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Although my Regiment was Middlesex and therefore should have been in D Coy, I was a Para volunteer, and was in B Coy, but did my training with Guards Coy. I had been to Summer camp at Barmouth and in a B Coy inter platoon fight was felled by a tent peg and required stitches in a big gash in my forehead. The doc gave me a chit for excused headdress until the stitches were removed.

One morning myself and two other "Fish and chip" types watched the Guards platoon marching past B Coy lines for a session of drill on the square. We ran out of the barrack back door and tagged on the end. After a few minutes Drill Sgt Hooper arrived. The Jr/Sgt in charge called us to attention and reported the platoon. I was in the middle rank and stood out like a sore thumb with no beret on. After what seemed like hours, and numerous taking of names he got to me. The conversation went as follows, word for word, engraved forever in my memory.

J.H. " Wheres your F***ing hat C***

Me " Excused headdress sir! I have stitches in my forehead"

J.H. " You F***ing wet Fart, during the war men got bullets in their heads and still wore their tin hats. Go and put your F***ing hat on!

Me " sir "

I doubled back to B Coy, rifle at the high port, and put my beret on. I would have bled to death rather than argue with Jan Hooper.

Rodger Bourne