The Sixteen: The Sensational Story of Britain's Top Secret Military Assassination Squad Part 3

'Shoft shod! Bill mumbled.

'I know, I know. Look, Dave, help me keep them hidden over the weekend, mate, and Ill sort something out.

Dave obviously wasnt keen. 'Yeah, well, OK. But only over the weekend, mind, youll ave ter get sumfing sorted by Monday. I dont want ter gerrinter bovver over some daft bleedin dogs, he grumbled. 'Ere you, gimme that before you drops it. He took the other puppy from Bill then returned them both to the box outside.

Dave was as good as his word and between the three of us we managed to take it in turns to look after the puppies over the weekend, each of us smuggling bits of food back after mealtimes.

Late on Sunday night, when they returned from the NAAFI, Bill and Dave again tackled me about what I was planning to do with the puppies.

'Well, Geordie, this is it. What will you do tomorrer if were all sent to work out of camp? Dyou know where youll be this week? Bill asked, slightly drunk yet again.

'No, I havent a clue. Look, we might not all get sent out and whoever doesnt can take care of them, cant they? I pleaded with them.

'Thats easier said than done, dont forget that the sergeant as a good look around the tents when we go off every morning. Youll ave ter find somewhere else ter hide them, Dave grumbled, obviously keen to be rid of the problem.

'I know, I know! Just help me out for a little longer and Ill have a word with Lieutenant Stevens; hes sort of a pal of mine, but Ill not be able to see him until either Monday or Tuesday. Im sure h.e.l.l be able to help us.

They seemed reasonably happy with that, but I was beginning to wonder if Id done the right thing in rescuing the puppies. They were beginning to be a real problem.

The following morning began like any other Monday, at 6.00 a.m., when the d.a.m.n bugle blew. But on this particular Monday morning, my name wasnt called out for a working party out of the camp; instead I was told to report to the cookhouse, which was a relief. Once there I thought I might be able to sort something out for the puppies.

As soon as we were dismissed, I reported to the cookhouse to get my orders off the Sergeant Cook then dashed back to my tent. The parade ground was deserted now so I grabbed the cardboard box with the puppies in it and dashed across to the cookhouse. There was a gap between the cooks sleeping quarters and the cookhouse wall that was only about a yard away from where I was working and I hid the box with the puppies in there before sneaking back into the cookhouse. I started to wash the stacks of breakfast pots and pans knowing that after about two hours of this I would be finished until lunchtime and so free to go and look for Lieutenant Stevens.

For the next two hours I scrubbed and cleaned the dixies and pots and pans, sweat pouring from me; it was literally an oven in the cookhouse! I couldnt understand how the cooks put up with the intense heat from about five in the morning until six at night, with only a short break in between. From my workstation, I could see across the parade ground as I scrubbed away and when I saw Lieutenant Stevens striding across the other side of it, I immediately dropped the pan I was cleaning and ran after him. I knew that if anyone could help me with the puppies he could.

From the odd bits of conversation wed had, I knew him to be a real dog lover and hoped he would be able to help me find good homes for the puppies. I told him my slightly far-fetched story about finding them running around on their own outside the camp and although he seemed somewhat dubious of my explanation, he followed me over to where they were hidden. When he saw them, however, he gave me a long hard look. The puppies were so young they could barely walk.

He looked at me suspiciously. 'Urwin, I could get into serious trouble over this. Where did you say you found them? he asked, picking one of them up and holding it in front of his face. 'They seem far too young to be taken away from their mother.

'I found them over by the fence, Sir, I think they may have been dumped there. Ive fed them and they can drink and eat on their own.

'Hmm. OK. Right, leave it with me, Ill see if I can get rid of them somehow, he told me unenthusiastically, as he lifted the other puppy from the box. For one awful moment, I thought he might be going to have them put down.

'What are you going to do, youre not going to have them killed, are you, Sir? I asked anxiously.

He looked at me steadily for a moment before replying evenly: 'What do you take me for, Urwin? Ill ask around a couple of other regiments on the island who use dogs as company mascots. Theyll be perfectly all right, dont worry. Leave them here and Ill collect them later. Make sure youre not caught with them! he warned as he handed the puppies back and marched off.

At every opportunity, I slipped out from the cookhouse with sc.r.a.ps of food and even a little milk for them. Then at about two in the afternoon another Sergeant Cook, a huge fat bloke from 518 Company officers mess, strode into the cookhouse.

