A short story by former 5167 Recruit Scales D.E.

I trust that the contents of this story will not be used in evidence against me, or other friends who were part of SAS recruit course 4/70.

  It was mid 1970 and there were a bunch of us at Llewellin Barracks doing our national service. A recruiting team from the Squadron came down, showed us a movie and encouraged us to come up to Salisbury to join the SAS.

We were only into about our 6th week of national service, and were not particularly enthralled with everyday life as Riflemen, and reckoned that we had nothing to lose by volunteering to give the SAS a full go. After all, being in Salisbury (bright lights) for the Bulawayo boys would be a great treat.  A short pre-selection run of about 10km with a back pack full of bricks, an old 303 rifle and uncomfortable webbing separated the ‘chancers’ from the ‘want to be’s’.

  Arriving on the steam driven train from Bulawayo to Salisbury in early August 1970 had us all excited. During the overnight trip we succumbed to the charm of the dining car bar and were adequately hydrated. The train trip was also free so what else could we have wished for.

After disembarking from the train we were met by a most pleasant Sergeant called Peter Allen who welcomed us graciously, guided us to an awaiting 3 ton truck and invited us to get on board.  What a nice decent chap I thought, so different from the other gnarling Sergeants at Llewellin Barracks.

I was unaware of the well-known adage that a ‘snake smiles before it bites’.

Arriving at Cranborne Barracks was most pleasant. We were shown to a barrack room on the lower floor of Mayne Block where we put our kit down and sent off to breakfast. Wow – what a place.  After breakfast we were introduced to our ‘batman’ Elvis and then we were all marched down to the QM store to draw kit, followed by a briefing in one of the lecture rooms.

Our most pleasant Sergeant Allen made mention that he was our instructor on the recruit course, and after that we were also  provided with a welcoming address by the SAS CO, Major ABRM Bentley. Sergeant Allen then detailed the events that would unfold over our three week pre-selection training program.

As the days wore on, we were becoming fitter and stronger, and a slight suspicion arose about the unusual kindness being portrayed by our pleasant Sergeant.  We had acquainted ourselves with some of the SAS Troopers that had passed selection and for some obscure reason, we learned that our pleasant Sergeant had been given a nickname of ‘Snake’.  How unfair we all thought! Surely not!

The selection course in Inyanga was underway and apart from the strenuous physical element, we were met with continual psychological intimidation by our pleasant Sergeant.  On the speed march from Inyangani the pressure built up and the ‘Snake’ was pulling out all stops to coerce us into giving up.  We were being taunted and tempted to give up. “Come on Scales – it’s not worth it.  Rather stop, load your kit into the back of the vehicle, here’s a coke to share with you.  Feel like a free smoke?” He went on and on, laughing hysterically and obviously enjoying being a sadist.

The odd chap doing selection succumbed, and he had it worse.

On completion of the selection course, and on the way back to Salisbury, we were in high spirits.  Our most pleasant Sergeant was relatively pleased and became nice again. We felt a little bewildered at this strange turn about.

On 4 September 1970, Sergeant Allen got us on board the 3 tonner and we were driven to Army Headquarters (King George 6th barracks) to sign our 5 year contract. He made sure we were all comfortable and was most kind in ensuring that all was in order. He reminded us that we were all going to be very happy after signing on and getting underway with our 28 week recruit course.

The ink had hardly dried on the contract when the snake smiled and bit.  The kind Sergeant had changed and we knew that the SAS Troopies were right on the warning. Is that why he had been given the nickname of ‘Snake’?

The sound of his black 50cc motorbike in the early hours of the morning was a good enough warning that terrorising the recruits was about to begin. At the end of the day, there was no more pleasant sound than that of the bike leaving the barracks. The following 12 hours would be relatively peaceful.

As well all know, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.  Being on the parade square in front of Mayne Block during early mornings had the warm sun on our backs.  Standing at attention had our shadows cast in front of us.  One morning, and whilst standing to attention, Sergeant Allen walked towards me and stopped about 4 feet from me, he had a wry smile on his face followed by a wry snigger. Terrorising was about to commence.

Unfortunately I am a rather bandy legged chap, and being rather thin and lanky at the time, my bandy legs were accentuated by the thick putties on equally thick hose-tops capped by equally thick stick boots. The casted shadow from the sun at my rear showed bowed legs, there were therefore two separate shadows instead of one.

He obviously relished on this unusual sight. The ‘Snake eyes’ were piercing and he bellowed out “Recruit Scales, you are the only man in the whole of the Rhodesian Army, who, whilst standing at the position of attention, can stand at ease at the same time – now get your legs together boy!”.

Ouch! He hit me on the head as the only way I could get my legs together was by bending the knee’s until they touched. Stand straight you fool, and when I did that, my legs resumed their normal position of being apart. More hysterical laughter from the ‘Snake’, however my mates were more careful and remained silent.  They were good guys.

The ‘Snake’ had endless joy in mocking us and continually threatened us that he would chuck us out and send us off to the RLI unless we pulled up our socks.  We never felt safe.

The Sergeants Mess needed a lawn, some flowers and so on.  ‘Snake’ organized a truck load of sewage and we spent hours shoveling it off the truck and planted a lawn once done.  It was not a pleasant task however he thought it was. “Where are the plants Sarge?” we asked.  He replied that we were about to get a weekend off, and he barked out “You either beg, borrow or steal – I don’t care, and come Monday morning, you will deliver – or else.  And I want plenty of bouganvillia plants”.

Visits to various nurseries revealed that I didn’t have enough cash, none were interested in my begging or borrowing pleas, therefore the only other option was to sneak in one night, and borrow on a non return basis. At the end of the day, the Sergeants Mess looked great – did we get thanked?  Not on your life. 

28 weeks were filled with other tortuous tasks, some and some not related to our training but we did it.  From being sent up tree’s to recover birds eggs to sitting on the back of his bike to hold lengths of copper piping after work and thereafter having to run back to the barracks was some of it. And how about the continual ‘bumming’ of smokes from us – it never ended. I am sure that recruit courses after ours fell to the same fate.

On the 13th March 1971, our course culminated in our ‘Passing out parade’ at New Sarum.  There were only 6 of us left. We started off with about 18. After being presented with our parachute wings, the ‘Snake’ walked over, put out his hand and said ‘Well done….. but don’t think it’s over…. In fact it’s just started. Good luck”. I was bewildered, suddenly he was a different man and it reminded me of the first time that I had met him at Salisbury station.

He may have had his odd fault, but ‘Snake’ (and I hate to admit it) was a bloody good instructor and part of the glue that moulded recruits to becoming good SAS soldiers. Yes, and I know that the ‘Snake’ would probably say  in reply “And who says you ended up as a good soldier”, and this remark of his would be followed by a wry smile and sarcastic snigger.

I must be crazy to say that I was proud to have served with Peter Allen not only in Rhodesia but in South African Special Forces units too.  At time of writing I have known him for close on 48 years now and for some obscure reason I quite like him and regard him as a good bloke.  Regular phone calls to him (as he is too stingy to spend money calling his favorite recruits) every three weeks or so result in reminiscing about the good old days. The pause between our conversation are normally filled with sarcastic replies.

Indeed, a snake smiles before it bites.