I remember hearing a joke about the Bravest man in the world...Bare with me ! Three NATO Colonels in Kosovo, one each from Britain, America and Germany are having a discussion about which army has the bravest soldiers... (Imagine the accents) The German officer says. 'I vill prove to you that zee German Army has zee bravest zoldiers in zee vorld.' The German officer shouts out, 'Hans comen zee here'. The German soldier, a sergeant major, comes running over and klicking his heels together barks, 'Ya vol Herr Colonel, SM Steiner reporting, Mine Colonel!' The other two Colonels look on impressed. The German Colonel says to Steiner, 'Zee Englanders and zee Amerikans do not think our great Germany has zee bravest soldiers in zee world....Steiner ! I vant you to prove them wrong!' 'Ya vol Herr Colonel' barks Steiner and with that he climbs up to the top of the camps radio mast, klicks his heels together and jumps off the 50 meter high mast, lands on his feet and does a forward role and assumes the crouch position with his pistol drawn in his hand ready for action. The two Colonels nod in approval as the German officer with a smug grin on his face says,'You zee gentlemen, no one is braver than zee German soldier.' The American Colonel says, 'Now hang on a god dam minute, god dam it, Heinzy baby. You ain't seen my sergeant major yet.' The American shouts out, 'Sergeant Major Highway! Front and Centre !' The Amercian SM doubles to his Colonel muttering, 'I don't know but I been told....(blah blah blah).' He smartly stands to attention and throws his officer a salute shouting, 'Sir! Sergeant Major Highway Reporting for duty Sir!' God dam it Sergeant Major I have a question for youuuuuuuuuuuuu ! Who has the bravest soldiers in the world?' 'Sir, Why that question is easy Sir ! <Still mumbbling 'I don't know but I've been told'> The god dam American soldier is the bravest soldiering son of a gun in the whole world sir - Everybody knows that.' 'Well Sergeant Major,' says the American Colonel, 'These two Colonels don't god dam think so, god dam it......SM, I want you to prove to them we have the bravest soldiers in the world.' Sir, Yes Sir !' and with that the American sergeant major is climbing to the top of the radio mast, when he reaches the top he comes to attention, salutes and shouts, 'God bless America!' and then dives off the mast head first and lands on his head, forward rolls twice comes into the crouch position with his pistol drawn in one hand, a hand grenade in the other with the pin pulled and a combat knife in his mouth. The American Colonel smug as a hungary mountain Bobcat with a beaver under its paw turns to the other two officers and says, 'See I told you guys that good ole American boys make and are the bravest soldiers in the world god dam it.' 'I say old chap, that was a terribly good show but I do believe I haven't shown you my Sergeant Major chap yet, wot wot' The British officer shouts out for his Sergeant Major and a broad grin forms across his face as he hears from a far the crunching of drill boots on the gravel and as it gets louder the British Sergeant Major comes marching into view....He is as immaculate as a CSM from the guards with his boots like tinted mirrors and the creases so sharp in his uniform you could have a shave with them ! The Sergeant Major (all 6ft 2in of him and as wide as a brick s**t house) marches upto his CO and drives his right foot so hard into the ground as he comes to a halt the ground shakes 4.7 on the richter scale sending shivers through the American and German officers spine. In a broad Glaswegian accent the SM barks sending the birds into flight and the two officer covering their ears, 'Sergeant Major McDonald, Sar ! 'Hello Sergeant Major, these two chaps seem to think that their countries soldiers are the bravest soldiers in the world and I want you to prove them wrong.' 'Right you are, Sir!' 'Sergeant Major, I want you to climb up to the top of that radio mast and then Sergeant Major I want you to jump off the radio mast to prove to these officers that the British Army has the bravest soldiers in the world.' The Sergeant Major pauses for a nano second in thought and says to his Colonel, 'With all due respect Sir, Go f**k yourself!' The British Colonel with a big grin on his face turns to the American and German officers whose mouths have fallen wide open and says to them, 'See......I told you the British Army has the bravest soldiers in the world!' It sounds better when I tell it for real with the accents
Too Many Jeeps by Carl Christie After the fall of Rome on June 4, 1944, William Story informs us from Moneta, Va., that his unit was relieved and withdrew to a small lake called Albano and camped around its shores. A liberal leave policy was ordered and every day men went on leave to Rome, provided they could find transportation there and back. The unit did not have many vehicles--a few trucks, a couple of half tracks and jeeps. One Saturday, the company commander announced he was hitching a ride into Rome and would be back that evening--maybe late evening. As the junior subaltern, Story would be orderly officer, with the company sergeant-major available if needed. All went well during the day and into the evening. Story retired to his tent for the night and fell asleep quite easily. Later he was awakened by a sudden noise. When it was not repeated, he slipped back into dreamland, confident that the sergeant-major would alert him if anything serious