Winter was also the time of the Saturday morning cross-country run. This was decreed to be a “scale A” parade which meant that no-one could avoid it. Even those whom the M.O. had placed on “light duties” were found some sort of job, such as acting as waymarkers along the route. They would be attired in greatcoat, scarves and gloves, and had to walk to their allotted points on the circuit. Their duty was to make sure that all the runners followed the prescribed route, with no cheating! A lot they cared; suffering as they were from various minor ailments and being made to stand around in deep snow, and sub-zero temperatures!
Those of us not in this happy band were forced to turn out in P.T. kit and take on this five mile torture, which had to be completed within thirty-five minutes. I knew I did not have a cat-in-hell’s chance of achieving this and I also knew that anyone who came in after time would have to run the damn thing again, but this time it would be before reveille on the following Monday morning, in the company of a P.T.I. corporal. Anyone who has served in the forces knows, only too well, what a sadistic bastard this would be.
On the very first of these “training runs” I set off, along with close on a thousand others, but was soon among the rearguard ( I am no runner!). We left via the rear gate and headed out across farm land. Having been around the majority of this course on route marches, which I honestly quite enjoyed, I knew that the course was roughly oval, with a point at which the outward and the homeward sides came relatively close together.
Aha, thought I, as I struggled through snow a foot deep. This is where I outsmart the rest! A little distance ahead I knew there to be a deep, wide gulley which ran at right-angles to the course, right across the field, to and beyond the return leg, and potentially shortening the run by about two miles. As I approached the gulley I could tell it was about two feet deep in snow, but what the hell! I looked about me and there was no one near so I veered off and leapt, with great self-satisfaction into my cunningly devised short cut. I landed in a heap in the cold, cold snow and took a moment to gather myself. When I looked up, there ahead of me, crawling along this snow-filled depression were about half the battalion! There must have been three hundred blokes, who had all had the same idea as me. We were all convulsed with laughter, in spite of the conditions, but we all made it back within the time limit. What fit and well-trained warriors we were!
Our lords and masters must have got wind of our little scheme, because there was a notice on Battalion Orders to the effect that steps would be taken to ensure that everyone completed the entire course in the future. It was explained that the system would work as follows. The men I have mentioned, who were not fit to run, would be stationed at various points around the course and each would have a coloured chalk with which he would mark the shorts of each man who passed him. It was, of course in your own interest to be sure you obtained all the chalkmarks, which would be checked when you reached the finishing line. What’s more, the colours would be changed every week! This provided a foolproof method of ensuring that no-one could beat the system in future. Didn’t it?
We in Support Company were known to be a pretty resourceful lot and we needed to come up with something in a hurry. Now it just happened that we had two chaps who, between them provided the answer. One of these was a stores assistant to the infamous, foul-mouthed Holy Joe in the G1098 store, wherein were stored, as well as the things listed in an earlier tale, the essential coloured chalks! The other of the two was a genuine, very keen, cross-country runner, who was certain to be first home every week.
Our plan was that our runner would go round in his usual greyhound fashion and those of us in the know, including the storeman would use our previous short-cut. We then awaited the arrival of the runner, who had happily gone all the way round. We learned from him the chalk colours of the week and proceeded to mark each other up, using the variety of chalks our storeman had swiped from the stores and secreted about his person. After a decent interval, and just in time to beat the deadline, we would stagger back! I am happy to say that I never once ran the full course and I never had to do it on a Monday morning, though I did see some poor sods setting off in the dark!