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Pull Up A Sandbag
Sandbag Reminiscences of Jeffrey Ian Hamilton Sandbag
It Worked Out In The End
I was in ‘R’ Company from October 1961 and then Dettingen Platoon from 1962 to 63.
I remember spending 7 days in the guardhouse under the watchful eyes of that Cpl Fagg. He would make me stand and clean my webbing all day and when I had finished blancoing and boxing bed packs he would ‘inspect’ my kit and throw it onto the floor. A floor l had polished for hours and then he would tell me to start all over again.
There was also the small pear shaped bombardier who took delight in marching you at 180 paces per minute but only let you go 10 yards before he called “Mark time” so he could slowly catch up with you.
Lastly, I remember when you had to line up at the guardroom to be inspected for the lorry to Aberystwyth and Fagg would send you back to sort out some silly problem and then rushing back hoping he would not find something else.
This Fagg was a disgrace, I don’t understand how he got away with what he did when we were being so highly trained in all aspects of soldiering (well that is what they told us).
I would deliberately get on RSM’s Saturday night cross order drill parade marching at 180 paces as I absolutely loved it.
In truth Tonfanau was a brilliant place for strong and very fit boys to become men. And despite everything in my case it appears to have worked out well in the end.

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