transpired. Arising at dawn, Story wandered over to the Orderly Room tent and was stunned to see one entire side had been pulled down and on it sat a jeep. Clearly visible on the front and rear bumpers were two stars indicating the jeep was assigned to a major-general, and on the back seat of the jeep sat a United States Army helmet with the two stars on the front. "Sergeant-Major, Sergeant-Major," Story called out in a minor panic. Not a sound could be heard. Except for the jeep and the usual office furniture, the tent was empty. "Gosh! What am I going to do now?" the young subaltern asked himself. "Where-in-hell is he?" Stepping out of the tent onto the road that ringed the lake, Story looked towards the Motor Pool, figuring he might smuggle the jeep somehow away from their area; or maybe he could rev it up and run it into the lake. Then Story saw a sturdy figure tromping down the road towards him. It was the sergeant-major. In one hand were two cans of paint, in the other a handful of stencils and brushes. "The company commander got in a little late," he said. "Missed his ride and had to borrow a jeep." Story mumbled, "I gather you've seen the stars and the division markings, plus what's in the back seat." The sergeant-major wasn't fazed. "Not to worry Sir, all's under control. If you'll help me, we'll paint out all the white lettering with this here green paint, then use our unit stencils to paint our numbers in white. If you wouldn't mind, Sir, you could drive it to the Motor Pool and kinda stash it in the back. There's only a single soldier on duty and I've talked to him." Our officer replied "Good thinking, Sergeant-Major." But quickly added, "There's a boat down there on the shore. We could borrow it and drop the helmet into the centre of the lake." Fifteen or 20 minutes later, Story carefully drove into the Motor Pool, waved at the man on guard, and parked the jeep in the back. The helmet was eventually dropped into the lake and the rowboat returned to its rightful owner. The company commander showed at a reasonable time on Sunday morning, said not a word to either Story or the CSM, and disappeared in the direction of breakfast. Our confidant confesses that they never heard a word from the major-general who owned the jeep. However, when the unit moved out a week or so later, the military police wanted to know why the jeeps in the Motor Pool exceeded the authorized number. They never did get a satisfactory answer, Story was told, as the unit disappeared into the dust of a dry June week in central Italy. Story sent us a brief postscript in which he identifies the offending parties, the company commander and the sergeant-major, all members of the 1st Canadian Special Service Battalion. Not wanting to risk that the statute of limitations has not run out for "borrowing" a jeep in wartime, perhaps they should remain nameless. In fact, Story tells us that there were more than 24 extra jeeps in the Motor Pool when his unit pulled out to go to Naples to prepare for the August 15, 1944 invasion of southern France. Story comments that evidently the general and/or his driver thought by taking the rotor from the distributor the jeep was safe. However, by this time, people carried "spare" rotors and it had become necessary to guard a jeep or chain it to the closest lamp post. As a corollary to this tale, Story says that Lago Albano was the site of Castel Gandolfo, the Pope's summer palace. Years later, while on a Veterans Affairs Canada trip to the Italian cemeteries, he met with Pope John Paul at the castle. The Canadian veteran had a brief opportunity to tell His Holiness that he had camped in his backyard 50 years earlier.
In early 1943 I joined the 112th Light Ack Rgt.RA. I heard one of the BSMs referred to as "Old Tantill" and I wondered about this until the first time I went on parade under him and heard him bark out "TANTILL DAMN YOU !!!!!!!!"
The RAC 61st Training Regiment at Barnard Castle was staffed by Senior N.C.O's of the Horse Guards from RSM Twyler - SSM Christie - and assorted Sergeants, one of whom lost it during our drill parade as we all did something stupid and so we were "rewarded" by having three circuits of the Tank Park at the double ! Naturally this was knee deep in mud. Just as we were about to go - SSM Christie showed up and in his most gentle voice which could be heard in Darlington - he reminded the Sergeant that in order to show an example of how things were done in the Guards - he had to lead us ......the Sergeant made sure we never made another mistake ! Cheers
There was an urban legend going around about an RSM at the Signal Corp who marched half of the Regiment into a dam. The south side of the parade ground had a very picturest dam. Apparently they were practicing for the passing out parade at the end of basic training. There was several mistakes being made and the RSM kept on getting the regiment to do about turns, but every time he kept on getting the troops closer and closer to the dam. Apparently several platoons ended up being shoved into the dam because of the sheer weight of numbers coming from behind.
Some great stories! and on the subject of Segeant Majors has anyone else here got the book'On The Word Of Command' by Richard Alford, its a fantastic look at RSMs etc from the 1800s to the Falklands will have to dig mine out it has some intresting added info as it was a presentation copy to a Grenadier LT COL and he has noted all the people he knew during his service.