'Well, well. Look what Ive got here! Whos responsible for this, you know theres no dogs supposed to be anywhere on the camp and especially near the food, he bawled.

Looking up, my heart sank. He was standing holding one of the puppies by the scruff of the neck. Id worked under him briefly in the officers mess and for some reason he didnt like me one bit.

'Theyre going to other regiments to be trained as mascots, I told him.

'Is that a fact? Who says so?

'Lieutenant Stevens! I blurted out, quickly taking the puppy from him. 'They belong to Lieutenant Stevens, he asked me to look after them for him.

He looked at me for a moment through his narrow, piggy eyes then appeared to accept my explanation.

'Well, get them away from here, he ordered, nastily. 'You always seem to be at the bottom of something or other, dont you Urwin?

'I dont know what you mean, Sarge, I said, trying to sound truthful.

The Sergeant Cook of the cookhouse strode over to us and spoke abruptly to the fat sergeant.

'Whats going on here? Leave that lad alone; hes working for me not you. Anyway, what the h.e.l.l are you doing over here, you fat slob?

'OK. OK. Keep your hair on! I only came to borrow a couple of tins of corned beef, the fat sergeant said defensively. 'Theres no need to be like that.

'Here, then, the Sergeant Cook said, throwing a couple of tins towards him. 'Now push off.

The fat sergeant sent a belligerent look in my direction then waddled off.

'You want to keep well away from that one, Urwin, the Sergeant Cook warned me with a nod at the others departing back. 'Hes a nasty piece of work so dont you go making an enemy of him.

Lieutenant Stevens was as good as his word and came back for the puppies early in the afternoon; I was so relieved that they were going to be looked after.

'Dont do this again, Urwin! he warned, and then in a friendlier tone asked, 'By the way, whatever happened to that stammer of yours?

'Sold it, Sir, I replied, cheekily.

He just smiled and shook his head as he walked away with the puppies. I never saw them again and once Id explained to Dave and Bill what had happened when they returned to camp that night, I never mentioned the puppies again.

I realised that I should have listened to Dynamo and the others and trusted their judgement when theyd warned me I simply couldnt afford to draw any undue attention to myself at all! Id learned an invaluable lesson I had to keep a low profile at all times.

That night as I lay dozing on my bunk, I thought back over the events of the last few days and months. Just how had it all come about? How had I, an ordinary eighteen-year-old Geordie lad, become part of such an elite and highly covert a.s.sa.s.sination squad?

CHAPTER 3.

IN THE ARMY NOW.

It seemed like only yesterday when Id said goodbye to my mother and sisters at Newcastle Central Station to head off to Wrexham, North Wales, in order to undergo six weeks basic training before starting my two years National Service.

Id always been very close to my mother and hadnt wanted to leave home when Id received my call-up papers. But the only choice Id been given was that I didnt have to go into the forces if I was serving my time as an apprentice, learning a trade. I wanted to be a mechanic and had a job at a local garage, but right from the start, Id known there was no future in it for me there. I wasnt being properly trained just used as a dogsbody, a grease monkey; the b.u.t.t of constant taunts and jokes about my terrible stammer.

Mam and I discussed my going into the army. Naturally she was very upset about it, she didnt like the idea of my being away from home with the real possibility of being killed as, at that time, there was still so much trouble and unrest throughout the world after the war. However, a couple of days after receiving the papers, I was outside messing about with my motorbike when Mam called me into the house. Putting her hand on my shoulder she stared at me for a few moments and then said quietly, 'Do it, son. Join the army and get away from that miserable, moaning father of yours. Its probably the only chance youll get to see a bit of the world and maybe better yourself.

'But what about you, Mother? I asked, concerned at how shed cope with him if I werent there.

'Never mind me, she replied. 'Just you do it!

Id told her that Id think about it but I really hadnt wanted to leave her alone with my dad. Although small and slightly built, he was an ex-boxer and a vicious bully who over the years had taken his drunken temper out on both her and me. As a direct result of his treatment, I had developed a dreadful stammer, and by the time I was twelve, my mother had already made two desperate attempts to take her own life (both of which Id discovered). Who would look after her if I wasnt there?

However, the following day matters were taken out of my hands when the foreman at work announced they were paying off two of the other lads and me. Obviously, that changed everything and I felt as though I really had no choice in the matter, as good jobs werent that easy to come by. It seemed I as though I was destined to go into the army.

