Socials, a Photostat machine and our own Landing Craft
Numerous invitations arrived from various units on the Rock. Usually sergeant’s messes such as REME, Service Corps, Royal Engineers, Royal Signals and they all had great facilities. The RAF had some of the best. Going to these shindigs were wonderful, with plenty of booze and eats. If one wished to organise it, one could have been out every night except the night you reciprocated. One thing about it that was rather off was the officer (the alcoholic) attended these invites with the lads and got in a hell of a state and was very embarrassing at times. I met more alcoholics in Gib than anywhere else. All services had their fair share it seemed. We eventually got him into a civilian suit after a while that made him a little less conspicuous but it was his condition that was the trouble, having to be man-handled back after most invitations.
All these social occasions were great for my watch business and it proved a very good move. Overall, I had to give up sun bathing and sports and even miss a class now and again to complete the trades.
We found a source of water from one of the messes and transported it in a 10cwt Morris Truck that we eventually bought on the never-never system from a sergeant. Actually, one never knows the army until you get involved with the sergeants mess. They actually run the system by themselves, kidding the officers into believing they are running the affairs. All the contacts were there for doing whatever job was required with various workshops, storage warehouses all incorporated inside the Rock in a very convenient manner. Although some times ranking inspections caused a flap when swift changes took place. Some things they weren’t allowed to see.
The tunnel facing our quarters was an immense construction with natural caves and artificial openings all completed with locked doors to prevent prying eyes seeing inside.
Now we had transport and three others had joined me in the first five months we looked for further openings and found the Yanks passing through Gib on their way back to the States were eager for souvenirs. I sold my Beretta pistol for a tidy sum to one Yank. Plenty of cigarettes were available from both sides; though Yanks did not require many watches but the more expensive and better quality perfumes were dearly sought after. The Americans would sell equipment from the ship if it were detachable or surplus from stock. We negotiated a Photostat machine that eventually ended up on HMS Ocean as they were in the market for one. It came with an enormous stock of paper on two pallets.
On one occasion a Yankee cruiser had a small landing craft to sell. It was surplus to requirements and had to be disposed of. It had a full drop down front unlike the LCPs used on D-Day, which was acquired for £25 as it was going to be dumped into the Atlantic on the way to the States. The engine needed an overhaul badly and it took its place in a small marina for naval yachts in the main harbour. It came in very useful at times.
There was a method of getting part of the ill-gotten gains home. Hot water bottles could be bought on Gib and as they were in great demand back home, one could send one filled with £50 or £100 made up of £1 and £2 notes. We sat wrapping the notes around a pencil and threading them inside the bottles. I sent two water bottles home, one with £50 in and another with £100 inside, with strict instructions to my mother to put them in the bottom of my wardrobe.
It appears she followed this through to the letter until her sister Hilda was in need of a hot water bottle one night and she gave her one of mine that she got rid of 12 months later because it had some sort of funny bits of paper inside. So £50 quid went for a Burton – such is life. I couldn’t possibly have told my mother what was inside those bottles, as it would have worried her to death.
All these social occasions were great for my watch business and it proved a very good move. Overall, I had to give up sun bathing and sports and even miss a class now and again to complete the trades.
We found a source of water from one of the messes and transported it in a 10cwt Morris Truck that we eventually bought on the never-never system from a sergeant. Actually, one never knows the army until you get involved with the sergeants mess. They actually run the system by themselves, kidding the officers into believing they are running the affairs. All the contacts were there for doing whatever job was required with various workshops, storage warehouses all incorporated inside the Rock in a very convenient manner. Although some times ranking inspections caused a flap when swift changes took place. Some things they weren’t allowed to see.
The tunnel facing our quarters was an immense construction with natural caves and artificial openings all completed with locked doors to prevent prying eyes seeing inside.
Now we had transport and three others had joined me in the first five months we looked for further openings and found the Yanks passing through Gib on their way back to the States were eager for souvenirs. I sold my Beretta pistol for a tidy sum to one Yank. Plenty of cigarettes were available from both sides; though Yanks did not require many watches but the more expensive and better quality perfumes were dearly sought after. The Americans would sell equipment from the ship if it were detachable or surplus from stock. We negotiated a Photostat machine that eventually ended up on HMS Ocean as they were in the market for one. It came with an enormous stock of paper on two pallets.
On one occasion a Yankee cruiser had a small landing craft to sell. It was surplus to requirements and had to be disposed of. It had a full drop down front unlike the LCPs used on D-Day, which was acquired for £25 as it was going to be dumped into the Atlantic on the way to the States. The engine needed an overhaul badly and it took its place in a small marina for naval yachts in the main harbour. It came in very useful at times.
There was a method of getting part of the ill-gotten gains home. Hot water bottles could be bought on Gib and as they were in great demand back home, one could send one filled with £50 or £100 made up of £1 and £2 notes. We sat wrapping the notes around a pencil and threading them inside the bottles. I sent two water bottles home, one with £50 in and another with £100 inside, with strict instructions to my mother to put them in the bottom of my wardrobe.
It appears she followed this through to the letter until her sister Hilda was in need of a hot water bottle one night and she gave her one of mine that she got rid of 12 months later because it had some sort of funny bits of paper inside. So £50 quid went for a Burton – such is life. I couldn’t possibly have told my mother what was inside those bottles, as it would have worried her to death.