(Unreliable) Memoirs of a GCGS ACF Cadet

"The ACF was popular not so much because people wanted to wear military style clothes or learn how to march on a parade ground but more because it offered a number of extra curricula activities to be found nowhere else at the time.
Meetings were held on a Friday evening. It always started with a parade and inspection. The company was split into three troops - Kilo, Lima and Mike - and was led by Major Head. Mr. Head also taught French I seem to remember but was a tireless worker for the ACF. He seemed to have amazing contacts and organized a number of things. After parade we would go to various lessons including map reading, how to take bearings using a compass and how to clean rifles. The rifles were old .303 Lee Enfield and were closely guarded. Each one had a number and was assigned to a specific cadet.
The older members of the troop would give the lessons and they in turn were trained by the officers. At various stages there were competency tests that gave you insignia to wear if you passed. There were also rank promotions, going from private to lance corporal to corporal. The company had one sergeant. All ranks above this were adults. There were two other officers apart from Major Head, but I cannot recall their names. There were also external courses such as the motor course and I have included a copy of this certificate. Examination for promotions included such life important abilities as being able to give audible orders to a cadet marching on the other side of a parade ground!
After the main events were over and the .303 rifles safely locked away we would go over to an indoor range at Browndown to fire .22 rifles. Again there were competency badges to be won, the highest of which was marksman. This was a relatively easy one to get so to liven things up we would put cardboard canisters of Vim behind the targets that would explode in a cloud of white powder when you hit them.
On Sundays we would go to the outdoor range at Browndown and fire .303. This was much more controlled since you were firing live ammunition that would travel over 1000 yards. They had to clear an area at sea in the Solent that was considered at risk before you could start. Again there were badges to be won. These were much more difficult to achieve and acquiring marksman status carried significant respect. We once entered a national shooting contest held at Bisley (a Mecca for rifle shooting at the time) I remember. We did not do well, but we did sneak out and see "Girl on a Motorcycle" in town, which was considered a very risqué movie at the time. We were almost caught getting back into the barracks but managed to avoid the guards.
Every year we would go for two weeks on a camp together with other companies from the area. Tales of these camps are legion. There was significant rivalry between the companies, and being war all was fair! Each company had to provide a group to carry out guard duty at the gate. We took this very seriously, playing a bugle to raise and lower the flag and going two hours on and two hours off at night to patrol the perimeter. Cadets could not be out after midnight and I remember arresting one Isle-of-Wight troop officer for bringing cadets back at 1 o'clock in the morning. The guardhouse had a real cell in it; needless to say he was not happy. But the court martial next day agreed with us, and some punishment was handed out. Part of these camps always included a 36-hour exercise when we would sleep out in bivouacs. We carried our rifles loaded with blanks. These can still do a lot of damage at close quarters and it is amazing that in the pitch black of a forest at night no one was ever hurt. Again stories of cadets sleep walking off into the forest at night and some of the very strange culinary practices are legion.
Night exercises were also held in Browndown a couple of times a year but these always ended at a reasonable time and everyone went home.
One of the external awards you were encouraged to get was the Duke of Edinburgh Awards. To get these you had to carry out community service as well as complete a march from 20 miles at Bronze level to 50 miles at Gold level. I did most of mine in the New Forest. Major Head would always try to organize something fun during these. We were once taken to our start point in a helicopter, once we abseiled down a cliff face and once he had organized an evening exercise with a company from the Isle-of-Wight (who were a bunch of wimps by the way who got soundly beaten). The only bad thing was that he had always warned the pubs near your campsite that you were around so you could never get a beer in the evening!"
Paul Carpenter (Blunt)

"You were not allowed to join until the second form, and I couldn't wait. The unit met at an old Army camp in Jellicoe Avenue when I first joined, a collection of wooden huts, although fairly soon we acquired our own hut behind the girls bike sheds. Major Carroll was OC with Captain Head as his 2OC. I joined at the earliest opportunity and was soon introduced to the wonders of duraglit and blanco, spit and polish, and attempting to put a razor crease in those hairy trousers that resisted all my efforts with a will. My weekday evenings were spent in polishing brasses and bulling boots for the Friday parade. I can remember so well sitting in the classroom in my itchy uniform, trying desperately not to spoil the creases, on a hot Friday afternoon.
Major Carroll retired and "Bonce" was elevated to Major. We soon had two new officers in the shape of 2nd Lts Challen and Joyce. I can remember distinctly Sergt Vick and Sergt Major Jones whose nickname for some weird reason was "Polly". There were two brothers called Christopher. The elder one was nicknamed "Flugg", again, for some reason that has escaped me!
The highlights of the ACF were many and various. I used to enjoy the night exercises and the field days when we would skirmish around the countryside with Lee Enfield rifles! Can you imagine that nowadays? Summer camp was almost obligatory, not that I needed any persuading. I can distinctly remember getting on the train at Fareham en route to Plasterdown Camp in Devon and smoking "illegal" Peter Stuyvesant cigarettes and feeling most grown up. Once there we did expeditions on Dartmoor, made rafts, went to the NAAFI, and all sorts of wondrous things. I even volunteered for Easter camp and went to Marchwood Depot. My only recollection of that camp is that Polly came into our billet while we were sleeping and wrecked it, and not one of us woke up!! Fine soldiers were we!
Rifle shooting was also on offer, both .22 and .303. The .22 range was at Haslar and I used to go there for target shooting after Friday parade. The Browndown ranges were the venue for the "real" stuff. Live ammunition and the wonderful Lee Enfield Mk2. I was quite good at target shooting and was in the team that went to Bisley for the County competition. It was there I got the biggest "rollicking " I have ever had. There were various sideshows and while you were not competing you could go around these. One of them was a small range with Colt 45 handguns. I just had to have a go at this so I paid my money and stepped up on to the range. With a loaded and cocked .45 I then decided to ask a question, and turned around with the weapon pointing straight at the NCO in charge. The air turned blue, my ears shrivelled, and I have never forgotten the incident to this day. I rather suspect the NCO still remembers it too.
I could go on and on with Duke of Edinburgh Award schemes and much more besides but enough for now. My last words must be to thank all those involved in giving me such memories, particularly "Bonce" whose enthusiasm under the most trying circumstances was utterly boundless. "
John F Hollingdale