Two days later, another letter arrived from the army giving the date and time for my medical at Chester-le-Street, which I pa.s.sed with flying colours the week before my eighteenth birthday on 28 November 1957. When they asked me which regiment Id like to join, I must have looked a bit blank. I knew little about the army at that time, so I told them that Id like to do anything that involved mechanical work. One of the recruitment staff made a note of what I said and told me Id hear from them in a few weeks time.

In the meantime, however, I knew I had to find work quickly as my mother relied on my extra money to make ends meet. After spending a couple of days looking around, I eventually managed to get a job at Tizer, a local soft drinks manufacturer, where I worked for about two months. Id almost forgotten about the army when a letter arrived giving me the date to report for training at Wrexham, North Wales.

So, that was that! Id only been given a week to sort everything out and I went through all manner of emotions I was both excited and terrified. Id never been away from home or even out of Newcastle before and thought that crossing the Tyne Bridge was going abroad!

Well, this is it, Id thought. Now Im bound to meet some sensible and intelligent people. This shows just how nave I was and how little I knew about the army then!

My mother and sisters came to the station to wave me off, but my father had refused when Mam had asked him to come with us. Deep down I was glad of that; he was one person I definitely wouldnt miss.

'Dont worry son, youll be alright. Write when you can, Mam had shouted from the platform, suddenly looking so small and helpless that Id wanted to jump straight back off the train. Id waved and waved until they were out of sight and the train slowly made its way across the High Level Bridge over the River Tyne. My hometown gradually disappeared and Id watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, feeling nervous, scared and lonely, not knowing what to expect.

I tried to imprint the scene in my mind, fearful that I might forget it while I was away. Down on the river below, small motor-boats were moving around on the water, reminding me of the many times Id spent on one just like them with my Uncle George, and I wished with all my heart that I was down there in one of them, anywhere in fact other than where I was and where I was going. In the distance, through the archway of the Tyne Bridge, I was able to see the old horse trough, where I used to stop when Id taken my dads horse, Jackie, for a ride when wed lived there. My eyes filled with tears and I felt choked to be leaving it all behind.

Feeling very nervous and a bit lost, I sat back in the dingy compartment as the train sped south and wondered just what the next two years would bring.

RPC (Royal Pioneer Corps) 524 Company was based about three miles outside of Wrexham and consisted of little more than a large number of wooden billets around a parade square together with a gym, a NAAFI and a guardhouse near the main gate. I hated it on sight!

Most of my basic training was done in the middle of winter in the bitter cold. After a week of marching for miles and miles around the parade-square in the snow and being shouted at every inch of the way, I began to find both it (marching) and the rifle drill very easy. Unfortunately, some of my mates found it much more difficult to learn and because of this, they were constantly shouted at and humiliated, which really angered me. Then, to my great embarra.s.sment, the drill sergeant made me number one marker, as I was one of the best turned out on parade and the best at marching. Id been singled out just for walking and swinging my arms and keeping my back straight!

I dont know what Id expected, but I became disillusioned with the army very quickly. I suppose Id hoped that Id meet real men, people with common sense, and that with everyone coming from a variety of backgrounds and all walks of life, things would be different here, but all the lads could talk about was the same old stuff football, women and drinking, just like back home. Once again, I just didnt fit in at all.

When the lads went off to the NAAFI drinking, I went down to the gym and work out on the parallel bars and rings. Usually there was no one else around and Id have the place to myself, which was great. I loved anything to do with gymnastics; it was something Id excelled in at school. The other lads in my billet thought I was crazy and tried to persuade me to go to the NAAFI with them, but I just wasnt interested.

One night in the gym the Drill Sergeant, another Geordie, joined me.

'Hows it going, lad? hed enquired in a friendly way.

'Okay, Sarge, b-but the armys s-so d-different to wh-what I thought it would b-be. I w-want to b-be a mechanic b-but I dont think Ive g-got much chance of th-that here, I told him. I had quickly realised that I was never going to learn anything with this outfit.

'Let me give you a word of advice, lad, he said. 'Youre not like these other morons. If you want to have an easy life in the army, you either box for the company or become a PTI. Your basic training will be over in four weeks and I suggest you put your name down now.

Id been grateful for his interest and decided to do as he suggested make life as easy as possible by putting my name forward for something I enjoyed, and ask to be considered as a PTI (physical training instructor). However, when I made enquiries I was told that I was probably wasting my time, as they would only train me if I became a regular. This meant signing on for at least three years more, which I had absolutely no intention of doing. Despite this setback, I still spent all my free time in the gym working out and practising. I loved being active and the feeling of being strong and fit.

