Skip to main content

Ode to Blandford Army Camp

 

There’s an isolated, desolated spot I’d like to mention,

Where all you hear is ‘Stand at Ease’, ‘Slope Arms’, ‘Quick March’, ‘Attention’.

It’s miles away from anywhere, by Gad, it’s a rum’un,

A chap lived there for fifty years and never saw a woman.

 

There’s only two lamps in the place, so tell it to your mother,

The postman carries one, the policeman has the other.

And if you want a jolly night, and do not care a jot,

You take a ride upon the car, the car they haven’t got.

 

There are lots of little huts, all dotted here and there,

For those who have to live inside, I’ve offered many a prayer.

Inside the huts, there’s RATS as big as any nanny goat,

Last night a soldier saw one fitting on his overcoat.

 

For breakfast every morning, just like Mother Hubbard,

You double round the bloomin’ hut and jump up at the cupboard.

Sometimes you get bacon, sometimes ‘lively’ cheese,


That forms platoon upon your plate, orders arms and stands at ease.

 

It’s mud up to the eyebrows, you get it in your ears,

But into it you’ve got to go without a sign of fear.

And when you’ve had a bath of mud, you just set to and groom,

And get cleaned up for next parade, or else it’s ‘Orderly Room’.

 

Week in, week out, from morn to night, with full pack and rifle,

Like Jack & Jill, you climb the hills, of course that’s just a trifle.

Slope Arms’, ‘Fix Bayonets’, then ‘Pressed’, they fairly put you through it,

And as you stagger to your hut, the sergeant shouts ‘Jump to it’.

 

There’s another kind of drill, especially invented for the Army,

I think they call it Swedish, and it nearly drives you barmy.

This blinking drill, it does you good, it makes your bones so tender,

You can coil yourself up like a snake and crawl beneath the fender.

 

With tunics, boots and putties off, you quickly get the habit,

You gallop up and down the hills just like a bloomin’ rabbit.

Heads Back & Bend’, ‘Arms Upward Stretch’, ‘Heads Raise’ then ‘Ranks, Change Places’,

And later on they make you put your kneecaps where your face is.

 

Now when the war is over and we’ve captured Kaiser Billy,

To shoot him would be merciful and absolutely silly.

Just send him down to our old camp, among the rats and clay,

And I bet it won’t be long before he droops and fades away.

But we’re still ‘Merry and Bright!

(Source: a 1914-18 War postcard about Blandford Camp)

 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

True Lovers Knot - a Tragic Tale

True Lovers Knot public house describes itself as a traditional  inn set in a picturesque Dorset valley in Tarrant Keynston. Yet, this historical hostelry is said to have gained its name from a particularly tragic tale and still to be haunted by a distressed former publican. This publican’s son met and fell in love with the daughter of the local squire. Because the young lad was not from the gentry they decided to keep their relationship secret from her father. Unfortunately, a stable hand saw the two young lovers together and told her father. Set firmly against this friendship the squire made plans to send his daughter away from the district. Not able to face up to life without her boyfriend, the young girl decided to commit suicide and hanged herself from a tree in the village. So upset was the publican’s son of hearing of his girlfriend’s death he too hanged himself from the same tree. The Tarrant Keynston publican had, himself lost his wife at child birth and now losing his son b

Tarrant Rushton's Nuclear Secret

Tarrant Rushton was a large RAF base used for glider operations during World War II. It was then taken over by Flight Refuelling for the conversion of aircraft for the development of aircraft in-flight refuelling. However, between 1958 & 1965, the Tarrant Rushton airfield had a much more secretive and less publicised role. This was in support of the nation’s nuclear bomber deterrent, as Tarrant Rushton airfield became a QRA (Quick Reaction Alert) dispersal unit.   During 1958, contractors Costain reinforced the main runway and carried out other work to ensure the giant bomber aircraft could be accommodated. At times just a few miles from Blandford, there would have been up to four RAF Vickers Valiant bombers at Tarrant Rushton ready to become airborne in minutes charged with nuclear weapons. The bombers were from 148 Squadron at RAF Marham in Norfolk. As there was no suitable accommodation at the airfield, an old US Air Force Hospital building at Martin was used. At the time, the

Chimney Sweep Tragedy

Crown Hotel, Blandford is reckoned to be one of Dorset’s oldest hostelries. Yet its most tragic day, during a long history, must surely be when a young chimney sweep lost his life. The chimney sweep, who was just a child, suffocated and was burnt to death in a Crown Hotel chimney which had been alight a little while before. ‘His cries were dreadful and no-one could give assistance. Part of the chimney was taken down before he was got out.’ (Salisbury & Winchester Gazette 27th March 1780) The lad had gone up one chimney and attempting to go down another had become stuck. At the time children were used to climb up chimneys to clean out soot deposits. With hands and knees, they would shimmy up narrow dark flue spaces packed thick with soot and debris. After the 1731 Great Fire of Blandford it was realised that it was important to sweep chimneys regularly while many rebuilt houses had narrower ones. Smaller chimneys and complicated flues were a potential death trap for children. The sw