Post by Les on Sept 16, 2015 19:58:44 GMT
Now it may come as a surprise to younger readers but in the early sixties we were forever being warned of the danger of an imminent nuclear bomb attack, especially in the early sixties and the time of President Kennedy.
Tonbridge Road in Maidstone was the home of the local civil defence, not as you may have imagined that they would have taken up arms, that was not the purpose. The civil defence of which I was a member would have been mobilised in the event of a nuclear bomb to rescue, feed and generally assist in the immediate areas.
Now you might think that all this would have been pretty heavy going, well it did have its lighter moments.
I joined with a friend, he in communications and I joined in the rescue section. We were issued with uniforms (more of which I will mention later) in dark blue with berets, belts, boots the whole caboodle. They whisked us off to the furthermost secret regions of Maidstone, namely Oakwood Hospital where we had our own specially chilled room for lectures( not that it was meant to be chilled that was how it felt) where we were taught how to put up paper on windows to help stop glass causing to much damage when the blast came, how long after the blast, if we survived, before we could venture outside and all sorts of interesting things including making bomb shelters in the home.
Thank God we never had to put into practise in earnest all that we learned.
Being at the time a mere lad of seventeen, I was extremely active in my support and learning.
We were involved in a full exercise but never told where we were being taken, obviously for the sake of security. The exercise took place on a Sunday and we had to be fully prepared and uniformed up including our working gear to be taken to a place unknown to participate in an exercise.
I duly arrived and we the rescue team were ushered to a garage to pick up a lorry dating back to World War 2. The lorry in question had only done eight hundred miles in its entire life even though it was in excess of twenty years old. What a pig to start it was. I was surprised that the first thing we had to load onto the lorry wasn’t as you would have thought rescue equipment but the largest supply of bottle beer I had ever seen.
We pulled ourselves up into the heavily laden beer lorry, sorry rescue lorry and were driven for about half an hour. That’s when we broke down for the first time, with all the rescue equipment and beer there had been no room for tools. The AA were called and eventually we were again on the road, I realise that memory is a strange thing but I am sure that we broke down a further three times, and the beer supply was going down.
I still laugh when I think with such care how we loaded the crates of beer and the way we just threw the rescue equipment on.
We eventually made it to the exercise and personally I was in no state to help anyone but the women’s section made the strongest blackest coffee they could under the circumstances and we were ready for anything, apart from running every few minutes for a wee. It’s always been my downfall once I start I just can’t stop.
I have no idea how we got home or even if I did get home that day but it was worth joining just for the giggles.
The civil defence was disbanded, I think in the late sixties. I flogged my uniform and boots, something I have always regretted, but needs must when the devil drives.
Tonbridge Road in Maidstone was the home of the local civil defence, not as you may have imagined that they would have taken up arms, that was not the purpose. The civil defence of which I was a member would have been mobilised in the event of a nuclear bomb to rescue, feed and generally assist in the immediate areas.
Now you might think that all this would have been pretty heavy going, well it did have its lighter moments.
I joined with a friend, he in communications and I joined in the rescue section. We were issued with uniforms (more of which I will mention later) in dark blue with berets, belts, boots the whole caboodle. They whisked us off to the furthermost secret regions of Maidstone, namely Oakwood Hospital where we had our own specially chilled room for lectures( not that it was meant to be chilled that was how it felt) where we were taught how to put up paper on windows to help stop glass causing to much damage when the blast came, how long after the blast, if we survived, before we could venture outside and all sorts of interesting things including making bomb shelters in the home.
Thank God we never had to put into practise in earnest all that we learned.
Being at the time a mere lad of seventeen, I was extremely active in my support and learning.
We were involved in a full exercise but never told where we were being taken, obviously for the sake of security. The exercise took place on a Sunday and we had to be fully prepared and uniformed up including our working gear to be taken to a place unknown to participate in an exercise.
I duly arrived and we the rescue team were ushered to a garage to pick up a lorry dating back to World War 2. The lorry in question had only done eight hundred miles in its entire life even though it was in excess of twenty years old. What a pig to start it was. I was surprised that the first thing we had to load onto the lorry wasn’t as you would have thought rescue equipment but the largest supply of bottle beer I had ever seen.
We pulled ourselves up into the heavily laden beer lorry, sorry rescue lorry and were driven for about half an hour. That’s when we broke down for the first time, with all the rescue equipment and beer there had been no room for tools. The AA were called and eventually we were again on the road, I realise that memory is a strange thing but I am sure that we broke down a further three times, and the beer supply was going down.
I still laugh when I think with such care how we loaded the crates of beer and the way we just threw the rescue equipment on.
We eventually made it to the exercise and personally I was in no state to help anyone but the women’s section made the strongest blackest coffee they could under the circumstances and we were ready for anything, apart from running every few minutes for a wee. It’s always been my downfall once I start I just can’t stop.
I have no idea how we got home or even if I did get home that day but it was worth joining just for the giggles.
The civil defence was disbanded, I think in the late sixties. I flogged my uniform and boots, something I have always regretted, but needs must when the devil drives.