Shortly after our basic training was over, we had our Pa.s.sing Out Parade. A lot of the lads families turned up but Mam just couldnt afford it. I was disappointed; shed have loved it and would have been very proud of me.

Rumours began to spread around the camp that we were being transferred, to another camp at Stratford-on-Avon in two days time. I decided that Id spend what few hours I had left at the camp in the gym, as I might not get the chance to work out for a while. Id been trying to train myself on the pommel horse as Id seen the PTIs working on it and thought Id like to give it a go. But I was making a right mess of it, banging my knees until they were sore. As I practised, I gradually became aware of someone watching me and stopped what I was doing. Looking around, I was surprised to see a guy standing in the corner of the gym, arms folded, dressed in a black-and-red PT instructors T-s.h.i.+rt and black trousers. I hadnt heard him come in.

'Youre doing it all wrong, Geordie! he called out to me. 'Here, Ill show you.

I couldnt remember ever having seen him around the camp and was surprised that he knew my nickname, but I watched in utter fascination as he began to effortlessly swing his body around, as though it weighed absolutely nothing. He made it look so easy and as he worked, he kept on talking to me.

'Youre a good gymnast, Geordie. Ive been watching you for a while. I understand you like boxing.

'H-how d-do you know that? Id asked him. 'It was wh-when I was a k-kid, anyway I w-wasnt that k-keen.

'Never mind how I know, I might be able to help you. I understand you now want to be a PTI. Why?

'Well, it d-d-doesnt look as though Im going to g-get anywhere e-else in the army, they t-t-tell me th-that being a PTI is one w-way of making life more c-comfortable. Ive j-j-just ffound out wh-what kind of outfit this is, Id b-be b-b-better off w-working f-for McAlpines!

'Just what were you expecting? he asked.

'I w-wanted to g-get s-some kind of t-trade, b-be a mechanic or s-s-something, b-but Ive been t-told that if I want to g-get anywhere I n-need to s-s-sign on f-for at least f-five years, so Ive g-gone off the idea. I f-feel as though Ive b-been d-duped in s-some way!

'What else did you have in mind, if you had a choice?

'If I cant b-be a PTI I w-want to b-be transferred t-to an active r-regiment, d-doing s-s-something a b-bit more exciting. I thought that w-was wh-what the army w-was all about. If only I could be t-transferred into s-some k-kind of a fighting unit, anything w-would be b-better than this f-flaming mob.

'Is that what you really want, Geordie? he said quietly, stopping what he was doing.

'Y-yes, Im n-not in the habit of w-wasting time b-by s-saying things I d-dont mean. It t-takes me t-too long!

He laughed at that and then continued on the pommel horse.

'Well, youve certainly got the determination, Ive been watching you trying to do things in here and I can see that once you get into something you like to finish it. Youre a quick learner too, you remember physical movements very quickly, dont you?

'I-I s-s-suppose s-so. H-how is that g-going to h-help me?

'It will, believe me! Dont do anything now, dont put in for a transfer or anything like that, we need you where you are right now.

I opened my mouth to ask him more but just then the Geordie sergeant came in and, to my surprise, the PTI immediately stopped what he was doing and came right up to me.

'One of us will contact you at Stratford, he whispered, then quickly left.

'E-excuse me? I shouted after him but he just opened the door and walked out as if he hadnt heard. Id thought that it had to be some kind of wind-up or practical joke.

'Who was that? the sergeant asked.

'I h-havent the f-foggiest idea, I replied truthfully. 'H-he was sh-showing me how to w-work on the p-pommel horse. He w-was pretty good w-wasnt he? I th-thought you w-would know him.

'Well, Ive been here for over two years and Ive never seen him before!

'Are w-we g-going to S-Stratford? I asked, changing the subject.

'Now how do you know about that? Never mind, itll be common knowledge soon enough. Yes, youre leaving soon, but I dont know where youre going, he told me.

I just shrugged and carried on training wherever the army decided to send me, Id have little say in the matter. But I was unable to stop thinking about the stranger. All his talk of 'we and 'one of us had totally baffled me. Who the h.e.l.l were 'we, in fact who the h.e.l.l was he? I hadnt a clue what hed been talking about or why anyone would be remotely interested in someone like me, from a regiment like this.