt at the rear of the haystack with his cane and told us to dig a slit trench there.

‘The enemy will advance from over there’ he quaffed, and taking hold of his field glasses he peered at some cows grazing on the side of a hill.

One of the blokes digging next to me caught my eye and grinned, ‘Weer the f-k did yu find that twit?” and nodded after the Officer who was now striding toward the Farmhouse as if his trousers were made of vulcanized rubber and were two sizes too small at the crotch.
I said I had not found him but we were saddled with him for this exercise, but he was a pain in the butt in my humble opinion.

We dug the trench and I suggested we pull some straw out of the stack to put over the trench to disguise it and then we could hide under it and when the Lollypop bandit came back he wouldn’t know where we were.
One bright bloke said, “If we lay our rifles ower the top they will hod up the hay and no bugger will see us and we can get wa’ heeds doon”
I said, ‘The trench should be the other side of the stack, we have no field of fire here it is blocked by the stack and since any enemy that is coming at us from our now blind side we might just as well have a sleep until they came to take us prisoners.”
One Geordie bloke said, ‘Wha giz a s--t, ahm gitt’n mah heed doon,’ gee’s a shoot wen the ass’l gits back tae wha’
Then suddenly a Lockheed Lightning plane flew over and Geordie grumbled, ‘It’s al’ reet fer him, he’s gan ter be hame fer his tea an’ his missus while us silly buggers is sittin’ yer in the f-n’ mud an’ rain.’

That night the blokes were scattered all over the place, no one knew what was happening and we were just going through the motions so to speak.
It was cold and wet and I got into my truck that night and got under the tarpaulin and went to sleep.

The next day we got back to Barnard Castle camp and I was told to have the day off because I had been out all night on the exercise.

What turned out to be a long boring day suddenly brightened up that evening when another very pleasant Officer (Well! they always are when they want something for nothing, but I don’t think this bloke even had a clue on how to be unpleasant) came into the room and upon sighting me asked, ‘Are you a driver?’
‘Yes sir’ I replied.
‘Good!’ he chortled, could we go to your truck immediately because we are going to Darlington’
I protested, ‘But Sir, I do not come back to duty until tomorrow, I was out on an exercise all through last night’
‘My dear chap’ sighed the Officer in pleading tones, ‘ There are about thirty of our chaps drunk and in the lock up in Darlington and if we don’t get them out before morning they could be all fined.”

‘The Police Sergeant has assured me if we get them out tonight they will forget about it, but if they are there in the morning they will have to go before the Magistrate.’

On the assurance that I would get tomorrow off we got into the truck and took off for Darlington.

The Officer must have known the area because he guided me to the local Nick where we pulled up and the Officer jumped out.
I got out and dropped the tail door in anticipation of the blokes coming out of the Police cells.

Soon they began to trickle out in twos and threes, most holding each other up.
On spotting the truck one bloke guided the others to it.
‘Right me lucky lads this way fer the sky lark, Hic’
Then nodding at me he said, “Didnie tak ye lang ter get ‘ere frae oor camp laddie”
“But we showed that f-n’ shower the neet, why aye man, we ‘ad us a right f-n’punch up wi’ they locals”
‘Ah divvant nah wa’s gan ti pay fer thon mirror, sum biddy poot a hawf foo bawtle through yon bar lookin’ gless’ as weel, wit a waste o’ guid tonsil varnish, aye!”
They all got comfy on the latted seats and those who had to stand were hanging on to the metal hoops that supported the green tarpaulin that served as a roof over the back of the truck.
Then I shut the tailgate and put in the securing pins.
The Police Sergeant was then growling at the Officer, “Jist remember wit ah telt yez!” ”They’ll no get a second chance next time’
Some more muttered mumbling and then from the Officer, ‘You have my word Sergeant’

With the tail gate now secured and the Officer in his seat and the blokes in the back singing “I belang tae Glesca, dear old Glesca toon, whit’s the matter wi’ Glesca cos it’e goin’ roon an’ roon, ah’m ony a common auld worrkin’ chap, as ony yin ‘ere can see, but when ah get a couple o’ pints on a Sa’erday, Glesca belangs ter me.’ Hic, hic! We set off.

I started the engine and bearing in mind I had blokes in the back who were battling to keep their feet even on firm ground I took off gently.

There was another truck turned up so I only had half of the drunks in the back of my truck.
Every time I went round a corner the feet in the back did a rat a tat tat to keep their owners upright.
I was the leading truck and the time was coming up for 3 in the morning and I wanted to get to bed so I began to gun the pedal a bit.
These trucks with four-wheel drives tend to whine quite loud when traveling at high speed.
Soon, and well after midnight, two trucks were screaming through the drizzle and cold of the dark night loaded with stupefied swaying and trying to sing Sodjers.

I think some of the local villagers who were awakened must have been wondering what was going on.
We sped round bends and the Officer at one point was quite pale as he gripped the dashboard and quavered, ‘Have you been driving long?’
I reassured him I had been driving in the desert during WW2 and now drove an Ambulance in my hometown.
He calmed down a bit but still hung on the dashboard.
We pulled into the Camp and the other truck pulled in a minute later.
‘Bloody ‘ell mate, you had yer foot down, I couldn’t keep up wit’ yer” spat the other driver.
The Officer said, ‘Damn good bit of driving, you have beaten my time from Darlinton to the Camp and I have a Lagonda sports car.’

The happy beer sodden blokes were tumbling out the back of the truck and one bloke shouted to me, ‘That’s the best f-n’, hic ride, hic, ah’ve hed of a long while, hic, thanks mate, and with a wave he staggered away glassy eyed with his equally glassy eyed mates.
Then a bloke asked me to give him a hand because his mate was laid fast asleep propped up like a pickled mummy with a contented smile on it’s face at the front end of the truck.

When I woke up the next day it was midday and there were no more parades or orders on the board, and some chaps were even now leaving carrying their suitcases and making for home and the following day I also left for home.
The Officer who had requested my assistance that night to rescue the drunks from the clutches of the law saw me leaving and pulled up his sports car and gave me a lift to the Railway Station in Darlington.
That was the last time I saw Darlington.
And if the arrogant twit who was so keen to book me for not immediately obeying his stupid order and thus endangering the lives of the occupants in the rear of my truck reads this, I ponder if he has the wisdom to understand it.
But I wonder if any of those blokes who where in that Cop shop in Darlington that night long ago would write in and verify this true story.

Tom Barker. 1st Bn A&SH
Born 23rd May 1921