In North Africa, my long time friend Larry was taking advantage of the sun to build himself up a solid tan. The Battery Sgt.Major spotted him sunbathing and promptly put him on a charge for taking his shirt off during daylight hours, thereby risking sunburn, which came under the heading of 'liable to cause a self inflicted wound'. When Larry came up before the OC he claimed that he was in the process of washing himself. The OC peevishly asked the BSM 'Didn't you see his wash-bowl?' and, when the BSM was slow to respond, dismissed the charge. For weeks after the event Larry always used to see that he had a washbowl nearby whenever he was sunbathing!
R. S. M. Humphries. The Greatest Warrior. A great character of those times and a man I am very proud to have known. Regimental Sergeant Major Humphries. Over a period of time there developed a friendship between this young 19 year old and an old soldier who had served in the South African war, the Great war and was asked back to assist in training young recruits in the second World war. He had been decorated in all these conflicts and had a long bayonet wound down one side of his face, he was a perfect specimen for a "Giles" cartoon of a Guardsman. With his peaked cap down over his forehead. Strange friendship between this young soldier and an old military man, he treated me like a son and I remember him as one of nature's gentlemen. He showed me all of his medals from South Africa and photo's of him in his pill box hat and red uniform, and the first world war medals, I know that he had been awarded a medal in this war for saving a group of recruits when one dropped a live grenade in the slit trench, while on battle practice. I was supposed to have these medals when he died, for our friendship and because he knew that I would cherish them and look after them. One day I went to visit him at Wareham and found that the RSM had died and was buried. I do not know what happened to his medals. I was very fond of the old man and was saddened to hear of his death. A Canadian soldier suffering from concussion and starvation was in the next bed to me, what strange effect's concussion can have! He had been a prisoner of war and had the typical bloated stomach appearance of starvation, his wife came from Scotland to see him, only to be greeted with "What do you want" often he would ask for a cigarette and then screw it out on the polished bedside cabinet. Over all of this sat the Sergeant Major, bolt upright in his bed, drinking his beer and the beer of other patients who did not drink. There were Italian prisoners in the ward, who had been brought back for treatment in this country, unfortunately they kept up a night long moaning and groaning with cries of Momma mia, Momma mia! Sapper
Tom....He was ..We followed each other around in hospitals... sadly I never got the medals he wanted me to have. I recall the RSM with very fond memories indeed. He was an old man by then. He often showed me the photos on the Boer war He was in his sixties late sixties I think.... but he had put on uniform again to help train the young men. He stands out in my life, probably more that any other man Sapper
Some great stories! and on the subject of Segeant Majors has anyone else here got the book'On The Word Of Command' by Richard Alford, its a fantastic look at RSMs etc from the 1800s to the Falklands will have to dig mine out it has some intresting added info as it was a presentation copy to a Grenadier LT COL and he has noted all the people he knew during his service. Found it and here are some pics
From Father Dolly, The Guardsman Monk, pages 167-8: 'My favourite Sergeant Major story concerns an old friend of whom I have already written, Tom Cahill, who was Regimental Sergeant Major of the 1st Battalion from 1916 to 1922. One day when we were stationed at Chelsea in 1919, the whole Battalion was marching down Knightsbridge in column of route and when passing Harrods was held up for a moment by traffic, whereupon a young girl took the opportunity to dart across the road through the gap between two Companies. Above all the noise of the traffic rang out the stentorian voice of Sergeant Major Cahill: "Young woman, stop! For four years the whole for the German Army has tried to break through the ranks of the Irish Guards; and if they couldn't, you can't! Young woman, go home to your mother!" '
RSM Nobby Arnold (ex boxing team complete with broken nose) was a legend in the Parachute Regiment, and RSM of the Depot making him the senior RSM of the Regiment. Walking around his Mess he spotted a civilian employee's locker open and untidy; he had it arrested and locked in a cell in the Guard room. If the civvie wanted anything from his locker he had to sign a prisoner visiting form. On another occasion whilst on parade in front of the whole Battalion he accidentally dropped his Pace Stick. He turned out the Guard, accused it of being an idle Pace Stick and again had it arrested and locked in a cell. Several civilians, young men who were sporting the long hair that was fashionable at the time, were invited to a function at the Officers Mess but had to cross the Depot to get there. Nobby spotted them, arrested them for being long haired and idle and locked them in the cells. The Commanding Officer was not happy seeing his guests treated in this manner and not long after Nobby was retired. ”.
I've told this tale before but working on the basis that newcomers to the site may not have heard it I'm going to tell it again In early 1943 I joined the 112th Light Ack Rgt.RA. I heard one of the BSMs referred to as "Old Tantill" and I wondered about this until the first time I went on parade under him and heard him bark out "TANTILL DAMN YOU !!!!!!!!" Ron
