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Returning to Barford Camp for the last time before demob, I had a feeling of excitement inside of me, and I would say it was the first time I ever looked forward to getting back to camp. On the Monday morning after muster, we were informed to return to the Company Stores all items of military equipment, barring bedding. Changing into our civilian clothes as quickly as possible, just in case some one changed their minds, the whole draft, was on cloud nine. Always remembering the old saying, out of sight out of mind, we basically did nothing but lounge around talking in-groups, waiting for the naafi to open. Occasionally, CSM Driver paid a visit to the billet; he would strut around the beds without saying anything and when he reached the door he would say, “ Don’t forget your still in the army.” On the Tuesday morning, we were told the CSM wanted the lads due for demob to parade with the rest Charlie Company for morning muster. Mixed up with the men in uniform, CSM Driver marched the company on the parade ground in what must have looked completely ridiculous and so out of place. The following morning, he again marched the company on the parade ground, but this time RSM Garner was there. Looking quite astonished for a second or two, the RSM exploded into words not included in an English dictionary and literally chased the company off the square. When off the square, the RSM called over CSM Driver and although we couldn’t quite hear the words said, he certainly gave him some earache. Returning to our billets, and trying ever so hard to keep a straight face, CSM Driver passed by like a whipped dog, he muttered a few words, then sulked off down to his office. Once inside the billet everyone rolled around in fits of laughter at the complete farce of it all and I am sure without remembering the ear bashing he got, it might even bring a smile to CSM Driver’s face! Quite often lads awaiting demob, made up a 28 day calendar, which was taped to the inside of their lockers and every day leading up to demob, the days would be meticulously crossed off. These calendars, were a real sickener to see, when one is just starting out on their two years National Service, but like everything else, every dog has his day. The day of one’s demob is truly remembered by all ex-service personnel, as one of the most treasured and momentous occasions in their lives. A last night out together had been arranged at a nearby village public house on the outskirts of Barnard Castle, the night before demob. With everyone in such high spirits and the beer flowing, we were soon quite merry and indeed we had every cause to be. It was gratifying; to be with such a fine company of men, the likes of which was soon to be a memory. That night there was no misbehavior of any sort or kind, just plenty of laughs and good old fashioned Mickey taking. Staggering slightly back to camp quite late, lads would drop off at billets, to wake up and wish all the best to some of the regular soldiers who had served with them in the Cameroons. The regular soldiers took it all in good part, but deep down it must have had a very unsettling effect on them, seeing fifty men a month leaving the battalion. The next morning Thursday February 1st 1962 was demob day, having breakfast and returned our bedding to the Company Stores. We were informed that all the battalion with no exceptions, had to parade on the square in one long line dressed in civilian clothing. This came about, because a group of local people had been badly beaten up in Barnard Castle the night before, one of who was in a bad way in hospital. This took a bit of gloss off demob day, but we were still in the army and we had to do as we were told. We were told at first it was a murder job, but thankfully, this was not the case, because that was the last thing the regiment and we in the regiment wanted. It seemed most peculiar, on the parade ground stood at attention with all the battalion in one continuous line. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a young man and a girl being accompanied by RSM Garner and a few Officers. They were systematically looking into every soldier’s eyes and with there being about four hundred soldiers on the square, that is a lot of faces. It was absolutely freezing weather with an icy wind blowing off the moors and consequently the Identification parade took a long time. When the assaulted pair looked at my face, I couldn’t help but notice the black eyes the lad was sporting, both may I had were watering profusely, because of the icy wind. This was the second time I had been on an Identification parade and although one is innocent, you still worry in case you get picked out. The parade lasted well over an hour and needles to say no one got picked out and it certainly wasn’t any of our draft, because we were not in Barnard Castle on our night out. I have no doubt at all, if the lad’s eyes hadn’t been watering so profusely, he would have definitely picked out the culprits. There are always to be found some idiots, just the as there are today, who because of their stupidity everyone else gets tarred with the same brush. Eventually the Identification parade was over, all the lads getting demobbed made a mad dash to the billets to get their personal belongings. Since the railway line From Barnard Castle to Penrith had been scrapped a fortnight previously, the regimental bus was to take eight of us to Penrith for us to catch a train home to Barrow via Carnforth. In my haste and excitement to get out of the billet and board the regimental bus, I completely forgot to shake hands with Eric Shaw and Jim Prince, which I have regretted to this very day. As the regimental bus passed the lines of barrack room huts, that led to the camp exit, soldiers still in their civilian clothes were waving and giving us the thumbs up sign. Due to the Identification parade we missed our train connection a Penrith, but not to be out done we took a service bus to Lancaster, then got the train to Barrow, my two years in the army were at an end.
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