Scarcely had we fallen into bed and
closed our eyes after 'lights out' than we found ourselves being shaken
awake and bawled at by a sergeant to "Moooove your asses …. NOW!" I looked at my watch. It was 3.30
a.m. Feeling that some dreadful mistake had been made, I rolled over to
get back to sleep again, a practice that failed to engender the NCO's
sympathy.
A bemused Brit who served with the US Army in the 1950s recalls some of
the humorous highlights of a life among the GIs: the 330lb New York
Giants football hero with whom he shared a double bunk... the Polish
asylum seeker who knew the Uniform Code of Military Justice by heart...
the short-sighted and excitable Greek... the Virgin Islander who made a
habit of dropping live hand grenades... the company master-sergeant who
tended accidentally to call out his own name in morning assemblies...
And of course there's the author himself – who got the best job in the
Army, complete with a Colt 45, eight rounds of live ammunition and
permission to shoot anyone who got in his way.
Chris Holloway spent ten years as a resident in the United States,
where, apart from two years' reluctant service in the armed forces, he
worked at Cunard Line's North American hea More...
